The Coins Edge
by Joseph E. Belnap

Copyright (c) 1998 
All rights reserved.

Published and Distributed by: Granite Publishing and Distribution, L.L.C.


<~Chapter 1~>
Chapter One

The blaring siren became a thin lifeline that encircled David's consciousness. That sound diverted his attention from the searing pain in his chest. He barely kept himself from slipping off into unconsciousness.
He couldn't understand what was going on. He vaguely realized where he was and the pain in his chest made it apparent why he was there. But how had this happened?
Something was gravely wrong! The manner in which the EMT's were working on him showed an outward calmness that might have been reassuring, except that one of them kept looking at his watch. Each time he glanced at the instruments there followed a pleading expression toward the timepiece as if begging for time to slow down.
He could feel no sensation other than that of his chest melting from the inside out. Subconsciously, David feared that if he couldn't stay awake, he would never be revived again.
This fear was fed even more by his inability to breathe. David had an oxygen mask on and yet it felt as though he were drowning. "Something must be wrong with the mask," he thought, "it must be plugged." He fumbled with the mask and shifted it from over his mouth and nose. Rather than being relieved of his turmoil, it was as though he had taken a breath of salt water. "Don't panic," he tried to tell himself. But that wasn't easy since all the oxygen had somehow been removed from the earth.
"What . . .?" he gasped. It was all he could get out before his breath was cut off.
"Don't try to talk," the heavy-set EMT encouraged as he readjusted the mask. "We'll have you there in a few
minutes."
The siren began to remind him of the severity of the situation, so he diverted his attention to what the EMT's were saying. Though this wasn't as constant, it was the only act that forced him to stay awake.
"University Med Center, this is ambulance 521; EMT Eggett speaking. We have a man; approximately thirty-four years old with a gunshot wound to the chest. He has labored breathing. Possible collapsed lung. B.P. is eighty over sixty and falling. We are having trouble maintaining a regular heart beat. Patient is not coherent. No sign of an exit wound. Our ETA is two minutes."
The ambulance was proceeding along North Campus Drive and oddly enough traffic was light. They made the turn on Medical Drive and headed toward University Hospital.
They turned down the ramp behind the heliport as the life-flight chopper was preparing to leave. The sound was deafening, almost drowning out the siren. Trying to look, he realized that they had his head propped back and he was being restrained.
The ambulance stopped abruptly and the doors exploded outward. It seemed that he was being wheeled at the same speed the ambulance had proceeded to the hospital.
"O.R. One has been fully prepped!" someone yelled out.
Despite the fact that he was being wheeled through an ocean of frantic conversation, David could only make out an occasional sentence here and there.
"So this is the guy," a soft, calm voice said. A middle-aged woman's face leaned over him and smiled. She then spoke reassuringly, "That was really something that you did. You can bet we will do everything we can to see that you'll be able to tell the story yourself."
"What did I do?!?" was all he could think. David wasn't even sure what events had transpired prior to his waking up in the ambulance with a chest full of molten lava. "I need to know, because whatever it was, I sure as hell don't want to do it again!" He smiled at that last thought. He was never prone to swear, but he had always had a different sense of humor.
"Try to remain calm," she said, "Dr. Taylor is the best we have and . . . you'll be fine." She was less composed as she said those last few words.
Despite her reassurance, he was beginning to lose what little control he had held. All he knew was that somehow he had been shot, he couldn't breathe, and they were treating him as though he were some kind of hero.
"A dying hero," he thought as he was wheeled quickly toward the operating room.
The conversation at the admitting desk was a little different from the reassuring words extended by the concerned nurse. He wasn't quite as revered there.
"So what's his name? Looks like I'm stuck with filling out the paper work," the admitting clerk said dryly.
The young orderly shuffled through a manila folder and produced a grey eel skin wallet. "I don't think anyone bothered checking, what with all the commotion. Let's see what we can find out about this guy." He opened the wallet and started to go through its contents. "Driver's license would have most of it. Name's David William Freeman. Lives at 219 East 1750 North in Bountiful. Zip is 84010. He weighs 195 pounds, has blue eyes . . ."
That got a quick glare from the clerk.
"Hey, I'm just reading what's here, OK?" His expression didn't convey the innocence of what he had just said. "He was born on May 2, . . . so he would be . . . 29 years old. He seemed to look a lot older when they wheeled him in."
"They always do when they're dying."
"You know, I think you've been here too long. He's 6-1 and . . . not a donor. Let's see what else we've got here."
"I think I've got everything I . . ."
"Wow, would you look at her," he said holding up a photograph like a prize at a carnival booth. "All we would need to do to get him through surgery is somehow pump his brain with an image of this photo. Please tell me she is this guy's sister and not his girlfriend, or worse yet, his wife."
"Well that's enough of that!", she blurted out. She made an unsuccessful attempt to retrieve the picture. "We need to be ready for the next patient, or did you forget that they are bringing in the other survivor?"
"Sorry. I thought they would be taking the survivors to different hospitals to cut down on traffic in the emergency rooms."
"It seems that there was only one other severely wounded survivor and they decided to bring her here rather than Holy Cross. They are taking care of all the shock victims. All the others were sent to St. Mark's."
"Others? I thought you said there was only one survivor."
"They went to the basement. They were gone before the EMT's could get into the building."
"What about the one coming in? How bad is she?"
"Her injury isn't too serious. But because of how long it took before they could get to her, she lost an awful lot of blood. She is probably in a severe state of shock as well."
"How many casualties?"
"Six." She paused for a moment then stated bluntly, "Well, at least we got the least amount of paper work."
They then went on to their individual duties. The orderly began to replace the articles in the manila envelope, but making sure that no one was looking, he slipped the photograph of the beautiful woman into his pant pocket.
"He won't be missing this where he's going," he muttered.
All David could do was cry. The frustration had set in and he was beginning to panic. They must have given him something for the pain because that was no longer bothering him. Or was he already going to the other side? Most of the Beyond-and-Back experiences he had read of related how one of the first sensations felt was that they were relieved of their pain or trauma, overcome by an irresistible sense of peace. "So where is the dark tunnel and the brilliant, white light?" he wondered inwardly.
Oddly enough the one sensation that he had feared most of his life was the one that helped him realize that he wasn't going anywhere, at least for the moment: He still felt as though he were drowning. It didn't matter how hard he struggled to breathe, he was not getting any air. He had always wondered if that would be how he would go, but to drown on dry land?!?
He had to stay awake. If this was the situation he faced while awake, there was no estimating the magnitude of the nightmare awaiting him once he succumbed to the drowsiness beginning to settle over him. He would not come back if he were to leave. Somehow he knew this.
David had been placed on the operating room table and it occurred to him that they would probably apply anesthesia shortly.
The thoughts raced through his mind as panic began to take control:
"NO!
"I won't come back!
"You don't understand!
"I'm alone this time . . . he's not here!
"Please . . . ," David sputtered. The room began to spiral and envelop him in a smothering darkness.
The engulfing hysteria dredged up many long immersed memories from the murky depths of his mind. He had experienced the sensation of drowning many times before, and though he consciously chose not to reflect on those times, the anesthesia freed those suppressed thoughts from the deepest channels within his subconscienceness, allowing them to roam freely through his tortured brain.
As the effects of the anaesthetic receded, the memories began to take form yet remained unfamiliar, becoming scrambled as he fought to regain control. Then one particular incident stepped to the forefront allowing him to relive in graphic detail that terrifying point of time from his youth.

<~Chapter 2~>
Chapter Two

"Last one in is a slimy raisin!", Danny yelled as he pushed David Freeman to the ground. He then sprinted off toward the swimming hole.
Even though he was two years younger than Danny, David quickly closed the distance between himself and the older boy. They both entered the water together; David in a cannonball and Danny in a perfect dive.
The swimming hole consisted of a murky eddy in the canal that ran through Old Man Tingey's farm. Most parents wouldn't even consider the possibility of allowing their child to splash their feet in the unpleasant water, but since there was so little for the young boys to do, swimming at the old hole at least kept them out of too much trouble. And to a seven-year-old, the dirty pond was as good as any Olympic-sized pool.
David and Danny were friends out of default. There literally was no one else around for either of them to play with. They got along well enough, but they had very few common interests. Danny was more adventuresome, always wanting to explore some cave or go climbing. He would say he was going to find buried treasure, unlock the mysterious secrets of the universe. David, on the other hand, was more conservative, practical and pragmatic. He preferred to stay close to home, and play a board game or run around in the yard. Each time Danny would come up with one of his great ideas, he would also have to talk David into it. David had to have a reason for everything. And unlike most seven-year-olds, he could tell the difference between a well-conceived line, and a legitimate reason for doing something.
Despite their differences, they were always together. The main reason being that though there was very little for the two of them to do, there would be even less if either was on his own.
The swimming hole was one of those common interests that they both relished. And on this clear sunny day the water was especially inviting. They initially splashed and rolled in the bracing water, cooling off from the day's heat. Then they sat on the bottom with their backs against the bank; the water leveling off at their chest.
"Wouldn't it be neat to know what was going to happen before it really happened?" Danny asked wonderingly.
Even though they had carried on this conversation many times before David asked, "Why would that be so neat?"
"Well, like in school, you could know what questions the teacher was going to ask, or which one she would ask you, or better yet, you would know the answers. Then you wouldn't have to do any homework, 'cause you would already know what would be on the tests. You would get A's without even trying. Then everyone would think you were a genius, and you would get your picture in the paper . . "
"My mom already says I'm smart."
Danny looked at David as though he had just walked into a plate glass window and said, "You just don't get it, do you? People would start wondering about you. I mean, they would always watch what they did or said around you."
"Why?"
"Because they would be afraid of you. Because you know things about them that they don't even know yet. They would probably think that things happened the way you said because you made them happen . . . that would be fun!"
"I wouldn't want everyone afraid of me. I wouldn't have any friends or . . ."
"They would all be your friends! They wouldn't want you mad at them if you could make bad things happen to them."
"But you can't make bad things happen to them; those things just happen. Even if you did know they were going to happen, you aren't the one that makes them happen."
"Oh yeah, then who does?"
"My dad says that God does."
"Why would God make bad things happen to people? Doesn't he like them?"
"Well, I . . . I'm . . . I don't know. That's just what my dad says." David was not liking the way this conversation was going this time. He was starting to feel very uncomfortable and he could tell that Danny was aware of his
uneasiness.
Danny was loving this. David was starting to get scared and he hadn't even done anything, really. It wasn't enough that he had accomplished this small feat, something prodded him to go even further, "No, I don't think it's God that does bad things to people. I think it's the Devil. He doesn't like people to be happy so he goes around making them feel bad."
"We don't talk about those things," David said softly. He was starting to tremble slightly in his legs. Hopefully, Danny hadn't noticed.
"Why not?!? Are you afraid he might hear you? Then what? Is he going to come and get you if you do?" he chuckled. Danny couldn't remember having so much fun. All he was doing was talking, and David, for once, couldn't come up with one of his all-knowing answers. He was even starting to shake.
"I could make things happen to people, if I made a deal with the devil. He would do things for me if I did things for him. Then if I changed my mind . . ."
"STOP IT!!" David yelled, having heard more than he wanted to hear. It no longer mattered whether Danny knew he was scared anymore, he just wanted it to stop. They had talked like this before but they hadn't gotten so caught up in all this devil stuff. He was starting to feel funny, and though it wasn't repulsive, it was very uncomfortable.
David was just about to get up and leave when suddenly Danny's expression changed from an impish grin to a disturbing stupor. His gaze fixed upon the opposite bank of the pond. David looked but there was nothing there. Looking back at Danny he started to ask what was wrong when Danny exclaimed, "I've got to go."
"What? Why?"
"I . . . have to take a leak. Is that all right with you?!?"
If the conversation had been different David would have given him a bad time. Since when did any young boy have to go home to take a leak? Supposing that Danny had just scared himself as badly as David was, he let it go.
He didn't even watch as Danny ran toward his home. It was at that moment that he felt he should have joined him. The disturbing feeling hadn't left, but was growing stronger. He looked again toward the opposite bank to see what had caused Danny to leave and at first there was nothing. Then he saw some movement in the quakies just beyond the brush. Someone was there. He watched intently, and thought he could make out a dark figure just within the fringe of the trees.
Instead of getting out of the water and running off as his friend had done, David decided to swim to the other side and see what this person was up to. Swimming at a leisurely pace so that he wouldn't appear to be aware of another's presence he got to the middle of the pond.
At that moment three things took place simultaneously. The uneasy feeling became overwhelmingly threatening, and he saw a man emerge from the trees just as he was pulled under the muddy water. It was as though someone had grabbed his wrists, forcing him to the bottom. But the bottom never came. "The pond can't be this deep!" his mind reeled at the thought. He had been to the water hole many times and rarely did it go over their heads, yet it felt that he had been pulled down several feet below the surface.
David was a very good swimmer for a seven-year-old, but he couldn't propel himself backwards in the water, nor could he divert himself from this downward pull. It was such an awkward feeling to try to swim without the use of his arms. He tried vainly to wrench his hands from the unseen grip, and his legs began to thrash to and fro in an effort to somehow free himself. His lungs were pleading for air. He was going to die. There was nothing he could do to get back to the surface, and even if he did it would only prolong the struggle he was engaged in.
"Why didn't that man come get me?" he screamed helplessly in his mind. "He must have seen me go under."
The troubled feeling now became one of total despair. His limbs told him that his struggle had weakened him to the point where he could no longer fight the force that was dragging him down, away from life. He now felt that the only thing left to do was to give in and not make his death more agonizing by fighting.
He had to breathe, and though he knew better, he could no longer fight his body's natural desire to inhale. His body reacted violently to taking in water rather than the life sustaining air it had expected. He flailed wildly, but to no avail.
Suddenly he was pulled with terrific strength by his cutoffs in the opposite direction of the force tugging at his arms. Finally, his body broke the surface of the water, but rather than the brightness of the day, he was greeted by blackness and it felt as though his soul were being sucked down a darkly enticing drain.
"DAVID!! Can you hear me?!? Come on David, come back!" It was his mother yelling at him. He was lying on his back, and as he opened his eyes an overpowering wave of nausea swept over him. He quickly turned his head and vomited. Trying to breathe in, he was forced to retch once more. All that came up was water. Finally having purged his lungs of the defiling water, he was able to reward his body with the air that it longed for.
"What were you doing?!?" his mother asked hysterically.
He couldn't think. It was as though he didn't understand the question. It was completely obvious what had taken place. He had been drowning, but now he felt as if he were being blamed for doing so. Oddly, he somehow felt that it had been part of his own doing.
"I'm sorry," was all he could say. He began to cry. David had never felt so helpless in his life. The realization of how close he had come to not having this moment take place-or any other potential moments-intensely sunk in. He was relieved, but also overcome by grief. The strongest feeling he now had was fear. "Why had that happened? What had he done?" the thoughts raced through his mind.
"What were you doing?" the question came again.
"I was drowning!!" he replied angrily. "Something was pulling me under and I couldn't get out."
"The water was just barely over your head, Sweetheart. Why didn't you just push off from the bottom?"
"I . . . I couldn't . . . I was upside-down . . . I tried, but . . . Oh Mom!" he sobbed.
She swept him up into her arms and held him close. "It's alright now. You'll be OK. I'll bet you were scared."
David just nodded meekly. Then he asked, "Did Danny tell you to come get me?"
She looked at him, puzzled. "I never saw Danny. Was he with you?"
"He ran off to . . . he said he had to go." David realized what his mother was thinking and quickly added, "But that was before I went under the water. Can we go home?"
She picked him up and he put his arms around her neck. He was still crying, though not so hysterically. He was still very frightened, but she had to ask, "Did anyone see you go under?"
"Just that man," he said pointing toward the trees. She looked, but no one was there. "I was trying to see what he was doing, but that's when I was pulled under. Why didn't he pull me out?"
She then told David about how she had been hanging the laundry, when she thought she had seen someone come into the back yard by the edge of the house. The sheets were fluttering in the breeze, disrupting her view so she couldn't tell if there actually had been someone there. Mrs. Elizabeth Freeman didn't have time to become concerned, because as she was going to see if someone actually had come into the yard, she heard a voice say, "David needs your help . . . NOW!!" She had an impression of the swimming hole accompanied by a strong feeling of urgency. Obeying the prompting, she immediately began running and found him flailing in the middle of the pond; his head down in the water.
"Do you know who he was?" she asked tenderly, not wanting to upset him any more than he was.
"No, I didn't see him for very long. Let's just go home. I don't ever want to come back to this place again." He then buried his head into his mother's shoulder and tried to hide from all the troubles and fears that had now entered his very young life.
"Look Doctor! He's crying."
"Hello David. Can you hear me? This is Doctor Taylor."
David blinked as he looked up into the middle-aged face of the man speaking to him. There was an edge of deep
concern in the furrows on his forehead, but his smile was reassuring. As he spoke, he placed his hand on David's arm.
"You gave us quite a scare," he said softly, "We weren't sure whether we would be able to have this conversation, but you held in there. I don't want to tax you with details of the surgery, because you really need to get some rest; let's just say that we did all that we could, and we're in a wait-and-see mode. Though you're not out of the woods yet, you are doing much better than yesterday. We have someone monitoring you every minute, so nothing can happen without us knowing about it. Try to rest and we'll see how things are in the morning. Oh! And David . . . we won't let you go without a fight."
David tried to smile but was quickly overcome by a wave of exhaustion which quickly carried his thoughts off to a more tolerable place and time.

<~Chapter 3~>
Chapter Three

A flurry of emotions swept through David as he opened the screen door and headed for the kitchen for something to drink. He had run all the way home and his skin glistened from the light sweat he had worked up. His long, dark hair began to curl up even tighter from the added moisture. He was thrilled that he had made it through the second cut for the school's basketball team. What had started out as thirty-five boys trying to make a 12-man squad had now been whittled down to fifteen.
He got some juice out of the fridge and since there was only half the bottle left he didn't bother with a glass.
Pausing for a moment, he reflected back over the past year. David had wanted to play last year but his dad needed him at home and wasn't able to spare the time for practices and games. The funny thing was, his father told him he should try out anyway, so that he would at least know whether he was good enough to make the team or not. This made as much sense to him as putting the money in a Coke machine and then walking away knowing you could have gotten a drink if you wanted to. David didn't even bother trying out.
He played during lunch, and then in the evenings on their neighbor's basketball hoop. David played whether it rained, snowed, or even during gusty winds. His shooting touch became deadly. He began to feel that all he had to do was be on the court and he was well within his shooting range.
His father noticed this dedication and would try to spend some time playing with him, but rarely more than twenty minutes at a time and never more than a couple of times a week. Despite being quicker and a much better shot, he could never beat his dad. It was very evident that the older Freeman knew the game. Often when his son would cut off a drive and force him into a very difficult shot, he would smoothly pass the ball to himself using the backboard. The result would always be an easy layup.
"You know, Son," he said after one particularly easy win, "scoring isn't the only thing needed to win."
Seeing David's puzzled look he continued, "All I have to do to keep you from scoring is to make sure you don't get the ball. Without the ball you can't score. If you want to win, you need to understand positioning, both on offense and defense-with and without the ball. And I'm sorry to say it, but you will be very lucky to clear six feet once you're fully grown. This will mean that you will be playing at a guard position. So you will be expected to bring the ball upcourt each time, and if all you do is bring it up and shoot it, trust me, the defense won't have to try hard to keep the ball out of your hands. Your own team won't give you the ball."
"Yea, but not if I make it every time."
"Do you know what a ballhog is?"
He nodded.
"Well, win or lose that is what you would be. Basketball is a team sport and there is no satisfaction in watching the game that you want to be playing. Isn't that why you haven't been going to any of your school's games?"
Again, he nodded.
"It's even worse watching the game while you're on the court. David, if you want to truly enjoy playing, you need to make everyone on your team a better player. And you could be in a position to do that, but you need to be able to handle the ball better, and you need to know how to pass, and more importantly: When to pass."
From that point on he changed his basketball focus. He started practicing delivering passes against the side of the house and he would put chairs and other obstacles on the court which he would practice dribbling around and passing to. His shooting touch never left but he noticed that during the lunchtime games his team was winning more often even though he was scoring less.
Then came that Christmas morning when he was so very disappointed to find only a few inexpensive gifts under the tree. His father told him that he needed to shovel the driveway. That was really adding insult to injury, but he reluctantly went out to get the shovel. He didn't even get down the front steps when he saw the new basketball standard in their driveway.
"Alright!!" he squealed as he turned and ran back into the house.
Giving his father a big hug he whispered an emotional thanks that was equally well received. His father just responded with, "Well, I figured if you were going to be shoveling a driveway to practice, it might as well be ours."
Practice time increased as he rigged up a light system to their driveway so he could practice after helping with the chores.
Finally toward the end of the summer, his father came out to play with him. He hadn't been able to play much during the summer, and they usually weren't able to finish a game before he would have to go back to the yard-work.
David had grown a couple of inches and it looked like he would have an early growth spurt. The game was very close, with neither going more than one basket ahead of the other. There was an unwritten rule on the Freeman court that no one won unless it was by at least two baskets. As a result, the game extended well beyond the customary twenty minutes.
David was ahead by one bucket, but his father had the ball. The elder Freeman started to back David down closer and closer to the basket. This was his favorite move since he still had a height advantage and was able to give any number of fakes and then make a short fade-away or a layin.
This time David decided he wasn't going to let his dad get that far in so that he could just have his way down low. He started timing the little bumps his father would give to inch him legally toward the basket. Once he was on to the rhythm, rather than try to hold his ground on the next bump, he jumped around his father's left side and scooped his hand down low. His father was off balance because of the missing resistance that he had anticipated, and David easily batted the ball away and picked up the dribble.
Before there could be any reaction to the steal, David was in the air shooting his patented jump shot. David's father knew the game was over as soon as he released it.
"David, I've been giving it some thought, and I still think you should try out for the team this year. I think you would make it."
"We already went over this, Dad. You even said yourself that watching is no substitute for playing."
"That's true, but since I'm too old to play with you, I'll have to settle for watching."
David's grin was so broad it made him look silly. Then he asked, "But who will help with the fields?"
"Your mother and I have decided to sell the back fields. And don't think that was because of basketball. We just weren't making ends meet, and this way we will have enough money to see us through 'till I get another job."
David had felt both elated and very saddened by this news: He was finally going to play ball, but he also realized how much this hurt his father. He loved to work the land as he called it, and now that would be over.
As David finished the last of the juice, he felt those same feelings again. He knew he was going to make the team, but what his coach had told him had put up an abrupt barrier that he hadn't counted on.
The screen door closed behind him, he turned and was looking straight into his father's anxious face.
"So, did you make the cut?"
"Yea, sorta," David responded wryly.
"So what's wrong? You didn't get hurt, did you?"
Anger was the only thing holding his tears back as he explained how the coach had pulled him aside after everyone had started to leave the locker room. He was informed that no one on his team would be allowed to play with long hair. He was sorry, but that's the way he felt and unless David cut his hair he would not make the final cut.
David had been very proud of his hair. His dark locks curled naturally to where it looked like he had a soft-perm which had become so popular; and so expensive. He hadn't grown it long to shock his parents or to make a rebellious statement. David just liked the way it looked and felt. Oddly, his parents had never given him a bad time about it like a lot of his friend's folks were. They just took the attitude that there were plenty of worse things he could be doing, and if his hair were the extent of his teen rebellions, then they would take it.
"So what are you going to do?" His father had always let him make his own decisions, and though he never hesitated to voice his opinion, he never interfered once a decision had been made. Fortunately for both of them, David had learned to heed his father's advice.
"I don't know. Dad, my hair has nothing to do with how well I play basketball! I always wear a headband so it never gets in my eyes or anything like that. Having short hair won't improve my shot. I just don't understand it. It's not right to make me cut my hair just because he doesn't like the way it looks!"
Trying to remain neutral, Mr. Freeman calmly added, "It doesn't sound like he's going to change his mind whether it's wrong or right."
"But he shouldn't be able to get away with it! He should stick to coaching basketball, and not try to mess with my personal hygiene or manicuring or whatever! His cousin probably owns a barbershop that is going under because of the new styles and he's trying to personally keep him in business. He does the same thing for football too."
"Well Son, you don't play football. You hate baseball, you won't go swimming anymore, and you think that track is a waste of time. But on the other hand, you love basketball, and you are very gifted in that sport. I would hate to see you throw all of that time practicing away."
"So you agree with him?!?"
"I didn't say that. I just think that you need to give this some thought before you just decide to quit the team. Let me ask you a question. Let's suppose that you were allowed to compete against the other Junior Highs with your own basketball team. And along with yourself, you had Julius Erving, Moses Malone, and Pete Maravich. How many games do you think you would win?"
"Oh man, we'd cream everyone we played! We couldn't lose."
"But you're wrong. You would never win a game."
"How could a team like that lose? Our Ninth-grade team can't even beat the faculty in a game."
"You would forfeit every game. You see, you would only have four players on your team and the rules state that you must have five or else it's a forfeit. It doesn't matter how good those four players are; those are the rules, and they aren't going to change. Now Coach Tyler isn't the rule maker for basketball, but he does make the rules about who does and who doesn't play on his team. David, you need to ask yourself if you're willing to play by his set of rules or not, because you aren't going to change them. If you don't play, some other kid will."
"But Dad, the length of my hair shouldn't be such a big deal."
"So why are you making it one?"
"Hey, I'm not the one who is making it a big deal, Coach Tyler is."
"But by you quitting the team because you won't cut your hair, you are making it every bit as big a deal as he is. The only thing is, I think you will be hurt more by that choice than Coach Tyler would. If you won't play because you want it long, and he won't let you play because he wants it short, then I say you're both wrong. Make the decision about whether you make the team be based on your playing ability, not the length of your hair."
There was silence as David realized that what his father had said was true. He was being as stubborn as his coach was.
"It's just a question about which means more to you; your hair or basketball. But David, your hair will grow back. Trust me, we have no history of baldness in our family."
This got them both laughing, but David still hadn't voiced a decision. It was clear that he was thinking it over, but there were still occasional flashes of anger in his eyes as he pondered the situation.
"There are more ways to fight than with blows. Knowing what you're fighting against, or how to fight is not as important as understanding why you are fighting. In most cases there seldom is a valid reason to fight. It would be nice if more people stopped to understand the reasons, rather than just carrying on the war because it seems to be the thing to do."
"You're right. Well, at least about the team. I'll go over to the Barber tomorrow."
It was then that David found out how his father had tried out for his High School basketball team, but because of how he felt one morning he decided it wasn't worth getting out of bed so early for. He didn't go to any more tryouts, and he wasn't the only one who had done this, but the coach had asked about him, and not the others. He always wondered whether he would have made it or not. That uncertainty had stayed with him all his life. That was why he still wanted David to try out the year before, even though he couldn't play, he would at least be spared the uncertainty that he knew. He told David to always keep his priorities straight, and never let a lesser priority interfere with a higher one. The trick was in making sure that your priorities were indeed in the right order.
It was dark when David woke up. Though the blinds on the hospital window were closed, he could tell that it was raining outside. His surroundings were completely unfamiliar, but the bank of medical instruments to his left quickly reminded him where he was. The problem was he still had no recollection of what had happened. He was too tired to let that bother him. Being highly aware of the tubes and needles that were attached to him, he was very hesitant to move for fear of dislodging one of them.
It was at that moment that he felt someone else's presence within the room. His eyes were accustomed to the dark, but the corner to his right was still shrouded in shadow. He turned his head cautiously. There was someone there, and though he couldn't make out any features, this presence had become all too familiar to him.
"What . . . are you doing here?" he weakly asked. Though he tried to appear unruffled by the appearance of this old acquaintance, he was becoming very uncomfortable. David slowly tried to find the button to ring the nurse's
station.
Without warning, the room began to tremble, the lights on the instruments began to flicker and his bed began to shake uncontrollably. The blinds came crashing to the floor as the tremor began to build.
"David, you can't be left alone at this time," came the gentle, disturbingly assured reply.
Shrieks of terror came in from the hallway as pandemonium broke out.
David found the button and stabbed it with all the strength he could muster. There was no may I help you, only silence.
Thinking that his uninvited visitor was the cause of the tremor and had somehow produced some type of interference, he sharply asked, "What have you done?"
In the same calm tone, the voice responded, "David, you need to calm down. Rest." His last word was more of a command than a suggestion. Instantly, the shaking stopped. The door opened abruptly and a nurse scurried over to his bedside and checked his instruments.
"Are you alright?" she asked not masking any of her concern. "That was a big one," she exclaimed.
"Why is he here?!?" he demanded.
"Who, Sir?" she asked, the question taking her completely by surprise.
As she spoke it dawned on him that his visitor was gone. He was also overwhelmed once again by drowsiness. He tried to fight it but there was no returning from its grasp.
The nurse noticed his drowsiness and reassuringly stated, "Why don't you get some sleep. We have security watching your room around the clock. No one is allowed to visit. You're doing fine."
His last thought before he slipped off into slumber was, "I'm never fine, when he's around."
"Son, they need to have it moved by 5:00. I can go instead; there should be enough of us to do the job."
One of their neighbors was going to have a piano delivered to their home and had asked for help in moving an antique china cabinet to make room for the delivery men. They had asked David to help since his father normally wouldn't be off work until after 5:00.
David had hurried home from basketball practice and was getting ready to drive over when his father unexpectedly came home. The power had gone out at work, and since there was less than an hour until they got off anyway, the boss had told everyone to go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon off.
"I'll be right out, Dad. I just need to change," David shouted so that his father could hear.
But he didn't hear his son's reply as a motorcycle drove by at that same moment.
David was dressed, and heading for the door when a very familiar, disquieting feeling came over him. He looked out his bedroom window and looked out into the back yard.
There he was! Normally, he stood off in the shadows watching, but this time he was right in the middle of the back yard. A twinge of excitement mixed with fear ran through David's body as their eyes met. Instead of fleeing or disappearing as he had done in times past, he looked at David and motioned for him to join him.
David leaped down the staircase. He was going to find out who this stranger was once and for all! He raced out into the back yard, but once again he was gone. David stomped on the ground in disgust, and turned to go back in the house when he saw him over by the fence . . . waiting.
David walked deliberately at a steady pace, keeping his eyes fixed only on the mysterious man. Just then he heard the car start up as his father started to leave. He turned his head at the sound, and quickly turned back . . . but too late . . . again his mysterious guest had vanished. And to top it off his father had gone on without him. Bewildered, he headed back to the house.
It was about an hour later when the phone rang. His mother picked it up, she listened for a moment then her lower lip began trembling. She was trying to speak but wasn't able to express any more than a sorrowful groan. She handed the phone to David and motioned for him to talk.
Taking the receiver he hesitantly said, "Hello?"
"Hello, David? This is Sheriff Merrill. Your father's been in an accident. Could you bring your mother down to the hospital as quickly as you can? It doesn't look good."
"What happened?!?" he pleaded. "Is he going to be alright?"
"David, I'm not a doctor so I can't say. Please, just bring your mother to the hospital now. We'll be able to answer your questions here."
The drive to the hospital was the longest of his life. He tried to be strong for his mother's sake; telling her things would be fine. But he didn't believe that for a minute. If that would have been the case, Sheriff Merrill would have told him so.
The Sheriff met them as they entered the emergency room. It was evident by the somber look on his face that he did not have good news. David also noticed that he had been crying.
He put his arms around them both and sat them down.
David's mother was still sobbing, so David asked, "How is he? Can we see him?"
"Umm, no you can't see him right now. Let me tell you what happened. It seems he was heading for Sandy Creek Bridge when he had a blowout and lost control. The car hit the side of the bridge and went into the water. I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but he didn't make it. They did everything they could to revive him, but he was long gone before they got him here. They don't know how long he had been in the water before they found him."
David felt as if someone had just drained his soul of all feeling. He had a very good idea about how long his father had been under, since he knew exactly where he was going and when he had left. He remembered hearing the car backing out of the driveway. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and though he wanted to strike out at something . . . anything, he was too drained to raise his arms.
At the base of his anguish was the one thought that kept running over and over through his tormented mind: He was supposed to have been driving. It should have been him.
All of his anger was turned toward the mysterious stranger. Every time he appeared, something disastrous had happened, though never this bad.
Later, the doctor informed them that the elder Freeman had died from drowning, but that they had determined that he was unconscious before he had passed away. He probably was knocked unconscious when the car hit the bridge, and then quietly slipped away before anyone was able to get to him.
Knowing this helped David somewhat, since he couldn't bear to think of his father suffering that which he now feared more than anything in this life. "At least he didn't suffer," he tried to tell himself. But the guilt would never subside, and the anger only festered within him. He would never be the same.

