Wipeout Faith in Action Series Book 1 … a look inside

Prologue

1. At Last! Summer Freedom 1

2. Trainwreck 6

3. Helping Sara 11

4. Home Alone 15

5. Midnight Fear 18

6. This Homeless Kid 21

7. Jose’s Story 27

8. Forming The Plan 33

9. Rescuing Pedro 38

10. Bullwhip Big Dee 43

11. Sara’s Spectacular Moment 48

12. Pedro’s Story 51

13. My First Lie 56

14. Outta Here! 60

15. Lost Money, Found Money 63

16. A Perfect Wednesday 67

17. Flying Chunks 73

18. Wacko 79

19. Jail Cell Smell 84

20. Owning It 87

21. Forgiveness 91

22. Goodbye Savings 94

23. A Dressing Down 99

24. Danny’s News 103

25. Stop Talking About It 106

26. What About That Money? 112

27. Purple 115

28. It Was Always Good 118

29. Brothers 123

30. Whose Money Is It? 128

31. Terrified 133

32. Fish Fry 137

Prologue

The deafening explosion jolted Jose out of a deep sleep. His brother

Pedro yanked on his arm so hard it felt as if it was separating from

its socket.

“Get out! Get out! GET OUT NOW!” Pedro screamed, dragging Jose

toward the ripped metal opening, a gaping crater in the center of the

boxcar.

Jose turned to snatch the heavy leather shoulder pouches that sat

between them. No way was he leaving these bags! For the first time, they

had money. Freedom money. In that split second, Pedro’s grip slipped.

In a split second Jose lost sight of his

older brother in the shadows of the dim freight car. Panicked circus

performers tried to flee, knocking Jose backward onto the filthy, greasy

floorboards.

The derailed train lurched to a screeching standstill. Circus performers

were thrown around like matchsticks. As Jose struggled to get up,

others shoved him farther back into the dark, deathtrap boxcar. Pushing

to escape, everybody crowded toward and through the jagged metal

hole that had split wide open from the blast.

The suffocating smell of propane warned him of immediate danger—

the air so thick he could taste it. Jose didn’t want to die from the next

explosion. An explosion he knew would happen any moment. Where

was Pedro? At fourteen, Jose knew he couldn’t live without Pedro … the

only family he still had. A second explosion ripped through the air from

behind. It propelled him forward and out of the car.

He landed face first on the ground. The sharp rocks next to the train

tracks scraped deep into his forehead and temple. Another blast, then

another… punctuated by human shrieks, sobs, and moans. Hot metal

landed on his open hand, piercing deep into it. A stinging, burning

sensation spread throughout his palm. Blood oozed onto the gravel. Was

it his? He must keep going. If he didn’t, they would capture him. Where

had Pedro gone? Once law enforcement identified either of them, they’d

send them back to that Miami foster care group home. His stomach

knotted, and he became dizzy and nauseous.

Pushing down the sour tasting bile in his throat, Jose yelled, “Pedro!

Pedro!” Which way would Pedro run? Everyone else was running

toward the lighted area of the town square. Pedro would run in the

opposite direction. Away from the authorities.

Gasping for fresh air, Jose pushed himself to his feet with his good

arm. He grabbed the straps of the pouches and ran alongside the tracks.

Away from the flames, away from the desperate shrieks, into the gloom.

“Pedro! Pedro!”

He stumbled and fell, landing on top of a warm body. Mama Faye!

Her mangled face was just inches from his. Her ever-present scent of

patchouli wafted up, instantly bringing up the memory of her warm and

toothy smile. Her body was spread across the tracks, and her legs lay

at an unnatural angle. Jose whispered her name, pressing his ear to her

heart. Dead. He went completely still. His mind went blank. Was this

really happening? He pulled himself up, ran into the weeds, and threw

up.

What now? He couldn’t leave her here. Mama Faye, so kind, always

making sure they had food, if only those rank smelling hot dogs that had

been rolling for hours on the warming machine at the circus concession

stand. Hot tears wet his cheeks as Jose quickly gathered low-hanging

palm fronds. He cobbled together a soft bed in the forest, away from

the tracks. Constantly looking over his shoulder for anyone who might

spot him, he dragged Mama Faye to the bed with his good hand.

His tears wet both their faces as he cradled her head in his arms. Pain

exploded again in his injured hand as he pushed himself up to go. It was

nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Dear, sweet Faye. A mother

to him and Pedro after their own mother had been killed.

He glanced at the blue and red flashing lights of the police cars

and ambulances in the distance. Sirens were blaring, hurting his ears.

Shouting people with flashlights bouncing in the blackness were quickly

moving in his direction. Now what? What would his mother do? Jose

mumbled a verse she had taught him, “For it is by grace you have been

saved through faith.” It fit Mama Faye. She was always telling them that

their faith would bring them through this tough time with the traveling

circus. That God had wonderful plans for them.

Barking dogs were getting louder, closer. Jose straightened Mama

Faye’s legs, then crossed her arms over her chest. Sobbing, he picked

up his bags, turned and followed the rails into the musty smelling palm

forest. The ear-splitting explosions continued to rip through the night

air, lighting his path as he ran. Huge sobs shook his fourteen-year-old

malnourished frame. Mama Faye was dead. Pedro was gone. He was

alone.

He shouted his brother’s name once more. Many minutes later he

slowed to a stop, his legs refusing to move. Crouching behind a small

hut near the tracks, he held his injured hand close. In the distance one

last blast lit up the sky.

Then, a chilling silence.