Jenna: Chapter 1

Jenna slammed the door shut on the U-Haul truck. She shoved her hands into her back pockets and drew in a deep, satisfied breath. She was almost sure that everything was packed, and a feeling of gratification was beginning to settle over her.

Jenna’s parents came out of the large house where she had lived all her life. "Are you sure you’re ready for this, Honey?" her mother asked in that caring manner that mothers have when they are being too motherly.

"Yes, Mom," Jenna assured her as she gave her a final hug.

Her father took his turn and hugged her tightly. He drew back and held her shoulders squarely, "Now, do you have it?" His eyes were dark, the same eyes Jenna had inherited, and the seriousness of his inquisition startled her. He was referring to the gun he had taken her to buy a few days prior.

"Yes, it’s in my purse," Jenna shook off his anxieties as that simple over-protective quality to which she had become accustomed throughout the years. "Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be fine."

"That’s what I’m afraid of," her father joked. She could see the love in her parents’ eyes as she turned to get in her car.

"Call as soon as you get there!" her mother shouted.

"I will. I will," Jenna called back, turning to face them, "but you’ve got to stop worrying about me. I’m not a little girl anymore."

Jenna’s parents smiled and answered with the same response they had been giving their daughter for years, "But you’ll always be our little girl!"

Jenna laughed and climbed into her car. She was so glad to be leaving. She was definitely no little girl. She was a twenty-six-year-old graduate of Boston University. She had moved back to their small town in Tennessee to live with her parents after she had graduated when she had received an offer from a promising firm in Knoxville. Now, after two years with them, the company was branching out into new areas, and she was being relocated to New Orleans.

She watched as she rolled by the Tennessee Mountains. She would miss the scenery around her home, but there was something to be said about the excitement of the city, the Big Easy with the French Quarter and the activity she almost craved. As a night person, she knew she would love city nights.

Several hours later, Jenna found herself staring at a barren apartment. The U-Haul driver and doormen were bringing up her belongings. She strolled across the room and opened the window blinds. In front of her laid the New Orleans skyline. She was somewhat overtaken by the view, knowing that she was in one of the most sought after places to live in the entire city. If only. . .

Her thoughts drifted back to her junior year of college, when she had been studying abroad. She had been living in Florence, Italy when she had met the man of her dreams, Antonio. She had spent several wonderful months with him and had not forgotten him since. Whenever she went anywhere, she dreamed of Antonio once again by her side, but she had not been able to return to him since that semester abroad. The two still corresponded, but she longed to be back in his arms again. Now, gazing out over the city horizon under the setting sun, she wished he could be with her once again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bustle of the men carrying boxes and luggage. "Where do you want these?" a well-built porter asked.

Jenna gestured toward her right, "Over there is fine." Her thoughts were still on Antonio, but reality was slowly returning to her as she stared at the lifeless boxes in front of her. Within a few moments, Jenna was back on her toes, and Antonio was once again resting in the corner of her mind.

The first thing Jenna had to unpack was her computer terminal. She easily found the box she had marked with bright red tape, and she began carefully assembling the hardware. After a short time, her computer was set up and wired into the Internet. Now, at least, she was connected to the outside world.

Next, she began to unpack some of her possessions which she felt had priority. A few hours later, she had her apartment looking more like someone lived there than the empty shell it had been when she had arrived. She made herself a snack, watched some late night television, and finally decided to call it a night. She retired to her new bedroom around one A.M.

It was not until three days later that Jenna received the first of the strange phone calls. At eleven thirty on Monday night, she was working late on her computer when the phone rang. She had no idea who would be calling so late, and her caller ID read only: "PRIVATE NUMBER." Resting her head in her right hand, she lifted the receiver with her right. "Hello?"

A short silence irritated her, but the voice spoke before she could hang up. "Jenna?" the deep masculine voice asked.

"Who is this?" Jenna was too tired to deal with crank calls.

"You’ll know soon enough," the voice responded. "For now, I need you to do me a favor."

"Are you whacked?" Jenna flipped. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"You’ll know when the time is right," the voice remained calm and collected. "I want you to get a paper and pen and write down this message."

Her fatigue was too great to argue, and she complied somewhat out of curiosity. "O.K."

"Good. Go down to the desk and retrieve the key from your mailbox. Tomorrow, you need to take the key to Post Office Box 698. There will be a package inside which you need to guard with your life. Make several copies of the disk and hide them all appropriately. Do not give them to anyone and above all, do not trust anyone."

Jenna finished writing and dropped the pen on the desk. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"You’ve got to promise to do this, Jenna."

"Why?" Jenna demanded. "How do I know you’re not trying to kill me? That you’re not setting me up to be blown from here to hell and back?"

"Jenna, we’re on the same team. You are tied to the Black Star."

Jenna’s mouth dropped. "I promise. I will protect the package."

The voice spoke with satisfaction. "Good. I’ll be in touch." She heard a click on the other end of the line and knew that the conversation was over.

Held in a trance, she replaced the receiver to the base of the phone and stared blankly at the monitor in front of her. She had thought it was over when she had returned home from Europe. It was really just beginning.

Stay tuned for Chapter 2

About me Important Info Samples of My Writing Links
La Belle France About New Orleans My Tom Cruise Page Leave