<~Chapter 4~>
Chapter Four

David woke with a start. This time his surroundings 
didn't confuse him, though he still could not remember why he was in a hospital. His throat was so dry it felt as though some one had gone over it with a vacuum.
He pressed the button for the Nurse's Station and asked for some water to be brought in. It was as if they had been waiting outside his door to do just that, because immediately a nurse came in with some ice water and a straw.
"Well, look who's up. You missed out on all the excitement. You've also had quite a few visitors, though I don't know how anxious you are to see them," she cheerfully said.
Recalling the chilling visit he recently had, he impatiently asked, "So you did see him?"
"Him?"
"In my room . . . he came into my room . . . last night . . . it was raining."
"Mr. Freeman, we have been under strict orders that you are to receive no visitors. And even though the police have been persistent, we have been quite diligent in observing those orders. And that wasn't last night that you woke up, that was three days ago . . . and right in the middle of the earthquake too." Recalling what the other nurse had told her of that experience she added, "Angela said that you were dreaming and thought you had seen someone. But believe me, no one could get into your room without us knowing . . . unless they climbed in through the window."
"But he was here! I remember the room shaking, I couldn't have been dreaming. He spoke to me!"
"What did he say?"
David fought to remember everything that had happened. "He said . . . I couldn't be left alone . . . that I needed to sleep," he offered realizing that this wasn't exactly vital information.
"You probably were half-asleep when Dr. Taylor came in to make sure your instruments hadn't been knocked out like half of those on this floor. You probably overheard what he was saying," she said with a reassuring smile, "then you just placed the conversation within your dream."
What she said could have made perfect sense except for the memory he had of the intense fear he had experienced while the person had been there. He had experienced intense nightmares before, but he had never experienced such a specialized feeling in any of his dreams.
Just then the door opened slowly and the now familiar face of Dr. Taylor appeared. The doctor smiled broadly as he noted David's obvious coherence.
"Good morning, David. How are you feeling?"
"A little stiff and sore, but I'm also very confused. I don't know what I'm doing here. I know it must have been something serious by all the attention I've been given, but I can't seem to remember much of anything prior to waking up here the other night."
Concern showed itself on Dr. Taylor's forehead and he anxiously asked, "But you do know who you are and where you are from, don't you?"
"Yes, but it's as if my memories were swirling rapidly around in my head, and they won't stay still long enough for me to grab hold of any of them."
This brought another smile from the doctor's face and he calmly said, "David, you've been through a very traumatic experience, and I firmly believe that your memory loss is a defense mechanism that your body is using to help you recover. I'm sure that as you gain strength, your mind will allow more of these memories to return as you are strong enough to cope with them. I don't want to rush that process, but I will tell you that you were shot in the chest. This caused you to have a collapsed lung and the bullet pierced the pericardium or lining of your heart." Seeing the alarmed look on David's face, he paused and then added, "That's right, you were that close to not even taking that ambulance ride. During surgery, you left us for a moment, but you seemed determined to stay with us. We were able to repair the damage to the heart and your lung. And we have been very pleased at how well you have been recovering and though you are still in what we call serious condition, I feel safe in saying you're going to be fine."
"Thank you, Doctor," was all David could say. The realization of just how close he had come to dying was overwhelming. He couldn't tell if the tears that were fogging his vision were from gratitude or sorrow.
"The police are very anxious to question you about what happened, but I don't think you are ready quite yet. Besides you probably won't be able to help them very much until you are able to piece those memories together. For the moment, I'll tell them to back off until you are more fully recovered."
David nodded in agreement, still overwhelmed by the flood of emotions sweeping through his body.
As Dr. Taylor was leaving, he spoke briefly with the nurse, then turning to David he said, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to buzz the Nurse's Station. You are Anne's only patient, so she will come immediately." Winking, he added, "Try and keep her busy, will you?"
Anne asked if he wanted more water. He was still thirsty, but he did not want to be left alone so he declined. He then asked, "So how bad was the earthquake? I don't recall much damage happening."
"6.7!! Fortunately, we are in a very safe building, so there was very little damage. But the safety inspectors had no problems determining which buildings weren't up to code. Most of them were leveled. The city is just now starting to get back on its feet. You should have seen it. Our instruments took a beating though. More than half of the hardware on this floor was knocked out and we had to scramble to keep up. For some reason, yours didn't seem to be affected at all . . . lucky for you."
"How far away was it felt?"
"As far north as Idaho and Montana, and all the way south to Cedar City." She then slapped her forehead as though thinking, I could've had a V-8! and exclaimed excitedly, "What am I talking about? The earthquake was nothing. You haven't seen the comet, have you?!?"
Seeing his puzzled expression, she rose and opened the blinds. "It started right after the quake . . . like when a jet leaves a trail across the sky, only this one was glowing. It's already starting to fade, but for two days it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Like someone had made a thin gash across the sky with a white-hot knife."
It was then that he noted the faintly glowing streak that was visible through his window. "So how come no one knew it was coming?" he asked in wonder. "Something like that couldn't have just snuck up on us."
"I don't know. They've never really explained how come it just suddenly appeared and then disappeared."
"You mean it's gone?"
"Yea. They said it was pulled into the sun. Sounds a little hokey doesn't it? That's why some people are saying that it couldn't be a comet. There's even a group calling it a sign from God that the Second Coming is near, others say it's to signal the end of the world."
"Is that what you think?"
"No, I don't think so, BUT, there were eight earthquakes of various sizes during the last three days, the worst one in the Arkansas-Missouri region. Hey, if I believed in that end of the world stuff, then this would probably set me off too," she said with a smile.
They talked for quite some time, and though the conversation was limited by his lapse of memory, she appeared to be genuinely interested in what he was saying. He started to become drowsy again, and she helped him get comfortable.
"Could you stay for a while longer," he asked realizing he sounded like a small child who was afraid of the monsters in his closet, "until I've fallen asleep?"
She smiled in such a way as to let him know that she understood his fears and softly said, "If you would like. But I think we're through with all the commotion . . . at least for today. Now try and get some sleep."
Though he tried to fight it, his thoughts went to the mysterious visitor who had been coming in and out of his life. He knew he should know who he was but was unable to put it together. As he drifted off he softly said out loud, "Who are you?"
It was summer. No time for any normal person to even be thinking about basketball, let alone playing it. But since his father's death, David had immersed himself completely into the sport. This was already his third camp of the summer. The others were local camps given by the college heroes, but this camp was very special. It was by invitation only, and to top it off, his high school coach had offered to pay for half of the registration fees.
David had been offered a player's scholarship at all of the local Junior Colleges, but he really wanted to go to a major university. He felt he had the ability, but not the 
exposure. He had led his high school team to the state championship for the second straight year, but the smaller schools didn't get the attention of the larger schools. They had even televised the 4A State Finals this year. Hopefully, someone would notice him at one of these camps, and extend a full scholarship.
That was one of the reasons he decided to stay late, and shoot around. He didn't like to showboat, or try to do things he wasn't sure of, but he wanted the coaching staff to notice his dedication, and possibly pass the word on to one of the visiting scouts.
Two small boys, who had been watching the camp asked if they could shoot around with him. David smiled as he looked over the two wide-eyed kids. They couldn't have been over twelve. It reminded him of when he was younger and would do nearly anything just to be able to play.
They had been playing for about half-an-hour, when a group of young men came into the gym. They weren't dressed for basketball, rather like exhibitions at a leather'n'denim display. At first they just looked the place over, then watched disinterestedly as David and the two boys shot around.
When the ball got away from one of David's small teammates, it ended up in one of the tough-looking onlooker's hands.
The boy wouldn't even try to go and get the ball. He just turned and looked at David as if to say, "I guess the game's over." Evidently he knew who they were.
"A little help," David urged, hoping there wouldn't be any trouble. After all, it was his ball.
"Hey!! This is our court," one of the youths shouted, "What do you think you're doing here?!?"
"I'm here for the All-Star Camp. I was just shooting around with . . ."
"You don't look like no All-Star!! Looks like you just snuck in to try'n get some free time on our turf."
David could tell that he wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this one, so he started to walk toward the group. If he could just get his ball, he was going to leave as quickly, and quietly as possible.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had the gym reserved. Let me have my ball and I'll leave," he said, trying to keep calm.
The one with the ball didn't even bat an eyelash. He just looked right through David-who was now standing right in front of him-like he wasn't there.
"My ball?" David asked holding out his hand.
One of the others stood up and defiantly said, "We haven't seen your ball, what's it look like, and if we see it, maybe we let you know?"
"Look, this is my ball, and we both know it. So if I'm on your turf, I said I was sorry. Now give me the ball, so I can leave." David didn't want it to sound as sarcastic as it did, but they were starting to get on his nerves.
"You can't have this ball," said the tallest of the four trying to act surprised that David would even think of such a thing. "This here is the game ball. And we ain't even started to play."
With that statement, David had a plan. He knew he wasn't going to be able to physically take the ball back, but if they wanted to play for it, he could get his hands on it in the game . . . and then get out of the gym as quickly as possible.
"I'll play you for it then," David quickly blurted out.
"Say what?"
"Winners keep," David explained, "You win, you keep the ball. I win, and I keep it."
"Sounds good, but you ain't got no team. Guess you just forfeit."
"No, these two guys are on my team, and we'll play you, unless you think we'd be too hard to handle . . . but then you forfeit." David wasn't sure if his last remark would get him the game, or a fist to the mouth. He was prepared for the latter, but was relieved to see them start taking off their jackets.
He looked at his teammates and quietly asked, "Are these guys any good?"
"They ain't never been beat, but that's 'cause they mainly play dirty," was the reply.
David sized up the opposition: The tallest was about 6'4", and looked like he could jump through the roof. The shortest was about three inches smaller than he was, while the other two were about his own height. All of them were built very lean and mean.
One of them went and sat by the door, which made David cringe. "What's up?" he asked motioning toward him.
"Tito's gonna make sure we don't break any rules . . . ya know, like try to leave the game early or nothing like that. 'Sides, wouldn't want it to be four 'gainst three, would we?"
David wasn't sure what to do at that point. They had taken out his one plan of escape, and he also started to worry about the two boys. He had included them without asking. He didn't have much time to think about it though, as they threw the ball hard at him, "Do or die, Small-Star!"
The thought came to him instantly: WIN THE GAME!
With that he smoothly sank the 25-footer and proceeded to take the ball out . . 
". . .Game!" David shouted.
"No man, we're goin' to fifty," the youth closest to him stated matter-of-factly throwing a court length pass to his teammate for two more badly needed points.
With the score now 40-22 in his favor, David now knew two things: One, he could easily beat these guys no matter how high they went. He was too quick and handled the ball too well for just one player to guard him, and he had instructed the boys to go to the basket whenever they were left alone. Either he would sink a jump shot or hit one of the two boys with a pass for an easy layup. On defense, he just needed to steal the ball or position himself for the rebound. Passing, evidently was not a part of the game that these guys worked on. And two, that unless he lost, this game would not end. He had been knocked down quite a few times ("No foul"), but had been able to get the shot or pass off before hand. Had this been a clean game, the score would have been much wider.
He had tried to think of a way for them to get out of the gym, but figured that either the kids or himself would not be able to get away.
Finally he had decided that he needed to get the kids out, and hopefully they would be able to get some help if he didn't make it.
Pulling the kids into a huddle, David explained his plan. They nodded in agreement, and it was then that he wondered if he could trust them to get help, or whether they would just leave him as another trusting sucker. He also knew he didn't have much choice and took the ball down the court.
The door was to the right of the court they were playing on. Tito had positioned himself on the side of the door closest to the basket. He was sitting on the floor, and seemed to be amused that his friends who had volunteered for him not to play were getting trounced.
David saw that the two tallest players were going to try to trap him as he came across half-court so he slowed down so that the boys could make their move.
They ran up under the basket, one on each side as they had been doing all game long. This time they both ran along the right side toward half court, as if they were going to help him bring the ball across the time line. As they approached mid-court, passing within ten feet of the watching guard, David whipped a pass that appeared to be intended for them which they had over ran. The ball went just passed them, bounced once, then was caught by a laughing Tito.
The boys both ran toward the ball, but before Tito could hand it to them, they hit the door and bolted for freedom.
Meanwhile, the two who had come to guard David had already put him to the floor even as the pass had been made. Seeing the boys exit the gym, they immediately grabbed David. Though their skill at basketball was marginal, it was clear by the simultaneous shots that he took to his stomach and jaw that they had honed other skills to a state of being an art form.
"You a dead man now, dude!" the nearest assailant screamed in his ear. "Here we was trying to give you a sportin' chance and you come up trying to take us on the sly."
David's lip was bleeding, and he still hadn't gotten his breath back, when he was hit on the side of his head from behind. He went down hard as his legs abandoned their natural function of keeping him upright.
His assailants began kicking him, and though they were clad in tennis shoes rather than boots, the blows still found their mark and issued the stinging reminder of their presence. He had never been in such pain before in his life, and it seemed that the only parts of his body that didn't scream out in pain had somehow detached themselves from his racked form.
For some reason the assault on his body stopped. They were around him in a circle, and though his vision was blurred he could see the delight they were taking from this. He could feel the hatred that seethed from them like heat from a flame. His left eye was swollen shut and he was sure that several of his ribs were broken.
"Keep the ball," he muttered wishing he had made that same decision an hour earlier.
"That ain't enough, man! You tried to screw us. Nobody does that! We can't have it 'round the 'hood that somebody gave us the shaft and got away with it."
"Yea, but we gonna give ya one last chance," chimed in another. "Jest so's ya knows we ain't tryin' to do ya, like you was tryin' to do us."
David's sarcastic wit hadn't left him as he thought to himself, "What are you going to do, start a new game now? Fine, you win. I forfeit."
The short one stepped up into David's face and held up a silver coin; David couldn't tell if it was a quarter or a nickel. "We'll toss for it. Heads we win, tails you lose," he laughed.
David had heard this before, and always thought it was a pretty lame joke. But this was no joke. Just like the basketball game, the score wasn't the determining factor. They were taking away all of his chances and making sure that they came out on top. He hurt too much to respond.
"Those seem like reasonable odds," an unfamiliar voice broke through the tension like a bullet through a plate-glass window.
The gang turned to look at who had gotten in without them knowing.
Even though David wasn't able to make out the details of his face, he immediately recognized the figure that had come-uninvited-in and out of his life more times than he could now recall. What held him spellbound was the fact that despite the familiarity he had with this person, this was the first time he had ever spoken.
The gang was clearly unnerved. Whether by something they felt from this unexpected visitor or just the fact that he was there, but it was clear that their confidence was shaken.
"What you want, old man," the tall member questioned trying to sound threatening.
The man was by no means old in appearance, yet something about him gave the impression of antiquity. He had dark hair that was neatly trimmed though somewhat on the long side for someone his age. He was about 6'0" but seemed to stand taller than everyone there. His physique was of medium build but looked extremely agile and alert. There was nothing about his appearance that looked frail, and he moved with a quiet assurance that was disturbing. He had beautiful steel-blue eyes that always seemed to be focused upon the fringe of existence. His gaze was one that looked into, rather than upon.
The stranger silently walked up to the group and without even glancing at David said, "It would appear that these gentlemen have been most generous in providing you with an opportunity to leave without any further harm. Isn't that correct?" he stated evenly.
There was no movement from anyone. David was in too much pain to get up, and the others were sizing up this intruder trying to determine whether or not he was another threat to their self-proclaimed territory.
"Shall we proceed?" the newcomer asked the young man holding the coin. "Do you wish to have the honor of tossing the coin piece, or shall I?"
Looking at his companions for reassurance, the coin wielder arrogantly flipped the coin into the air. He let it hit the ground and it began to roll into the familiar spiral toward its final resting place.
Suddenly, the coin wobbled slightly and slowed its pace, then stopped; still standing on its edge.
David thought the blows to his head had damaged his vision, because he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The coin had been motionless for more than a few seconds, yet remained on its edge.
The stranger broke the silence by saying, "Since it is neither heads nor tails, and you chose those two options as indicators of your victory, then it would be safe to assume that this third option would be an indicator of David's victory."
Mumbling something under his breath, the tallest member of the group stormed over to the coin and stomped on it. It didn't move. He then leaped into the air, but upon landing on his target, he lost his footing and fell to the floor; screaming out in agony as he did. He held his ankle and yelled, "Ah man, I think it's broke."
His companions ran to his side then turned to look at the stranger as he spoke.
"Unfortunately it is only a severe sprain. But I would recommend that your companions assist you in leaving while they are still in the condition to do so. I will see to it that David is taken care of, so you need not be concerned with him," he calmly said with a slight smile on the corners of his mouth.
Uniformly, the group bent down to help their fallen companion. David overheard one of them say, "We can take him. Come on, man!" But no one made any move to do so. Then David saw the chill run through their bodies as the puzzling visitor added, "It would be wise for you to leave . . . NOW!"
The smile had vanished from his face, and though there was no indication of anger reflected in his eyes, an uneasy feeling seemed to enter the gymnasium like the unsettling calm before an impending tempest.
The group left without a word, not looking back to meet his powerful gaze. He bent down to the battered young man, and gently placed his hands upon David's head.
The pain instantly diminished, yet as he turned to sit up he was aware that it was not completely gone.
"You will be fine David," he said with a tone of utmost certainty, "help will be here soon." Reaching out he plucked the coin from its ethereal perch and placed it in David's palm. "Please don't mention my visit, "the stranger whispered intently. "It would only complicate things, both for you and for me." With that he gently pressed the hand shut so that it securely clasped the wondrous memento.
David's clouded mind was buzzing. He had anticipated and prepared for that moment when he would be able to ask all the questions that had been formulating in his mind since his father's death, but now he was in no condition to think clearly enough to ask what he felt.
The image of the coin rolled into his thoughts and he asked, "How did you do that?"
Though there had been no indication that his rescuer had affected the coin in any way, David knew that he was responsible for what had just taken place.
"Quite often things that appear remarkable or intricately complicated are really quite simple. You can't limit yourself only to things quickly or easily understood. Just as a coin has more than two sides-though only two are commonly recognized-there are higher forces and laws than gravity. Once you learn how to use those higher laws you can have an advantage over those who are not even aware of their existence. He who recognizes the coin's edge as an option, can use it to his advantage and-utilizing higher laws-can better control the coin than those who see only heads or tails. I trust that I will be seeing you again, and perhaps I will be able to explain more then, but for now, I must go."
"But wait," David pleaded. "Who are you?"
The visitor only smiled, then after a moment's pause he placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "I am known by many names."
The door burst open at that moment and three men hurried into the gym, followed closely by the two boys David had been playing with.
Once they saw David, the look on their faces told him how badly he had been beaten. He looked back toward his rescuer, but he had already gone. David wasn't surprised in the least.
"Get an ambulance," one of them instructed. Then bending down to David's side he said, "You're going to be OK.  We'll get you to the hospital . . ." he caught his breath as he surveyed the damage that had been done to David's features. He then gasped, "How could someone do this to another person?" 
David could only close his eyes, the coin held fast within his fist. Its metallic texture printed an indelible image within his mind of the quarter still on the floor, miraculously standing on edge.

<~Chapter 5~>
Chapter Five

David was finally awake for his first welcome visitors shortly after he had breakfast that morning.
The police had been in the evening before, but the visit didn't last long since he still was unable to tell them any more about what had happened other than what he had been informed by the hospital staff. The policemen masked their frustration fairly well and David was aware that they were trying to be patient with his condition, though they were obviously anxious to uncover something about what had happened that apparently only he would be able to relate. When his mother, accompanied by his Bishop gingerly entered the room, he immediately recognized them both, and greeted them warmly.
"I was beginning to wonder if anyone besides the police cared whether I was alive or not," he said jokingly.
His mother looked pale, and he wondered how she would have reacted had she seen him with all of the contraptions and tubes that had been hooked up to him earlier. That may not have made any difference because she had developed quite an aversion to hospitals since her husband's accident.
"How are you feeling, Son?" she asked with all the concern of a loving parent.
"Quite well, actually. The doctor has said that I'm out of the woods now, and I just need to give my body time to recover. The thing I'm most frustrated with are my memory lapses. I can remember most things but as far as what actually happened, I'm pretty much relying on what I've been told."
"They told us not to discuss the shooting unless you led the conversation. They're afraid that we might give you some false memories that might interfere with your actual memory of what really happened," the Bishop said flatly.
"Has Kim been in to see you yet?" asked his mother.
David immediately felt strong emotions at the mention of that name. Though he was unable to place the name to a face, he knew that this was someone very important in his life. Someone that should have been at the forefront of his thoughts, yet had also slipped behind the cloud that had covered the most eventful portions of his memory. "Was he with me when this happened?" David asked sincerely hoping to clear up some of the confusion caused by his memory loss. Both of his visitors expressions turned to a much deeper concern than when they had entered the room, and the words hit him hard as his mother spoke.
"She was supposed to have been with you-you had a date-but all she will tell us is that she couldn't make it. She seems very upset about what happened. Kim has called every day to see how you are. We thought she surely would have come in to see you or at least left a message."
David remembered the nurse mentioning that a number of people had been in to see him, but had been turned away because of his condition. "Maybe she had come in, but wasn't able to see me," he said trying to cover the frustration that was growing within him. "When she calls again, tell her I would really like to see her. It might help me recall what happened if I see her . . . but don't mention that I may not recognize her."
"Why can't I remember these things?" he thought angrily, "These things are supposed to be important, and yet they seem furthest from my mind."
The mood in the room had changed from one of expectant hope regarding his physical condition to troubled concern over his mental state. He wanted to reassure his mother somehow, but couldn't think of what would help.
"David, . . . do you remember any other . . . well, serious times in your life?" his mother asked, afraid of what the answer might be.
He knew what she was thinking and he recounted the time of his father's death, the near-drownings, and the time he had been beaten at the basketball camp. David didn't mention that other person who had also shared in each of these incidents. Though he was sure that his mother was the only person who had actually seen him, he had never brought it up with her. He had meant to a couple of times, but the thought seemed to have left him until much later. David decided that the subject of his mysterious visitor was better left untouched.
His mother was visibly relieved to hear him talk about other times in his life when he had been so close to leaving this existence. She was afraid that this latest event had chased all of his tragic memories from his mind and that he would never be able to regain them again. He had handled them all so well, even his father's death. He had blamed himself for years but was even able to resolve that.
"So you know that in some ways what happened
shouldn't surprise us that much, considering everything that has happened throughout your past," she said mustering a smile as she spoke.
At that moment the nurse came in. "I'm sorry, but it's time for David to rest," she stated in a tone that let them know that she understood how everyone felt, but that there would be no argument about it.
The Bishop bent over and whispered into David's ear, "Would you like another blessing?" Seeing the approving nod, he indicated that they would give him one on their next visit that afternoon.
His mother bent down to give him a kiss and whispered how grateful she was that he was alright. "I love you, Son," she tenderly spoke as she turned to leave.
Though he was still concerned about his lack of recollection, he was deeply comforted from seeing those two, and he easily went into a deep and untroubled sleep.

