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Authors: Gary Williams Ramsey

The Spirit Survives

BOOK: The Spirit Survives
2.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub



Thriller by Gary William Ramsey

Kindle: 978-1-58124-318-5

ePub: 978-1-58124-319-2

©2012 by Gary William Ramsey

Published 2012 by The Fiction Works

[email protected]


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85


About the Author



Dedicated to

Joyce and Joe Andrews


And to the memory of

Johnsie and B.J. Jary.


You accepted me in your

family, and gave me a

place in your hearts.


“The Silence of the Night”


“I need you for my spirit to survive”


The silence of the night fills my mind with fright

When hopes not with me and you’re not with me.

The silence of the day is so loud that I can’t pray

For God to find you so I can have you.


Without you the stars are blinding

Without you the day has no light

Without you life has no meaning

I can hear you in the silence of the night.


In the silence of the night I hear your breathing

If the silence of the night I feel your life.

In the darkness of the night, you are the brilliant light

Your soul haunts the silence of the night.


As I wander and fly with the black dove

The king of the sky and the night

You wander and fly with the angels

They keep love and me from your sight.




The spirit and the soul are the two primary immaterial characteristics that are ascribed to humankind. It’s hard to understand the differences between the two. Human beings have a spirit, although we are not spirits. We live in a body, and we posses a soul. However, the real person inside all of us is our spirit.

Our bodies are what we live in while we are here on earth. The soul and the spirit are connected but separable within that body. Furthermore, the soul is the essence of a human being, it is who we are. The spirit is the aspect of humanity that connects with something higher than we can truly comprehend. The soul is the breath of life. The spirit is the driving force of that life.

A person’s spirit can be marked by a large range of characteristics, evil and good, including unfaithfulness, sincerity, strength of character and humility. A strong spirit can fortify a person’s mental and emotional condition. The spirit of a human can be broken and crushed, but it can also be revived and refreshed. A strong and passionate spirit can take us through almost impossible times when strengthened by love for other human beings. When the spirit is given a compelling reason to survive, it can reinforce the resolve and desire to live.

It’s hard to know for sure if the strength of the spirit is inherited or built by the feelings and experiences in life. I do believe that the soul and the spirit are united at death and face together whatever comes after life.

Some humans possess a strong and passionate spirit. When this spirit is combined with unconditional love for another it is refreshed and given the strength to survive the almost impossible events in life.

The spirit is truly the driving force of our lives here on earth.


Chapter 1


August 18, 2005 actually started out as a nice sunny day. Low hanging clouds failed to obscure the sun and the lingering pleasant breeze softly ruffled the sage green leaves on the trees. Having recently moved to Green Bay with my fiancée, Leah, I’d come to Lookout Mountain for a few days of rest and relaxation. Not pleased to have left my comfortable life in Chicago, my nerves were frayed from the move, so we decided to give each other some space. Loving the mountains, I rented a cottage on Lake Nokomis in Tomahawk, Wisconsin, packed a backpack, and drove my Lexus to Lookout Mountain for a day of hiking.

I started up the first trail I found, looking for trees that I love to observe. The mountain maples, which have beautiful green leaves and flowers with narrow erect panicles, had been heavily browsed by deer because the flowers had formed dense clumps of small stems. Higher up the mountain, the ashleaf maples had taken over.

A flying squirrel prompted me to raise my binoculars for a better look. I removed my backpack to get the digital camera that Leah had given me for my birthday. I particularly wanted pictures of the ashleaf maples and maybe could get lucky and snap a picture of the flying squirrel, which Leah would enjoy seeing. I searched through my entire backpack but the camera was missing. I must have left it on the seat in my car. Since there was plenty of time for pictures, I decided to go back later to pick it up. I was beginning to relax and admire the beauty and the mystery of nature.

I began searching with my high-powered binoculars for a path to the mountain’s summit and then I scanned the mountain to see if there were any more classic trees.

As I studied the mountain’s face, I noticed movement through the trees. I refocused my binoculars to get a better look. About a hundred feet below in the valley, in a clearing, a man was straddling a woman. Her skirt was hiked up over her hips and her blouse had been torn off. She struggled and kicked wildly, while another man restrained her arms. The man on top slapped her twice as he fumbled with his zipper.

I yelled to try to stop them but was too far away to get their attention. Frantically I looked for a trail down the mountain to the valley. I spotted a rough trail leading down. It would be dangerous getting down there without falling, especially with my heavy backpack, but I had to try.

After another look, the man who was straddling the woman turned, revealing his face clearly. He was thirtyish with coal black hair, worn long and in a ponytail. He wore sunglasses, but the struggling girl knocked them from his face. An ironic blasphemy, he wore a tattoo of an angel on his neck. His face reddening, he struck the girl again. Her nose and mouth were bleeding. She looked no older than eighteen and her long blonde curly hair was tangled and matted with blood, her frail body shook. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

The other man who had been holding her hands had moved and was now holding her feet apart as the other man raped her. The man holding her feet was fiftyish, very tall, six-feet-eight inches or more. He had short gray hair and a muscular build. I’ll never forget his maniacal grin. He seemed to enjoy watching the young girl’s agony.

Moving as fast as I could down the rough trail, it wasn’t long before I slipped and fell. After struggling back to my feet, I noticed that my leg was bleeding.

A martial artist, my plan was to do a number on these bastards. I didn’t yell again, even though I was close enough for them to hear me. I was counting on surprise to even the odds. When I got to the bottom of the path the two men still didn’t know that I was behind them.

The black-haired man got off the girl. He was buckling his belt and zipping his jeans when the girl kicked wildly and hit him in the groin. He yelled, grimaced and bent over holding his nuts. The big guy ran around and kicked her in the head twice, and she didn’t move. He was concentrating on the girl, or he would have seen me.

I yelled, charged and both the men turned toward me. I was ready to attack when the big guy reached behind his back and pulled a gun from his belt.

Then, to my surprise, he turned and shot the girl in the head. The impact of the bullet hit her head with a crimson spray of blood and her brains splattered on the ground. I recognized the Colt .45. He quickly turned and pointed the powerful weapon toward me.

Martial arts or no martial arts, I am no match for a gun, especially a Colt .45. I veered rapidly to the left as he fired and the bullet missed me.

As he prepared to fire again, the most dreadful noise I had ever heard in my life almost ruptured my ear drums. It sounded like an out-of-control freight train and was thunderous, causing the ground to quiver. Caught off-guard, the two killers turned to see what was causing the ruckus. When they turned, I dashed back to the trail. Another shot rang out, but I didn’t feel any pain. The shooter must have missed again.

BOOK: The Spirit Survives
2.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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