The Accidental Rebel (A Digital Short)

  The Accidental Rebel (A Digital Short)

  Title Page

  PART I

  Chapter One

  DAWN TREADER PRESS

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2010 Paul C. Tseng

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Praise for Joshua Graham’s bestselling debut novel

  BEYOND JUSTICE

  “…A riveting legal thriller…. breaking new ground with a vengeance… demonically entertaining and surprisingly inspiring.”

  ~PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  “…hits the ground running…handled by a deft hand.”

  Adrian Phoenix, IN THE BLOOD (Pocket Books)

  “This tense, fast-paced story of outrageous injustice, insidious evil, and looming disaster has everything the savvy reader should expect, and more. [Graham] belongs to a new, emerging wave of writers who dare to color outside conventional lines. And he does so with style!”

  Glen Scorgie, THE JOURNEY BACK TO EDEN (Zondervan)

  “…a genuine page-turner with a twist that makes it stand out from most thrillers and legal dramas.”

  “…What sets this thriller apart is the deft handling of religion.”

  “…When Graham turns to courtroom drama, the writing is tense; when he’s inside Sam’s mind, the emotions are wringing.”

  ~Author Magazine

  “This book was so much more than a mystery novel; it was an exercise in faith, understanding, joy and mercy in their purest forms.”

  “…twists, turns and surprises to be found here.”

  “…filled with so much in the way of emotion.”

  “…Take the time to read this book. You will not be disappointed.”

  ~Suspense Magazine

  …A MASTERFUL LEGAL THRILLER

  …A book worthy of a feature length Hollywood movie…

  …Graham has intricately woven together these elements of cyberspace and our criminal justice system in a way that keeps avid mystery readers spellbound.

  …Graham’s BEYOND JUSTICE is the best mystery novel that I have ever read.

  …a plot worthy of Hollywood, told by a fantastic author with a deft touch and feel for intrigue!

  …a fitting climax in true John Grisham form.

  …a powerful testament to faith and religion, woven into a masterful murder mystery.

  ~East County Magazine

  “This is not a tame Christian book, it’s full of heart wrenching scenes that will make you shudder.

  There’s one surprise after another and it’s a “can’t put down” thriller…the ending was brilliant!

  “This is Joshua Graham’s first book and it is a doozy!!

  I can’t wait to read more from this very talented author.”

  ~ReadingAtTheBeach.com

  “…a riveting legal thriller that has heart and a fabulous message.”

  “…really intense suspense!”

  “ I was…balled up with emotions and intense suspense from start to finish.”

  “…a great legal thriller…”

  “… great drama and romance as well.

  “…tied together with a fabulous message of love and redemption.“

  ~A Life in Review

  “…Superbly done!”

  “…a legal suspense thriller beyond any other.”

  “…Filled with page turning, edge of your seat twists.”

  “…most definitely a 5 star novel by an incredible author”

  “… this suspense novel will pick you up in one place, carry you through thrilling turns and emotional rides, and will set you down at an unexpected place, all the while leaving you with a powerful message that will set your mind to thinking. About life. About loss. About justice. About everything.”

  …Joshua Graham has become an author who I will be collecting books by for a long time to come and has made me anxious for his next book!

  ~Reviews by Molly D. Edwards

  Connect with Joshua Graham at:

  http://www.joshua-graham.com

  http://www.facebook/J0shuaGraham

  http://www.twitter/J0shuaGraham

  THE ACCIDENTAL REBEL

  Joshua Graham

  So here's the deal. I'm a pretty strong girl emotionally, but there's one problem that's plagued me all my life. I can't stand violence. When they invented the phrase, "couldn't hurt a fly," I'm sure they had me in mind.

  This became clear to me while sitting alone in Rob's Restaurant one late afternoon in October, as the sun's dying rays flowed through the windows and bathed the wooden planked floor, the fishnet strewn beams made of logs, in a somber orange hue.

  Amidst all that was going on (multiple conversations, guests laughing) the thing I noticed was a tiny black ant, crawling across the blue Formica table top and looming dangerously close to my bowl of Rob's Clam Chowder.

  Deal with it. Just squish it and get it over with.

  Sheila, my server, must have picked up on my tension. Without a word, she smiled and pressed her thumb down on the poor little ant and wiped it away.

  For a moment, time stood still.

  The sound of classic rock piping subtly over the speakers blended with the rhythmic bump, then clank of the bus boy sorting the silverware on the countertop and tossing them into the grey plastic bins.

  It's just an ant

  But the thought of its body being crushed, its entire existence snuffed out like that…

  I opened my eyes.

  Felt like such an idiot.

  It's just an ant, I could hear Dad say. And Mom. And my sister Teresa, and… well, you get the picture. But it was enough to make me sweat, make my head spin, and shorten my breath.

  "Thanks." I released my grip on the smooth, cool--but now damp--edge of the table.

  Sheila pushed her glasses up her face. "No problem. Sorry about that, we don't usually have ants here."

  "It's not a big deal, really."