<~Chapter 6~>
Chapter Six

"Oh, David! I love you so much."
The voice had a familiar tone to it, yet as he surfaced from his slumber he wasn't able to attach a face to it. He opened his eyes and felt that he must have either died and gone to heaven or that he had slept on into the millennium, for he was looking into the most angelic face he had ever seen.
Her hair was a raven black, cut about shoulder length. Her dark brown eyes lured the admirer's gaze away from her other remarkably attractive features; a task that would have seemed impossible. Her complexion was flawless with a face that was inviting to the touch. She had high cheekbones, beautifully supple lips, with an incredibly warm smile.
She stood about 5'7", with a figure proportioned nothing short of perfection. This was the woman that had inspired the ancient Greek sculptors. No wonder they had thought they were recreating the image of a goddess, it just didn't seem possible that she could have been a mere mortal.
David was so overwhelmed by her beauty, that he wasn't even concerned with the fact that he couldn't remember who she was; though she certainly knew him.
"I'm sorry about what I said," she said wiping a tear from her eye. "I wasn't thinking . . . I tried to call but you had already gone. I realized what I was losing, but I had no idea how permanent it almost was."
She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. And looking into his eyes she asked, "Can you forgive me?"
David smiled broadly and chuckled as he admitted, "Well, fortunately for you, I don't have any recollection of what you said, so it's pretty easy for me to say that I forgive you completely. Unfortunately for me, is the fact that I don't remember you at all, so I am the one that needs to ask you to forgive me."
He tried to say it jokingly, but her composure began to deteriorate and the tears began to form in her eyes as she asked, "Don't you even know who I am?"
"I'm hoping that you are Kim," he offered. He was relieved to see that this brought a smile to her face, and he quickly explained that his mother had mentioned that he had a date with her the evening of the shooting. He also informed her that he was unable to recall anything that happened that day. Trying to reassure her, he related how at first he couldn't remember much of anything, but that most everything had come back. "Except my memories of you and what took place at the shooting," he mumbled apprehensively.
She seemed extremely understanding and then taking his hand, she again apologized as her face contorted into an expression of deep guilt.
"I think I know why you are suppressing your memory of me," she explained. Then with a look of complete sincerity she said, "It's my fault you got shot."
She then explained that they did have a date for that evening; it was to be their sixth anniversary dinner. They had their first date at that restaurant and they wanted the evening to be extra special.
Kim had gone all out in making the arrangements. They went shopping for new outfits to wear, and she had made special reservations to have the most private booth at the restaurant. They had even ordered and paid in advance so that they would be minimally disturbed.
"No How-is-everything? just as you put a bite in your mouth," she had said.
David listened intently as she described how they were going to have the most romantic dinner ever, until she started having serious doubts about their relationship.
Kim and David met shortly after he had returned from his mission to Panama. He was playing for the University of Utah and she was attending Weber State College. The two schools were playing each other at the Huntsman Center. She noticed him as a player and went out of her way to run into him as he was heading for the locker room after the game.
She admitted that she had been the aggressor, even to the point that she suggested they go out for something to eat after he had cleaned up.
Memories began to stream through David's mind as he recalled the evening. He pointed out that she could have suggested going to Europe after the game and he would have done everything he could to have gone. He was immediately smitten, not only by her beauty, but also by the way she made him feel. It was almost electric, she seemed to convey an energy that was almost addicting.
They went to the restaurant, and had a wonderful time. They continued dating on a semi-regular basis, but the distance between the two schools kept them from seeing each other as often as they would have liked.
She graduated the next year and landed a very nice job in Salt Lake City. Once she moved, they were nearly inseparable. David had a sensational junior season. He not only led the team in scoring, but also assists. They had gone all the way to the Elite Eight in the NCAA tournament and talk was that he should go pro. He was very seriously considering this. He was, after all, a twenty-three-year-old junior and he was at the top of his game. It was rumored that he would be taken among the top ten picks meaning that he would be financially set for quite some time. As it was, he was barely getting by.
Kim also felt that he should enter the draft early, and they had a bit of a tiff because he wondered if she were only interested in him because of the money. Though he was very self-confident, and didn't think he was such a bad looking chap, he always wondered why such a beautiful, "perfect-in-every-way" woman like Kim would want to be associated with a guy like him.
This is what had kept him from asking her to marry him. Each time he sat down and thought it through, he couldn't come up with any reason not to marry her, but he also felt very uncomfortable and wasn't sure why. All the while, Kim was very understanding and never pressed the issue.
Tears welled up in David's eyes as he recalled what had happened with his basketball career. It wasn't that he couldn't remember what had happened, rather that he chose to forget.
He had decided to declare himself eligible for the draft. He had even written the letter of intent and was going to send it off the next day. That was when the biggest accident of his life (up until now) occurred.
Needing to get out of the apartment, he went out for a late-night drive. The temperature had cooled considerably and it looked like they would be getting some thunder storms during the night. He was driving through a very affluent area of Salt Lake, when there was a loud "pop" and he momentarily lost control of the car. Fortunately, he wasn't going very fast, so he quickly regained control, and pulled the car over next to a cemetery.
David was never the superstitious type, despite all that had occurred in his life, yet he wasn't very comfortable with his surroundings. It was at that moment when the rain began to pour down from the sky. "Perfect timing!" he thought as he exited the car.
The cemetery was surrounded by a wrought iron fence with brick pillars about every ten feet. There was a hedge that served as an enclosure on the inside of the fence, but it was sparse enough that you could see what was on the other side without much difficulty. There was no sidewalk between the fence and the road. "I guess not very many people would want to go for a stroll along this route," he thought with a smile.
He quickly went to get the jack and spare tire. "At least it was the rear passenger tire so I don't have to lug this stuff very far," he spoke out loud. He thought the sound of his voice would lessen the amount of discomfort he was feeling, but it gradually began to increase as he pulled off the punctured tire. It was as he was placing the spare tire on, when he felt that something was very wrong . . . and that he wasn't alone.
David looked up and down the road fully expecting to see his elusive, yet familiar visitor, but saw no one. Thinking that he was just getting spooked by his surroundings, he was determined to get the tire on with just a couple of nuts, leave, and then finish the task in a more comfortable area.
He had just hand tightened the first nut, when a brilliant flash of lightening split the heavens, followed immediately by a deafening peel of thunder. David jumped up, startled by the suddenness of the event. It was then that he saw him, standing in the cemetery about five feet away from the hedged fence.
The visibility was such that he wasn't positive about the identity of the watcher, but given the feeling that had come upon him and the circumstances of the moment, David was positive it was him.
He huddled back down to the tire and began to put on the second lug nut, while he formed a plan of how to confront this mystery without having him vanish as he had so many times before.
The silent watcher was only six or seven feet away from where David was huddled and David could probably lunge at him before he could disappear. The problem was the fence. He knew that he wouldn't have time to scale the fence, let alone go around.
The fence was only about six feet high, and he was close enough to reach out and touch it. Then an idea came to him: Use the car as a launching pad!
Seeing that the roof of his car was only two feet below the top of the fence line, and only about three feet away gave David all the confidence he needed. "Even someone who wasn't in top shape could make that jump," he thought with a surge of excitement.
He didn't want to alert the stranger at all and had decided to make his move as he was reaching for the next nut that he had placed on the trunk. David smiled to himself as the soon-to-be-executed plan ran through his mind. At that moment though, a near audible voice pierced his thoughts. "DO IT NOW!!"
He didn't hesitate as he leaped up on the trunk and in one stride was on the roof. He hadn't heard the drone of the accelerating engine coming down the road, but as he was preparing to jump over the fence, he looked to his right to see an incoming car heading straight for him. David jumped just as the car slammed into his vehicle, the fence and a brick pillar simultaneously. Had he still been replacing the tire, he would have been at the center of the impact.
His footing wasn't sure as he jumped, but he was able to push off from his car with enough force to clear the fence . . . had it not been bent over from the impact of the car. His foot caught on one of the bars and he completely lost his balance. He landed awkwardly with his left knee taking the brunt of the impact. It exploded inward, and excruciating pain shot up through David's leg.
"A wise choice," David heard as he writhed in pain. He looked up to see the face of the stranger, who was smiling broadly. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay. Again, don't try to explain my presence to anyone," he explained hurriedly.
Help arrived almost as he spoke. Someone had already called an ambulance, and though they were very concerned with his condition, they were perplexed at how he had ended up on the other side of the fence.
He tried to tell them he had been thrown there by the impact, but no one was buying that one. There was no way he would have been in such good condition had he actually been hit by the car. He realized that the truth sounded even more far fetched than any story he could possibly make up, so he ended up replying to anyone that asked about it with, "Just lucky, I guess."
As the memory flooded over him, David grieved once again over the loss of such a promising career. Kim could only hold him tenderly as she realized that each of these lost memories were returning just as heavily as when they had first happened. He was having to deal with them all over again, and she could see that it was taking its toll. She didn't want to tell him about what had led to her canceling their date until later, when he was more emotionally stable. But it was then that he looked into her eyes and asked, "What did you say about it being your fault that I was shot? Were you there?"
It wasn't an accusation, merely a question out of confusion. Hoping that by hearing it from her would show that she was sincere in her apology, she began to explain what had happened that evening before he had gone to the restaurant.
"No. David, I wasn't there, but I should have been . . . and, in some ways, I wish I had been. I couldn't believe what had happened, let alone that you had been involved. When I found out that you were here, I came in to see you, and try to explain, but I just felt so ashamed over how I had acted . . ."
"Kim, please, I don't mean to be rude, but you keep apologizing for something I can't seem to remember. Just tell me what happened! I need to know! I understand that you feel bad about it, but unless you pulled the trigger, I can't see any sense in blaming yourself. Now please, tell me what happened."
Taking a deep breath, she began, "I was getting ready for dinner, and I was reminiscing over the past six years . . . how happy I was that I had met you . . . all the wonderful things we had done and seen together . . . when this unusual feeling of uncertainty crept into my mind."
She went on to explain that though they had dated very seriously for six years, and she felt that they both loved each other, their relationship hadn't gone anywhere. They had discussed marriage, but always as something they would do 'someday'. She had never had misgivings about putting marriage off before, but the realization that she would be thirty within a year, made her stop and think about whether she had also put off some opportunities that she wouldn't be able to regain.
"I realize that I should have spoken to you about it, and that dinner would have been an ideal opportunity to have done so," she said with a quiver in her voice.
Instead, she picked up the phone and told David that she felt that they shouldn't see each other for a while. After a period of time away from each other they could decide whether or not they should get back together, but that she just didn't feel right about it at the moment. She said she had hoped that David would understand, even though she barely understood what she was trying to say herself.
"I should have known that you would have gone to the restaurant anyway; what with all the arrangements we had made . . ." She began to cry softly.
"Kim, Honey, you couldn't have known what was going to happen. And what would you have done had you been there? I understand there were a number of people killed. Having already lost one loved one to an accident was more than enough. I don't know if I would have been able to handle losing you too. Let's put it this way, I'd much rather you were visiting me in the hospital than the other way around."
Now she was really crying as she realized what he was trying to say. She rushed into his arms and they held each other warmly.
"After I'm out of here, we can discuss the M-word more seriously," David whispered into her ear.
She responded by squeezing him even tighter, prompting David to whisper, "I'm glad you didn't come to see me earlier, you might have caused even more damage."
Kim jumped back and quickly apologized. "Did I hurt you?!? I didn't mean to." Seeing his ear-to-ear grin she realized that he was teasing. She was going to hug him again, when the nurse came in to tell them that it was time for David to rest again.
"I feel like a little kid," David said loud enough for the nurse to hear. But as she turned to see his infectious smile she took it in the right light.
"He must be feeling better," Kim remarked, "He loves to tease."
She leaned over, kissed him gently on the forehead, and whispered, "I love you . . . I'm never leaving you again." This caused them both to laugh when she said goodbye.
"No wonder you haven't been making any passes at any of the nurses," came the young nurse's comment. "It would take some doing to take you away from her. You must feel very lucky."
David smiled, taking the intended dig and pondering the truth behind it. He didn't realize how tired he was until that moment. He genuinely thanked the nurse for the care he had been receiving and then laid his head on his pillow. David had heard somewhere that the final thirty minutes of consciousness greatly influenced the type of dreams that you have. With that in mind, he anxiously went to sleep, completely unaware of the turbulent storm cloud that awaited his return to slumber. Whether it was his subconscience or some outside force that had held the memory of what had happened at bay, something had decided that it was now time for him to remember.

<~Chapter 7~>
Chapter Seven

David was emotionally numb as he hung up the receiver. He thought he should be sad, or at least irritated, but he could do nothing except walk over to his stereo and put on a CD.
David sank into his favorite chair as Barry Manilow sang When October Goes. The only time he ever listened to that song was when he was in an extremely blue mood. Even though the song was melancholy itself, listening to it always seemed to give him a better perception of reality. Perhaps hearing someone else, who had the same difficulties allowed him to accept life's challenges, knowing he was not being singled out in any way.
He did not want to be cheered up, yet he also wanted to rid himself of this hopelessness and somehow go on with his life.
It had gotten dark by the time David turned off the stereo. He hadn't received any enlightening impressions, but his mood had changed somewhat. He had gone from a deep depression and sorrowful hurt to bitterness mixed with anger. Bitterness over the things Kim had said, and angry with himself for having missed opportunities that would have prevented their last conversation from ever taking place.
David was now determined to go to the restaurant anyway. The evening had already been paid for and he wasn't going to let that go to waste. He would still be alone, but at least he wouldn't be hungry.
He had just closed the door behind him, and his deep state of thoughtfulness kept him from hearing his phone as it began to ring.
Mancioni's was more than just a typical Italian restaurant. The owner knew that it was not enough to have good food at a reasonable price; the service had to be impeccable. Quite often he would be out waiting on customers himself, and it was noticeable that he actually enjoyed doing so.
For this reason-and the fact that he and Kim had frequented the restaurant regularly since their first date-Mr. Mancioni seated David at the only completely private corner booth the restaurant had to offer. They had requested a booth in the back of the restaurant, but since there was a rather large-and noisy-group eating in the back, Mr. Mancioni-knowing the importance of the occasion-had thought that they would prefer something more private. David didn't argue, nor did he explain that Kim would not be coming. He merely shrugged and thanked him for his thoughtfulness.
The dining area was in an L-shape that started just off the entry way with the cashier's desk and then went across the front of the building to the west corner wrapping around and then proceeded to the back. David's booth was located in the corner of the dining area across from the kitchen. As he took his seat, he wondered why they hadn't requested this booth before. He had a pie shaped view that extended from the kitchen entry to the cashier's desk, but there were only four tables which were placed in that field of vision. Two dividers prevented him from seeing the front and back half of the dining area.
David was a little uncomfortable not having a menu to read. He was never one to follow the crowd, but at the same time he didn't like to draw attention to himself in an unnatural way. Despite the time spent brooding at home with the stereo, he had arrived a few minutes earlier than expected and was informed that his dinner would be out shortly.
When Mr. Mancioni placed two salads at the table, David held up his hand, and somewhat embarrassed said, "I'm afraid I'll be dining alone tonight, Joe." His real name was Giuseppe, but he asked everyone to call him Joe. "Because there is such a thing as too much atmosphere," he would say.
"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that. Is Kim not feeling well?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
"Yea, I guess you could say that," was David's somber reply.
Joe seemed to understand the situation completely. "Very well, tonight, you eat on the house. I will move your reservation to next week, and you can come back then." With that he turned and walked away. David admired the man's compassion and sincere regard for his customers.
While they had been talking, the restaurant had begun to fill in. Two of the tables in his view were now occupied. Mr. Mancioni's wide body had acted as a perfect barrier, preventing him from seeing anything taking place in the rest of the area. He wondered if it would be possible to have someone stand there while he finished his meal. He smiled as he imagined himself giving the guy a very generous tip for acting as human privacy screen for him, and asking if his services were available for private parties.
To keep from slipping into a deep funk of feeling sorry for himself, he began watching the people at the other tables, not that there was a wide choice, but at least it kept his mind off of his absent partner.
Two young men were sitting in a booth just behind the cashier's desk. They were dressed in business suits, and were neatly trimmed. David thought that if the suits were a bit more conservative, and the shirts were white, they could pass for an older pair of missionaries. "Or put some dark sunglasses on them and they would make perfect Secret Service agents," he thought, mildly amused. He almost burst out laughing as he noticed a pair of shades tucked in one of their upper coat pockets.
His attention was taken away from the pair as the head waitress led another gentleman past their table on her way toward the back. As they proceeded by, he noted that there was at least one other person in the restaurant that looked as unhappy as he felt. He wondered if his own outward appearance was as equally transparent.
His gaze followed them, until he observed a moderate disturbance taking place at the table located in the middle of the dining area. His obstructed view only allowed him to see the waitress and one of the patrons who had his back to David. He couldn't tell if there were others seated at the same table, but it was clear by the flustered expression on the waitress' face that she had reached the edge of her patience. David couldn't hear what was being said, but she was becoming more and more uncomfortable. As she turned to leave, the man ran his hand along the coarse of her thigh, not stopping at the fringe of her skirt. Quickly, she moved away, and turned to deliver the most contemptuous look David had ever seen. There was no perceptible reaction to her gaze from the customer, though something seemed to draw his attention toward the back of the room.
It appeared that he was going to leave the table, when the young waitress, accompanied by Mr. Mancioni burst from the kitchen.
Mr. Mancioni stopped at the table and began to address the harassing culprit in a not-to-be-trifled-with manner.
The waitress (Leslee, her name tag indicated), continued past the table without even so much as a glance and headed straight for David's booth. She was carrying his plate, which she placed in front of him while saying, "Mr. Mancioni asked whether it would be alright if I waited on you for the rest of the evening. He's . . . occupied with other matters at the moment."
"So I see," David said, nodding toward the table where the conversation had now become somewhat audible to the nearby diners. "That would be fine, thank you."
She poured a refill of water for him and asked if everything was to his liking.
"If you are referring to the food, yes, everything seems to be in order."
She paused, not knowing whether to pursue the conversation or go on with her duties. Leslee had seen David there many times before; so he wasn't a complete stranger. It seemed odd to see him unaccompanied by that stunning girl who looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of Glamour magazine. She decided not to press the issue.
"Let me know if there is anything that you need," she stated uniformly, but added a naturally warm smile to reassure him that she meant what she had said.
David returned her smile, and thanked her sincerely.
The conversation between Mr. Mancioni and the offensive patron, wasn't going as smoothly. David heard Mr. Mancioni's final resolution as he shouted, "Very well, Sir. You may leave now without paying. However, I must ask that you never return again." He then stared defiantly at the unwanted troublemaker to check his reaction. All eyes from the nearby tables were also drawn toward the confrontation.
Rather than cause a scene, he quietly rose from the table and exited without any further disturbance.
David didn't know what had been said, but it must have been serious for Mr. Mancioni to have gotten that angry; especially toward a customer.
Leslee had waited for her antagonist to completely leave before saying, "I'll be by in a few minutes to see how you are doing." Something about the way she articulated the phrase conveyed the idea that she was not referring to the food.
Not knowing what else to say, he thanked her, and watched as she left.
He began to reluctantly eat his veal scallopini, while pondering over how completely Kim had overshadowed any other romantic possibilities in his life. Using the young waitress as an example, he noted that they had obviously met before (she may have even waited on them), but he had always been with Kim. Though not as physically ravishing as Kim was, there was something about her nature that attracted David. But he was never able to sense that attraction because Kim had acted as a suppressant to that feeling. Consequently, he not only hadn't responded to the urge to get to know any other girl better, but he wasn't even aware of their presence.
He must have been deep in thought longer than he realized, because Leslee was returning to his table, which brought a warm smile to David's lips.
"You seem to be doing better," she commented innocently. "Is . . .?" She froze, staring out the window. "Please excuse me," she blurted out, then turned and practically ran toward the kitchen.
David turned just in time to see the source of her anxiety approaching the entrance to the restaurant. A startlingly sick feeling hit David at the realization of what he was seeing. The man that Mr. Mancioni had thrown out was now returning.
Overwhelming fear prevented David from yielding to the urge to peer around the divider to see him enter the building, but the startled reaction of the Cashier indicated that he hadn't come back to leave a tip. Without excusing himself, he too, bolted for the kitchen entry.
Mr. Mancioni erupted from the kitchen shouting, just as the intruder entered David's field of vision. That brief glimpse before he turned toward Mr. Mancioni turned David's blood cold. Though he walked with a distinctly determined gait, his eyes were completely vacant, he wasn't focused on anything. He walked as a blind man within his own home, confidently guided by memory rather than by sight.
What then took place, though occupying only a few moments carried enough graphically vivid images to fill a lifetime.
The intruder attempted to walk past the screaming Mancioni as if he weren't even there. But Mancioni grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. Even as he did, the invader turned quickly grasping the surprised Mancioni's wrist. There was a disquieting crunch as the wrist was folded inward upon itself. Mancioni's cries now turned from anger to absolute torment as he fell to the floor holding his now fractured wrist.
The menacing figure turned back around and proceeded to the back of the dining area. David noted that his expression hadn't changed at all during the altercation with Mancioni.
The clientele seemed suspended in time, not knowing how to react to what they had just seen. A young couple who had just been seated at the table where he had been sitting earlier, quickly got up and left.
There were some threatening shouts from the back and David broke free from the bands of fear long enough to take a peek at the back. Just as he did, the intruder took a gun from his pocket and fired two rounds. Almost simultaneously the two men who had been approaching the attacker collapsed to the floor. David could see that one of them had been struck in the head.
At the sound of the shots, David, as well as everyone else in the restaurant hit the floor. He scrambled back into the far corner of the booth, under the table.
Another shot rang out, accompanied by terrified screams and confused pleadings for mercy.
"Please, don't let this be another Luby's Diner," David begged internally. He was recalling an incident in Texas where a deranged gunman had driven his truck through the front window and began to randomly shoot many of the patrons over an extended period of time.
David looked out from under the table and could see Leslee huddled over the tormented figure of Mr. Mancioni. She was trying to help him into the kitchen, but he was resisting her efforts. Their terrified expressions as they looked toward the back of the restaurant reflected the carnage that had taken place where David was unable to see.
Mr. Mancioni began to shout above the panic and confusion, "What do you want?!? All the money is in the register!! Take it, but please leave!" As the angle of Mancioni's gaze changed, David could tell that the intruder was approaching the front of the dining area. Leslee abandoned her attempts at moving Mancioni and started for the kitchen, but was thrown to the floor as another shot echoed through the dining area.
Scrambling back under the far end of his table David watched as the gunman stood in front of Mr. Mancioni and the paralyzed young waitress. He could see that she was bleeding from her leg which both troubled and relieved him. "At least she's still alive," he thought.
Despite what had happened, Mancioni's distraught face showed only pain, but no fear. The killer reached out to take Leslee by the arm, but as he did so Mr. Mancioni threw his enormous girth in between them.
Without any hesitation, the assassin's extended arm seized Mancioni by the throat and, to David's horror, began to lift his victim off the floor. As he threw Joe like a toy, David caught a brief glimpse of the killer's face. His expression had not changed at all. He still had the composed appearance of someone quite content with what was happening, though his eyes were still void of recognition.
"Somebody do something!" David's mind screamed. "Where are the police?!?"
Again the intruder reached for Leslee, but Mancioni was tougher than anticipated. He threw himself, full force at the gunman, but instead of knocking him to the floor he bounced off as if he had flung himself against a concrete barrier.
The killer slowly turned toward Mancioni, the look on his face unchanged. He raised the gun and fired, striking his victim in the head.
As David watched his friend's lifeless body he noticed that one of the two young men he had observed before was reaching for something in his coat pocket. David could see that it was a hand gun. It would have been impossible for anyone to have seen him draw the fire arm unless they too were lying on the floor.
It was at that instant that David detected a change in the tormenter's demeanor. Instead of returning to Leslee, he began to look around the dining area. Though his eyes were still vacant, he now wore a sickly disturbed expression. It gave David the impression that someone had moved the furniture around in this particular blind man's home.
He started for the back of the restaurant again, but as he did the young man who had secretly drawn his own gun, took aim at the killer's frame.
Without warning the killer wheeled completely around, simultaneously taking aim at the surprised young man and fired; again, hitting his target in the side of the head. He then returned toward the back of the building.
Another shot rang out, accompanied by shrieks of terror.
It was then that David caught Leslee's eye. Seeing him, she awkwardly scurried on her knees toward his table.
She came within four feet of reaching her goal when David saw her lifted off the ground by her hair.
Frozen by the terror of what he had just seen, David remained huddled in the far corner of his sanctuary. "Why is this happening? Can't we do something to stop it?" he thought, tormented by his own inability to react.
It was then that the image of a coin standing incredibly on its edge in the middle of a basketball court clearly and forcefully appeared in his mind. A resurgence of hope, courage, and confidence entered his body as he thought of the impossibility of that eventful night.
He emerged out from under his table and stood defiantly only fifteen feet from Leslee's abductor who had his back to him.
As the killer turned to face him, David could see that the composed, resolute expression on his face had returned, but even more chilling was the fact that his eyes were now absolutely focused upon David. He was no longer blind.
A slight grin touched his face as he slowly raised the gun. Mockingly, he watched as David raised his right arm in a seemingly authoritative display of control. But his expression turned to complete rage as David rebuked him and commanded him to release his hostage.
Pushing the girl aside, he let out a furious howl.
"NO!!" came a shout from the corner where David had been sitting. David's mysterious visitor was somehow there staring intently at the gunman.
There was a brief pause, and the now confused killer started to lower the gun. Suddenly, the building was filled with popping sounds and broken glass. The gunman's body began to convulse as he was pelted by a barrage of gunfire from outside. Simultaneously he raised his weapon again to fire. David saw the flash from the assailant's gun and was violently thrown back as the bullet slammed into his chest.
A scream of absolute terror came from David's hospital room.
Immediately the nurse bolted for the door. She entered the room to find David sobbing hysterically; his head in his hands. After taking a quick visual assessment to make sure that there wasn't anything physically wrong, she asked if he were alright.
He didn't answer at first, but upon regaining his composure, he wearily looked at her and sorrowfully exclaimed, "Tell the police that I should be able to tell them what they need to know now."

<~Chapter 8~>
Chapter Eight

Evidently there was a great deal of concern over how much of the killing David had actually seen. And though there was no real indication that they were withholding information from him, he somehow felt that there was some
ulterior motive behind their questions.
David had noted that in the brief descriptions given by the newspapers of the five fatalities from the restaurant, none seemed to match the young man who had attempted to shoot the crazed assailant. When he had asked about this they had dismissed it as not really having anything to do with their investigation because "no one else seemed to recall anyone drawing a gun" on the killer.
"Perhaps it was wishful thinking on your part that you placed in your memory as though it had actually happened. Remember, that for quite a while you couldn't recall anything about that night," they would say. David did not argue, but inwardly he strongly disagreed. He also didn't feel any guilt about not mentioning anything about the appearance of his mysterious visitor.
Despite their explanations, David knew that he had not imagined the two men at the other table, and wishful thinking could never invent the horror of seeing the killer whirl about and without even taking aim, squeeze off the one shot that violently snatched the young man's life away at the least likely moment . . 
David shuddered as his mind compared the expression of stark surprise on the young man's face to the cold, vacant stare of the killer's eyes as he relived that brief, yet highly traumatic moment.
It was then that he thought of Leslee. She should know whether that portion of the tragic scene had been scripted from his imagination or by reality. After all, she was there too.
She had visited him a few times after her release from the hospital. But each time Kim had been there and though she did nothing that could be interpreted as opposing of the visits, neither felt comfortable enough to fully express what they wanted to say. As a result the conversation was always brief and reserved. David had even thought of asking for her number so that they could stay in touch, but couldn't get himself to carry it through. He regretted that now.
With that thought in mind he buzzed for the nurse.
The entire staff had been extremely accommodating during the two weeks he had been in the hospital; even when he hadn't been entirely rational in his requests. He soon found out that giving out a patient's phone number was an entirely different matter.
"I'm sorry, but I can't give you that information," she stated matter-of-factly.
"No, you don't understand," he tried to explain. "It's not like I want to ask her out or anything like that. I just . . . ," he began to realize how foolish he was sounding, "need to . . . ask her something. About the shooting," he quickly added.
The nurse was already shaking her head before he finished. "But it would be a breach in patient confidentiality," she said with a smile.
David's frustration kept him from noticing the amused look on her face as he further divulged, "I just want to stay in touch with her. Isn't there someone who could tell me?"
"Have you tried praying about it?"
His jaw nearly hit the floor. Filled with disbelief over what he had just heard, he looked her coldly in the eye. "Who do y . . ."
He stopped upon noticing her slightly conspicuous chuckling. "Gotcha!" She burst out, laughing.
Since David had begun feeling better his practical jokes had been a pretty accurate barometer of his recovery rate. His last innocent mistake of putting apple juice in his urine sample jar had carried enough of an impact to sufficiently motivate the entire staff toward revenge.
Seeing the look on his face, the nurse then added, "It's good to see that you can take it . . . almost as well as you dish it out. With you starting to get up on your own, I was beginning to think I was going to have to move this." At the same time, she walked over to the closet and pulled down a lavender envelope from the shelf.
Seeing his puzzled look, she explained, "She left this for you after her last visit."
"So you put it in the closet?" he asked dubiously.
"Oh, she said to give it to you only if you asked about her. I think she may have gotten the impression that she would make your life a little, shall we say, crowded," the nurse said, nodding toward the picture of Kim by his bed.
"In your condition, hiding it was easy."
Nothing was written on the envelope. David felt a surge of excitement as he began to open the card. The nurse, sharing in his enthusiasm, drew closer to the bed.
"Do you mind?" he chided with a smile. Picking up the envelope, he pretended to inspect the seal. "Besides it looks like you've already examined the contents." His grin reflected the fun he was having.
It was a simple Thank You card and she modestly wrote that she would like to stay in touch if it was alright with him. She then left her home phone number. The simplicity of what she said impressed him; almost as much as her conditional request of delivery.
Thanking the nurse, he excitedly picked up the phone and dialed her number.
The conversation quickly went from small talk to the relaxed exchange of feelings between close friends. The emotional discharge of the cataclysmic incident they shared had formed a bond between them that was fresh, yet somehow, familiar.
They talked about their respective recoveries and what each had been doing since their last visit. Leslee's voice cracked as she thanked David again for coming to her rescue. She explained that she had just given up hope of getting out of the restaurant alive when he stepped forward.
It was at that point in the conversation that David decided to ask about the slain young man at the other booth.
Upon his mention of the young man, Leslee's voice began to quiver and an almost perceptive chill came across the receiver.
"Leslee, are you alright?" David asked. He was immediately aware of a change in her manner and her uneasiness began to intrude his own senses.
"David, I . . . thanks for calling . . ." she seemed on the verge of hysteria, when suddenly she responded in a disturbingly calm voice, "I'm sorry, but there are some things I need to attend to. I'll talk to you later. Good-bye." It sounded almost scripted.
The sound of the dial tone left David completely dazed, and he couldn't recall hanging the phone up. It seemed as though he had traveled completely through the entire spectrum of emotions within the past five minutes. His body, overwhelmed by the emotional drain, begged for rest and he obliged by lying back down.
A single tear fell from David's cheek as once again he began to wonder where all of this was leading.

<~Chapter 9~>
Chapter Nine

David gazed intently into the flame as it crackled in the fireplace, his mind deep in thought. 
Reminiscing over the dramatic events that he had experienced since his childhood, he marveled over the fact that they had all been brought to the forefront of his life at this point.
He did not believe in chance, but rather that everything had a purpose, and that how he reacted to these situations would have a deeply significant effect on his future.
He had been released from the hospital two days before with explicit orders not to over do it for a while. Though he had agreed to spend the first night over at his mother's, he found it impossible to get any rest or more importantly, time to just think things over and cope with the ordeal he had just been through. From the moment he arrived the phone began to ring off the hook and well-wishers would continually stop by. Kim never left his side and he also received two more visits from the police and others-who didn't really say who they were working for-to go through "a routine follow-up on the investigation." He hadn't heard from Leslee and kept dismissing the thought of trying to call her. David was too afraid of the possible outcome if he were to go through that emotional roller-coaster again.
Kim had just left for the evening, but had promised to return as soon as she got off work. As inviting as having her near sounded, David inwardly cringed at the thought. He desperately needed some time alone. Because of the nonstop interruptions at his mother's, David decided to return to his apartment so that he could have a moment to himself.
David was getting ready to leave when the phone rang (again), and his mother looked at him with a what-do-you-want-me-to-say look as she got up to answer the phone. He was about to ask her to have them call back, when a warm comfortable feeling gradually spread throughout his body. He quickly indicated he would speak to whoever-it-was and found it to be an old missionary companion, whom he hadn't seen for several years. The former companion said that he hadn't even heard of what had happened, but had just been thinking of him and decided to give him a call. He called his mother's home to get his current phone number and address.
Upon hearing about what David had gone through, he was very apologetic and tried to excuse himself for having bothered him at that time. But just before he hung up, he explained that he was going out of town for a couple of days, and that if David wanted he could hide out there 'till he got back. Once David had agreed, the companion explained where he would find a spare key to the apartment and said that he looked forward to seeing him again.
David didn't regret the decision at all. He was finally able to take the time to sort everything out and just unwind. He also realized that he would have to explain to Kim why he had just left without letting her know of his plans. She was being very understanding about the whole ordeal, but he wasn't sure she would appreciate this need he felt to be alone.
He had tried watching TV, but was unable to get interested in any of the prime time documentary that was being offered. Though his interest was piqued slightly by a feature on a religious conference in California where they claimed to have been visited by the New Age Christ, to announce his immediate return in power and glory. It all seemed fairly harmless except for a part where he was quoted as saying that he "wouldn't make the same mistakes as before."
"Crazy," he muttered.
Rising to turn it off, he was startled as the phone on the end table next to his chair began to ring. David briefly considered answering it, but quickly dismissed the thought by rationalizing that it couldn't possibly be for him. When he left the phone number with his mother, he told her to not give it out nor to call until she had heard from him.
But as the number of rings reached eight from when he had started counting, he began to wonder, "What if something has happened at home?"
Three more rings.
"Either they've fallen asleep at the other end, or they are expecting an answer," he said out loud.
Two more rings.
Quickly snatching up the receiver, he snapped, "Hello!?!"
There was no response at the other end.
"So, you let it ring forever and then forget what you called for?"
This was followed by a soft click and an ominously unwelcome dial-tone.
David no longer felt comfortable and relaxed. The feelings of sheltered seclusion and security were instantly transformed into absolute isolation and vulnerability.
As he struggled to suppress the panic that was building within him, he couldn't help but imagine seeing the handle of the front door silently turning; knowing that it was being opened by the hand of yet another vacant-eyed intruder.
Impulsively, he crossed the room to check the lock on the door. The door knob was within his reach when it started to move. Fortunately he had locked it, but that didn't comfort him at this point. Someone was outside of that door! And as the knob began to turn it was apparent that a lock was no deterrent from their wanting to get in.
Without taking thought of what could happen, David hopped behind the door hoping to take the assailant by surprise.
The trespasser didn't bother with the lights but started for the hallway leading to the bedrooms. At that moment, David pounced on the intruder. But rather than knocking his intended target to the floor, David found himself being hurled across the room and before he had a chance to get upright, the assailant had him in a deadly choke hold.
"Who are you?!?" The voice was evenly controlled yet authoritative.
"My name's Davi . . ."
Instantly, the grip on his neck loosened and he was swung around, looking straight into his former missionary companion's startled face.
The surprise gave way to an impish grin. "Sorry about that, but I'm not usually greeted that warmly when I come home. Are you OK?"
He helped David up, chuckling the whole time.
"Marcos, I thought you were leaving town? What happened?" David asked, trying to decide what ached more, his neck or that part of his body specifically designed for sitting (though not with such force).
"My flight was delayed . . . some mechanical failure . . . so when I called my client to let him know, he decided that it would be better for me to wait 'till next week to come out. I charge by the day, so he wanted to make sure he was going to get his money's worth . . . but enough of that. How in the heck are you?"
"Aside from my stay in the hospital, I've been fine," David stated trying not to bring it up. He rubbed his throbbing head and added with a grin, "At least until now. Where did you learn to do that?"
"I've taken it upon myself to pick up a little self-defense . . . you never know when some wacko is going to try and jump you in your own apartment. This is the first chance I've had to actually put it to use though. How'd I do?"
"Well, considering the great amount of punishment I was able to dish out while flying across your living room, I'd say you did quite well . . . though I must say that I was almost able to get back to my feet before you completely immobilized me. You really ought to work on that."
"Hey, it was dark and I couldn't tell . . ." Marcos then remembered David's sarcastic wit and they both burst out laughing.
David truly admired and loved him like a brother. They had served together for three months. Longer than most companionships, but that may have been because of how well they worked together. They had shared their goals, heartaches, and most of their secrets. Though David never spoke of the mysterious visitor, he had confided in Marcos about his guilt over his father's death, and his absolute fear of swimming. He had even considered telling him the full story of his conversion, but felt that if he were going to tell anyone, his mother should be first.
Elder Vigil (as David had known him), gave a horrible first impression. Coming across as arrogant, materially-minded, and overly consumed with appearance, however, it didn't take long to see that it was all a front for a very intuitively bright, yet sensitively reserved person. The fact that he was determined to become a millionaire before he reached thirty years of age shadowed the divine nature of that goal: "So that others wouldn't have to know as much hunger, pain, and suffering because of want."
They reminisced for a while, which helped David out of his deflated state. Marcos expressed his sorrow over David's ruined basketball career, but was relieved that David wasn't one of those who went around feeling sorry for himself. Most of the conversation had centered around David and what he had been doing. Finally, David couldn't hold his curiosity back any longer and he asked, "So how close did you come to making your million before you were thirty?" He said it lightly so that it wouldn't be taken offensively.
Marcos paused for a few seconds, a slightly embarrassed look on his face, then he quietly spoke, "David, I know that you would never intentionally hurt anyone and I trust you more than any other person I know, but I'd rather that no one knew the answer to that question . . ." He drifted into thought, then smiled up at David saying, "I missed it by one year!"
David had never doubted that Marcos would become a millionaire, but given the modest surroundings that Marcos occupied he found it difficult to put the two together.
Marcos explained that he finished his college career with a dual degree in Computer Science and Business Management. He was hired on immediately by a small independent software company which mainly wrote Third-party software to be used with the major software products like WordPerfect. This provided a fairly good income, but he realized that he would never achieve his goal by working where he was. He then set out on his own to design a communications package that could talk with any type of computer regardless of the operating system being used. Using a complicated method of I/O deciphering, the program could actually teach itself how to use a completely new operating system without having to reprogram or upgrade the product. After a series of miserable attempts to get someone to buy into it, he decided to market it on his own. In just under a year he had been bought out by one of the major software companies with a guaranteed royalties contract that "could see me through this life and on into the next."
He had then gone back to school and gotten a law degree followed by a Ph.D. in Physics.
"I had no idea what I was going to do with my education, but since money was no longer a factor I just wanted to learn. You'd be amazed at how much easier it is to study and take tests without the pressure of having to pass the course," Marcos was explaining when he realized that he had done it again: Caught up in the excitement of being able to confide in someone, he had unintentionally crossed the border between explanation and intimidation.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't carry on that way. I don't mean to sound like I've misunderstood my lessons in Astronomy. I know all to well that the Universe doesn't revolve around me, nor am I at its center." Tears formed in his bright eyes as he explained, "I've just been greatly blessed."
David just nodded, partly from understanding how his friend felt, and partly from being overwhelmed by all that he had accomplished since they had met.
"Have you eaten?" Marcos asked trying to change the subject.
David shook his head.
"Despite all my modesty, I must admit I'm one mean chef in the kitchen . . ."
"Cooking school?" David teased.
"No, just a very domesticated mother."

