Purgatory

PURGATORY

Chapter One

He bustled about the apratment, moving from room to room. He was in a hurry and he didn't want to be late. While fixing his hair, brushing his teeth, and straightening his clothes, he couldn't help but hear the television in the living room. It was the news; at least to most people it was the news. The newsanchor, in his intelligent-sounding, deep voice, repeated the words provided for him on the teleprompter cautiously. The information was still news to the anchor, and to most of the world:
        "This is INN News Tonight, and I am John Newland. The world is still in shock today after last month's development, announcing the existence of a new breed of human beings. They have claimed to be the progeny of a human and either a demon or angelic being."
He watched the television as they showed people crowding outside of Vatican City holding up signs. The signs recited bible passages, even 'Blasphemy!' written in red. The anchor continued:
        "These people claim to have special powers such as the ability to fly and to move objects with their minds. The are calling themselves 'Purgatorians.' Little is known about these people and if their claims are true, but --"
His hand switched the television off. "That's all about to change," he said.
The phone rang, hanging from the kitchen wall. He ran to answer it. "Hello," he said, wondering who could be on the line.
"Christian, you haven't left yet?"
"Erica, is that you?"
"Yes it's me. I can't believe you haven't left yet."
"I know, wait, why would you call me --"
"This is a good story, Christian. I think you and I both know how important this would be for your career. Are you bringing protection?"
"You mean like a gun? No, why?"
"I'm your editor, Christian, I'm making sure you're not going to be stupid.:
"I'll be fine, Erica. Don't worry. But I have to go."
"Alright, call me when you're back home."
Christian hung up the phone. Grabbing his messenger bag, a pen and his taperecorder, he ran out the door. He was a reporter, he couldn't be late for the biggest story of the year. Being a reporter for the International News Network (INN), the biggest news network in the world, he coudn't help but be surprised hat he was the one who recieved the call last week.
To Christian it was a normal and dull Monday morning, not special from any other. Scraping around for good stories to get his career back on track. His coverage of World War III was amazing. Being that he was the only twenty-five, and his first year working for INN, his coverage on the front lines made audiences everywhere well aware of the destruction. Christian was given an award for his work, which sat neatly on the front corner of his desk, making sure it was the first thing someone would see when they opened the door. Of course, since then Christian could cover millions of stories, but they couldn't compare. So, he faded quickly into the background. He lost his fiance' to the present INN Weatherman, and even his newspaper columns were being ever so gradually placed closer and closer to the back page. Little did Christian know, that was about to change.
The phone rang. "Hello, Christian Soleman here," he said. He heard breathing on the reciever but no one spoke. "Hello? Who is this?" A man finally responded. "Christian Soleman? The Christian Soleman who reported during the war?" A bit suprised by how the caller asked for him, he answered.
"Yes, that's me."
"There are many people who do not understand us, Christian. I want you to enlighten them."
"What are you talking about? Who is 'us'?"
"Purgatorians."
Christian could only guess at who it was on the other end of the phone, but his heart pounded with excitement. "And just how can I enlighten them, sir?" The caller replied, "Meet me Sunday night. Nine o'clock. The Arco Di Constantino."
"Yes, I will. May I have your name? It's only fair since you know mine."
"Aben. My name is Aben."
Christian decided to only tell his editor, Erica Moore, so no one else knew what he was up to.
He liked living in Rome. It was a place decorated with masterpieces. The Arco Di Constantino was across town, but he could care less, it was as good as any place to get his story.
He haled a cab as soon as he made it to the sidewalk outside his apartment building. "Arco Di Constantino," he told the driver,"and step on it please."

MORE WILL BE ADDED AS I GO. THIS CHAPTER IS NOT OVER YET ;)