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Zach – Sample Chapter One from a novel

Zach

Chapter One – Unfinished Manuscript

By Bruce L. Cook

Zach had endured eight night-time hours through driving snow, and now this. Entering Chicago from the south had been bad enough, for traffic was always dense at the lower left corner of Lake Michigan. Now he groaned as he nosed the sedan into a dense crowd on Ashland Street.

His arrival, with the comatose body of Jerome X. Vilmer, had been no secret. In fact, life was anything but normal in this town of ten million people, all anxious to know when Vilmer would recover.

Vilmer was well respected as a communication scientist, and business and government leaders had come to depend on his novel solutions. His weeknight commentary show on television drew top audiences on the Zephyr channel. But until the coma, nobody had any inkling that companies and government services had become too dependent on him. In fact, now that Vilmer was absent, many vital aspects of national interest were in trouble. So now the news hounds were watched and everyone hoped for his recovery.

The crowd parted to allow Zach’s car to pass. He reached the entrance into the underground garage for the neuro-surgery unit they had dedicated five years ago. There the crowd became more intense. Swelled into the lane so Zach had to slow the car to a crawl.

He tried to ignore faces which pressed close to the windows in hopes they could see Vilmer, who had delivered an outstanding speech in that very location just one week ago. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see the man now, for he writhed in pain and his face was a study of contortion.

Zach shook his head, regretting that he had to drive his father everywhere, even in sickness. But Zach had always followed his father’s commands. Now, just like his father, Zach refused to trust anyone else, not even a driver. At the same time, he felt a new freedom. Found himself thinking ahead to his next visit to the office he shared with his dad. For the first time he would really have time to converse with Rita, his administrative assistant.

Zach willed his disciplined mind back on track. Perhaps the physicians could bring his father back. If not, he could enforce his father’s recovery. He knew he could do that, but it would require total concentration, and a certain level of competence on his father’s part.

He knew his father’s mind better than anyone else. In fact he and his father had communicated without words for many years, so he could access this patient in ways no doctor could. And it would probably work.

“Mr. Vilmer, how are you feeling? This must be terrible!” said Rita as Zach Vilmer entered his office in the new communication sciences building just down the street from the medical complex.

Zach slowed and turned to her desk. Gazed into her eyes. Explored the items on her desk. He sighed and looked up, digested her question and deliberated on the answer while he compiled a quick image of her thoughts.

This delay in responding was characteristic of Zach and his father. It would come at no surprise to Rita. But now he wished he could escape the routine.

After all, this was Rita. He had always wanted to know her as a friend. At the same time, he treasured his analytical skills and predictive communication routines. But now that his father was gone, he realized that maybe he could suspend his analytical habits.

“Thanks for your concern Rita,” he said, finding his way to the chair beside her desk. He sat and studied her eyes. Then without his usual lengthy pause, he closed his eyes and forced himself to go on. “I’m sure it’s been difficult for you as well.”

“Yes,” she said. She felt tears come to her eyes in spite of herself. Never, ever, had Zach responded to a question in such a prompt and – well – human way.

Zach Vilmer found a tissue and handed it to her, still unable to speak. Finally he said, “I am so sorry.”

Rita dried her tears and looked down. Her breathing altered as she accepted his concern for the literal hell that had descended upon their office this week as their clients, one by one, had realized that vital services were in danger without Jerome Vilmer’s knowledge. Zach was the only one who seemed to notice her trouble, and it meant everything to her, especially because Zach had always been so aloof.

Zach closed his eyes and planned his next statement. Habitually compared it with predictive outcomes and the image of her thoughts that he was automatically building in his mind. He was uncomfortable with emotion, not science, and he had never been good at predicting outcomes in this phase. In fact, he and his father had been working on the predictive emotion phase just last week when his dad had fallen in the corridor at Slick and descended into the coma.

Zach shook his head. Tried to reconnect with raw instincts, an even more dangerous phase. He wanted to take the risk. Actually, he sometimes practiced with raw instincts when he was driving alone, but had reached no conclusions.

He looked into Rita’s eyes and said, “Dad is gone for now. Perhaps we have depended on him too much.”

Rita nodded, studying Zach’s eyes. “Yes, we have,” she said. Prepared for the usual wait for his next response.