<~Chapter 10~>
Chapter Ten

David woke with a start. He sprang from his bed, and bolted for the door. The feel of the solid, chilly door handle allowed some of the reality to return to his mind that his nightmare had chased away.
He stood there, silently trying to decipher between what was real and what had lingered from his dream to cloud his mind with visions of danger and torment.
His therapist had explained that it would be normal to have detailed nightmares, even some which would seem to be completely unrelated to the incident. He would need to deal with them, and not try to suppress any feelings of fear or anger that may be brought on.
David had dreamed that he was at the restaurant having dinner at the same booth. Instead of eating alone, or with Kim he was with Leslee. She was expressing how odd it felt to be dining at the same place that she worked and that he would need to hold her back to keep her from clearing the table when they were through.
At that moment Kim came into the restaurant and confronted the two of them wanting to know why David had forgotten to pick her up.
Even as David tried to offer some explanation, the countenance of Kim's face went vacant and her features seemed to take on the image of the crazed killer like a transparent Halloween mask. It was at that moment when he realized that the entire building behind Kim was completely filled with beings from both sides of the veil. They were taunting David and trying to coax Kim into shooting him, shouting, "He's the one! He must not live! Do it now!"
A small boy pressed his way to the front of the crowd and though David hadn't seen him in years, he instantly recognized his boyhood playmate.
"Danny!?!" he mumbled trying to make sense of what was happening.
At the sound of his name the boy bristled, and turned toward David. As he turned, he drew a handgun from his coat pocket and handed it to Kim. He then spoke in a threatening tone to David saying, "I am now called Daniel!" David's fear erupted into terror for even as Danny spoke the words his features began to age and David found himself staring into the face of a now grown man. Then, with a mocking grin Danny asked, "Done much swimming lately?"
Turning to Kim he sharply ordered, "Take him now, before he grows stronger. Before he knows!"
Even though David closed his eyes he could still see (Is it possible to be blind in dreams?). She raised the gun, except that she pointed it at Leslee instead. "Nice try," she sarcastically whispered as she pulled the trigger.
It was at that moment when David bolted for what he had thought was the restaurant door.
He let go of the doorknob and then sat down on his bed. He didn't notice the bedroom door swing open as Marcos came in.
"You OK?" Marcos softly asked.
"Just a nightmare . . . Sorry if I woke you."
"No, its OK. I . . . was awake anyway. Want to talk about it?"
"Not really, but . . ." David broke off his sentence as he caught a glimpse of the expression on Marcos' face. He was completely pale, and the nearest thing David could compare his expression to was the hopeless look of a frightened child lost in a mall.
"Are you OK?"
"David, why would anyone want to kill you?"
"What do you mean?"
Marcos was having a very deep inner struggle, he looked long and hard at David, then, taking a deep breath, he hesitatingly said, "David, I haven't been completely honest with you about why I called last night. But before I 'fess up, I want you to promise me two things: One, that you don't think I'm crazy . . . well, crazier than usual, and two, that you be honest with me as well."
David listened intently as Marcos explained how he had read in the newspaper what had happened. He had tried to call the hospital to see how David was doing, but they wouldn't even tell him what room he was in so that he could visit. He then got so busy with other things that the urge to see him began to subside.
Marcos then hesitantly related a vividly detailed dream he had the night before he called the Freeman home. Though he had never been to Mancioni's he was able to describe in perfect detail the layout of the restaurant, as well as the occupants on that fateful evening. The dream took place from David's point of view, though in the dream his vision wasn't obstructed by the dividers; somehow he was able to see everything that took place.
Holding back his emotions, he described how the killer had walked toward the back of the restaurant, shooting the two men that were trying to detain him, then walked to the back booth where a dejected young man was sitting. Without saying a word he took the young man's life, turned and started to leave.
"That's the booth that Kim and I had reserved," David muttered in a troubled tone.
He described how Leslee and Mancioni were shot, and that at that moment the killer seemed to be confused and started to look around as if something were missing. After incredibly being able to gun down the armed, would-be rescuer, he again went to the back of the restaurant. This time he didn't have such a deliberate gait in his stride, but rather he paused briefly in front of each table and booth, mumbling to himself. He then stopped, and softly said, "David?" Another fellow, two tables away, turned slightly to look at the gunman but even before he had completely turned, his life was taken in the same manner as the other five.
"But the paper said that there were only five casualties. And the police . . ." David protested.
"I know, but that's what I saw in my dream," Marcos softly replied, trying to make sense out of what he was saying. It was clear that he was nearly as shaken by the dream as David was by having lived through it. "I'm not psychic or anything like that, but I can just feel that what I saw is what actually happened. But how could I know that?!?"
David didn't answer; he didn't have one to give so he let Marcos continue.
He then described the entire scene exactly as it happened up to when David was shot. ". . . it was at that time that I woke up. At the time I wasn't sure if I'd ever sleep again," Marcos said with a false smile on his face.
David's mind had begun racing as Marcos described the mysterious visitor and how he had distracted the killer. "He saw him!!" he thought to himself, "Even if only in a dream, he still saw him."
"After that," Marcos was saying, "I meant to call again but got caught up in preparing for this business trip and it slipped my mind. I . . ."
David couldn't contain himself any longer. He had held the secret inside for so long and now it was pleading to be shared. "You saw him?!? I had begun to believe that no one else ever would. I don't care if it was just a dream . . ."
"Not just in my dream," Marcos interrupted. "He came into my office as I was getting ready to leave for my trip. I didn't even hear him enter, when he said, 'You are acquainted with David Freeman.' It was more a statement of fact than an inquiry. It really freaked me out to look up and recognize him from the dream. I got a chill up and down my spine and all I could do was nod. He then handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it and then stated in a commanding tone, 'He is in need of lodging for the night.' I picked up the phone and dialed. When I looked up again, he was gone. I didn't know what to say . . . I thought you'd think I had completely gone nuts if I had told you why I really called."
"I wouldn't have thought that . . . but at the same time, I probably wouldn't have accepted your offer either. Even though this guy seems to be looking out for me, I don't really trust him. Consider how many people were killed before he decided to show up at the restaurant. Not to mention my father." Those last words left David's mouth with much more than just a bitter taste.
"He appeared when your father died?" Marcos blurted out in disbelief.
"Yes."
David went on to tell his good friend of each of the times that he had been visited by this obscure character throughout his life. With each tale, Marcos' nervousness increased adding to David's uneasy distrust of the intrusive visitor.
"Well, there you have it," David sighed. "I don't know if that clears anything up for you, but I do feel a little better knowing that if I am going crazy, I'm not the only one." He then looked at the haggard expression on his companion's face and pleaded, "What is it . . . is there something else you aren't telling me?"
Marcos started pacing across the floor. "I had the nightmare again tonight, except that things were . . . different . . ." he left the last part of his sentence in thought, then turned to David and then sputtered, "It's just so confusing . . . I've never been to that restaurant nor met Kim. I have no idea who Danny or whatever-he-calls-himself-now . . . is or was . . ."
"You had my dream?!?" David felt almost certain that they had shared the exact same dream. Further discussion revealed that Marcos had seen the same events, though from a different angle, as though he had been sitting at a table amongst the mixed crowd of temporal and supernatural beings.
He pointed out that from his point of view he could see that David's fickle guest was there as well; just behind David, watching patiently.
"So who do you think he is . . . or what?" Marcos queried.
Instantly, they both whirled about at the penetrating sound of a frightfully familiar voice.
"I am called John, and I am not a what!"

<~Chapter 11~>
Chapter Eleven

Marcos inwardly wished he could take those last words back. Though he was very confident in his ability to defend himself, and felt no real danger from the man quietly poised before them, he felt very uncomfortable at the thought that he may have offended him.
David on the other hand, felt a hot flash of anger course through his body as he lashed out relentlessly at the calmly reserved John, "Why are you here now?!?! No one is dead yet . . . or is something dreadful about to happen that we don't know about?!?!? At least we're making progress now . . . we know that you have a name!! What's your last name?!?! No wait, let me guess . . . it's Doe, right?!?"
"I have a message for you . . . and Marcos as well." There was no hint of sarcasm in his response. He spoke evenly, with a trace of sorrow in his tone. His face remained emotionless, though the sharpness in his eyes had faded somewhat. "There will always be harrowing events taking place in your lives which you will be unaware of, though not completely. And I have never taken a surname upon myself, therefore your assumption would be incorrect."
Despite the calming effect his presence was having on Marcos, David seemed to become more and more unreasonable. Years of confusion and frustration were finally coming to a head as he shouted sarcastically, "This is like having a conversation with Mr. Spock!! I guess I'm supposed to be grateful that you have rescued me all these times, except there's just one thing that really rips my shorts . . . your timing has been, shall we say, a little off! I've lost some of the things that have meant the most to me along the way. My basketball career . . . taken away before it even got started; Mancioni . . . one of the kindest men I've ever met, not to mention my father!" His face contorted into a mask of complete dismay as he spoke of the elder Freeman, and he began to sob.
David was now wearing down from his emotional tirade, but in a last effort to shirk all of the misgivings he felt he looked John in the eye and defiantly stated, "If you would have shown up sooner, you could have prevented several senseless deaths at that restaurant as well as the trauma that most of the survivors are having to endure."
"As could have you." Again, no trace of accusation, merely a statement.
That type of rebuttal took David completely off guard and he fumbled with his words as he tried to understand what was said.
"You did avert one pointless passing David, when you commanded the assassin to release Leslee. Had you not done so, she would have assuredly joined Mr. Mancioni, though not until after she had suffered even greater violations of her soul. That act of faith produced an effect that was real, and you were the instrument of that power, not I. My being there any earlier would not have altered the outcome of that incident. Do you suppose that I am able to have accomplished any greater purpose?"
David had calmed considerably, but he was still struggling with the thought that there was more that could have been done. "But all of those times . . . the swimming hole, the restaurant, at basketball camp . . . the car accidents . . . you kept me from being killed . . ."
". . . and not others," John finished. "Why you and not them? That is what has been troubling you all this time." He sat down on the edge of the bed, and let out a listless sigh. "David, you perceive my role in your life as one of interference or intervention, but such is not the case." Looking straight into David's eyes, John asked, "You still have the coin, isn't that correct?"
David reached into his pocket and withdrew the remarkable token of one of the most painful, yet treasured memories from David's past. He was still filled with awe each time he looked upon it. "What about it?" he asked wistfully.
"I would hope that each time you look upon that coin-piece you will be reminded that in this life there are many different perspectives-most of which are not obvious. In order to have a complete view or understanding of a situation you must be able to consider it from all perspectives, not just some. While to you it may appear that I have been intruding in your life, what I ask you to consider is that from my point of view, it is you who have become a part of mine." John's face reflected a weary anguish that touched David's understanding.
"David, I have been . . . blessed with a complete understanding of my life . . . past, present and future . . . the whole of it. You could say that I view my life as though it were already history-including those things which have yet to transpire. Consequentially, I know where I am to be, who I may be involved with, what is to take place, etc. . . ."
"But isn't that tampering with history," David asked
sincerely, "to pop in and out of someone's life and affect what takes place?"
"Possibly, but I also know exactly what I am to say and how I am to act. Therefore, regardless of the outcome, I dare not do any more nor less than what I have already seen me do. For example, though your life was spared, you still suffered considerably. I could not prevent that from happening, though I may have wanted to, because I already knew that it wasn't meant to be."
"So do you know what's going on, and why these . . . things have been happening, and what I'm supposed to do?" David asked, intrigued at the possibility of finally having an answer to his troubled past.
"I have a reasonably reliable impression."
"Then just tell me and let me get on with my life," he pleaded.
John just smiled, and then looking somewhat amused exclaimed, "That, would be tampering with history. Be patient, you are not yet prepared for what lies ahead. It will not be long, and . . . others are trying to stop you before you are sufficiently aware of their opposition."
Marcos couldn't contain himself any longer. He was very uncomfortable with the way John kept referring to who-ever-it-was trying to kill David without actually naming them. "You said something about a message for David . . . and me. I think it's safe to say that someone is trying to . . . kill David. Just how much trouble are . . . er . . . is he in?" he asked, hoping that the answer would be different from the feeling he had been struggling with throughout their conversation.
"Yes, I do have a message and it is also true that David's life is in danger. The extent of that danger exceeds your ability to comprehend at this time. For it extends far beyond the bounds of your mortal world; even to the point of being adjacent to my own."
"What . . .?"
"There isn't time to go into further detail!" he said sharply. For the first time, his eyes betrayed a look of anxiety that caused both David and Marcos to tremble slightly.
"David, in this world, at this time, the majority will always be wrong. Because of the flood of deceit and disinformation it will be very easy to join the complacent, and just accept things as they are-or at least appear to be. At this point in your life you are going to have to mistrust the obvious. Keep in mind that very few events are accidental, such as having a flat tire near a cemetery, driving off a bridge, or a small boy drowning in a shallow swimming hole."
David recalled each of these events vividly, the emotional overload causing him to sit down on the nearby bed. "Not accidental?" he muttered to himself.
John continued, "I believe it is Proverbs 27:12 which states: 'A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself; but the simple pass on, and are punished.' It is time for you, and Marcos as well, to be prudent. It is not safe for you here. You should leave now. You must go somewhere more secure . . . and secluded."
Looking directly at Marcos he stated, "You know of such a place." Marcos responded with a nod.
"Marcos, it is essential that you do not leave David's side. You will be the determining factor as to whether he survives this night." His face reflected the seriousness of the moment, yet there was a subtle glow deep within his eyes which gave Marcos hope.
Marcos immediately left the room to get some provisions. Though he was fearful of what awaited them, he also felt a keen sense of purpose which stimulated his faculties. He ran one of his favorite quotes through his mind as he gathered supplies: Courage is not the absence of fear, rather persevering in an honorable purpose in spite of fear. "So why am I doing this?" he thought to himself.
Back in the bedroom, John turned and faced David. He spoke with the tenderness of a father sending his firstborn off to school, "David, from now on, all other messages will need to be tested. Extend your left hand to any messenger; no
matter who they may appear to be. Only I will take your hand in mine, and you will feel my grasp. If you do not feel anything, then dismiss them with all expediency; the messenger is evil. If I cannot give you the message personally, the messenger I send will not offer you their hand. I alone will extend my left hand, any who extend the right hand were not sent by me."
David was having extreme difficulty accepting and coping with what John had been telling them. He couldn't figure out why someone would be trying to kill him. What incentive would anyone have to do so? Since his knee surgery he had always thought of himself as just an average person. The more he considered it, the closer to average he appeared.
He was an assistant coach at the university, and though there was the potential of someday becoming a head coach, for now, his position wasn't one of notoriety. Certainly no one would benefit by inheriting his estate.
He had always dealt with all the near-misses in his life by concluding that accidents happen. David had also heard of people who were highly susceptible to lightning strikes; that there was something in their physical makeup which somehow attracted the charge. He had wondered whether he attracted accidents in some similar way. David had felt that John's presence was what he induced and that had something to do with all the terrible events that had occurred throughout his life. Especially since that first incident at the swimming hole. Danny had left, and the only other person nearby was the reason he hadn't left himself. He remembered trying to find out who it was, and Danny being so frightened of him. Had he known what would take place when he tried to swim across to the other bank, he would have passed Danny on his own retreat home.
It was at that moment that the disquieting fear that had been building within him took form as he fully understood what John had meant: Those events weren't accidents at all, rather deliberate attempts at his life made to look like an accident!
Ignoring John's admonition to hurry and leave, David hesitatingly asked, "Are you saying my father was . . . murdered?" He was anxious to have an answer but he dreaded knowing what it could be.
John seemed to understand his thoughts, and softly replied, "It was intended that you be in the truck which ran off the bridge. Your father . . . took your place." Seeing David's pained reaction, he added, "But David, no righteous person is taken before their time. And your father was a righteous man."
"So the power outage wasn't an accident either. And you appeared, so that Dad would leave me behind."
"Everything has a purpose."
Confused, David then asked, "So what was the reason that I was pulled under the water at the swimming hole?"
"The intention was that you drown."
"You wanted me to drown?!?" David asked incredulously. He was now beginning to wonder if there was anyone he would be able to fully trust.
"My objective was to have you saved."
"Then why didn't you do it? Why did I have to wait for my mother, when you were right there?"
"David, I was not at the swimming hole."
"Yes you were. You were standing off in the trees, watching. I saw you."
"David, I went to your home and alerted your mother, but I was not to be at the swimming hole. I have never been at the swimming hole. What you saw was not me."
Before David could ask, he then added, "I have an idea as to what it was, but it would be better that you not know at this point. Now, go with Marcos, he can be trusted. I hope to see you again soon."
The phone rang in the other room which nearly sent David to the ceiling. It was very apparent as to how frazzled his nerves were. He knew that he needed to remain calm, but things were happening too fast for him to cope with. John left the bedroom and turned to go down the hallway. David entered the hallway and realized that John was gone. He had never felt more alone than at this moment.
"David, it's your mother," Marcos yelled down the hall. Handing David the receiver, he agitatedly whispered, "We've got to go!!"
His mother was noticeably upset as she spoke. "David, I know you asked to be left alone, but I've got to know what's going on. It's one o'clock in the morning, and some investigator came by 'to check up on your progress'. When I mentioned that you were staying at a friend's apartment . . ."
"Mom," David interrupted, "I really need to go. I'm going to . . . on a little vacation. I'm not sure when I'll be back." He didn't know if he was going to be able to put her off without worrying her. She had always been able to sense when he was hiding something from her.
"Are you alright?" she asked with a worried tone.
"I'm fine. Marcos was able to get out of his business trip, and we've decided to go somewhere more private. I'll call when we get there, OK?" He was starting to get an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.
"Could you let Kim know that I've gone? Nothing personal; I just need to get away." He thought about having her call his work and explain that he may not be in for a while, but he still had a week left of leave and it would only make her more on edge.
"That's the other thing that is bothering me. Kim came by earlier this evening. When I told her you were staying at a friend's she said that she might go and visit you there. I just assumed that you had called her and given her the address."
Marcos had everything gathered in a duffel bag. He tapped David on the shoulder as he walked by on his way to the kitchen.
"Mom, I've really got to go." He reminded himself that he didn't want to alarm her, so he then asked, "Was there anything else?"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, somewhat embarrassed. "That's what started this whole mixed up evening. Sometime around 11:00 Leslee called. She said she needs to see you right away. She sounded pretty upset, so I gave her Marcos' number. Has she called?"
"I don't think so . . ." He recalled the chilling phone call he had received just before Marcos arrived.
David, deep in thought, barely heard his mother's farewell as he hung up the phone. However, he was slammed back into reality by Marcos' hissed phrase: "David, we're not alone!" Then, pointing to the flashing red lights reflecting off the wall, he exclaimed, "We have visitors!"

<~Chapter 12~>
Chapter Twelve

Marcos tried frantically to think of what the police could be doing at this hour in the morning. Two o'clock wasn't the normal time for routine visits. The only reason they would have used a silent approach with lights is if they were expecting a dangerous situation. He figured they had come for David, but he couldn't understand why. He quickly peered out of the side window to see if another car had also come, but saw no indication of any backup.
Marcos had made an inward resolution that he would not allow anything to happen to David; regardless of the cost. With this in mind, he sent David to the back bedroom. He then went to answer the light knock at the door.
Grateful that he hadn't yet gotten fully dressed, he mussed his hair up even more as he opened the door. Inwardly he wished he could have gotten a picture of the shocked look on his uniformed guests as they stared at him in disbelief. Evidently, they hadn't expected Marcos to be there.
Trying to sound like he had just woken up, Marcos innocently asked, "Something wrong, Officer?" He then gave an exaggerated yawn.
Both of the men appeared to be in their mid-thirties and obviously weren't strangers to the weight room. The one with sandy colored hair looked as though he were going to burst his uniform at the seams. His demeanor, despite the surprise of finding Marcos rather than David, quickly indicated that he was in charge of the situation. His companion, though taller, gave the impression that this could easily have been his first assignment. There was no indication of any threat from the visitors; however, Marcos noted that the holster straps on their weapons were undone.
The words seemed to break the stupor they were in and the shorter of the two spoke, "We're looking for a David Freeman and were told he was staying here. May we see him?" The words were spoken evenly, though there was a tinge of anxiety which seemed to be held aloft by his last question.
Marcos chuckled confidently as he explained, "He was staying here, but when I came home last night he seemed upset by it. We nearly got into a fight, and early this morning he was acting like he needed to leave. I'm really not entirely sure why."
In grade school, Marcos had been known as the King of Make-Believing, because of his ability to come up with what appeared to be a viable excuse for anything. "The idea is to mislead. The best way to beat a lie-detector is to not lie," he would tell his friends. He now hoped that he was as good with these two as he was with his fourth-grade teacher.
"So when did he leave?" the other officer asked. Marcos could tell that his talent hadn't entirely faded.
"He woke up about an hour ago."
"Do you know where he was going?"
"I don't think he was very sure of where he was going. He just started getting his things together. I do know he wanted to be alone. Have you tried his apartment?"
He could tell that they were becoming agitated. The taller of the two kept trying to peer into the room behind Marcos. Marcos intentionally opened the door wide so that they wouldn't think he was trying to hide anything.
Not answering Marcos' question, the tall one asked, "Do you think he will come back here?"
"I really doubt it."
It was then that the stocky fellow asked, "Do you mind if we have a look around?" He stepped forward as he spoke.
Marcos barred the doorway with his arm, taking them by surprise and replied with a question of his own which stopped them both in their tracks.
"Do you have a warrant?"
They eyed each other for only a brief moment, nothing spoken. The lawman had an incredibly icy gaze as he stared beyond Marcos into the empty room behind him. Marcos was surprisingly calm, yet it was all that he could do to stifle the shivering chill that surged through his spine as the officer coldly replied, "Not yet."
He watched as they walked toward the street, then,
closing the door quietly, he hurried to the bedroom. Unfortunately, he neglected to dead-bolt the door.
David had finished placing the provisions in the duffel bags Marcos had gotten out. "Do you think they bought it?" David nervously asked.
Before he could reply, the night's silence was shattered by the sound of a thunderous crash mixed with the
splintering of wood. They had broken in the front door and were approaching the hallway.
Thinking quickly, Marcos motioned for David to get into the closet, simultaneously tossing one of the duffel bags onto the bed, spilling some of the contents onto the floor.
He listened intently for any sound which would reveal the intruders' direction. Apparently they were approaching with caution and the once-annoying squeak of the hall closet door indicated that they were searching each room as they proceeded down the hallway. He had a little time before they would get to this room.
The bedroom window looked out into the deserted parking lot. As he silently opened the drapes, Marcos saw what had alerted the officers to David's whereabouts: David's car was located in the second stall which might have gone unnoticed except that the first stall now stood vacant.
Still standing by the window, Marcos took the pillow from the bed and placed it between his knees. He then picked up the brass lamp from the night stand and held it firmly over his head. Marcos offered a silent prayer, hoping he had guessed correctly.
With one broad stroke, Marcos smashed the glass at the base of the window, letting go of the lamp and pulling his arms back to avoid the shattered glass. He quickly placed the pillow across the window sill then dove under the bed, just as the two men stormed into the room.
The first didn't hesitate, but quickly vaulted through the window's opening out into the parking lot, dislodging the pillow as he did. The second paused near the bed to examine the duffel bag with its spilled contents.
Marcos stiffened when he saw the officer kneel down at the foot of the bed. He didn't exactly have an advantageous position for an altercation with the intruder. He had thought of pulling his feet out from under him, but didn't want to risk the possibility of his gun (which he assumed would be drawn), going off. Not only would it alert his partner, but could also spoil a completely, up-until-now, unforgettable morning for Marcos.
Marcos held his breath as the officer turned to face the closet. Carefully, he slid out from under the bed and inched forward to peer around the corner.
The officer did have his gun drawn and was leveling it toward the closet. Without warning, the officer's hand flinched and the bi-fold door splintered near the handle. The shattering of the wood was the only sound heard as he fired two more rounds into the closet. Marcos was staring at the gun when it fired. There was no silencer attached to its
barrel. Why was there no sound?!? And who would have weapons like that!?!? Then there was an audible groan and a sickening thud as something heavy fell against the inside of the closet door.
The realization that David had been shot released Marcos from the paralyzing grip that had come over him. He sprang from his crouched position and threw himself on top of the gunman. The officer was completely taken by surprise and the impact of the fall knocked the gun from his hands. Marcos, upon seeing the gun fall free, instinctively went for a choke hold, and squeezing hard was relieved to know that this would not be a prolonged fight.
But the end did not come so quickly, as he took several elbows to his ribs. One of which, he was certain, had taken its toll. The sharp pain of his cracked rib nearly caused him to release his grip, but the thought of what this creep had just done to his friend wouldn't allow him to let go.
Finally, his adversary slumped over and fell to the floor. Marcos held on a little longer, not wanting to kill, but to be certain that this was not a trick.
He got up and stood before the closet, uncertain of whether he would be able to handle what he feared he would find. With some hesitation, he reached for the handle.

