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The fallen and the elect, p.1
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       The Fallen and the Elect, p.1

           Jerry J. K. Rogers
The Fallen and the Elect

  The Fallen and the Elect

  Copyright 2013 Jerry Rogers

  All Rights Reserved

  Front cover design by the author and is for use in association with this work. No other use is authorized without the author's permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by J Brown Editing Services


  With all my heart, I dedicate this book to Mark, Annie, Mark II, Cameron, Emilie, Alex and Luke. The encouragement all of you provided, as well as providing a fun and relaxing place to collect my thoughts and work on this project, mean more than all of you will ever realize.

  Table of Contents

  I. The Eulogy of Angels: Abriel’s Song

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  II. The Eulogy of Angels: The Golden Fire of Gishmael

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  III. The Eulogy of Angels: Aguascalientes

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  IV. The Shadow of Angels: Aurora

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  V. The Anthem of Angels: Requiem

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  VI. The Shadow of Angels: Las Cruces

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  VII. Debrief

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue – The First Angelic Eulogy


  Other Works

  About the Author

  I. The Eulogy of Angels: Abriel’s Song

  Chapter 1

  Alder Dennison was pissed. His family should have been ready to go half an hour ago. His wife Maria said the kids were ready; she just needed to finish her makeup. Now she was changing their nine-month old son Matthew's diaper again.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Alder blasted from the doorway to the garage in his tenor voice, “I don't wanna be late.” He glanced at his watch, one thirty. Maria finally worked her way downstairs, Matthew in her arms. Michelle, his older sister by almost three and a half years, patiently took each step with the surety and confidence of a much older child. Once on the landing, she darted to the doorway, grabbed her favorite Winnie the Pooh doll from the floor, and was helped by her dad into her car seat of the Toyota Sienna minivan. Maria followed walking gingerly so as not to disturb Matthew, who was drifting to sleep.

  “You know, if you helped out more with the kids I would’ve been ready. I had to change your son,” Maria said, gently resting Matthew in his baby carrier and securing it to the passenger-side rear seat. “You could have easily taken care of his diaper before coming down. I know you smelled something was wrong when you were playing with him.”

  “Hell, all he seems to do is eat, crap and sleep,” Alder replied, securing the driver side-sliding door.

  “Takes after daddy, doesn't he boo bear?” Maria whispered to Matthew in the “goo goo gaga” voice most adults use when talking to a baby, loud enough for Alder to hear. “You pack the kids’ diaper and travel bags?” Maria asked directing her question to Alder tinted with disdain. Still frustrated with him for not helping with getting the children ready earlier, she became more infuriated as she added the current incident to his recent string of not supporting her more with the kids. He only seemed concerned with playing with the children.

  “They should be back there.” Alder made sure they were in the minivan. He didn't want to have any reason to return home and miss the ceremony. He and Maria were both excited about attending after finding out they won a spot on the primary guests’ list and not on the alternates list of raffled seats. Yet from her present bout of being frustrated at him, Alder would not have known of her supposed excitement.

  Driving onto the freeway, traffic turned out to be lighter than expected for a Saturday afternoon. Alder knew that if he sped they could still arrive early enough to find a decent parking spot. Yet with the entire family in the vehicle, hovering around the posted speed limit was his only option; they might still arrive before the closing and locking of the funeral home doors.
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