The Greatest of These by Greg Wendleton (booksvooks txt) 📕

This is a work of fiction. All events and characters are a creation of the writer’s imagination, unless specifically acknowledged. Any similarity to any events or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

 

Some locations, businesses and institutions are real and are used to enhance the story line. There is no intention by the writer to cast any location, business or institution in a negative light.

 

© 2021 Greg Wendleton. All rights reserved worldwide.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law or for brief excerpts in a review.

This book is dedicated to the more than 550,000 American lives, and more than 3 million lives, worldwide that have been lost to the COVID pandemic since early 2020.

Special recognition goes to the men and women of the food industry, who have worked tirelessly throughout this pandemic to keep us fed.

Finally, to my cousin, Wayne Kenneth Hein who lost his life, to COVID, in November of 2020. He was a good man, who is missed by his friends and family.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About The Author

CHAPTER ONE

I woke to an unusually bright light blasting through the transom window above my king-sized headboard. I wearily rose from my bed and stumbled toward the closed blinds covering the window overlooking my backyard. I opened the blinds and was dumbstruck by the white, flakes falling from the sky to join the several inches that glistened in the early morning sunshine as it covered the ground.

“What the hell…”, I mumbled to myself.

“It’s called snow”, said my wife, Fonda, who lay propped on her side in our bed. One strap of her nightie had slid off her slender shoulder and exposed a tantalizing view.

I stared at her and then blurted, “I know it’s snow, but where did this come from?”

“The sky babe, where else would it come from? It was predicted.”

“Predicted? What are you talking about? We live in San Antonio, Texas, for crying out loud. We don’t get snow!”

“Jim Cantori”, Fonda stated matter of factly.

“What?”

“Jim Cantori, The Weather Channel? He’s been talking about it for the past several days. An Arctic blast all the way south to Houston.”

At this point Fonda was sitting upright and the other strap had slid lower off her shoulder leaving her nearly full exposed. At my present age of 47 I was no longer built like the 5’10” fullback who had played at the University of Texas…..at San Antonio twenty-five years ago. I carried 210 pounds on my thick frame, but had gotten a little soft in the core. Right now I was feeling a little firmer.

“Well, I don’t pay attention to the Weather Channel, but I’m paying attention to you.”

Fonda smiled, a devilish grin erupting on her beautiful face as I confidently strode back toward our bed. Right as I was getting ready for my smoothest of moves I felt a cold, wet nose goose me from behind. Damn, it was Chief, our neighbors Chocolate Labradoodle. He had just woken, probably because of my Ric Flair strut and the Nature Boy “woooo” that I had just let escape from my mouth. I forgot we were dog sitting for our good friends, Chad and Jamie Wilhite while they were on a vacation trip to Maui. Now, of all times, he needed to go outside and take care of his business. Damn!

I have to admit, I’m not a dog lover at heart. If they are someone else’s pet, that’s cool. But generally speaking, dogs are high maintenance and I had my hands full maintaining Fonda. Of course, we don’t have a fenced yard that I can just let him out and hustle back into bed, so my body was quickly returning to it’s 47-year-old state, a little soft around the middle. I’ll have to get dressed, hunt down a coat, and take Chief for a walk. What was I thinking when I told Chad I’d be happy to keep Chief for the next week? I sure wasn’t planning to go on a walk in several inches of freshly fallen snow.

“Sweetie, do you want to go on a walk with us?”

“Uh, no! It’s Saturday and I’m going to stay right here in my bed. I’ll be here when you get back though. Oh, don’t forget to take a grocery bag with you.”

I looked dumbfounded and said, “Why do I need a grocery bag?”

“To pick up Chief’s poop.”

“What? I have to pick up his poop?”

“Oh yeah. Bless your heart.”

“Shit!”

“That’s right.”

How did I not know this stuff? My name is Garret Cooper and, after all, I’m a fucking spy!

CHAPTER TWO

Chief didn’t want to just take care of his business, he was fascinated by the snow and wanted to romp around and play and play and then play some more. Forty-five minutes later we fumbled our way into the kitchen with grocery bag in hand.

“Don’t bring that into my kitchen! Leave it outside.”

Damn, Fonda was fully dressed. So much for sneaking back in bed for some undercover work this morning. “Oh, right, I guess I should put it in the garage trash bin.”

“You think babe?” Fonda softly said as she rolled her eyes at me like I was eight years old. I guess sometimes I acted like I was still a boy. Young at heart, what’s wrong with that? “You need to feed Chief. His food is in the garage. Would you like