<~Chapter 13~>
Chapter Thirteen

Marcos slowly slid the door open and David's limp body rolled out on the floor. Marcos' heart sank as he bent down to help his friend.
"David! You OK?!?" he urgently whispered, checking for a wound. He started to slap David's cheeks when David turned his head and half opened his eyes.
"Are the bad men gone?" David moaned, wrapping his arms around his head. He was obviously in a great deal of pain.
"One of them is out, but not for long. Can you get up?"
"My head . . . something . . . hit my head. Was I shot?"
Marcos felt the back of David's head and found a modestly-sized goose-egg already forming. He then looked back into the closet. One of the shots had hit the overhead shelf, leaving little more than the remains of the fragmented woodwork. On the floor below lay his bowling bag. It must have fallen from the shelf and hit David on the head.
Marcos had to smile at the irony at what had happened. No one could have faked a better scene.
"No, you weren't shot. But I'm afraid that my bowling ball fell on your head. We've got to get out of here, now! Can you get up?"
David nodded then winced from the movement. As he got to his feet, he looked at Marcos, puzzled. "You bowl?" he asked incredulously. And began to ramble on about the stupor-induced hazards of bowling.
Marcos didn't answer, instead helping David toward the broken window. Looking into the parking lot, he received another shot of adrenaline as he saw that both of David's rear tires had been deflated. The other policeman must be out there waiting for them to get into another car. But did he know which car belonged to Marcos? He needed to think, fast! Should he risk the attempt at getting his car or go out the front door and try to get away on foot?
" . . . those kinds of things should always be stored on the floor . . ." David was still babbling incoherently.
He wasn't sure how far David could go on foot in his condition. And they certainly wouldn't get far if they were seen. The slight movement of the unconscious officer made his mind up for him.
He dashed across the room and snatched up the gun and handcuffs. After cuffing the pretended lawman, he picked up the pillow and helped David out through the window. As he went through, he tossed the pillow off to the side of the building.
David had stopped jabbering, and seemed to be more aware of what was going on. Cautiously following Marcos to the back of the covered parking, behind his car, they discovered that the front tires had been deflated as well. This car wasn't going anywhere soon.
Marcos peered anxiously across the row of cars, desperately looking for any sign of movement. But none came. He only hoped that they could get to his car without being seen.
He motioned for David to follow and they slowly crept toward Marcos' car; four vehicles further down in the row.
As they passed the third car, Marcos thought he heard someone behind them. They waited for what seemed an eternity, but they couldn't see or hear anything else so they kept going; both of them now keenly alert to any sign of a threat and each painfully aware of the desperate situation they were in.
One more car to go. Because Marcos always backed into his parking space (a habit which Marcos was even more pleased with), they had agreed that they would both enter the car from the passenger side, Marcos going first. Marcos bent down and looked under the cars hoping to see their stalker's feet, though he was again bitterly disappointed. He couldn't shake the feeling that their flight had not gone unnoticed, yet there was no indication of any immediate danger. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and they pressed on.
Finally, they reached their goal. Again, they waited, but nothing happened.
Together, they sidled up against the car, Marcos inserting the keys and unlocking the door. The audible click from the power locks seemed to thunder through the parking lot. Marcos paused and reassured himself that now was not the time to let his imagination get the better of him. They were almost there.
As he gently lifted the door handle, a voice behind them commanded, "Step away from the car. Both of you!"
At first, Marcos couldn't tell where the voice had come from but then he noticed a slight movement in the back of the pickup two cars behind them. The officer was crouched against the cab of the truck peering over the side wall of the cargo area. It was then that he noticed the gleam of moonlight reflecting off the barrel of the handgun pointing straight at him.
"Hands over your heads. Move it!"
Marcos handed David the gun and firmly pointed for him to stay down.
"Don't shoot. I'm unarmed," Marcos exclaimed as he rose to his feet; his hands placed lightly on top of his head.
"Both of you!" he again commanded.
"David's hurt," Marcos interjected. "He hit his head and . . . I'm not sure if he can get up. I think he needs a doctor."
"Step away from the car!"
Marcos shook his head slightly. "Sorry, but I've promised that I won't leave his side. Can I help him?"
He felt an unsettling sharpness in the air as he spoke those last words. This caused him to stare intently at the figure in the back of the truck.
The pickup bed was immersed in shadow, which seemed to take shape and gather within the form of the hunched figure who was threatening them. Suddenly, in one graceful movement, he leapt silently to the ground and began to walk toward them.
Marcos gasped as he looked into what was once the face of the policeman whom he had spoken with only a few moments earlier. The confident features had been replaced with a shallow emptiness which seemed to gather in the depths of his now-vacant eyes. The shock of seeing this unearthly visage step from within his privately denied nightmares into stark reality sent Marcos' mind reeling.
Hopelessness began to overtake Marcos as this night caller from hell came closer. This was where it ended, he had seen it before. So deep was his despair that he barely noted that a white car began to pull into the parking lot; its lights turned off.
Intent on his imminent mission, the encroaching assassin paid no attention to the advancing car. He turned slightly and raised the gun, aiming directly at Marcos.
Marcos sensed that the primary intent was to kill David, but rather than bother with having Marcos move, two shots would become necessary instead of one.
Marcos closed his eyes, briefly reflecting over his life, wondering if he was truly prepared to die.
He felt a flash of heat next to his thigh, and opening his eyes, he could see that the assailant had been shot in the leg, which momentarily knocked him over.
David's aim with a gun was no where near as accurate as it was with a basketball. He had been pointing the revolver at their adversary's head when he fired. David was about to shoot again, when the morning silence was abruptly broken by the roar of an engine.
As the fallen figure began to rise, a familiar white coupe sent his body careening across the parking lot. The hollow sound of a bursting pumpkin reverberated through the yard as the solid bumper slammed into the vulnerable crown of the assassin's head.
They both staggered toward their vehicle of deliverance, overwhelmed with shock and disbelief. David, knowing fully well who drove this particular Nissan Maxima: Kim! What was she doing there?!?
Rolling down the window, she yelled, "Get in!! More are coming!"
David remembered what John had said about distrusting the obvious, but also realized how close he and Marcos had come to losing their lives if it hadn't been for Kim's timely arrival.
Just then they heard a horrifying noise. It was a cross between a shrieking howl and a deeply bellowed snarl. The diabolic wail penetrated their very being, causing them both to tremble from the vibrations within.
The area around the fallen assailant became enshrouded in a thick vapor which seemed to part just above his mangled form. Darkness and shadow combined with the tumultuous mist to form a writhing image of malice which conjured up long since displaced memories of every childhood ghost story David had ever heard or even knew of. This was a being of absolute evil, and hatred seemed to drip from the open maw of its mouth. Its physique was well defined and gave the impression of immense physical power. It glared hideously at David and seemed to hover motionlessly in the air, when suddenly, it let out another demonic roar and began to run through the air toward David. There was no doubt that its complete purpose was focused upon one thing: David's utter destruction.
Quickly covering the distance between them, the hellish fiend was about to strike when David instinctively raised his hand and commanded the being to depart.
The beast let out an anguished cry and then vanished. Relief, however, was slow in coming as another tormented bellow filled their ears. They beheld another similar creature beginning to appear within the still-present mist.
David, completely overcome by horror, his body exhausted, his thoughts numb, quickly opened the door and dove into the car.
Marcos had never feared anything before in his life, up until now. He didn't know how to deal with what was happening. He completely distrusted Kim (and pretty much everyone else at this point), but also knew that he would not be able to withstand the attack that was being launched upon him and David from beyond the veil at this moment. Seeing David dive into the car and remembering his promise, he immediately followed; slamming the door shut behind him.
Kim began to back up as the second figure ran toward them. Instead of striking the car it seemed to run through the vehicle as the frigid sensation of shadow mixed with wind passed through their auto.
As the feeling left, Kim hesitated briefly. But then David shouted, "Go Kim, Go!"

<~Chapter 14~>
Chapter Fourteen

Kim backed out of the driveway so fast that David thought that she was going to lose control of the car. Turning as she entered the street, she pitched the car into a backward spin; locking the brakes as she straightened out.
She stopped momentarily, apparently trying to regain her composure from what had just happened. But the sound of sirens caused them all to look behind them. Coming down the street at full speed were two more police cars.
Now Kim didn't hesitate at all, instead she quickly put the car in gear and slammed the gas pedal to the floor, sending both of the passengers sprawling in the back seat.
David couldn't help but grin as he looked back to see the distance between them and their pursuers gradually begin to increase. He had tried to talk Kim out of buying such a sporty car, trying to be more practical. She had compromised by getting a four-door. At the time David had felt that she was being unreasonable, now he was especially grateful for her exceptional insight.
The radio was playing loudly and the sultry voice of Sade could be heard over the roar of the engine and sirens. The soothing melody of the music a stark contrast to the moment being experienced.
Both David and Marcos jumped as the car phone between the front seats began to ring. David stared at the cellular in disbelief. Who could be calling at this hour?
Kim was now in total control of the situation. There wasn't even the slightest indication of nerves, let alone panic. The music must have been exerting some type of influence because of how calmly she was now reacting to every circumstance. Without taking her eyes off the road she coolly picked up the receiver on the second ring.
"Hello," she answered in a relaxed tone. She then paused and calmly said, "I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong number." She replaced the receiver and turned the phone off.
Without warning, she turned a hard right and started up a hill toward the canyon. David was thrown on top of Marcos who responded by pointing down at his seat-belt with a do-you-mind look. The acrid smell of burning rubber began to fill the interior of the car.
"I think we ought to put these on. Something tells me this ride has just started."
David looked back to see the vehicles, (now three)making the turn; though the third vehicle only slowed slightly then continued past the intersection. They were only about forty-five feet behind them and were handling the incline better than Kim's vehicle.
"They're going to try and cut you off," David warned. He remembered something his father had taught him about trying to outrun the law, "You can't outrun a radio."
Kim remained focused on the road. The incline had become much steeper and they could see that the road forked ahead. She took the left fork which had a more gradual curve with a lesser slope than the one on the right. As she entered the curve they lost sight of the pursuing vehicles, though the reflection from the flashing strobes indicated that they weren't far behind. As they neared the top of the hill Kim turned off her lights and threw the car into a lower gear. Using the engine's compression as a brake, she hurled the car to the left into the first street they came upon. Less than a half-block away was another left turn which she immediately took. The tires screeched in protest of the disrespectful treatment they were being given and the rear tire glanced violently off the curb in the narrow street. The lane sloped back down toward the street they had just come up. Kim didn't even slow for the stop sign, instead she accelerated as she approached the intersection.
Sparks flew as she grated the car's front end on the street, turning left again. They had now come full circle, though she took the right fork this time and allowed the car to slow. There was no longer any sign of pursuit.
It was then that David noticed the cemetery located below them. He shuddered involuntarily as an uneasiness settled deep within his being. He wasn't sure whether it was caused by his memories of graveyard experiences, or the release of all the tension that had been building up over the last few hours. David later found that it was neither.
They drove for a moment in silence, when Marcos leaned forward extending his right hand and saying (as only Marcos could), "Hi! My name's Marcos Vigil and . . . you must be Kim. I've . . . heard a lot about you, but not that you were a budding race car driver. What's it like . . . you know, the thrill of victory and all?"
Kim smiled and took his hand in a mocking shake.
David began to think clearer, and blurted out, "Kim, what were . . . where did you come from and how did you know where I was?" His mind was instantly filled with the memory of the car slamming into the man who was about to shoot him. "Do you realize what you just did? I think you killed that officer in the parking lot," he stated, not fully understanding the consequences himself.
"Lucky for you I did. It didn't look like he was taking down license numbers nor did he seem to be too concerned with taking you down to the station for questioning."
"But how did you know where I was?" he repeated. "Mom didn't even have the address."
"I was leaving your mother's when the police came. They seemed . . . upset about something, and when they drove off . . . I followed them. I tried calling the number your mom gave me but no one answered. Why didn't you want me to know where you were?"
David didn't want to get into that now, so he quickly asked, "Where are we going?"
"I know a place where we can stay for a while; 'till things have cooled down a bit." She then turned to look at David and gave him the look that used to melt his heart. "Trust me," she winked.
It was all David could do to keep from recoiling from what he saw as Kim turned to face him. Instead of the image of a captivating beauty, were the features of a ragged, old woman. He sensed that he was being given a sign, at the same time he felt a strong impression that he shouldn't react, though he wasn't sure why. One thing he was sure of: they were far from being out of danger.
As they pulled into the underground parking lot of Kim's office building, David was in complete awe of the emotional state that had come over him. Simultaneously he was overcome by two emotions: a restraining calm and sheer panic!

<~Chapter 15~>
Chapter Fifteen

Kevin Smith could hardly contain his delight. He was embarking on an unofficial assignment that he was convinced would assure him of nothing less than a partnership in the firm he worked for.
Though his tenure at the company consisted of only a few years, he had quickly soared up the corporate ladder. He had so much more than just the gift of gab. Kevin gave the impression of being everyone's best-friend, though only if he could benefit from it. There was nothing he couldn't do, and that, better than anyone else. And if his results didn't quite match his carefully presented expectations, there was always something (usually someone else), to blame for the short coming. He was also able to rationalize nearly anything to the point where he believed he was justified in what he did. 
There was no remorse whatsoever, for the countless promotions he had won; taking full credit for briefs that he had only partially contributed to. Nor did he mourn for the positions others had lost because of the verbal knives he had unscrupulously placed in their trusting backs.
He had overheard the head of the firm describing a particular challenge they were having: the possibility of losing several key accounts to a rival corporation. Naturally, he expressed his remorse for not having done more to help. It was then that he learned that the problem could easily be resolved by uncovering evidence of unethical practices and releasing it to the press.
Kevin had taken it upon himself to investigate, and using the aid of some rather unsavory characters, learned that there was plenty of evidence to be found. Having spent most of his adult life finding -or producing-dirt on others then exposing it, the task ahead seemed minuscule at most.
There was no hesitation as he tried the lock on the
building's security entrance. A gloating smile spread across his face as the door swung open, silently. "Fifty thousand dollars would be enough to get Hitler into the Pentagon," he mused as he started up the stairs.

<~Chapter 16~>
Chapter Sixteen

In all the years that he and Kim had been dating this was actually the first time David had ever visited Kim's work place. Come to think of it, he had never even been invited over for lunch, or an office party. In actuality, he only knew that she worked for some type of law firm, had a very flexible schedule, and appeared to make a very generous salary; but little else in the way of specifics. It wasn't that he didn't care, rather that he didn't like to pry. He had always been somewhat reserved with information regarding his personal affairs and he respected that privacy in others.
The fact that he knew more than his fair share of lawyer jokes, provided him with enough biased information to keep him from becoming overly curious about where she worked, who she worked with, or what her actual duties were. Now, he wished he had been just a little bit nosy, as they left the elevator to enter what felt like another world or dimension.
At the end of the hall, like a dauntingly imposing sentinel, stood an unmarked, mahogany door. The only other door was on the other side of the elevator clearly marked: STAIRS. There was a definite displaced feeling of unbalance that seemed to emanate from the very walls as they walked the short distance down the dimly lit hallway.
As they approached the door, Marcos visibly shuddered, quickly glancing around with that hopeful look that it had not been noticed.
David felt it too, but the calming reassurance that he had felt in the parking lot, momentarily returned to subdue the uneasiness that erupted throughout his being. It was then that he was able to discern what was so disturbing about the portal standing before them: this door, with its metal encased hinges on the outside was not intended to defend against intruders from without, rather to restrain something far more threatening within.
"You'll need to put these on in order to get through security," Kim explained handing them some sort of extra-thick, clip-on badges. "They have a mild electrical current running through them that takes some getting used to but its actually quite harmless, . . . and it also helps keep you from falling asleep on the job."
Despite the warning, David nearly dropped the card as it was handed to him. The sensation was more like having a spider run across the back of your hand. He turned to Marcos and whispered, "I don't think I could ever get used to that!" But to his surprise, Marcos already had his on.
As they passed through the doorway, David began to wonder about his earlier premonitions and was somewhat disappointed when they weren't searched by a host of security guards or didn't find some elaborate electronic protection device like a Retina Scan or the Man Trap he had seen in the movies. Instead, he noticed that there was a faux ceiling and the stylishly decorated hallway narrowed; making it so that they had to enter the lighted reception area single file.
"So now what do we do?" Marcos asked, making himself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs. Then looking directly at David he added, "I don't think that we should be here."
David simply nodded, reassured that he wasn't the only one who felt another presence in their nearby surroundings.
Kim must have misunderstood, since she immediately rose from the couch telling them that she would go and explain why they were there to any one else who might be there as well.
It seemed that she had barely left the room when she returned, her face a mask of solemnity. "David, there's something I need to tell you. But before I do, promise me that you will hear me out before you say anything." Her voice trembled slightly and she appeared on the verge of tears.
After everything that had just happened: nearly being killed while hiding in the closet, the demonic appearances in Marcos' parking lot, and Kim's spectral image-change that had taken place as they were driving in her car; she was asking for a lot. It was all David could do to keep from assaulting Kim with a barrage of questions. Not only about what was going on or why she had taken them . . . yes, taken them to her office, and what did she have to do with all of this.
She saw the inner struggle etched upon his face and, hoping to take some of the indecision from his mind, added, "Would it help to know that I didn't just show up tonight, rather that I knew that those men would be at your friend's apartment and that I also knew they had no intention of bringing either of you in alive?"
 David had pretty much put those pieces of the puzzle together on his own, but the fact that she was willing to admit to it allowed him to tell her that he was at least willing to listen. Besides, now she had him curious.
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
She started to pace the floor and it was obvious that this wasn't easy for her to say.
"David," she opened, "I work for an organization that holds a great deal of power and influence in the affairs of the world. Not just in the business world, but the political and social aspects as well.
"For some reason, and I honestly don't know why, they have been interested in you for some time, even before we met." She stopped pacing, turned and faced him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "But before I go on, I want you to know that no matter what you might think, especially after I'm through," she began to sob, "I truly do love you. And though that wasn't the original idea behind my meeting you, that is how it has turned out. That's why you're here now, and not lying in some unmarked grave in the hills.
"You see David, I . . . wasn't just being extremely forward when we met. I was actually fulfilling an assignment. I was supposed to get to know you and in a way, let my superiors know what made you tick, what interests you had, goals you wanted to pursue, and so on." The last part of what she said sounded like it had been written on a script in her memory.
Forgetting his promise, David interrupted, "But you didn't work here when we met! How could . . .?"
"The company I now work for and the company I worked for then are just . . . branches of the organization. I didn't know that at first, but as I advanced in the ranks, it became apparent that those who I had once thought were in charge, were in fact, just like me: carrying out orders from a higher source, without ever revealing that a higher structure even existed. Each time I reached a level where I thought I would be on top or at least very near it, I would then become aware of that next level which was always just above my own.
"Anyway, the reason I was to get close to you was so that they could somehow get you to join their organization . . . willingly. Kind of like when you were being recruited in basketball. The scouts or recruiters would call or write letters hoping they would say something, anything that would spark your interest in their school. Well, this organization didn't want to play hit-and-miss so they had me get involved, so that there wouldn't be any . . . uncertainty about the kind of lure they needed to use. I know it sounds rather cold, but that is the way things work in this world.
"But, you David, were so different. You didn't mind the fame and attention, but you never tried to draw any more than you deserved. You also didn't have a lust for money, or power. Those were things that are so easy to offer, yet with you it was apparent that they wouldn't make the offer any more appealing. That became even more apparent by the way you handled your knee injury.
"It was then that they tried to see if you had any vices or cravings that could be used against you. But you didn't. Things like drugs, sex, or any other type of addiction . . . just didn't have a place in your life." She could see the question forming in his eyes and softly whispered, "Yes, I did try . . ." She had to pause as she fought to regain her composure.
"That's what helped me to fall in love with you David. Because I could see that you had fallen in love with me. Not with what I had to offer, but with who I was . . . or am. And that you weren't going to take advantage of the trust that we were building. And I changed, I just wanted to be near you, no matter what. I tried to convince them that I just needed more time, but that I had things under control, and that I was working on another angle to get you to join our ranks." Her face lightened as she chuckled, "Of course, I knew that was a lie. I had no other plan, you were so firm in your lifestyle that I couldn't see any way to alter the course you were on. If anything, you were persuading me to join you.
"I guess they figured that out too. Because they informed me that they had decided on a different plan of action; a more permanent plan. Using my most trusted contacts, I found out that they planned to have you murdered . . ." The tears were back.
"I also found that they had already made several unsuccessful attempts to do so, even while we were dating. That night, when you hurt your knee? That was no accident."
David put his hands over his eyes, hoping to blot out the memory of that night. And, for that matter, this night as well.
"Well, it made me sick to think of what could happen and I didn't know what to do. If they knew how involved I was or that I would try to warn you then we would probably both have ended up dead. It's not like I could just turn in my resignation. These people don't just turn the other cheek when they are betrayed. And they are definitely used to getting their way.
"I found out that they were planning on being at the restaurant on the night of our anniversary. That was why I called and canceled; hoping that you would be so despondent that you wouldn't go and then I could explain what I really felt later that evening after the danger was over. I called to make sure you would be home, but when you didn't answer, I realized that you had gone anyway. Why did you go? I even tried to interfere . . . but things just . . . went wrong."
David had listened long enough. He had followed most of what she was saying and it made perfect sense. He even understood why she had been used as bait to lure him into some kind of service, it hurt to think that they had started out as a lie, but he was trying to see it from her point of view. It was when she started talking about the restaurant as though that fateful evening were his fault that he found it was just too much to silently sit through.
"What do you mean, you tried to interfere!?!?" he lashed out. "I don't recall seeing your pretty little face there! You didn't even have to come, a simple phone call could have gotten me out of there. Oh! But you probably couldn't remember the number, right? Or better yet, your . . . uh . . . company probably had your phone bugged so you couldn't call!" He was on his feet now, livid with anger.
Kim, taking the full brunt of his tirade, just stood there pleading, "I . . . couldn't . . . you just don't understand how . . ."
He didn't let her finish.
"No!! YOU don't understand! Yes, I was there! But people died because of what you didn't do. You knew what was going to happen in that restaurant that night, and then try to make it sound like it was my fault for going? Come on, Kim! You could have just called, but instead you just let it happen. Why don't you just admit it?!?"
Without even looking up from her lap. Kim softly said, "Maybe you're right, I probably should have done more." She then looked him straight in the eye and firmly stated, "But I did try! Maybe this will help you understand." She then called into the next room, "Russ, can you come here for a minute?"
David was forced to sit down as both he and Marcos instantly recognized the young man who entered the room. He wasn't wearing the same blue suit he had been wearing in the restaurant that night, but there was no mistaking who it was: it was the surviving partner of the young man who had tried to shoot the would-be assassin.

<~Chapter 17~>
Chapter Seventeen

"Good evening, Mr. Freeman, Mr. Vigil. Or should I say, Good morning?" Russ politely remarked.
David was beginning to wonder if he wasn't still dreaming and that at any moment he was going to awaken in Marcos' apartment with one doozy of a story to tell him. But everything had been real, this was no dream. All he could say was, "So you were there and your friend . . ."
"My partner."
". . . really did get shot."
He looked toward Kim who nodded and then spoke, "Kim had called us to try and intervene when the shooting happened. None of us had any idea who the gunman would be, so all we could do was wait and hope that it wouldn't be too late. We hadn't counted on the type of expertise they had hired, which is why my partner isn't with us any more. After he was shot, I knew I wouldn't be able to take him down by myself, so I was the one who called 911."
"So why was it covered up in the papers, and by the authorities who questioned me? They always denied that your partner was even there, let alone one of the casualties."
"Because we weren't supposed to be there. We work for an investigative branch of the government. My partner and I were on assignment . . . undercover . . . somewhere else in the city. We had gone to the restaurant as a personal favor to Kim. Any type of announcement regarding my partner's death would have blown our cover. So it was decided that since there were so few who had actually seen us, and survived, that it would be best to just pretend we weren't even there."
"Wait a minute," David retorted. "Do you mean to tell me that you two are working undercover for the government; when some girl, who has nothing to do with it, not only knows where you are and how to get a hold of you, but also somehow has the influence necessary to take you off of your case to go shoot some bad guy who might be wanting to shoot her boyfriend? Not even in the movies could a story like that fly."
It was then that Kim's own turmoil boiled over. "Paul was my brother!" she shouted then burst into tears.
"Huh? Paul?"
"My partner," Russ answered softly.
The pieces fell very neatly into place at that moment and once again, David realized he had let his temper control his speech without thinking about how much he disliked having his foot reside in his mouth. "I should be getting used to it though," he thought to himself.
He went over and put his arms around Kim. He didn't know what to say and he knew that anything else would be too much. "I'm . . . sorry. I . . .what can I do?"
She wiped away a straggling tear from her cheek then smiled to let him know that she was alright. "As you can see," she opened, "I've really compromised my standing not only with my company but also the organization I told you about. My life is in every bit as much danger as yours now. But there is one possibility. Remember that their first objective in having me contact you was to get you to join with them. Maybe if you hear them out and see what they have to offer . . ."
"I'm sorry Kim, but it doesn't matter what they have to offer. I could never work for or even be associated with the kind of people you have been acquainted with." He paused, then added, "Not even to save yours or anyone else's life; including my own." A fine time to turn into Nathan Hale.
"I thought you would say that," she sighed, "though not so eloquently. You'll never change." She approached them shaking her head. Quickly, she removed the eerily-charged security badges and spat, "Then you won't be needing these."

<~Chapter 18~>
Chapter Eighteen

Kevin was amazed at what he had uncovered. His suspicion of bribery was only a small portion of the activities this firm was involved in. There was also evidence of witness tampering, jury rigging, and just about every unlawful court practice that he had ever heard of or could imagine. He was in awe over the pattern of cases in which it was clear that despite the evidence and testimony that had been provided, the judge had ruled contrary to what the logical and just choice would be. No wonder they can practically assure their clients a victory in court. They practically owned the system. He considered sending in a resume. 
But what disturbed even such an unethically corrupt
person as himself was the incredible lack of appeals. Something was obviously keeping those who had been so blatantly wronged from making waves. What could do that? If he had been one of the opposing attorneys he would have had the appeal proceedings in progress that same day. There had to be more. But where? If only he had time to look.
He thought to himself, now if I had something that I didn't want anyone to find, yet it had to be easily accessible, where would I put it? He then took out a 3-1/2 inch floppy disk and walked over to the computer.
Fifteen minutes later, his hands trembling from the excitement of what he had just uncovered, he checked to make sure that he had all the files copied to disk then turned the PC off. This was even better than he had imagined. It was almost magical, the way he was able to find the hidden directory and quickly think of a password that would gain him access. But the word "coming" had just popped into his mind and he had decided to follow the prompting. It made even more sense once he started reading the file. He almost laughed out loud.
Everything had gone smoother than he had anticipated. Kevin had gone up the stairs and easily found the emergency exit from their office inside the stairwell. He waited until the appointed time and then tried the door. Sure enough it swung open. No alarms and no scurrying security. Once inside he had made sure that it was securely shut, understanding that he would be exiting by the reception area. He also suspected that once he re-shut the door the alarm system would be reset.
His contact had told him to expect others to be there but that he wouldn't be disturbed; provided that he didn't wander about the office area and once finished, exited quickly. The impression was that once someone was in the office area it was assumed that they were supposed to be there. And he needed to be out by 5:00 a.m..
He then vividly remembered the seriousness reflected in his eyes as he gave Kevin a stern warning of not trying to get back in once he had left. "It may be the last thing you ever do," he had flatly stated.
With that in mind he rose to leave. He glanced at his watch: 4:55. Any other info would have to wait. Besides he had more than enough dirt to cause this firm problems for decades to come, despite their underhandedness. Yes, this would definitely put him in position for a partnership. Look at what he had done for good-old Lyons, Taggerts, and Barnes. "Soon to be Lyons, Taggerts, Barnes and Smith," he whispered smugly to himself.
Why, they might even let him be the one to pull the trigger. But then again, that wasn't exactly what partners were expected to do. They pretty much stayed out of the limelight and usually had someone else do the really dirty work. They couldn't afford to be around for the anguished expressions of grief and shame that always appeared on the faces of the accused, even if they really were innocent. He would miss that.
As he passed the secretary's desk leading to the reception area he thought about leaving a five-dollar bill to pay for the copies he had made, but dismissed it since they probably wouldn't appreciate his honesty.
He hesitated as he heard voices coming from within the room. He wasn't sure about strolling across that brightly lit room for all to see, regardless of whether he would be noticed as an intruder or not.
Kevin found it to be a rather interesting conversation. He could hear only two voices at first; both men, but then a woman's. She was very upset about something, but it was unclear until she talked about her life being in danger too. If only he had brought his tape recorder with him.
Realizing that he had to leave now in order to meet his imposed time limit and not recognizing any of the voices or names being used, he decided to go for it. Making sure his briefcase with its condemning contents was securely shut he confidently sauntered toward his exit.
Fortunately, he didn't recognize anyone in the room and they paid little attention to him until he was about to enter the narrow hallway. It was then that he heard the woman's amused voice ask, "Leaving so soon, Mr. Smith?"
He froze, not knowing what to do.

