Novel - Jesus to Jesus - Test read for audiobook
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Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US Western)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
after one, the not too distant future Paul Shepard stroke quickly along King Faisal Street toward the public square in Damascus. He wore dark clothing, so is not to draw attention and hit his features. In a black hooded sweatshirt with the sun rays beating down from a cloudless sky, he turned off the square down an alley in the direction of the war torn section of the city. He glanced back a few times to make sure he wasn't followed. The further he walked into the destroyed neighbourhood, the quieter it got. He wasn't surprised. He knew it was a very dangerous part of town that people tended to avoid. He emerged onto a demolished, an abandoned street, passing the remains of cars burnt black from fire and buildings, burying massive, jagged holes from explosions. Everything told a story that no one would hear. The street was dead silent except for the occasional cause of a crow, looking for whatever morsels remained from the desolation. A few blocks on, he reached an abandoned, bombed out building and climbed the steps to its main entrance. Once a regal structure, now gaping hole stared empty or glass windows once glistened. Upper floors on the backside, where collapse down upon those below. Gray and white pigeons flew overhead in and out of the decrepit structure. Concrete and wood rubbish littered the street and spaces between the various buildings, which were no longer livable nor safe to former residents. Yet some made homes deep inside the broken structures, having nowhere else to go. Paul walked up to the heavy set of double doors at the top of the stairs and knocked. Though discolored from burns, it remains solid enclosed. After a minute, two guards carrying rifles opened the doors. Paul tossed his head back and flashed a badge, which they scanned and allowed him inside, indicating by a non of their heads, which direction he was to go. Signs posted in both English in a foreign language marked the hallway, which was remarkably restored, the marble tiles of the floor relatively clean but for concrete dust piled in the corners. At the end of the hallway was a wooden door march glass eye global security. He entered into a room filled with simple black desks holding computer monitors and keyboards, walls punctuated with large black TV screens. A man dressed in a white shirt, navy blue tie and dark slacks rose from his chair. Degree him. The tai hung loosely around his color, the badge pinned tightly to a shirt pocket. It read. David tongue, Kelyn. Ah, it's good to see you, Paul. Talk, Lin said, extending his hand. He stood a few inches taller than was a slider bill that his acquaintance, You are a bit light, though. The CIA a Wait till the last minute to send you again. He grand. Oh, returned the handshake and shrugged. Yes, as usual, Got here as soon as I could. Talking left. Well, I'm just glad they sent you. You'll be working with me now, at least temporarily, as an adviser, and you arrived just in time. Come take a look over here. Conklin moved to the wall of screens, which showed various views from the air of a small building crammed in between other larger buildings. Was this poll last pondering what he just heard? Not sure he wanted to work for Tong. Glynn seems to be just another empty building. Watch the screens. It's a great school, but Intel says it's an Isis stronghold, courtesy of our upgraded security clearance, Talking explained call a confused. Why is the U. S. Military outsourcing this? Why is Glass I involved plausible deniability, which means they're unsure of the intel, Paul said. Concerned. It was a comment, not a question at Put chocolate on the spot, so we ignored it. But Paul Duggan, right, talking, raised both hands, palms up. We've Onley seen adults come and go Paul walk closer wanted screens to get a better look. He could see the adjacent buildings were attached or so close as to be touching. They could easily enter through the connecting buildings that we wouldn't see it from the air talk. Lynn smiled and shook his head, getting cold feet. Paul, He walked over to stand next to him. He looked like a tiger, ready to pounce on its evening dinner of deer meat. Paul glanced at him. Annoyed cold feet. Oh, please talk. Lynn liked his kills clean sanitised, seen from a safe distance with a cup of coffee in his hands. Try being a field agent when you might have to dish out death up close and personal. Maybe you think twice about it, then I just want to be sure, Paul said blankly after all, and the advisor, right, Chocolate brushed his hands through his hair and impatiently turned away. Paul, that's just a figurehead position. I've been given full authority to do what I deem necessary, no matter what it involves. Truth be told, I'm the one in charge here. The men turned to wash the screens as they saw movement. Several black SUVs approached the building, and about a dozen people got out of the vehicles. They were all dressed in black robes with hoods talking grand ear to ear. It's Showtime. A technician seated at the other end of the room stood to get their attention. The drones are moving in a position. Sir Paul tried one last time. Let me lead a team on the ground together. More Intel should only take an hour or so of the most. He felt anxiety paying in his stomach. We have all the intel we need, Paul, but drones are in position now. A technician called out, talkin shut without hesitation, fire pointing his hands at the screens. The muscles of Paul's face tightened as he controlled his anger, feeling helpless to stop what was happening. He watched the monitors closely, shifting his gaze from one to another, he silently prayed. The target wasn't a school. He saw those on the ground near the vehicles look up in horror as the missile struck their target, the explosion sending debris and clouds of dust flying into the air along with body parts. As the clouds dissipated, Paul saw the aftermath. The SUVs were smoldering. Hunks of metal dead burning bodies were scattered in various positions on the ground around them. The building's framework of metal beams protruded at angles no longer capable of holding up the structure. Fire burns from inside the building, sending billows of smoke skyward. Justice Paul started to turn away from the scene. His days caught something moving. Oh, no, not this. A young hand reach from beneath a smile, Paul small pile of rubble. A bloody face appeared on the mouth shaped a silent scream. It was a little boy, his clothes torn and bloody, and fell with a thud onto his back in front of the vehicles. After calling out, Talking said not a word, but stood with his hands on his hips in front of the array of screens. He looked pleased with himself and ignored the images that looked to be Children. He stood for a long time, deep in his own thoughts. Paul exchange Salam looks of the technician before heading to the door. Where you go on shepherd talk? Let asked as he glanced back. You knew he screwed this up, but he wasn't one to shy away from a conflict. He braced himself for Paul's reaction. Instead, Paul ignored him, passed through a hidden exit onto a rusty balcony. The metal railing jangled as he leaned over it and vomit into the street two stories below, hoping to reduce soul of the massacre he just witnessed. Paul wasn't a stranger to death. Not at all. He'd seen plenty of it as a C I a field agent. But this I should have stopped talking. What was I thinking? Across the street, a bearded man who appeared to be in his fifties wearing a black tunic, stood silently. You watch Paul Wretch for a minute, content with the scene. He turned and walked in the direction of the public square before he disappeared. Okay, that's as far as I'm gonna go in Chapter one, and I'm gonna move on to Chapter two. This is Pam, Chapter two a. C. Dis planted ancient Israel. Zachariah stood leaning on his cane next to the tall oak tree on the side of his house, a spring breeze, Russell that many leaves above his head as the sun set below the horizon. He was an old man now and had experienced much in the decades of serving as a high priest in the temple. Zechariah closed his eyes and breathed in the mingle, the room of wood, flowers and greenery he remembered when his own father had planted the tree jacker. Zachary I was just six years old. He had his pop. It would measure how the tree grew against Zachariah is growth now, of course, the tree was much taller than he Waas, and it provided good shape to their home. For that, he was thankful. Inside, his wife, Elizabeth, had just nursed and put to bed their only son, John. One day. Zachariah would also measure John's growth against the tree, as Zechariah his father, had. If he were to live much longer. He was still in awe, becoming a father at his age. Nearing 100 he had prayed so many years to be blessed with the sun as a priest and a descendent of Aaron. From the time of Moses, those prayers were always on his mind as he led the traditional prayer incense to think that with Elizabeth in her eighties, she was able to bear a son praises to God in heaven. It indeed was a miracle. Their prayers of many years had been answered.