  She cast me a doubtful look, then put her hand on her hip. "Honey, you look familiar. Should I know you?"

  "I'm nobody, trust me."

  "We've had some famous people come in here, you know." She pointed to some photos just by the cute little gift shop near the entrance of the restaurant. "Did you know Paul Newman, Henry Fonda, and Joanne Woodward have all been here?"

  My cellphone buzzed in my purse. Couldn't have been Mom and Dad, they knew better. Too stressed out to answer any calls or texts now. Not until after I had my chowder, anyway. And not just any chowder, Rob's Chowder.

  "You an actress? I mean, you look like…like…" she tapped her chin and stared up at the redwood blades of the ceiling fans, spinning and spinning. "Oh shoot! Now what's her name?"

  "No, no." I unfurled my paper napkin and sank my spoon into the creamy, white chowder. This was going to be good. "I promise, I'm not anyone you--"

  She snapped her finger and smiled--the way you do when you get the answer on Jeopardy, before the TV contestants do. "Jessica Alba! You're Jessica Alba!"

  My entire face heated up from my cheeks to my forehead, all the way to the back of my ears. I let out a nervous chuckle. "I promise, I'm not Jessica Alba." Though there were at least two people I knew who wish I were.

  "Well, you're jus
t as pretty, hon. Maybe you should be in the movies."

  A chill ran through my body. I dropped my spoon and it rattled against the bowl. Oh God, has she been talking with Chad? "Movies? No thanks."

  "Anyhoo, enjoy." She tightened the strings of her blue apron around her waist, grinned and walked off.

  Movies.

  The very word resurrected waves of anxiety I thought I'd left behind in San Diego. It was amazing how quickly the connection of me being a movie star evoked the creepy thoughts of Chad Rivers, my ex, whom I thought was done messing with my mind, with my life.

  My cellphone buzzed again.

  I dropped my spoon with a startling clank against the bowl. Until last week, only two people knew this number: Mom and Dad, back in El Cajon. But Chad had somehow managed to track me down again. The first time he called (that was the week before) I didn't recognize his voice until it was too late. He confirmed mine. From then on I tried to get another phone, but I didn't want to get cut off from Mom and Dad, who were frantic by now, wondering where the their daughter had disappeared to.

  Seaside, Oregon. But I couldn't tell them. Just: I'm sorry, please trust me, I'll be fine. Did I mention, I'm the world's worst liar too?

  My spoon shook in my hand and drops of chowder started to splatter on the table. Not wanting to make a big mess before my first spoonful, I set it down. Took a deep breath and decided to check if it was Dad leaving a voicemail.

  But when I took out my cellphone and read the notification blinking on the screen, I dropped that as well. The elderly couple sitting at the window turned and looked at me as though concerned I might be having a seizure

  The notification was for a text from Chad.

  see you soon

  How could he possibly know where I was, when my parents didn't even know? I decided he was just up to his old mind games. After all, after he’d been charged with stalking, they slapped him with a restraining order that prevented him from coming within 300 feet of me. For the past eleven months, since I left San Diego, this had worked just fine, except it didn't stop him from finding ways to intimidate me with random stuff through the internet, voicemails, and text messages like these.

  I swore silently and decided I was not going to let him do this to me.

  Not again.

  I'm here for a week then I'm off to God-knows-where, next. If I didn't know where I'd be going until the day I got back on the Greyhound, Chad wouldn't be able to track me down.

  Once again, I tried to get into my first spoonful of Rob's Chowder. I'd been back here every night since Monday and kept ordering it. Something about the predictably rich taste, the not-too-heavy-not-too-light texture, appealed to me. Amidst all the mess of trying to find a new life--a life far away from a sick man who knew how to do all the worst things within an flea's hair of the law--being able to count on Rob's Chowder was the one stable thing in my life at the moment.

  Oh, but it was good! Six nights in a row, and it didn't get old. Better than sex. Well, better than no sex, anyway. Which was exactly the kind of attitude Chad had left me with when I broke things off and he began the stalking.

  Why couldn't we be like that old couple sitting by the window? He was probably about eighty years old, judging by the stray white strands peeking out from under the edge of his navy blue baseball cap, and the way his hand shook when he reached over to touch his wife's hand.

  She smiled at him. And though she must be at least seventy or so, when she sipped her coffee and looked back at him, there was a child-like innocence in her eyes, set under the curly red bangs.

  Such tenderness. Such trust.

  Apart from Dad, had I ever experienced this with a man?

  I took in a slow breath, savoring the sweet aroma of crabs, shrimp, and oysters, wafting in the air. Comfort food. That's what this all was. And that was just fine. Didn't I deserve a little comfort?

  Anyway, by tomorrow, I'd be on the road again to God-knows-where, USA. Perhaps I'd settle down and start a new life there. I had enough money in savings for two months rent in any reasonable small town, and that should enough for me to get started.