“Rita, I need to change,” he said without any pause. He noticed her eyebrows rise up in surprise. Surely she understood. He closed his eyes again. Continued blindly, “I learned so much from him. Now I need to relax.”

Suddenly it was Rita’s turn to digest a response. She internally compared this idea with her own observations of Zach over the past few years and was pleased to feel new hope for him. She always felt that Zach was holding himself back, and this had seemed to prevent him from achieving goals that would be typical for a young man.

“I’ll do what I can to help,” she said. She blushed. “Don’t worry about the office. You have enough on your plate. The main thing now is your father’s recovery.”

Zach’s mind reverberated. Wavered between analysis and emotion. He said, “Don’t worry. I will bring my father back.”

“What? Can you?” she stammered, still amazed to be having a normal conversation with this man.

“I can, in time.” Zach said.

She chuckled. “Time,” she laughed. “Just what we don’t have!” She leaned back in her chair.

“This too shall pass,” said Zach. It was his father’s favorite expression. Zach even mimicked the older man’s intonation.

Rita met his eyes. Was this humor?

“Meanwhile, we can help each other” Zach said quietly.

Rita leaned forward.

“Help me stand on my own,” Zach said. His voice trembled. This upset him, for vocal tremulus was a condition he and his father had learned to avoid. But now he was changing – he had to, because he needed his father – so he allowed his voice to choke in a brief crescendo. “Now I need your support!”

“Oh, yes,” Rita said. Again she put the tissue to her eyes.

“OK,” Zach said. He rose to his feet unsteadily. “Which client has the most urgent need for help?”

“Intelligence, sir. Colonel Librador is outside. His agency is desperate for help.

Zach nodded, crossing to his office. “Bring him,” he said. “I can take an hour.”

End Chapter One

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Copyright 2009 Bruce L. Cook

Three Cups of Tea

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time
by Greg Mortenson, David O. Relin (Viking, 2006)

“Three Cups of Tea” grows on you. It begins with a story reminiscent of early accounts of British explorers in Africa, continues as if biographers still avoid criticizing their subjects, but then opens into a kaleidoscope of culture.

Once past this slow beginning, readers encounter Greg Mortenson, a courageous young man who stops at nothing to start a school in a mountain village of Afghanistan. After taking a wrong turn in the Himalayas on his way down K2, perhaps the second highest mountain on earth, he is welcomed by the leaders of a remote village. Wanting to return their hospitality, he asks what they need, and the local elder says “education.” There were no schools there and, equally importantly, women were not allowed to have formal education.

The story chronicles Mortenson’s personal struggle to build a school there. He encounters numerous problems but persists, finally obtaining the $12,000 he needs, only to find the roads to the village blocked and, even later, realizing that the construction supplies can’t be transported unless he first raises money to build a huge bridge. Amazingly, he accomplishes the task – the bridge and the school, including local women.

Later, he is able to raise money for more schools and eventually to start the Central Asia Institute, bringing education to many in this remote mountain region. As he proceeds, it’s clear that no personal inconvenience is too much. He is even captured and then released by Taliban forces at grave personal risk.

In the last portion of the book the reader can witness the struggle with Bin Laden and the Taliban from within the mountain territory. Taliban forces entered the region by force and regularly threaten villagers so this once delightful region has become a human tragedy. At the same time, Osama Bin Laden in seen as a product of his treatment at the hands of American officials. A classic confrontation between Mortenson and American Congressmen and even Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, leaves an indelible memory – Rummie’s shiny, gleaming shoes.

Creating your own Book

Need help publishing your manuscript in book form? For instructions on submitting to Lulu.com, request Bruce Cook’s PowerPoint file, presented last Summer at the West Virginia Writers Conference. Write cookcomm@gte.net

A Bond That Crumbled Tradition, by Kenechukwu Obi

Cover - A Bond that Crumbled Tradition

An age-long tradition bars sons and daughters of the rich and the poor from inter-marrying in their land. Then comes this unexpected unique love that dares to challenge the tradition with its guts of steel. This love yields a bond in the conflict which ensues. A bond that makes the reunion of two hearts, which are its source, inevitable; leaving the tradition with only an option it can’t help but accept. More…

Innisfree 8 (March 2009)