Chapter One

Each step down the deserted street brought Eli Blank closer to his death. His chest pounded as he jogged in the cool September air, a nagging pain clawing at his lungs. His cardiovascular system needed cleansing from the red wine he’d drunk the night before. But the after dinner sex with his date made the impurities worth it all. Life was good and he was determined to live it to the fullest.

. The van lay in wait, its front end armed with a wooden cross, nails protruding six inches, aimed at the Philadelphia University logo on the back of Eli’s sweat shirt. The driver smiled at his prey and whispered, “This is going to be fun.”

The roar of the motor turned Eli’s head. He veered toward the side walk to give the van plenty of room. The driver flashed the high beams, signaling all was okay. Eli waved as he headed on. Courtesy of the road in Philly was a rare blessing. He checked his watch. He’d finish his run and then stop at Starbucks for a latte before class. He was ready for the next battle in Doctor Martin’s class. The seminar on Comparative Religion and Violence was like World War Three. But Eli liked to debate his so-called peers and the well intentioned Doctor Martin. Debate beat war any day of the week. And the class room was a hot bed of impassioned, intelligent battles.

Scary at times but certainly interesting.

The car engine was close now, too close so Eli turned and gasped in horror at the spikes jutting out from the wooden cross inches from his chest.

“Nooo!” he screamed. The nails pierced his throat, lungs and abdomen, tearing into his vital organs. The horror intensified the pain so much that his mind blanked out for a split second as he was propelled up the street, his legs crumpled under his torso against the front of the van. Shock stifled his screams as the twenty two years of his life flashed before him.

The van dragged his body ahead, flesh tearing with each turn of the tires and each turn of the steering wheel. The driver was twirling his impaled carcass like fresh meat on a hot skewer.

The van screeched to a halt. The driver approached Eli’s shattered body drained in blood. Crow bar in hand, the driver unsnapped the cross from the plywood fastened to the grill. Eli’s limp body collapsed under the cross nailed to his neck and torso. The masked driver kicked Eli’s face, laughed aloud and sped away. Eli had heard that voice before. Barely breathing, he reached for his blackberry and texted, “Prof Martin, beware, of…”. But the pain was too great, his anguish too overwhelming.

The swaying trees, rich with red and yellow leaves shed a few ceremonial leaves over him as he closed his eyes and whispered, “Shalom!”