<~Chapter 19~>
Chapter Nineteen

David was a little surprised when Kim called out to the exiting gentleman. Must be a co-worker.
Mr. Smith turned to face the group and looked directly at Kim with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. "I'm sorry, but have we met?" came his slightly ruffled reply.
"Not directly, but I have heard a great deal about you. As a matter of fact, I believe I have something that belongs to you . . . something of great value. I'm really quite surprised that you haven't missed it." She then turned to Russ and gently asked, "Could you bring it in for me?"
He immediately turned and left the room. David didn't like this. Kim was being way too formal, even for a business setting. He had never seen her act this way.
David also noticed the agitation begin to creep into the corner of Mr. Smith's eyes, which widened considerably when Russ came back carrying an oversized briefcase.
Kim continued, "You know something like that should never be put down, not even for a moment. You never know who might come along and walk off with it. Fortunately for you, we noticed poor Cliff trying to leave with something that obviously didn't belong to him. When we asked him about it, he admitted to his wrong doing and, not wanting to add to his embarrassment, asked us to return it to you when you returned.
"I assure you that no one has violated its contents and you'll find everything just as you left it." She hesitated, then asked, "It is yours, isn't it?"
David noticed a glint of confidence return as the visitor extended his free hand to take the case saying, "Why, yes, it is. Thank you for returning it. I was beginning to wonder . . . actually I was looking for it in the back offices but when I couldn't find it I had decided to report it stolen. Not that it ever does any good. It always seems that once something has been stolen, the police are the last ones to find it."
They both chuckled. Then it got very quiet as he looked down at his watch.
"Well, you've . . . saved me some trouble . . . I guess I'll be going now. Again, I thank you and I apologize for any . . . uh . . . inconvenience."
"Oh, believe me, there was no . . . inconvenience. But there is one thing that . . . disturbs me somewhat. It's that you said you were here looking for your briefcase which you said you weren't able to find, yet you seem to have another briefcase. Don't you find that in the least bit odd?"
"No. Not really, you see they're both mine. I had brought them both in with me, but I'm unaccustomed to carrying two briefcases, which is probably why I forgot the other one . . . but anyway; no harm done."
"True. No harm done." She then stood up and drew close to the mildly agitated acquaintance. "At least none that we're aware of," she hissed menacingly.
Russ quickly positioned himself between Mr. Smith and the hallway, preventing any easy escape.
"I will need to examine the contents of your other briefcase before I can allow you to leave." Seeing his look of defiance she added, "I already know what's in the other one."
There was no hesitation as he quickly shot back, "Let me see your warrant!"
Kim feigned a hurt look as she drew a gun from her purse and asked, "Would this do?"
Mr. Smith exploded in a mix of rage and defiance as he shouted, "Look, I represent the firm of Lyons, Taggerts, and Barnes and no amount of intimidation is going to get this briefcase open without a warrant! Do I make myself perfectly clear?!?"
Kim pursed her lips in a mocking pout and then, raising the gun only inches from his beaded forehead, mimicked, "Lyons, Taggerts, and Barnes! Oh MY!"
Both David and Marcos jumped visibly though the gunshot made no sound. Even as Kim pulled the trigger, Russ had unfolded a plastic sheet and wrapped it around the victim's head; catching him as he fell to the floor. They had performed this scene many times before.
"You know where to drop him, Russ. Go out the way he came in. Use the car phone to inform the authorities. See to it that both bags are marked so that they don't wander off before the police get there." she instructed sharply. "We don't want them to have any trouble solving this failed drug deal, now do we?" She took the briefcase that he had refused to let her examine and snapped, "We'll take care of this later."
She then looked toward Marcos and David. "Sorry you had to see that," was all she offered.
Marcos jumped defiantly to his feet, not knowing whether to fight or flee. He had been resisting the urge to escape even as they entered the parking garage, but remembering his promise to stay by David's side had given him enough resolve to suppress his instincts; until now. But the sensation of cold steel pressed to the back of his head firmly asserted that neither would be a wise option. He also realized by the speed in which Russ had moved into position without giving himself away, that Russ had been equally well trained. Marcos could only glance wistfully past David's shoulder, down the narrow hallway, wondering what might have been if only he had reacted sooner.
"Marcos, I'm under strict orders not to harm David, however, I have no obligation to keep you alive," Russ whispered with only a slight hint of a threat. "Please, sit down."
His options dwindling, Marcos sunk back into the sofa staring coldly back at Kim.
She was about to say something when David suddenly bolted for the hallway. It was then that Marcos noted her look of genuine horror as she shrieked, "NO!! David, stop!"
Even as she cried out, Russ threw himself lithely at David. Instead of easily tackling him to the ground (which Marcos would have done), Russ grabbed David's shoulders and, clinging to his shirt, spun him away from the hallway. The two were sent sprawling awkwardly into the middle of the room; Russ' momentum sent him crashing painfully into the opposite wall. The commotion reminded Marcos of a goal line stand in football with a linebacker catching the other team's running back from behind, while desperately trying only to keep him from crossing the plane of the goal. But he was even more amused by the scene that followed.
Kim stood before David like a frustrated mother who had just caught her small child trying to cross a busy street. "Don't ever try that again!" she screamed angrily. "If you had gone into that hallway, you would have been killed."
"You would have shot me too?" David questioned sarcastically. "Even after that wonderful speech about how much you had sacrificed for me?" He shook his head in disgust.
"No, I wouldn't have had to. Our security system would have . . . kept . . ." She let it drop, not wanting to explain, but his angry, bewildered expression forced her on.
"You would have had a heart attack before you reached the door," she sighed.
"What!?!?"
"Or at least what would appear to be a heart attack. That's why we have to wear these badges," she said, holding hers up. "Anyone trying to come or go without one on, . . . suffers a severe cardiac arrest caused by low-frequency resonance beams which intersect within the hallway."
"Low-resonancy-frequent-beams . . . what are you talking about?"
She was becoming very impatient, but it wasn't because of David's questions or lack of understanding. She kept looking anxiously toward the hallway, as though someone should have been there. Or was she hoping that whoever it was, wouldn't arrive?
"Look David, we're almost as confused as you are. For some reason, certain individuals have gone to great lengths to try and have you killed, yet now we are under strict orders to keep you unharmed. Those orders changed only last night; after the second assassination team had already been sent."
"Couldn't you have just called them off? I assume that they had radios in their car."
"No. I mean, yes we could have made contact but once a team is sent out on an assassination mission there is no
cancel button. The only way to abort the mission is to abort the team."
"You mean . . .?"
"Yes, we would have to kill the members of the team first. Most of the time it only involves one person (last night being an exception). A backup team is always secretly sent with two main objectives," she spoke as if she were reciting from a recipe, "One, make sure the mission's objective is successfully completed; and two, prevent anyone from pursuing any personal agenda which would vary from the final phase of the mission."
"Which is?"
"Suicide."
David couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't imagine anyone volunteering for a suicide mission knowing beforehand that they couldn't back out even if they wanted to. It was at that moment that he also realized what Russ and Paul were doing at the restaurant.
"You and Paul were the backup team!" he blurted, turning as he spoke.
Russ nodded reluctantly. "When he kept going for Le . . . er . . . the girl, we thought that he had deviated from the mission. We didn't know that you were still alive. For some reason," he paused, giving Kim a puzzled look, causing her to look away. He then continued, "we had only been told where you would be sitting and didn't know what you looked like. For all we knew you were the first person shot and . . . things had gotten out of hand. Which they had! Paul just didn't count on how determined . . . they would be to complete the mission. That's why I called 911."
"They?!? There was another assassin at the restaurant? Who?!?" David now realized that most of what Kim had said was misleading, but somehow he felt that Russ was telling the truth.
Before Russ could answer, Kim interrupted, "Every assassin goes through a process of supernatural dominance and absorption before they go out. You . . ."
"You mean they're possessed."
"No. These are not just ordinary disembodied spirits. Rather premortal demons with awesome powers at their command. You saw them last night, as they left the bodies of the policemen who were sent to kill you. Once a person goes through that process we have very little control over what they do . . . or don't do."
"But why would anyone submit to that? I mean, a total loss of control . . . and . . . and destiny for that matter."
It was Kim's turn to be sarcastic as she retorted, "You mean like why would people abuse drugs, alcohol, or smoke cigarettes, use steroids, or be sexually promiscuous, even though they have been warned of the consequences or are even aware of the costs? It's because they are w . . ."
"I'll tell you why!" came an ominous voice from the hallway that carried a force that could not be denied. "It's the rush. Power and desire surging throughout . . . every fibre of your being. And until you experience it, you should never be critical of those of us who have." The words passed through them like venomous ice.
Marcos vaguely remembered having seen the two standing in the hallway before, though he couldn't recall where. However, David's recognition was immediate as he meekly uttered their names, "Danny? Leslee?"

<~Chapter 20~>
Chapter Twenty

"Please, call me Daniel," came his even, yet firm reply. He stepped over Mr. Smith's body as if he knew it would be there, then pointing down at the fresh corpse while alternating his gaze between Kim and Russ asked, "Is someone going to take care of this?" Both nodded, and Russ left to get some help.
Then stepping toward David, he held out his arms as if he were going to give him a warm hug but then extended his right hand to greet his old friend. "It's been a long time," he exclaimed warmly, then added, "I have a message for you."
David instantly recoiled from his grasp as he recalled the warning that John had given him about future messages. His mind reeling as the memory of how Danny's visage had changed in his dream filled his mind.
Daniel, upon seeing David's reaction seemed to sense the cause of his fears and asked, "How have you been? I'm sorry that these had to be the circumstances that would get us back together, but it is good to see you again." He then flashed that same grin that used to always tell David that there was something that Danny wanted.
As if on queue David smartly asked, "What is it you want . . . DANNY?"
The smile instantly vanished though there was no sign of anger in the older man's face. It was then that David realized just how much Daniel had aged over the years. His hair had begun to grey and the corners of his eyes and mouth were filled with worry lines. His entire complexion was pale by comparison, which contrasted even more with the darkness that now filled his eyes. What were once brown eyes had now become near black. It was only upon close examination that one could distinguish between iris and pupil.
Those eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he whispered, "It's not what I want."
David's stomach went cold as he took in what was being said. He could only imagine what higher source could be directing his boyhood friend and he only hoped that he would never find out.
"You see David, there has been a great deal of interest in your life, or should we say: the taking of your life. They have been after you for years, yet for some reason . . . well, look at you. Despite all of the effort that has gone into it, there . . . you . . . stand. A lot of us would like to know how you keep doing it. Especially since you now have the unique distinction of being the only person to survive an assassination attempt by a Stalker. But . . ."
"Just how many assassinations have there been?" David demanded.
"More than you think," he answered coldly. "But then again, we seldom hear of crazed gunmen who go in and shoot up a place for no good reason and then take their own life, do we? "But . . . uh . . . as I was saying, what is more intriguing about your case is why you are being preserved. We can only assume that you must have a very important role to play in these, shall we say: last days."
There was something disturbing about the way he referred to the time period that many believed we are now in and it took David by surprise. Not knowing how to react, he just folded his arms and stated impatiently, "I'm listening."
"Well, since we aren't having much luck eliminating you, we thought that it would benefit both of us if you were to join our organization and use your gifts to help us in our endeavors. We have much to offer."
"Such as?"
"David, if you were to join us, you would never want for money again. Now I'm not saying that you would have to change your lifestyle and become one of the super rich. No. But, if you ever wanted to do something, like take a trip, or further your education, or just spend time with someone who needed it; you could.
"I remember, you used to always talk about making a difference, well, we could fund an election campaign, use our influence in the media, and give you a decent chance to be in a position to make that difference. And there would be no limit as to how far you could go."
"You make it sound so easy. Like you just push the right buttons and you can tell an entire nation how to think." David didn't want to sound as disgusted as he did, but Daniel was too caught up in what he was saying to take any offense.
"How do you think a little-known, southern governor went from stumping the panel on What's My Line? To winning the presidential election? Why, just look at the past presidential election and tell me there aren't any buttons that can't be pushed!
"David, just think about it. If you want, you can have as much or all of the fame, power, wealth, and time you've ever dreamed of."
David had to think about that last statement. It was as if Daniel knew that he had higher goals than trying to satisfy his own selfish wants.
Shaking his head, he doubtfully asked, "But how can you offer something you can't guarantee? Those things aren't yours to give."
"Try me. I now have everything that I've told you about. True, I'm not a public figure, nor am I an elected official, but that's because I have chosen not to. You can make those same choices, but it's all up to you.
"Now I know that you may not approve of some of our methods. But don't judge us too hastily. There have been other times when murder has been justified. I believe it goes something like, 'It is better that one man should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief.'"
Seeing David's shocked expression, he went on further, "Yes, I am familiar with your scripture. And you would be surprised to know that our ultimate goal is not the annihilation of mankind but rather: world peace, and the elimination of crime, prejudice and poverty. What Mr. Smith was about to do would have brought much of our work to a halt and severely hampered any further efforts to rebuild the damage done. You have to judge the motive as well as the act."
It was then that Russ returned with another man and they began wrapping Mr. Smith in black plastic, giving him the appearance of an oversized garbage bag.
David didn't want to believe what he was hearing. And yet his resolve began to wane as he considered what had been said. Daniel had presented a good argument that carried a slight ring of truth. It was also true that David really didn't know enough about what they were doing to be able to say whether it was right or wrong. Would it be correct to judge the entire police force based on what was seen in an undercover bust in a dimly lighted parking lot?
Marcos, on the other hand had heard enough. While remaining seated, he grunted, "That's the biggest crock I've ever heard!"
All eyes turned to Marcos as Daniel cocked his head to one side and asked, "Really? How's that?"
David watched in disbelief as his normally composed friend began to unravel before them.
"Oh, sure, it all sounds really great. Do whatever you want, whenever you want. But they forgot to tell you about what choice you have. Face it, David. Either you accept or they're just going to put us in an alley with our friend Mr. Smith here. They're not giving you a choice now, so what makes you think you'll get one after you join their little club? And what's the catch? How do you join? I'm sure you don't just fill in your seven selections and then agree to commit only four more heinous crimes in the name of their glorious and noble cause. Come on, man! Does this sound like some kind of record club? No, they talk about membership, when it's really ownership. And it's you they own. And the way they maintain that ownership is through lies, obligation, and fear."
It was Daniel who confronted Marcos. There was a hint of danger in his voice as he tested him by asking, "What makes you so sure? Do you know who we are, or who we work for?"
"I don't need to know. Kim has done nothing but lie to us ever since we got here. Including that hokey story about your little whiz-bang security system that's supposed to fry us if we try to escape. And I gotta hand it to ya Russ, that was a pretty effective little demonstration you pulled to try and get us to believe it. But it was a little late, cause when I got up to leave I hadn't gone one step before you pulled a gun on me and told me to sit down. Plus, if what you said were true, Kim wouldn't have needed to shoot Mr. Smith she could've just let him stroll right on into the force field or whatever you called it and things would have looked nicer for everyone. So now what do you say?" he said accusingly, leaning slightly forward.
Daniel paused only briefly, taking in long, drawn out breaths.
David noted that he was tapping his toe just like he always used to when he and David got into an argument that David was winning. He also remembered that he usually got smacked sometime shortly thereafter.
Not wanting to see Marcos get hurt, he pleaded, "Hey, calm down, maybe we should . . ."
"Oh SHUT UP, David!!!" Marcos exploded standing as he flew into his rage. He took two steps toward the hallway when Russ immediately drew his gun and aimed point blank at Marcos' head. Marcos then pointed a finger at Russ and mockingly fired his own imaginary weapon.
"Gotcha!" he chided. He turned again to David with a huge grin on his face. "You see? I wasn't going for anyone, just the exit. Russ already told me, he would blow me away if I tried anything. And in all fairness to you Russ, I believe you would. But as far as some beam that will make you have a heart attack; I'm sorry, but I saw that version of Star Trek too. I believe they called it a disrupter, though your name did sound much more convincing." He then mumbled something which must have been even more offensive under his breath which David couldn't hear, though the others in the room obviously could, as Leslee blushed slightly.
Neither Kim nor Russ were trying very hard to conceal their rage, yet David remained focused on Daniel who still appeared calm. There was a slight signal to Russ who dropped his gun, though not returning it to its holster.
Daniel hung his head, searching for the words to say. Then abruptly he shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands. "Well, it looks like you're onto us Mr. Vigil. But I admire your guts, shall we say: in calling a spade, a spade. And just to show you that there are no hard feelings, you are free to go. Just you, right now!" He then gave an exaggerated allow me gesture toward the hallway.
Marcos stood before the hallway, before turning back to look at David. "Coming?"
"Just YOU!!" Daniel retaliated, his calm demeanor beginning to crumble. He grabbed David's arm, while never taking his eyes off Marcos.
For the first time David noticed Leslee's reaction to what was happening. He hadn't been able to look at her as he felt more betrayed by her presence with Daniel than he had by Kim's confession. Yet, as he caught her eye, before she quickly looked away, he could tell she was confused . . . and . . . frightened.
Marcos had mockingly saluted as if embarking on a space voyage before entering the hallway. On his second step, his legs collapsed from underneath him and he spun slightly to reveal a mask of pained astonishment on his face.
Daniel then looked deeply into David's eyes, which were wide in amazement, and asked, "Any questions?"

<~Chapter 21~>
Chapter Twenty-One

It was as though David had become separated from reality. He watched in disbelief as they carefully carried Mr. Smith, then Marcos from the room. Daniel had instructed them just to leave Marcos' body in the stairwell so that the custodial staff would find him and then report what appeared to have happened.
They were to then hurry and deposit the other body and then meet at another site that David couldn't overhear. Daniel had whispered some other instructions to Russ who only nodded in response, then quickly exited.
During the whole process David noted a dark aura which enveloped everyone in the room like undefined shadows; though somehow he and Leslee remained untouched. Again, he sensed that he was the only one who detected this change, though he wondered about Leslee.
"David," Daniel said, crashing through the barrier that had kept David from reacting to what was taking place, "we're all going to have to leave . . . now. I don't want to be around to answer any questions about your friend (who appears to have had a serious accident), and I certainly don't want any of you answering them either. So, you can either come with me and join our cause, or Kim can see to it that you're never troubled by any of this again," his tone didn't carry the assurance of his words. He and Kim exchanged knowing glances which left David with little doubt as to what that meant.
"What about her?" David exclaimed referring to Leslee. She seemed embarrassed to have the attention focused on her and only looked questioningly at Daniel.
"She has been given the same choice as you."
"And what has she decided?"
Daniel looked at her and smiled, then answered, "Well, she's with me, isn't she? And it looks like she wants to stay."
David then looked long and hard into her eyes. Searching for something, anything that would help him understand why she had chosen to be with Daniel. Even though their meeting had been brief, David had sensed a feeling of warmth and sincerity that starkly contrasted what he was being led to believe about her now. He had even thought that he held feelings for her that had begun to replace those which he had for Kim. But now he didn't know what to believe or how to feel. Was she any different from Kim, or had she been gifted with an even greater ability to deceive? David had always felt something wrong about Kim, though he never knew what it was until now. But he had felt so comfortable in talking with Leslee and now she wouldn't even speak to him.
Even though he had been hurt by what she had done, he still couldn't bring himself to say anything that would hurt her. He could only ask, "Why?"
She only gave him a blank stare, though it was clear she was hiding something. She opened her mouth to speak, but only took in a deep breath as she considered what she might say. Then she slowly shook her head and stared down at the floor.
"Well, I'm leaving, and I must know your decision now. Are you coming with me?" The shadow around his face began to darken until only Daniel's eyes were left piercing through the blackness like daggers through black velvet. For a brief moment David thought he could see the visage of the creature that had appeared and run at their car as they were trying to escape from Marcos' apartment. The memory causing David to shudder involuntarily. "I can't," he softly breathed, "It's not right."
"Fine!" Daniel fumed. "But just remember, it was YOUR decision." As he spoke the words, the darkness receded from his face and once again David was looking into the pale features of his childhood friend. All gone were the traces of innocence mixed with the glint of mischief that had reflected from his eyes. In their place was a hollow shell glazed with torment and malice.
Without even looking at Leslee, he added, "Then you will be going with him." A troubled look came upon his face as though he wanted to say more, but instead he fixed a hard, piercing stare at Kim and ordered, "Make it safe . . . and no more accidents."
The discomforting feeling dissipated yet lingered as he left the room. David could sense that though they were the only tangible beings left within the room, they were far from being alone.
Kim wasted no time and immediately gave them brief, tersely delivered instructions, handing them each a security badge as she spoke, "Stay by me at all times and say nothing. Anything that even slightly looks like you intend to do otherwise will be interpreted as an attempt to escape. I don't know where the attack will come from, but I assure you that it will be direct and absolutely final." She looked them both over and to make sure that she had gotten her point across, she added, "We will all be dead before you get more than ten feet away."
Her hands were shaking slightly as she checked her purse to make sure she had easy access to the gun she had returned.
They quickly exited and as they approached the elevator, David couldn't help but look hopefully at the stairway door. He became misty-eyed as he fully felt the impact of Marcos' loss. After all this time they had finally been reunited; their friendship remaining untarnished. And in an instant, they had once again become separated without a clear understanding of why. Would Marcos ever be able to forgive him?
Kim pressed the down button on the elevator and watched the floor numbers above the door impatiently. Finally, the number six lit up accompanied by the familiar ding as the doors began to open. Kim looked back at them, stepping forward as she did. "Hur . . ."
Her voice was cut off as the palm of an unseen hand erupted from the opening, crashing violently into the bridge of her nose. She instantly collapsed, her head striking sharply on the tiled floor.
The assailant quickly stood over her, checking her breathing while both David and Leslee could only stare; frozen in disbelief.
"She'll be fine, but we won't be unless we get out of here now," he shouted stepping back into the open elevator.
Seeing their reluctance to accompany him, he reached forward and grabbed David by the arm, pulling him into the elevator. He then looked at Leslee, distrust plainly etched on his face. "What about her?"
David snapped out of his stupor long enough to mumble, "She's . . . with us. How did . . .?!"
With a clever grin stretching from ear to ear, and holding up a card similar to the ones that David and Leslee were wearing, Marcos chuckled, "They're not the only ones who have these things." He then motioned Leslee forward and pressed the Close-Door button.

<~Chapter 22~>
Chapter Twenty-Two

For the first time Leslee spoke, a note of hysteria in her voice. "But you are . . . were . . . dead!"
"That was the general idea. But I didn't know whether I would be able to convince them of that. They must have been in a big hurry or I'm sure they would have checked my pulse." Gingerly touching the back of his head he added, "But then again, they wouldn't have just tossed me down the stairs then either. I'm lucky the fall didn't kill me."
It was David's turn to question what had happened, "So how did you know? I mean . . . they thought . . . oh man, I don't know what I mean."
"The device they described does exist. At least I've heard of them. I hadn't heard of them being used in security systems, rather hand-held devices that could be used at short range, or larger, stationary weapons for long range bursts. They're like when a singer hits the right note that shatters glass. They cause whatever they're aimed at to vibrate abnormally, then like the glass, they shatter or explode."
"So it's like some ray-gun that blows up whatever it hits?"
"No, everything has a different resonance frequency. Unless the frequency is set properly, they're harmless."
"But they must have thought it was set properly or they wouldn't have believed your act."
"That's where this comes in," he explained holding up the security card. "It sends out a counter-frequency which can throw off any of those devices just enough to make them harmless. I first heard of them at a lecture at a Preparedness Fair I was attending. There were several people there, both speakers and attendees, who were, shall we say, stuck-between-floors.
"At first," he went on, "I thought for sure the guy selling these things was an extension cord shy of being plugged in. I couldn't help but think he was asking an outrageous price for something that, even if it did what he claimed, was still only protection from a nonexistent threat.
"But there was some . . ." He stopped talking as he watched David's face contort in alarm. Without hesitating, he pressed the button for the second floor. "They're waiting, aren't they David?"
David's face went pale as he stuttered, "S-s-something is." Even though he felt somewhat relieved that someone else recognized and trusted in his feelings, he still couldn't shake the hopelessness of their situation.
The elevator door parted and they cautiously entered the sparsely populated hallway. Marcos carefully inspected each passerby's face, checking for even the slightest hint of recognition.
"Wouldn't they be on the parking level?" Leslee asked innocently.
Marcos grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes and firmly stated, "Look, until we get out of here, I don't want to hear a single word from you. You came in with that slime-ball, and as far as I'm concerned you're still with him." Then intercepting David's protest, he added, "You'll be coming with us. At least that way I can keep my eye on you, but I will want some answers . . . LATER. Got that?!?"
Leslee looked as though she had been slapped in the face, yet she only nodded in response.
"Couldn't we try the stairs?" David offered, hoping to ease the tension.
"Too close to the elevator. Who knows, they might even be waiting in the stairwell, watching the elevator," came Marcos' reply. "I need to get to a phone; but not here."
This was when Marcos was at his best. He seemed to thrive on pressure. While everyone else came unraveled by it, he appeared to draw inspiration from it; thinking more clearly than ever.
BOOM!! BOOM!! The noise echoing from the end of the hall caused all of them to jump nervously.
Instinctively, Marcos ran to the end of the hall.
"Come on!!" he shouted back. Looking down into the narrow alley he saw what he had hoped for. Turning back to David and Leslee he said, "Our limo has arrived." He began opening the window as he spoke.
There, in the alley way, was a garbage truck looking like an enormous beetle. The trash bin resembling a large metal crumb caught between its incisors. The truck raising it high over its head dumping its contents into the gaping hole in its back. Even considering the immense size of the truck, it was still a good ten feet below the window sill.
"I'm not going in there," Leslee protested. Despite Marcos' stern warning, she was so overcome by the stench that her underlying fears overcame his immediate threat.
"You won't have to. Watch."
Once the contents had been emptied, the gaping jaws then bounced the container on the top of the opening to jar loose any straggling remains. Then slowly the receptacle was returned toward its resting place. As it passed over the cab of the truck the waste bin was held at its highest position only a few feet below.
David understood what Marcos was thinking but still wasn't sure of the plan. "There isn't time for all of us to jump into the bin."
"I'll go last. If I have to, I'll go for the back of the truck. It's better than what's waiting for us in the lobby. And besides it couldn't hurt any worse than being tossed down a flight of stairs," he added with a grin.
David wasn't certain whether Marcos' fall may have dislodged some of the connections in the reasoning center of his brain. He did know that under different circumstances, he would insist on taking him to the hospital. He almost chuckled as he pictured himself checking Marcos into an insane asylum trying to explain what had happened, but the thought was immediately swept from his mind. An overwhelming wave of panic swelled within him as he shouted, "They're coming!"
Marcos and Leslee turned to see the two above the elevator light up as if in response to David's exclamation.
Then, even as the truck was positioning itself to lift the final container, David hurled himself from the window opening in a frenzy, not thinking of anything but escape. 

<~Chapter 23~>
Chapter Twenty-Three

"So much for ladies first," Marcos moaned as he watched his friend crash onto the top of the truck below. "Stay down!!" he shouted as the forks began to raise the second garbage bin. Marcos wasn't sure whether he was heard or not, but David made no attempt to lift himself up; though he was moving slightly.
Marcos and Leslee both turned to look at the elevator; Marcos preparing for the worst. Instead of the door's opening; bringing forth a stream of armed assailants, the three above the door lit up.
Their relief was short-lived as they both realized what would happen when that elevator arrived at the sixth floor.
By the time Marcos had shaken the vision of trying to outrun the flood of darkness that would soon pour down upon them from above, Leslee had already removed her shoes and tossed them into the alleyway. She was now seated on the window sill, poised to launch herself into the passing bin.
Marcos grabbed her firmly by the arm, preventing her from jumping. "You can't go now!" he yelled.
"You said I was going with you!" she turned on him relentlessly. "Believe me, no matter what you may think, I have no intention of staying here."
Marcos, shaking his head, pointed down at the bin and calmly explained, "We have to wait until after he dumps it. Otherwise, . . . well I think you get what I mean."
BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!! Marcos began to wonder whether the driver somehow knew that they were waiting on him and he was stalling just so they would be caught. Finally the arms began to move forward to return the waste bin to the earth.
"Make sure you roll to the far end as soon as you hit, 'cause I'll be right behind you," Marcos warned, his tone warming somewhat.
She responded by thrusting herself from the window sill and landing somewhat gracefully within the garbage bin. As promised, Marcos touched down only a second after she had gotten out of the way.
"You OK?" he asked sincerely.
He neither saw nor heard her reply as he whirled around to see a third member entering the compartment, throwing himself over the edge of the bin.
The adrenaline surging through his body, he dove on top of the intruder and quickly locked his arm around the startled man's throat. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Not again," came the stifled reply. Even before hearing the response, Marcos recognized that in his haste he had attacked David once again.
"You've got to stop sneaking up on me like that," he teased, quickly releasing the would-be assailant.
"Yea, right! Next time I decide to throw myself into a garbage bin, I'll make sure I announce my coming. Does that make you feel better?" he asked sarcastically.
Without warning, they were all thrown to the floor as the bin crashed to the pavement. They waited in silence, half expecting an onslaught of dark sentinels to attack from all sides. Instead they could only hear the monotonous beeping of the garbage truck as it backed out of the alley way.
Once the beeping stopped, they climbed out of the bin and ran out toward the main street, stopping just before they got to the intersection.
"Stay here 'till I get . . . no," he paused, then changing his mind he commanded, "come with me. We're not going to be split up again."
They ran down the street away from the building they had just escaped from and turned into a 7-Eleven.
The clerk eyed them warily as they came up to the counter. He didn't quite know what to make of three people dashing into his store, reeking of garbage and asking to use the phone. "Pay-phone outside," he snapped rather tersely.
Marcos did all the talking as he smoothly replied, "Yea, but it's out of order and we've really got to make this call. We can pay you for it."
"Sorry, but it's against store policy to . . ." he cut himself off as Marcos laid a five-dollar bill on the counter.
His eyebrows raised slightly as Marcos explained, "It really is an emergency." His gaze fixed on the ten dollar bill Marcos held between his fingers.
The clerk stashed the five into his jeans and reached for the ten, but Marcos pulled his hand back and chided, "Only if I'm able to get through."
The clerk smiled slightly and then, nodding to the phone behind him stated, "Go right ahead."
He wasn't on the phone long, but the hopeful look on his face as he hung up reassured David that the conversation had gone as planned.
Marcos laid the ten-dollar bill on the counter then, as if talking to no one in particular added, "There's a good chance that someone will be coming in to ask if you may have seen anyone looking like us. I wouldn't lie to them about having seen us if I were you, but it would help us a great deal if you wouldn't mention the phone call or that we even came in."
The clerk slowly nodded his head.
"If we get where we are going safely, chances are quite good that I will remember your help."
The clerk's grin began to widen as he understood what Marcos meant by the remark.
"Well, we'd better get going," Marcos exclaimed. Hesitating briefly before entering the street, he muttered to himself, "Please, let this work."
They half-walked, half-ran for a couple of miles before arriving at the St. Mark's Hospital parking terrace. No one had said a word, not even to question where they were going. It was as if they sensed that whatever it was that pursued them would somehow pick up on their conversation and use it to track them down.
Entering by way of the west exit, Marcos led them down the ramp to the lower parking levels. With the exception of the reserved staff parking which was only half full, there were only a handful of cars parked below the ground level.
David could sense the tension in Marcos as they walked passed a forest green Firebird with its driver's window partially rolled down. The driver was just sitting there . . . waiting.
David's blood stopped running when he heard the driver ask, "What's the difference between a duck?" He couldn't help but look back because of the absurdity of the question. But before he could do or say anything Marcos had already turned to answer, "One of its feet are both the same!"
The driver got out of the car, and he and Marcos gave each other a warm hug. The delight on his face turned to concern as he asked, "What's going on, Marcos?"
"Sorry, but the less you know the better off it will be for both of us. I can only say that if you are questioned as to where I . . . or we are, just tell them the truth."
"OK, but aren't you going to a bit of an extreme just to lose someone?"
"Well, you know me, I never like to do anything part way. It's either all out or not at all."
"True. Well, I filled the tank for you . . . just in case." There was some hesitancy in his voice as he tried to find the right words to say, "Hey, you will be bringing it back won't you?" He tried to joke, "I mean, I really like this car. I wouldn't . . ."
Marcos put his hand softly on the older man's shoulder and whispered, "I really hope so. Thank you." He pulled out his wallet and took out several credit cards, then asked, "You know what to do, right Mike? Really mix it up. Even throw in a couple of international flights. You know I've always wanted to see Australia." The mist in his eyes had returned to the familiar gleam of mischief as he thought about the effect this would have.
"I even thought I'd throw in a bus ride or two," came the reply. A knowing grin also began to spread as he blurted out, "You got a quarter?"
Marcos feigned a disgusted look then produced a quarter. Mike slipped the quarter into his shirt pocket, then reached into his pant pocket and withdrew a set of keys. "The other set is in the ignition, I thought you would want both of them. And just so you know, I had no problem getting enough people to take an impromptu vacation."
"Do you have enough cards?" Marcos asked, genuinely concerned.
Mike shuffled through them and then stated, "Oh yea, we should be fine." He then looked up and took Marcos into his arms. "Take care, Bro," he said, his voice wavering. Reaching back into the car he pulled out a cellular phone and began dialing. He looked Marcos straight in the eye, and then laughed, "Thanks for the quarter." He then turned and walked away.
As they pulled out of the parking terrace David remarked, "So that was Mike."
"Yea, I couldn't think of any one else I could fully trust. It's been hard to tell lately," he said glancing briefly at Leslee in the rear-view mirror.
Leslee picked up on what he was alluding to but remained calm as she explained that she had been picked up the night David had called her apartment. "They said that if I didn't cooperate they would kill me . . . they said I saw the wrong person get shot. I didn't understand what they meant until that other woman explained about her brother. I think the only reason that they took me with them was because of how you saved me from the killer in the restaurant. Daniel seemed to take a keen interest when Russ mentioned it to them. They told me to go along with whatever they said, or they would kill David on the spot."
She began to sob, "I didn't know what to do, or say. I just wanted everything to . . . go away."
Marcos apologized for being so hard on her. Wiping the tears from her eyes she regained her composure and reassured both David and Marcos saying, "It's OK. I'm sure I would have acted the same way. I'm just glad that you decided to let me come with you."
David decided to change the subject before the atmosphere between Leslee and Marcos had a chance to freeze up again. "Marcos," he asked, "you were telling us about how you got a hold of these little card-shocker-type-things. Would you mind finishing your story?"
"Sure." Marcos then elaborated, "I bought the anti-resonance card, out of pity for the salesman's family. It seemed at the time that whether the guy was nuts or not, he was so fully committed to his product and getting the word out that his family was suffering because of it."
Marcos' face softened as he recalled a time he had long since tried to forget. "I tried to get him a job doing something else but he wouldn't listen. So I started buying a couple of cards a month. Gifts, as I called them. Because of that he thought I was truly converted to what I then considered his paranoid beliefs."
Marcos sighed heavily, then continued, "One time I was over at their home for dinner and he found out that I wasn't wearing the card I had bought. He threw a fit and made me promise that I would never, NEVER take it off. I promised, and always made sure that I had it when I expected to run into him and his half-cocked attitude. But I never took it
seriously until I got a call from the salesman's wife."
His once-steady voice began to waver as he went on, "She said that someone had made her husband a very lucrative offer to sell all the rights to the card. She had hoped that I would be able to talk her husband into accepting the offer. I did try, but my idealistic friend wouldn't give in. He said that they only wanted the rights so that they could shelve it."
Marcos had to pause as he sorted through haunting memories and relived the guilt of not having taken seriously someone whose only intent was to help him. Not wanting to relive in detail those moments of pain, he quickly finished by stating, "The next time his wife called was to tell me of her husband's death. She informed me that there had been threats, but that her husband still wouldn't give in." A tear fell onto his cheek and David had to look down at the dash. "He died, "Marcos sniffed, "of a sudden heart attack, and as she pointed out, 'he didn't have the card on him.' Knowing that he would never take it off, she knew it was foul play. Despite that fact she wouldn't pursue it to protect the children."
Marcos on the other hand, had decided that he would take his friend's advice. Holding up the card, he feigned a smile as he mimicked, "Since then, I never leave home without it."
They all sat in silence as the somberness of the story overcame them. Leslee soon fell asleep, and David quickly joined her in slumber. It had been two days since he had slept, and for the first time since the shooting at the restaurant, he slept peacefully. But would it always be so? 