  A forkful of coleslaw (I have to mention the coleslaw. It's perfect. Fresh, crispy, the sauce, not too runny, not to thick, sprinkled with crimson specks of paprika) and I felt better. Chad's just being an jerk. Nothing new. He probably got some techno-geek who knew how to find my information and just wanted to mess with me. He'd done this before but never followed up on any of his threats to come and see me. In the flesh.

  With my back facing the restaurant's entrance, I could feel a continuous flow of footfalls crescendo, then take the form of people walking past me. The sun was going down and the people kept coming in, at least at the same rate they were going. Really popular place here.

  Before I could take another spoonful, a hand alighted on my shoulder. I gasped and turned around.

  Chad stood there with a twisted smile on his face, his right hand buried in the pocket of his black Columbia rain jacket. "Why is it you're always eating when I see you?"

  "Where did you--!"

  "Shut up," he hissed. He came around and sat right next to me. His glaring blue eyes quickly softened and he put on that charming smile--the one that first got me hooked at Fiorello's from across the bar. Then he put his arm around me and said in a very even tone, "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass you've been?"

  "Chad, please. Leave me alone."

  "Like you left me?" To punctuate the question he squeezed my neck sharply with his arm draped around my shoulders. But the freakiest thing with his simmering rage was the way he smiled, like a wax figure.

  "Restraining order… remember?"

  "That was in California, babe."

  "It's a federal felony to cross state lines to stalk or harass--"

  "What do you know, you dumb bitch? You been watching too much Law and Order."

  I fought the tears back. It wasn't just from fear, it was from the way he always belittled me, treated me like I was this stupid blonde bimbo who wasn't good for anything but sex, while all along, I'd always gotten much better grades than him at UCSD. "Okay, Chad. You made your point. You found me, you're smarter than me, okay? Now I'm just going to get up, and--"

  "You move and I swear, I will cut you to pieces," he said through his perfect white teeth, with that same plastic wax museum smile. "You still got those scars? Pity you never told the cops about that, I might be in prison doing time."

  He wasn't just talking smack when he spoke of cutting me. I knew better. And if he could stalk me all the way from San Diego to Seaside, then even if I got away from him, it'd just be a matter of time before he made good on his threats.

  If there was any anger within me, it was overshadowed not so much by memories of the pain I felt when he cut me, but the blood, the image of the knife slicing my skin just under my left nipple. Even now, almost a year later, I was starting to feel faint. If the neighbors hadn't called the cops, he might have gone on and killed me. But I was too scared to tell them all he'd done to me. The bruises on my wrist were all they needed to charge him with domestic violence. They hadn't even scratched the surface. "I--I'm sorry, Chad. I wasn't thinking."

  "Damn right you weren't thinking. That's always been your problem. You. Don't. Think."

  Just then, Sheila stopped by. "Everything okay…Oh, you've got a guest." To Chad: "Get you a menu?"

  Again, the smile. "Sure, thanks!"

  "Your girlfriend sure is pretty. I think she ought to be in the movies."

  Chad pulled me close to him. His hot breath blew against my face as he said, "I tell her that all the time." Then he pulled me tighter and kissed my lips, his bristly whiskers scratching me.

  "Well isn't that sweet? Be right back."

  I begged her with my eyes to call the cops. But she was already gone. With each second that oozed by, I shriveled into that same helpless victim who made excuses for him during the police report.

  "Just tell me what you want," I managed to whis
per.

  "What kind of stupid question is that?"

  "I can't take this, Chad. Let's just get it over with, okay?"

  That triumphant look of satisfaction returned to his eyes. He'd gotten his way and somehow proven his manhood again. "You're coming back with me. You're going to do what I tell you to do. You're not going to go around telling people lies and getting them all concerned. And you're going…to be… happy."

  I could feel the protest sweating out of my pores, but I had no choice. It's like on the Discovery Channel, when a lion finally wraps its fangs around a water buffalo's neck. The prey just lies down and accepts its fate. "Okay…"

  "All right then." He slipped his arm down from my shoulders and held it tight around my waist. My stomach cramped up worse than it ever did on my monthlies. With his free hand he pulled out his wallet, dropped it on the blue table top, pulled out two twenties and set them down. "Let's go. And don't even think about running, or screaming." He pulled his jacket open a bit more to reveal a gun holstered at his side.

  "How'd you get past--?"

  "Amtrak. Now let's go." He stood up.

  "Chad, come on. Can't we just--"

  "Don't make it any harder, Stacey. You know I always win. Takes longer sometimes, but I always win." All he had to do was touch my arm, and I got up. Two years of cruelty, two years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse flash-flooded back into my mind, paralyzing all fight-or-flight instincts.

  He grabbed my arm.

  Just as we took a step forward, Sheila returned with a glass of water and a folded paper menu. "Leaving already, hon?"

  "Sorry. Something's come up." Chad nodded to the forty dollars on the table. "Keep the change." He engaged her in a couple of friendly words, which would have made anyone looking on believe he was just about the friendliest guy you'd ever met. Their voices faded into the cacophony of conversations in the restaurant.