The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller Read Online Free Page A

on the accelerator and zoomed through a yellow light just as it turned red. The wind whooshed through the cracks of his full-face helmet, causing a whistling sound he’d grown accustomed to over the years.
    If he made most of the lights, his friend’s home was less than twenty minutes away. Sean wasn’t sure whether or not that would be enough time, but he had to try. Better to be wrong and early than right and late.
     

2
    Virginia Highlands, Atlanta
     
    Sean’s Triumph screamed the last mile down the quiet borough street. He was fortunate most of the bar hoppers had settled on a location, leaving the roads relatively vacant of pedestrian traffic. The last thing he wanted was to run over someone crossing the road. Fortunately, he’d not had any close encounters and had been free to speed around the slower vehicular traffic as needed. The one police officer he’d seen had been at a stoplight, which luckily Sean had been forced to obey due to the line of three cars in front of him.
    He whipped the black British motorcycle into Tommy’s driveway just as he saw a familiar yellowish flash from the living room. Keeping his helmet on, he rushed to the front door and tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily. Sean glanced at the doorframe where it had been splintered from forced entry. He’d run out of his house so quickly to get to his motorcycle, Sean hadn’t even considered grabbing one of his spare firearms from the garage. He kept a small arsenal of weapons in a locker there. Now, as he stepped into Tommy’s house, he wished he’d thought of it.
    No time for regrets now. The tiny incendiary device ignited the putrid gel, and Tommy’s living room sparked into flames in an instant. His eyes scanned the room, trying to find his friend. He was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, Sean moved into the hallway that joined with the kitchen and a small breakfast nook in the back. Tommy wasn’t there either. He turned and hurried down the hall to the master bedroom as the flames ran after him along walls, doused in the orange substance.
    He kicked open the door and slammed it behind to cut off the fire. That would only keep the blaze at bay for so long. Sean looked around the room and found his friend lying prostrate on the bed off to the side near a window.
    “Tommy!” Sean shouted at his friend as he stepped closer to the bed. He could see the same handiwork on the back of his skull that he’d been dealt. A little patch of dried blood mixed with his friend’s curly, dark hair.
    Sean reached down and shook his friend. “Tommy. Wake up. We gotta get out of here.”
    Tommy grumbled something incoherent, still clearly unconscious from the drugs and the blow to the head. Picture frames cracked in the hall just outside the door, and Sean knew he only had seconds to get the two of them out.
    His eyes surveyed the room, and he saw that the walls and hardwood floor had been doused in the flammable gel.
    “Not good,” he said to himself.
    He couldn’t wait any longer. Sean moved back over to the bed and kneeled down. Grabbing one of Tommy’s arms and the back of his corresponding leg, he hefted his friend’s limp, two-hundred-pound frame over his shoulders. Then he remembered the hallway would be a tunnel of flaming doom.
    “Man, you are going to need to drop a few pounds,” Sean grunted, knowing his friend couldn’t hear him.
    He set Tommy back down for a second and grabbed a baseball bat that was sitting on the floor, propped up against the side of a chestnut dresser. Sean gripped it with both hands and moved to the backyard-facing window. He bashed the glass, shattering it into hundreds of pieces and sending it flying outward. He continued to chop away at the window frame until there was nothing left that resembled what it had once been. Thankfully, the window sill was only two feet from the floor, so heaving his friend through the opening wouldn’t be as bad as if it were a four-foot-high window.
    Something exploded