<~Chapter 24~>
Chapter Twenty-Four

Sitting alone in the dark, Daniel brooded over the events that had just been set in motion. He had no remorse over the decisions that had been made. He knew what needed to be done. Daniel had been told of the obstacles to their success, and though the path that they would take didn't follow logic or reason, he was beginning to understand the necessity of staying true to the course they had been destined . . . no, chosen to follow.
There came a soft tap on the door to his study and Daniel invited his guest to enter. Without bothering to verify the identity of his visitor he began to speak, "I trust that all went well?"
"No problems. We'll be hearing about it on tonight's news, just like you ordered," Russ answered, not fully understanding what was going on. He usually was able to anticipate the next move, both from his adversaries as well as his peers. However, because of the positive reaction from Daniel to the news of David's apparent escape (not to mention the lack of concern over Marcos' missing body), was making Russ wonder if he should start second-guessing his director.
"Still worried about the past?" Daniel questioned as if reading the thoughts racing through Russ' mind. "Marcos' body is not missing. Well, at least not in the sense that we were thinking of. True, we still don't know where he is, but he isn't dead."
"Because of the recent charges being made to his accounts?"
"No."
Though Russ was sure that they were the only two people within the room, there was an incredible lack of stillness within the air. The space around him seemed palpable, and he sensed movement from the corners of the chamber.
His eyes widened in sudden recognition of what was happening. "Then you've made contact!?" he whispered in excitement. Daniel only smiled in reply.
Rising from his chair he walked toward Russ and placed his hands firmly upon his broad shoulders. He did not envy Russ for what he was about to do, yet a dark, hidden part of his being longed for the opportunity to go in his stead.
"Where the first has failed, the second may come; to prepare for the third, then all will be done," he gleefully recited. His excitement growing as Russ recognized the words, the anticipation reflecting in his eyes.
Daniel motioned for Russ to sit in the chair he had just vacated. From the closet he retrieved several candles and glass containers, then, looking anxiously at Russ, he asked, "Shall we begin?"
The ritual, brief though it was, revealed the viable power behind their mission. Russ' demeanor was now one of invincibility as the being that had been occupying the space within the room entered, then filled his body with power, and resilience. His understanding became inundated with memories of days long gone by. There also entered into his being new sensations as he began to explore the added abilities he now held within his command. His gift of anticipation, paled to what he now felt capable of knowing, seeing, and feeling. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind. An image of Marcos, David and Leslee riding in a car instantly flashed across his transcendental view.
"They are not far," he uttered, his voice now a reverberating hiss.
"Yes," Daniel nearly squealed in delight. "Russ, remember as long as the two of you can remain singly focused on what you are doing, you cannot fail. No one can stop you, and your powers are only limited by your faith. Since you, Russ, are the one who has experience in the flesh, you need to maintain a slight control, but do not try to dominate or subdue the intangible powers that The Second brings to you. They will only enhance your work. This is why you have been chosen rather than Kim. She could never appreciate the rare privilege and uniqueness of this opportunity.
"Now, go! Find them, and once finished with them, walk the earth and rule with us as one of the leaders of the new world. I must go to Israel, but I will hear of your success."
Russ' returning stare showed no emotion as he turned to leave. "They shall be mine," he hissed. The last word echoing as he closed the door behind him.
Daniel remained, staring at the closed door while reflecting on what would soon be. A smile came to his face as he whispered ominously, "And no one, not even a Stalker, goes out alone."

<~Chapter 25~>
Chapter Twenty-Five

They had left the Salt Lake Valley by way of Parley's Canyon continuing on I-80 through Evanston, Wyoming. Turning off the freeway at Fort Bridger, they headed back into Utah by way of Mountain View.
No one questioned where they were headed, nor why they had gone through Wyoming just to return again to Utah. The drive had a soothing effect upon them and as they wound their way up the switchbacks of the High Uintahs they finally began to relax. Arriving at the cabin near Flaming Gorge Pines shortly after noon, Leslee was the first to lay claim to the bathroom facilities.
"So do you go inside or is it 'round back," she chided with a slight drawl.
Marcos chuckled as he led them inside. "First door to the left," he directed, then added, "Other'n the fact that ya got's ta wash it down with thet bucket thar, it's jest like home."
"You two have been on the road too long," David muttered. His cheerful disposition evaporated as he noticed that the television set at the end of the room was turned on. "Marcos!" he whispered sharply, pointing at the set.
Marcos turned quickly, then recognizing the source of David's agitation, he calmly reassured, "That's OK, I leave it on. Out here in the middle of nowhere a lock doesn't do too much good. This way it keeps people from getting ideas."
He then walked over to the kitchen area which was open to the living room. The entire cabin consisted mainly of this one big room with its vaulted ceiling. A hallway leading to three bedrooms and a bath stood across from the front door. To one side stood an old fashioned pot-bellied stove, while on the other was the kitchen with its wooden breakfast bar and oak stools.
Everything looked very rustic as if the furnishings had been there for decades. The TV and the range with an overhead microwave looking very out of place.
"I hope you two like beef stew!" Marcos shouted loud enough for Leslee to hear.
"At this point, even grilled road-kill would sound appetizing," David yelled back laughing. He stretched out on the sofa, stiff from the near four-hour drive.
Leslee emerged from the hallway announcing triumphantly, "OK it's all yours!" Seeing that neither one of them gave the slightest indication of having to go, she asked rhetorically, "What is it, some kind of power thing?" Then, her voice lowered, she swaggered toward the couch saying, "Nope, just once a day, whether I need to or not."
David was about to tell her that she sounded more like Fred Rogers than John Wayne, when something in the way she smiled at him made the thought vanish from his mind.
She sat down next to him, then noticing the television, she innocently teased, "Can't live without it, huh?"
David was caught admiring and not really paying attention as he sputtered, "Uh . . . what do you mean?"
"We haven't even been here five minutes and your already watching TV."
He looked at the screen, then realizing what she meant he started to explain, "Oh no, I wasn't . . ."
David's face went pale as he stared open-mouthed at the picture on the tube.
"That's Kim's car!" he stated, pointing to the corner of the screen.
Sure enough, there amongst a few police cars and emergency vehicles was a white Nissan Maxima which appeared to be the same one they had ridden in only the night before. They were all parked around an outdoor community swimming area. A police barricade was set up around the peri-meter of the fence and the emergency technicians were loading up a yellow covered stretcher.
". . . pending an autopsy to determine whether any foul play was involved or not," the reporter droned in conclusion.
"Wait a minute," David pleaded. "What happened?"
"Try another channel," Leslee suggested, detecting the concern David still had for Kim, despite what they had just been through.
Marcos had come into the room carrying their plates. He quickly sat them down and turned to another station, stepping to the side to watch.
They were in the middle of a story where several different religious groups from around the world were claiming to have received a visitation from the New Age Christ. Supposedly, they were told to be ready for his imminent coming in power and glory.
The person they were interviewing was explaining how the new scripture indicated that a reincarnated Christ would return again. The reporter offered his skepticism by stating that several groups had foretold of Christ's second coming, to which the interviewee replied, "But after tomorrow, everyone will know of Mahstia's return. And none will doubt that we were the one's who were told first."
Marcos was so repulsed by the ignorant smugness of his comments that he stepped forward to turn the set off. As he reached for the power switch, the anchorwoman announced, "More details on this morning's apparent drowning victim, we will return you to Kris Connell live at the scene."
The picture went back to the swimming area they had seen on the other station. The ambulance had left the scene and the people had begun to disperse.
"In an interesting turn of events," the reporter stated evenly, "a witness has admitted that he was with the victim just prior to her death. It seems they had both been drinking quite heavily when she had decided to go swimming. While trying to climb over the fence she had fallen (which would account for her broken nose), and appeared to be unconscious. The companion then rushed to call for help. Upon returning, and seeing her in the pool, he panicked and fled the scene. Police have taken him in for further questioning."
David turned off the set, then breathed deeply. Leslee put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered sincerely.
David, more than anyone in the room, felt the horror Kim must have gone through just before her death. He reeled as he recalled the desperate sensation of struggling for air only to breathe in a smothering flow of water.
Regaining his composure, he turned to his companions and then revealed, "Of all the vices that Kim may have had, drinking wasn't one of them. She was murdered! We need to call the police and at least tell them what I know."
"That's exactly what they hope you will do David," came a penetrating voice from the hallway.
David and Marcos, recognizing the voice turned quickly in anticipation, whereas Leslee bolted for the door in terror.
David caught her by the hand, and comforted, "It's alright, he's a friend. At least I think he is." He then strode across the room and confronting their visitor, extended his left hand.
John smiled as he grasped David's hand firmly. "You are learning David," he praised. Looking at the others, he added genuinely, "It's good to see all of you."
"It's nice to be seen," David stated wryly. "What do you mean, that's what they hope I do?"
"Kim's death was meant to serve two purposes. First, to eliminate a liability. Kim had become somewhat of a burden; she was no longer dependable and she knew too much. Second, to send a message to you David. They know you, and that if you could, you would try to provide the police with the missing information that would turn their case from an unfortunate accident to a premeditated homicide."
"So they would try to trace the line if I called in?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. But it goes beyond mortal means." John paused, the difficulty of what he was about to say becoming evident. Sighing, he continued, "David, you know how you reacted when you found that Kim had drowned. That was their main objective in killing her in the manner in which they did: to plant within you an irremovable core of fear that they could track as easily as any
homing device known to man."
"What!?!? How can you track someone's fear?!?"
"Mortals can't! But what is after you is far from mortal. It feeds on fear and hatred, just as you would bread and water. You, all of you, are being hunted by a Stalker!"
"Like an assassin?" Marcos interjected.
"No. An assassin's mortal sojourn ends when their mission has been accomplished, a Stalker is free to choose."
John then turned to Marcos and warned emphatically, "Make no attempt to physically battle a Stalker, for though he deeply covets the physical body he occupies, he has no respect for it and will freely exert the mortal frame beyond its normal bounds in terms of strength and endurance. Had it been the Stalker that you had wrestled with last night, I wouldn't be speaking to you now."
Marcos felt the impact of the statement, and momentarily wished that he had never begun this journey. Had it only been last night that he and David were sleeping when the two policemen came to the apartment? So much had happened and all they had been doing was running. But then again, he also realized the amount of confidence John was placing in them, and was rejuvenated at the thought.
"But they have no idea where we are . . . and they think that I'm dead so . . ."
"They know that the three of you are alive and together. And now they know that you are afraid."
John stood before David, giving him a quick appraisal. His face reflecting unwavering confidence, he assuredly urged, "Stay in control David. You must not allow anything it says or does to affect your emotional equilibrium. That is how it can be defeated."
"Yea, sure," came David's dubious reply. "Just like riding a bicycle, he says. Only problem is: I've never ridden one before!"
"Ah, but you have!" John's eyes danced with excitement as he explained, "The creature that you rebuked last night in the parking lot, was a disembodied Stalker. Kim had removed it from its mortal shell, but you are the one who banished it from the mortal plane. It can never return."
David found little comfort as he recalled how drained he had felt after that brief encounter, yet somehow he trusted in John. His confidence began to return, his fear subsiding.
Leslee, who had been watching the entire conversation in disbelief, finally found her voice as she asked, "Who are you?" She wanted to ask more but felt it would be wiser not to push it.
"I am John," he stated matter-of-factly. "I will see you again soon in Salt Lake City." Even as he spoke, his image began to fade so that the last words seemed to have been spoken out of thin air.
John, though now veiled from the other's sight, remained in the room. He lingered wondering why he had been unable to tell David that the second creature which had appeared (the one that had run through Kim's car as they were trying to escape), was the same one that pursued them now.
He was also mildly disturbed by what he had just said while leaving their sight. Though he knew it was what he was to say, unlike other times, there was no assurance of the outcome of the phrase. He knew he would see someone again, but who? And under what circumstances?
Even he was left with a bit of uncertainty, as he left the room to answer the call of the other bittersweet tasks which had been laid out before him. "Control," he whispered wistfully, as much to himself as those he was leaving behind.

<~Chapter 26~>
Chapter Twenty-Six

David and Leslee were just finishing their breakfast when Marcos returned from gathering kindling for the stove. Marcos preferred gathering wood on a full stomach so that he could enjoy the sights and sounds of nature, rather than the grumbling of his stomach and worrying about how soon he could eat.
He calmly walked over to the stove and began to replace the small pieces of wood he had used to take off the morning chill. The fire was nearly out and using a poker to spread out the remaining embers, Marcos calmly spoke out loud, "I need to run into town and get some supplies. I didn't realize how poorly stocked I had left this place."
David was about to argue that he had never seen such a loaded pantry, not to mention the storage shed out back that had every essential imaginable, when Marcos cut him short by signaling sharply to keep quiet. He then pointed outside and cupped one hand to his ear. Someone was outside, listening.
Marcos continued nonchalantly, "If we're going to be staying here a while, we'll be running out soon. Might as well get it now." He motioned toward the bedrooms and asked, "Do either of you need anything?"
The hint was well taken as they both replied, "I'll check." They went into their respective bedrooms and gathered what little they had brought with them.
"I could use some deodorant," Leslee shouted from the bedroom. She returned to the living room and asked, "Do you need anyone to come along?"
David taking her queue shouted from the bedroom, "If it's OK with you I'd just as soon stay." He then emerged from the hallway and walked over to the door to the garage.
Marcos then yelled, "Tell you what, I'll go by myself, then we can do some sightseeing when I get back."
"Sounds good," Leslee replied as she headed for the door David was now holding open.
Marcos, being the last to go into the garage, shouted cheerfully into the empty room, "See ya in a bit."
Leslee had already climbed in through the driver's side to the rear passenger's seat and David was following her into the back seat.
Not needing any signal, they both got down as Marcos started the engine and opened the garage door.
They hadn't traveled more than 100 yards when Marcos noted a light brown sedan pull onto the dirt road some fifty feet behind them. From what he could tell, there were at least three people in the car.
He had expected to be followed, but was still concerned that they would try to go to the cabin. He wasn't sure what they would do once they found out that they had all left and he only hoped he wouldn't find out.
The road was unevenly graded with wash board areas that prevented both of them from traveling much faster than twenty miles-per-hour. Yet, as they came within fifty yards of the electronic gate, Marcos began to accelerate oh so slightly.
They were approaching the gate that marked where the private property ended and the national forest began. He had objected to putting in an electronic gate, feeling that it was taking the privacy issue to a bit of an extreme. Marcos was now grateful that he had been overruled by the community council.
Lowering his sun visor to position what looked like a garage-door opener, he pressed the button to open the gate. Marcos knew they weren't quite in range yet so he continued holding it down until he noted that the gate began to swing open; the two-inch thick steel beams pulling away from the stone and cement posts.
The opening was just barely big enough to squeeze the car through when Marcos ripped the opener from the visor and pointed it squarely at the black box imbedded within the post and pressed hard. Slowly, the gate reversed its momentum and began to close.
Marcos accelerated wildly, the rear tires sliding momentarily out of control as they hit the metal cattle bars laid across the road. Fighting to regain control without slowing down, Marcos didn't see the light green, forest-service vehicle that was trying to cut them off before they got to the main road.
He swerved hard to the left, barely avoiding a collision with the truck on one side and a row of mailboxes on the other. His tires squealed as they hit the pavement. Now that the chase had begun, he wanted to make sure that he had a healthy head start.
He checked his mirror to see that he was indeed pulling away from the service truck and noted that the brown sedan had finally rejoined the fun and games.
They must have run through the fence, he thought to himself. There's no way they could have reopened the gate that quickly.
He slowed slightly as they approached the junction which led back the way they had come to the right or to the small town of Vernal on the left. Marcos thought that they would anticipate him to backtrack, so he swung his vehicle to the left and turned all 275 horses in his engine loose. 
It became more difficult for Marcos to widen the distance between him and their pursuers as they wound through the forest. But at the same time they were unable to close in as well. This was one race that Marcos felt confident that he could win. As long as a deer doesn't jump out in front of me, he thought, cautiously scanning the sides of the road.
He thought he saw something flashing through the trees high above them and to their left, but was unable to follow it and still maneuver the winding route before them.
They were now heading down the mountain and quickly approaching the switchbacks that lay halfway between the Flaming Gorge Dam and Vernal. These were curves that were so sharp that most vehicles had to take them as though going through a school zone. There were ten of these treacherous turns and all were marked by the patchy signs of skid marks leading wildly off the road. Some of these black trails led off into the trees and brush while others disappeared over the edge of deadly precipices causing anyone concerned to wonder whether the occupants had even survived.
Marcos took the first one at thirty miles-per-hour. The tires didn't even protest, though the passengers in the back were pressed hard against the left side of the vehicle.
"Guess it would be better for you to buckle up than stay hidden," Marcos advised.
"Safety first!" David remarked, his accent mocking a former president.
The next turn was taken at thirty-five miles-per-hour. Though he never felt he was going to lose control of the car, the squealing sound of the tires indicated the sacrifice that was being made to maintain contact between the wayward rubber above and the unyielding asphalt below.
Marcos decided to maintain the corners at thirty-five even though he felt he could have gone a bit faster. He was more concerned with losing control and spinning off the road and having their hunters catch them than flying off the edge. At least he knew what would happen if they fell off a cliff. He had a better feeling from that outcome than what he could imagine from the other prospect.
They had just come out of the sixth turn and Marcos was accelerating through the straightaway that led past a view area. Marcos thought briefly of pulling in and trying to use the sparse crowd as a cover, but quickly realized that at this point the dozen or so tourists wouldn't discourage their pursuit at all; it might even endanger their innocent lives as well.
He hit the next curve at the same speed as he had the others but instantly sensed that this turn was much sharper than the others and could feel the loss of control as the car began to spin sideways. The rear tires left the pavement and spun wildly in the narrow strip of dirt and rock at the edge of the ridge, but managed to stay in line with the rest of the turn and returned once again to the pavement.
The car behind him slowed down considerably after seeing how close Marcos had come to going over the edge and the margin between them widened even further.
The slope they were going down became more inclined and Marcos took the next turn a little slower. He realized that once they made it through the next two turns he would easily be able to outdistance the two vehicles following them.
The tan car seemed to realize this too as he took the turn much faster than Marcos had and spun into the hillside before recovering and continuing its pursuit.
Marcos was concentrating on the line for his next turn and failed to notice the object floating just ahead and above them until it lowered to within a few feet above the road.
It appeared to be a red-tinged crystal ball that glowed brightly before them. As they grew closer, Marcos prepared for an impact, unsure of what would happen once they collided. It was then that they all could see and recognize the seated occupant of the hovering bubble: Russ!!
He seemed to be in a trance, his legs crossed and his eyes closed. Just before they were to hit the levitating sphere, it began to rise and Russ abruptly opened his eyes to reveal the same blank stare that had haunted David's memory ever since the restaurant. He had no pupils, only a menacingly vacant gaze. A feeling of intense dread came over the occupants of the car.
Leslee covered her eyes in horror, then the ball with Russ inside exploded in a flash of brilliant white light. There was no collision, but neither could Marcos see. The brilliance of the light momentarily blinded him. Were it not for his recall of the curve's image he had been concentrating on before seeing Russ, he wouldn't have been able to navigate the turn and they would have been sent careening over the edge.
"I can't see!" he shouted. Knowing that the final turn had to be coming up soon, he braked hard coming to a complete stop. They were within inches from going off the edge.
"Same here," David remorsefully admitted. He was wondering how Russ was able to accomplish what they had just witnessed when the thought came to him: Russ is the Stalker!
Leslee turned to see that the tan car had stopped as well. They must have known what was going to happen since they had come to a stop well before the turn. At least they would be blinded for as long as Marcos was.
"It's OK," she said reassuringly, "they're stopped too."
Marcos relaxed at the news, then stiffened sharply as he heard the familiar screeching of tires.
The forest service truck had swerved out around the other car, sliding around the curve as he accelerated. Leslee knew what was going to happen if she didn't act fast. "He's going to ram us!!" she shouted frantically. "Move!!"
Marcos started pushing lightly on the gas, then hearing her unbuckle her seat-belt, realized what she meant and started to fumble with his own. No sooner was it undone when he was tossed to the side and Leslee slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The Firebird responded instantaneously, and they shot forward, sliding through the final turn.
The truck tried to compensate for the abrupt movement of its intended target, but failed to take into consideration the degree of the turn. The inertia sent the truck spinning through the guard-rail and out over the edge.
Leslee didn't hesitate as she opened up the car's engine, not bothering to look back until they arrived safely in Roosevelt; thirty-five miles farther west of Vernal.
No one spoke a word as the weight of what they had just witnessed sunk in. Even John's ominous description of a Stalker had been an understatement of the fact. What was worse, they still had no idea of just how far of an understatement it had been.

<~Chapter 27~>
Chapter Twenty-Seven

Daniel had arrived in Tel Aviv only hours ago. Most people would have experienced considerable jet-lag, however, Daniel had become accustomed to little or no sleep. With a sense of urgency within him, he went immediately to their base a few miles east of Jerusalem. It was there that he found out about Russ' failure.
He took the news with an outward calmness used to deceive many. Only his eyes reflected the rage that was burning within. There was no bitterness toward Russ; he was doing all he could. No, his anger was focused on David. He still didn't understand what made his boyhood friend so special. He also began to wonder if he ever would.
When he made contact, in addition to the news of Russ' failure, he was only given further instructions; his questions remaining unanswered. Despite his frustration, Daniel knew better than to doubt or even question what he was being told. These plans had been laid out hundreds, perhaps thousands of years before he had even been born. Many had served in his position without actually seeing the seeds they were planting sprout forth, let alone tasting the fruit of their efforts. It was his privilege to see them all come to fruition. These were the days of dominion.
That is why they only needed to press forward, they were winning. From this day forward, none would dare to question what they were doing. He would see to that.
There came a knock at the door, one he had been expecting. "Come in, Mahstia," he exclaimed.
The door opened slowly and the robed figure of Mahstia entered the room. He removed the hood from his head, revealing fully the chiseled features of his magnificently tanned face, his raven locks and deeply set, dark brown eyes which were almost fawn-like in appearance. He was tall, and well defined. "You knew that I would come," he declared openly, "but now can you tell me why?" His English was spoken with a slight British accent; acquired through learning rather than a product of his upbringing.
Daniel understood that the question was asked out of frustration and not as an intended challenge of his powers.
"You are still unsure," Daniel revealed, "not only of yourself, but in all those around you. Those you follow, those you lead, and more importantly those who have yet to know your name."
Mahstia, though fully expecting his thoughts to be known, was still taken back by the startling accuracy of Daniel's statement.
Daniel could see the look of surprise reflected in the young man's face and continued confidently, "You are also unsure of what you have to offer those whom you would lead. Not that what you would say wouldn't be inviting, but you are wondering how quickly your promises would lose their appeal if we were not able to fully back them up." He smiled as he looked upon the admiration written all over Mahstia's face, then chuckled, "Am I getting warm?"
Mahstia nodded then solemnly admitted, "I feel that my doubts are a sign of weakness; an omen of failure."
"What is there to doubt? You are fluent in fifteen different languages (English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, German, Italian, Arabic, Hebrew, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese, Bengali, Dutch, Hindi, and Polish), conversant in fourteen others (Afrikaans, Greek, Malay-Indonesian, Korean, Cantonese, Punjabi, Finnish, Vietnamese, Turkish, Persian, Swedish, Ukrainian, Thai, and Swahili). You have received the finest training available in Philosophy, Psychology, Sociology, History, Political Science, Music, Literature, and Art. Mahstia, you have studied with masters of theology, you know and understand the various religious cultures and scripture (Christianity, Hindu, Buddhism, Muslim, and Judaism), better than they do. And you are able to bring all these diversities together. A synergy of cultures, religions and government: The New AGE in the history of man! That is what they are looking for. They are weary from all the conflict and strife in the world. We have seen to that."
Daniel could sense Mahstia's understanding of what was being said, and continued excitedly, "You have been chosen to be who and what you are-at this time. I knew of your coming from the moment you were born. You will be their Returning Savior, the Promised Messiah, the Reincarnated Master, the Leader of the New Age. You will offer them peace; an end to war, crime, and unjust rule. And those who resist, will be done away with."
They were both caught up in the vision of what had been promised would be as Daniel slowly delivered the climax by saying, "They will see your power and know that what you say is true. And after today, there will not be anyone so
isolated that they will not have heard mention of your name."
"Yes," Mahstia exclaimed.
"Now, you have a rather busy evening ahead of you," Daniel chuckled, "so go, and think only of your triumph. Let us worry about failure."
Confidence beamed from Mahstia's face as he thanked Daniel and left the room. Only then did Daniel allow his features to reflect his concern about the unmentioned prophecy of defeat. Surely Mahstia was aware of it, and perhaps that was why he had come. Daniel had calmed Mahstia's fears but was still uncertain about the prophecy's fulfillment. All prophecies are fulfilled. He knew that, but how? He had already surmised that David had something to do with it, but was unable to piece it all together. They had taken every precaution and even purged any who might leak the information of what was to happen, they had even erased all electronic references from their computer systems, just in case. Still, Daniel felt that there was something they had missed. "David," he muttered in disgust slamming his fist onto the desk.

<~Chapter 28~>
Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was 10:30 a.m. when Leslee pulled the car into the Roosevelt gas station. Still haunted by the memories of what they had been through, she feebly exited the car and went to look for the ladies' room. Marcos began filling the tank, while David, needing to stretch his legs, volunteered to pay the attendant.
"You want anything?" he shouted to Leslee before she went around the corner of the building.
"Maybe some juice . . ." she started to say then paused; still looking back at David. Standing in the shade of the building she began to look around as if she had misplaced something then asked in a slightly worried tone, "Is it me, or is it getting darker?"
Sure enough, even though there were very few clouds in the sky, the day had taken on a slightly overcast appearance and did seem to be growing darker by the minute.
"I think we'd better hurry," David suggested, becoming a bit agitated. "We may have company here shortly, and I'd just as soon not be here when they arrive."
He half-jogged into the country store, gathered up some drinks and munchies to eat along the way and went to the crowded counter to pay for it all.
The clerk was quite upset about something he had been listening to on the radio. As David drew near, he and a couple of the locals were venting their frustrations.
"Damn Camel-jockeys just don't know what's good for 'em," said one looking around nervously.
"Yep, seems that the only way they can get anything done is to either shoot somebody or blow something up," agreed another.
The clerk leaned on the counter as he offered his opinion, "They was just starting to make progress too! For the first time, I finally thought that idiot was doing some good; besides sit on his ass up there in the White House where he can't hurt nobody." They all voiced their approval of what he had just said, laughing boisterously at his final remark.
They sobered up quickly though when he added, "Betcha all hell breaks lose now. Once they all start pointin' fingers at each other . . . won't take long to start pointin' guns and who-knows-what 'till everybody's tryin' ta kill everybody else."
David couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer and asked, "What's goin' on?"
"Bunch of terrorists just broke into The Summit and took most of the leaders hostage."
"What Summit?"
They all looked at David as if he were standing there naked. "Why the Peace Summit in Israel. Where you been, boy?" the clerk asked incredulously.
Just then Leslee entered the store. She had become worried that David was taking so long but seeing that David was alright asked sweetly, "Are you coming?"
David nodded, then turned to the others with a sheepish grin and said, "Campin'."
They instantly caught on and began to chuckle amongst themselves, giving Leslee looks of admiring appraisal and David occasional glances of approval. "Good a reason as any," one of them stated with a wink. "Just turn your radio to any station. That's all they've been talkin' about for the last half hour or so."
David thanked them and then escorted Leslee to the car.
"What was all that about?" Leslee asked, more from suspicion than curiosity.
"Something about a terrorist raid on a peace summit in Israel," he stated. "Let's turn on the radio and see if we can find out."
"But why were they looking at me that way?" she asked poking him in the ribs. "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing," David replied innocently. "They asked what we were doing and I told them we were camping." He took another playful jab to the ribs when the voice over the radio caused them all to pause in wonder.
". . . co-founder of the peace summit and past President of the United States was counted among the forty-five dead at the scene. There has been no claim of responsibility nor any ransom demands. They have only stated that the leaders at the summit were no longer serving the interest of the people and would need to be punished for their self-centered acts.
"To repeat for those who may have just tuned in: The World Peace Summit being held in Jerusalem was invaded just hours ago by a band of heavily armed gunmen. Forty-five (mostly security personnel), are confirmed dead. The gunmen have taken the remaining committee members hostage and are presumed hiding within the city. Those taken include all of the Israeli, Arab representatives, the newly formed Palestinian presidency, the U. N. delegation, the spokesman for the European Community and our President . . ."
A low drone began to drown out the voice on the radio. It began to swell until it became the only sound that could be heard. Shortly the humming vibration became accompanied by the distinct sound of trumps blowing somewhere in the distance.
Marcos turned on his headlights as the darkness increased. His mind began to wander as he tried to imagine what new threat would be coming upon them now.
"That is the signal," shouted the terrorist unit leader, the overpowering drone nearly drowning out his words. "Prepare the hostages for our rendezvous in thirty minutes. There will be no further radio communication until then."
"Where are we to meet them?" one of the soldiers asked anxiously.
"They will be executed on the Mount of Olives less than an hour after sunset," he explained with great satisfaction.
The commander was proud to have been chosen to lead this mission. For years he had felt that too much time had been wasted by idealistic fools gathering around tables trying to talk their way into peace. He knew that the only route to peace was to eliminate those who prevented it from happening. Even the establishment of the Palestinian state was a mere token, meant to show some type of progress in their efforts. But the violence had only increased and the tension between the struggling cultures had grown to the point where it seemed that there would never be peace.
He had lost two sons in what the media down-played as unrelated incidents or skirmishes, though in actuality they were nothing short of brief outbursts of a much older, more established battle zone that would never just go away.
The World Peace Summit had been put together with the intent to negotiate a settlement between all factions. These intentions may have been good and noble, but it became clear that some within the committee would never give in to the idea of a global community and relinquish their governmental power. His leaders had realized this, and as a demonstration to the world they had organized this armed unit to capture those misguided bureaucrats, who were more concerned with public appearance and the rhetoric of protocol, than leadership and action. By so doing, they would establish the will of the people and bring about the much needed change. This one act would force them all to reconsider what needed to be done. Yes, after today there would definitely be not only a changing of the guard, but also a change of heart within the people everywhere. He had been assured of that, and those who had given them that promise had yet to be inaccurate with their projections.
Earlier in the evening the sun had gone down in one of the most bizarre sunsets ever witnessed. What had started out as being a brilliant and picturesque dusk, had quickly changed to a more subdued tone as all of the various colors began to blend together into hues of brown and red. The moon, rising up over the horizon, glowed with a deep, blood-red hue.
"Even nature itself extends a token of what needs to be," he thought out loud donning his sunglasses in eager anticipation of the next appointed signal.
Nearly half way around the world the same ominous darkness enshrouded the sky as David, Leslee and Marcos drove cautiously through the countryside. The radio had been out for nearly thirty minutes when they drove into the quiet little town of Duchesne. It had now grown almost entirely dark; the sun only a faint glow as it made its way across the heavens. Despite the darkness, there were no visible stars in the murky sky, adding to the eeriness in the surroundings.
Here and there people were gathered in small congregations, each trying to rationalize what was happening and why. They were driving past one of the larger groups, when suddenly a brilliant flash of light lit up the sky.
Marcos, thinking it to be another attack, pulled the car to the curb, looking for a possible source of the light. He nearly jumped through the roof of the car as the radio blared into action. They had turned the volume up in an attempt to pick up anything while they were traveling and had forgotten to turn it back down.
" . . . keep transmitting until told otherwise. I repeat: all phone lines appear to be down, I am unable to make any communication at all. I have no idea what is happening," the disheartened voice was saying.
The small, independent crowds began to flock together in front of one of the stores not far in front of them; the people chattering excitedly as a result of what they were seeing.
"Pull up," David urged, "maybe they know what's going on."
Marcos reluctantly obliged, still wary of a new attack.
Back in Jerusalem, the same flash broke through the darkness like a blinding strobe. The next signal had been given. "OK, let's move," the commander bellowed just as the flash subsided. "Pull out now, and no matter what happens, this bus is not to stop until we reach the rendezvous point."
He then went back to make sure the hostages had been secured. He had no doubt that his men had carried out his orders to the letter; they had been handpicked not only for their highly specialized skills, but loyalty as well. But having his men know that he always double-checked seemed to reinforce the idea that the orders weren't just a manifestation of his will, but that they would all have to answer to a higher authority if they faltered even slightly.
As he strode down the aisle, he made sure they had all been blindfolded, handcuffed, and tagged. Evidently his superiors anticipated a great deal of confusion, since they were very adamant in their orders that each hostage be labeled, as they called it, by specially supplied cards, in order to identify them at the execution.
He paused as he looked upon the head Israeli representative. For some reason they had excluded him from being one of those to be tagged. There was a tinge of distrust in his heart as he wondered about this odd exclusion, but not enough for him to question their motives, nor to alter the plan; even in this seemingly minor detail.
He was jolted from his thoughts as the bus pitched to one side while turning a rather sharp curve. His heart soared as he remembered the promise that he had been given: that no one would ever be able to forget the events of this night.
Unable to see what was causing all the excitement, David got out of the car and began pressing his way through the expanding crowd. When he finally got close enough to see the various television screens, he was entranced as much by what he was feeling as by what he was seeing.
He was soon joined by Marcos and Leslee who also fell immediately under the spell of the spectacle being laid out before them.
"This is live coverage of the scene just outside of Jerusalem," came the reporter's awestruck voice. The grandeur of the scene overpowering his professional demeanor. "Reports indicate that the communication failure extended worldwide, and that it has all been restored miraculously within the last few minutes, as if a result of the brilliant flash of light which, as far as we can tell, was also seen globally."
"Though it can't be seen now, the moon rose earlier in the evening looking as though it had been dipped in blood, which became increasingly darker until it finally dimmed from view."
The camera angle panned slowly across the evening sky, then stopped abruptly while focusing on a star, quickly increasing in brightness.
"What is that?" the reporter exclaimed in wonder. "Oh my . . ." He never finished his sentence as he too, became entranced at the sight.
The light became brighter and brighter, streams of shimmering light cascading from its center. It began to descend, while all around, images began to form in the darkness, appearing like a glorious heaven-sent choir. The beauty of the song piercing the very fibre and being of all who were present.
A mist began to rise from the earth, which, as it merged with the light descending from above gave the appearance of a sunrise shining through the clouds.
As the light descended further, a robed figure became visible standing within its center. It was a man! His arms were outstretched, and he landed lightly upon the mount less than fifty yards away.
Looking straight into the camera, he softly spoke, "I have returned."
Even though he knew he had been ordered not to stop the bus, the driver was unable to control the vehicle while still trying to take in the events taking place as he drove up the hill. He pulled to the side of the road and stared out the window in total bewilderment.
The commander, his anger somewhat tempered by the incredible scene, ordered the driver to move on. Seeing no response, he pushed the young man aside and put the vehicle in gear himself, again setting the bus into motion.
They weren't sure whether it was because of the fact that every radio and TV station was carrying the same story but as the man on the screen spoke, it was as if he were standing there among them.
The similarity between what they were seeing and the incident in which Russ had been floating within the glowing orb, made David very uncomfortable. "We'd better get out of here," he urged heading for the car. "I don't . . ." he trailed off. Getting into the car, he began to wave impatiently for the others to join him.
Amongst the stillness of the surroundings, the lights from the moving bus stood out like a shooting star in the evening sky. It was seen by all, as it approached the spot where the wondrous being had landed.
The robed figure stepped out upon the road and raised his hands and commanded, "Stop, you enemies of peace, or be destroyed!"
The team leader, though not fully understanding the consequences of what he was about to do, remained true to his orders and accelerated in anticipation of eliminating yet another obstacle to their mission.
It was too late to stop as he recognized the red tag worn by the man standing in the road before them. It was also too late for him to warn the others as his heart began to fibrillate violently within his chest. He and his men were dead before the vehicle struck the side of the road and skidded to a stop.
Mahstia, standing at the entrance of the bus, held still momentarily, in brief admiration at how completely the promised details of this part of the mission had come true. The hostages, interspersed amongst the gunmen, began to struggle to get free. While those, who only moments before had held them captive, were now slumped over in worthless heaps. Why, even the brakes on the bus had not failed to engage, despite the absence of a living driver.
He quickly went from passenger to surviving passenger, snatching up their tags and asking if each one were all right.
He had just finished when the bus was overrun by camera crews from all angles. They showed him removing the blindfolds and releasing the hostages, while security confirmed that all the terrorists and one other hostage had apparently died of heart failure. It was then that one of the reporters finally regained their composure and, approaching the robed figure, asked respectfully, "Who are you?"
The reply, heard clearly over the radio broadcast as they drove on in the darkness, sent a haunting chill of remembrance up David's spine: "I am known by many names."

<~Chapter 29~>
Chapter Twenty-Nine

David, Marcos, and Leslee sat in silence, listening while every local and national radio station related the intensely driven events that rapidly unfolded as they continued their journey.
The attitude of the world had changed dramatically that day. Everyone had either heard or seen the event by now as they repeated the story over and over. Even those who were without the benefit of electrical appliances had heard the low droning mixed with trumpets, and seen the preliminary signs in the sky of the darkened sun followed by the brilliant flash that had marked his coming. It didn't take long for word of mouth to quickly fill in the blanks regarding all that had taken place.
Though public opinion did vary slightly regarding this fellow who had appeared descending from the heavens, everyone agreed that his appearance was an event of great significance.
The medical experts could offer no logical explanation for the seemingly miraculous rescue. Only the terrorists and one other had died of apparent heart failure, while the hostages had unaccountably remained untouched. It was later revealed that the one hostage who had not survived the ordeal was suspected of working with the gunmen in that he had given the orders that had left a breach in the council's security measures and was the only one who could have provided them with the necessary details to gain undetected entrance into the conference room.
Most religious leaders immediately came forward and offered their support of Mahstia and recognized him as the leader that they had all been waiting for. If there were any religious skeptics, they remained inexplicably silent and reclusive in their opinion.
Government leaders were even less divided; endorsing him as a man who, at the very least, should be listened to, if not followed.
He had met individually with each member of the peace council and laid out in their native tongue a plan of peace that could take effect immediately with their cooperation. They were astounded at his logic and reasoning. He was
easily able to dismantle any barriers that were placed before him in the brief, preliminary debate that was held just prior to his private meetings with the council. Though there were no details given of what the plan involved, word had it that the committee had voted unanimously to adopt the system and put it into action.
He was already scheduled to speak before the U.N. later that day and announce the conditions of his plan so that the implementation could be done globally. Insiders felt that there would be very little resistance based upon the rapid results that were achieved within the World Peace Council.
Mahstia also made a public statement in which he acknowledged that though they had not ventured forth, he knew that there were skeptics out there and that there was no room within his plan for dissension. His purpose for coming to the world at this time was to unite people, rather than further divide them from each other.
He was quoted as saying, "In three days I will call down fire from heaven and the city of New York will be no more. Then, will the people know that I have come with power."
"What the heck is going on?" David asked out loud; a sensation of uneasiness churning within him. "This all seems a bit convenient, and yet, somehow too familiar."
None of the others could offer any explanation which only added to David's agitation. He leaned forward and ordered briskly, "Turn it off. I've heard enough!"
Marcos didn't question David's sharpness, rather reached over and turned off the switch. He too was disturbed by the combination of the unexplained experiences they were having and these dramatic global events and couldn't help but think that they were somehow related.

<~Chapter 30~>
Chapter Thirty

David was still trying to put all the pieces to this puzzle together as they wound their way back down the canyon toward Salt Lake City. They had all remarked about how ironic it was that only yesterday they had driven up this very same canyon, fleeing with no thought whatsoever of coming back; and now because of what John had said, they felt compelled to return.
Though they had not encountered any kind of interruption since leaving Duchesne, David had not felt at ease upon resuming their journey. They all keenly felt that they were being watched, though from some unimagined angle that they were unable to recognize.
It was then that David noted the slight change in their surroundings. From the corner of his eye he detected unnatural movement in the brush and undergrowth of the forest around them. Trying desperately to catch more than a glimpse of what was happening, David closed one eye and concentrated on what was taking place at the forest's edge.
At first it looked like nothing but an overactive imagination having been fed by this morning's adventure. All that could be seen was foliage intermixed with shadow, the movement being created by the motion of the car as it sped upon its way. But when they passed an open clearing David saw it! There was movement. There amongst the shadows, stalked a creature barely more than a shadow itself. It was fascinating at first as David became entranced by its fluctuation from complete stillness to tremendous bursts of speed which changed its appearance back and forth from still shadow to an obscure blur amongst the trees.
It reminded David of watching a herd of deer from a distance as they hopped gracefully through the snow. Though it appeared that they were hardly moving, later examination of the tracks indicated just how much ground they were covering with each effortless bound.
The realization of what was taking place took hold of David's mind as he realized that this thing, whatever it was, was effortlessly keeping pace with their car, even though they were traveling at sixty-five miles-per-hour.
Seemingly aware of its detection, the creature bolted forward, the blur becoming more tangible until the form of a man running ahead appeared and stopped only a few hundred yards ahead of them. The image was one David had seen before, and the memory was revived as it stepped out from amongst the trees to the side of the road. Though it had been a swimming hole that it had approached so many years before, nothing else had changed. An inviting smile spread across the man's face as they drew near.
Marcos was only slightly taken by surprise as he mildly exclaimed, "Now what is he doing way out here?" He braked and began to pull over as the figure of John stepped confidently toward the car.
Marcos leaned across the seat and opened the door for him, chiding, "Wouldn't suppose you would want a ride, would you?"
The visitor smiled broadly and graciously responded, "You are too generous in your offer. It's good to see that you've all arrived safely." As he spoke, his door closed gently and they turned back onto the freeway.
David was about to question their visitor's peculiar arrival when Marcos interrupted, "So what is the deal with this guy in Israel?" But before anyone could answer he derisively added, "Is this supposed to be the second coming of Christ?"
Their passenger sighed deeply then replied, "Hasn't it all been foretold? Is there any Christian religion that does not teach that Jesus would return for the second time to rule the world?"
The tone and manner in which their guest spoke subdued David's distrust somewhat while simultaneously arousing his interest. It was actually appealing to listen to him speak. They could only agree.
"Wasn't his coming to be accompanied," he continued, "by the moon turning to blood, the sun darkening, a half hour of silence, and the failing of wicked men's hearts? Wasn't he supposed to come at a time when there would be wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, floods, and all manner of natural disasters?"
"Yes," Leslee agreed, "but what about the earth reeling to and fro and the introduction of a millennia of peace?"
"Ah, but the earth shall reel to and fro. It has already started. People everywhere are struggling to know whether to follow or resist. He has given them a sign which shall show his power, but the people will have to decide whether or not they choose to follow or be destroyed. Yes, many will choose to be destroyed, simply because they cannot comprehend what is taking place and mostly because it is not happening in the manner in which they have prescribed."
"What do you mean?" David asked somewhat intrigued by his last statement. "Doesn't he know which side they are on? I thought the wicked were to be destroyed at his coming, not sometime afterward."
"That is exactly what I mean. You have proven it yourself. Most people have a preconceived notion of how the second coming is to happen, and in what sequence the prophesied events are to take place. But where is it emphatically written that everything is to take place at once or immediately within a certain period of time. What right does mortal man have to declare prophecy fulfilled or unfulfilled based on their own preconceived criteria? Who are we to determine when God's work is finished or when it can begin?"
The car fell silent as the impact of what had been said began to weigh upon their minds. The chastisement hadn't been sharp, but it had been direct and to the point.
David was beginning to wonder about some of his old religious convictions when he remembered something more immediate that he had neglected to do. Leaning over to Marcos, he asked, "Could we pull over, no offense to your brother's taste in cars, but I've got to stretch my legs or they're going to cramp up."
Marcos eased the car into a secluded rest-stop just off the road and they all got out, walking stiffly about before gathering in front of their vehicle.
Standing behind John, David asked, "So do you have a message for me?"
Turning, he replied, "Why yes, I have a message for all of you, but . . ." He cut himself off and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly as he found himself confronted by David standing before him, with his left hand extended in greeting.
"That is correct, David. Always test the messenger. I thought that you had forgotten," he softly chastened.
David was about to lower his hand and apologize for doubting, when the figure before him extended his own hand. His eyes widened in terror as he saw the image of the hand pass through his own. An intense coldness began to form in his fingers and quickly spread up his arm. Though he had seen the hand proceed beyond his own, his arm was held in an unseen, viselike grip; the contrast between what he saw and felt causing him to panic.
Marcos was held spellbound as he watched the form of John fade from view while uttering that last phrase. He was about to question why he had chosen to disappear so soon without telling them what they were to do, when David began to react violently to some invisible threat.
David tried desperately to pull back from the clutch of this fiend that held him firmly in place, his whole body becoming frigid from the icy spell that had been cast from its unseen touch.
"Doesn't this feel familiar, David?" the beast taunted boldly. Its features had transformed from the appealing good looks of John to a hideous mask of loathsome rage. "Too bad we're not near some water so that you could relive that moment more fully."
David's heart began to race as he recalled the similar struggle with an unseen force trying to drown him as a small boy. The memory driving his fear beyond panic as he began to flail about wildly with his free hand; his mouth babbling incoherently in what he thought were pleadings for mercy.
"You see David," the monster raged, "I was there at that water hole, and if it hadn't been for your mother . . ."
At that moment, Marcos had decided that whatever was happening was beyond David's ability to withstand. Not thinking of the possible consequences he threw himself full force at David's thrashing body, tackling him to the ground. He reeled at the touch of David's icy flesh and jumped back to his feet. David lay there, his eyes open wide as they glimpsed an unseen vision of horror. 
"Nooooooo!" David howled, flinching as he retreated from the veiled attack. Marcos put his arms around his friend in an attempt to console and possibly protect him only to be brushed aside by an oncoming force that sent him sprawling like a small child.
"David!" Leslee shrieked, finally breaking out of the trance she had been under while watching the unseen battle take place before her. "Don't try to fight it, just control yourself. It can't do anything that you don't allow it to do!" She stood there puzzled by what she had just said. She knew that she had heard that advice before, though she couldn't remember when. At first the thought seemed completely childish, trying to think something away, yet she felt compelled to tell David what was being impressed upon her mind; her heart reinforcing the belief.
David hadn't even felt Marcos tackling blow as he fought to escape what seemed would be his final scenario in mortality. The only thing that maintained his will to live, was the horrifying thought that once he had left his mortal body behind, he would remain eternally condemned to the buffetings of this fearsome demon which had beset him.
He had fallen into complete darkness, only the translucent blur of the attacking creature discernible to his view, when Leslee's voice carried through the blackness bringing with it a ray of hope that David could now focus on.
He softly spoke, "Release me, for I will walk with you no more." David felt the same uncertainty that Leslee had as he too, spoke words that seemed familiar yet entirely foreign. His entire being became calm and he didn't even flinch as the monster feigned one last attack.
David wasn't sure if it was his imagination or an actual voice that he heard as the beast vanished, but the message was firmly imprinted in his memory: "We shall see."
It was then that David's determination ran out and he
collapsed to the ground in an exhausted stupor.

<~Chapter 31~>
Chapter Thirty-One

Leslee rushed to David's side as she exclaimed, "Are you alright?!?" She held his head gently in her arms, consoling him with reassuring words.
Ever since they had finally spoken to each other in the restaurant on that tragic night, she had wished that circumstances, fate, or whatever it was, might have been different so that they could have been able to spend some time together without the constant threat of losing one another along the way. It was true that these events had drawn them closer together than they might have been otherwise, but she felt cheated by not being able to savor a relaxing, private evening together or share a moment of intimate conversation between them.
She didn't know it, yet she somehow sensed that David's life had always been filled with tragedy and loss. At this time she wanted only to fill the emptiness in his heart and take away the pain from his tortured mind.
Marcos, knelt down beside them and gently asked, "What happened, Bud? You had me pretty scared back there."
David only shook his head, not wanting to remember the horrifying experience. He then looked up at Leslee and asked, "What was it you said? I can't remember the words, only the feeling of hope that they brought."
She smiled, a little embarrassed. "It was something my mother used to tell me when I was young. I think it was whenever I would have a bad dream. She would always hold me in her arms, rocking me gently, she would remind me over and over that whatever it was that was bothering me couldn't do anything that I wouldn't allow. I don't know why I thought of that just now."
All three of them scrambled wildly to their feet at the sound of the voice from behind them saying, "Because it was needed at this time."
John, or at least someone that looked like him, was standing between them and the car. His face was expressionless as he surveyed the scene before him.
"David, you must remember that the only way to escape the deadly threat these creatures represent is to not fight against them, rather stay in control of yourself; your emotions. Anger, fear, and doubt feed their powers, allowing them to overcome and even to some extent control your will and ability to resist. Once they have achieved that goal, you are at their mercy, of which they have none.
"I'm sure you have heard the expression, there is no greater fool than he who argues with one. This also applies to yourselves if you insist in fighting or arguing with Satan or any of his minions. The outcome is unavoidable if you choose to challenge them: you will lose!"
"But . . ."
"No! There are no exceptions in this area. YOU WILL LOSE!!"
As they listened, Marcos began to nudge David slightly while softly urging, "Test him!" David tried to ignore him, too tired to react, then finally waved his hand and responded firmly, "I think I'll pass this time. You do it!"
John, like an old English schoolteacher who had just caught two of his class clowns going at it again, contorted his face into a look of pure exasperation and asked, "Is something bothering you Marcos?"
Marcos realizing how silly this all appeared, went on anyway and explained, "But you said . . . or the guy you're supposed to be told us . . . er . . . David to always test the messenger."
David interrupted, not making much more sense himself. "That's what I just did and look what happened," he exclaimed referring to his exhausted frame. "So excuse me if I'm a little iffy on this testing bit. How many kids do you know that, after having the holy-what's-it jolted out of them by sticking a knife in a wall socket, are eager to turn around and do it again?"
Shaking his head Marcos was about to argue when Leslee stood up defiantly, agitated by the men's childish reluctance and extended her hand to John who grasped it firmly, smiling in approval.
Turning back to look at David, she asked cynically, "Is something supposed to happen?"
Both Marcos and David felt the sting of her remark and looked around desperately for something to redeem their fallen grace.
Trying hard to hide his damaged pride, David walked over to John extending his left hand. "You're supposed to offer the left hand," he chided.
John took David by the left hand and carefully scrutinized his appearance, checking to see if he were still up to the task at hand.
"Your reluctance is understandable, considering all that you have been through, not only recently, but throughout your life as well," John encouraged. "There is still much left that must be done and I must warn you that . . . that the adversary has not given up in trying to stop you; all of you. But think of it this way: the amount of determination he is exerting in order to stop you, can also be used as a measure of the ability you have to successfully accomplish your mission. If he didn't think you capable of disrupting his plans, he wouldn't bother."
"Yea, but it's a little bit hard to fight what you can't see," Marcos interrupted. He didn't mean to be rude, but it still disturbed him that the whole time that David was being attacked by the false-John, it had remained invisible, leaving Marcos confused as to what to do.
"But David can see them. He has a gift," John revealed.
David only nodded, skeptical of John's choice of words. What he perceived as a gift, David interpreted as a curse.
"The spiritual realm is here. It has been from the beginning. But it is also covered by a veil, which prevents it from being detected by mortal vision. For some, like David, the veil is thinner and, when necessary, he has been able to see both those who have left this mortal state as well as those who can never enter into it. He is also starting to be able to discern between the two."
"You mean there are spirits all around us now?" Marcos questioned, somewhat overwhelmed by the possibility.
"Quite probable."
"Can you see them, David?"
David looked around doubtfully, not really wanting to see anything. "No."
"Can you?" Marcos asked John quizzically.
"There is no need," he explained, trying not to sound frustrated.
"Then . . . if there is no need to be seen, they don't need to be here, right?" Marcos had always felt that the spirit world was also on earth, but he couldn't understand how so many who had passed on to that realm, could occupy what seemed to be such a comparatively small environment. There had to be more to it.
John realized that he was trying to explain a principle that was just beyond their mortal understanding, yet he did not like leaving questions unanswered; provided that he had an answer.
Then an idea came to him, and he asked David, "Have you ever seen a stereoscopic image?"
"A what?" David asked, completely puzzled by what John was trying to prove.
"A 3-D image," Marcos offered. "You know those posters that look like a bunch of colored dots unless you look at them just right."
Instantly David understood and nodded his head. "It took me forever to finally see anything beside the pattern," he confessed. "For the longest time I thought it was like The Emperor's New Clothes and that the gimmick was to claim to see an image so that you could still be part of the in-crowd."
"It is the same way with the spiritual realm," John explained, "you must be properly focused or you can't see what is there. But whether they are detected or not, the image or spirits are still there. They do not cease to exist just because they can't be seen."
David's tone was completely serious as he asked, "Can they see . . . us?"
John understood the fear behind the question, and soberly replied, "At times."
A feeling of utter helplessness swept over David. "So what can we possibly do?" he sighed. "All the odds are in their favor."
"It might appear that way, David. But despite its chaotic appearance, there are rules within the spiritual realm which cannot be broken. It is true that they remember each one of us, and know our weaknesses, but there are limits as to what they can do. You are the one's who determine most of their limits, by what you say and do, and even more importantly by your thoughts. Those things that you allow to enter and dwell within your mind.
"Let me explain in this manner: No one will ever be condemned for being tempted, for all of us have been, or will be. It is when that temptation is entertained that control becomes lost and the other side is allowed to have more power and influence over you. What Leslee's mother said was true, they cannot do anything that you won't allow here," he explained, pointing to his head, then lowering his hand over his heart he added, "inside."
Seeing that David's countenance hadn't improved, he continued, "That is the biggest problem that people have; not being able to accurately assess their potential ability along with any proscribed limits. They doubt themselves when in reality they are more than capable, yet become overconfident in other areas where they are actually quite weak. Remember the coin's edge David. There is always a way; sometimes it's just not as easily recognized."
There was nothing that any of them could say at this point. David was still filled with doubt, while Marcos and Leslee were still struggling with their inability to help against an unseen enemy who appeared to be toying with them as a cat would an unsuspecting mouse.
John himself, struggled with the uncertainty of the moment, and with what he was about to ask them to do. But he realized that he could do no more than what was required of him, nor could he offer any more help than what he had already given.
"David," he said in a deliberate tone, "you and Marcos must return to Kim's office . . . tonight."
Their protest was immediate. Marcos acting as though he were returning to the car to leave, while David shouted, "No way! I thought we were running away from danger, not into it."
John continued evenly, "There is information there that must be . . . made known publicly. Unless you do this, millions of people will perish, and even worse, billions will be deceived."
"Are you referring to Mahstia?" Leslee asked. John only looked coldly past her, somewhere into the surrounding forest. She became very uncomfortable by his changed countenance at the mention of Mahstia's name.
John then turned back to David and Marcos, who had returned from the car and continued, "It is in Kevin Smith's briefcase. Though he didn't fully understand the significance of what he had found, you will know what to do with the information once you get it."
Leslee, her curiosity adding to her persistence, wouldn't back down. "Who is Mahstia?" she demanded.
Again John's demeanor became cold, and he stiffly replied, "I must go." Once again he turned and began walking toward the forest's edge.
Leslee, undaunted by his elusive behavior, persisted even further, "Is he the one who will finally bring this world some peace? That's what he is promising. How can that be bad?"
She caught her breath as John turned around looking her squarely in the eye. "Peace. But what does that mean? Amicable coexistence? An end to war and strife? Or the elimination of all opposition? You decide."
For the first time, David could see the toll that John's silence was taking upon him. He was only saying what could be said, and it hurt him not to be able to say more. His gait no longer carried the firm resolve it had earlier as he wearily drifted toward the timberland. There was a bitter pain within John that moved David with compassion toward him.
"John!" David called out. John turned with a questioning look upon his face. David smiled as he asserted positively, "I'll see you when this is all over."
John returned the smile, though the weariness still remained in his eyes. "Yes, David," he softly replied. "When this adventure is over, we will meet again."
He turned once again and this time began to fade becoming one with the shadows. David's last statement gave him renewed hope with regards to their mission's success, though John still didn't know which side of the veil their spoken reunion would occur.

<~Chapter 32~>
Chapter Thirty-Two

Knowing that there had to be surveillance cameras along their chosen route, the frazzled trio approached the entrance to the same building that they had fled from only two nights before as though they had been through the underground parking lot hundreds of times. Despite the haunting memory of that horrifying experience still fresh in their minds, they maintained a confident gait toward their goal.
They had left their car in a grocery store parking lot two blocks away. Unsure of whether their car would be noticed or not they decided not to take any chances.
The Big Gulps and donuts they bought, along with the badges they were wearing (compliments of Kim), gave Security the impression that they were just a bunch of over-ambitious employees preparing for an all-nighter.
The only restraint to their entrance was that same palpably ominous feeling of impending danger mixed with overwhelming despair, that still radiated from the entry way. They proceeded cautiously down the now familiar corridor and warily entered the room where they had all been thrown together only two nights before.
David shuddered involuntarily as the memory of seeing Kim emotionlessly gun down Mr. Smith flashed through his mind. He was reminded of the type of people they were dealing with: those who could take another's life with little, if any, remorse. What made it worse was the apparent pleasure that was derived from doing so.
"So which office is . . . er . . . was Kim's?" Marcos whispered. Though the question was barely audible, it seemed to echo throughout the building. The thought of being discovered added to their growing anxiety.
David could only shrug his shoulders and shake his head sheepishly. He didn't know. She had never opened up this part of her life to him, and had held it so secretly that he had no idea of the darkness that she had so successfully kept
hidden from him.
They decided to do a door-to-door search, hoping that they would be able to discern which had been hers by finding something familiar to David. They didn't bother with the main working area, consisting of a number of partitioned pods, since David knew she had her own office. Instead they separated and began to try the bordering offices which went around the perimeter of the work zone.
The search soon became a discouraging mockery of their intentions as most of the doors were locked.
"This is just great!" Marcos stated under his breath. "How are we supposed to sneak through a locked door?"
"We're not," David replied confidently. "Maybe the way has already been prepared for us. Her office might be
the only one left unlocked." He was trying to encourage the others as well as himself. Remembering what John had told them about maintaining control over their emotions had helped him think of this other possibility and not give in to the wave of emotions that surged from their surroundings: frustrating anger, the torment of fear, and the hopelessness of despair.
As if in response to his positive train of thought he turned the door knob in his hand which offered no resistance. He swung the door open and gestured for Marcos to go in first, David's grin one of complete satisfaction. The success was only short term as he didn't recognize a thing that could have belonged to Kim.
"Maybe they've already moved her stuff," Marcos offered.
"No. They just found the body yesterday, and they wouldn't want to look too anxious by clearing out her belongings that soon." Again, he was trying to be optimistic, though he was beginning to wonder if they had come upon a dead end.
"Bingo!" Leslee cried out triumphantly from an adjoining room. "This has got to be it."
Before David and Marcos reached the office, Leslee emerged holding a basketball covered with several autographs. She turned the ball around so that they could see David's signature scrawled across the front of the cowhide grain.
"This was on the desk," she exclaimed as she handed David the ball and returned to the room.
The decor was more like a coach's office than a legal office. There were sports memorabilia everywhere. An autographed baseball-bat, several signed baseballs, along with a well-stocked trophy case along the far wall.
David crossed the room to the trophy case and then let out a frustrated sigh.
"It's not hers," he said remorsefully. "These trophies all belong to a Troy Baxter."
"Apparently more than just your casual fan," Marcos remarked, trying to ease some of the building tension.
"I'm sorry," Leslee whispered. "I just thought that . . ."
"It's OK," David reassured her, "we just need to keep looking. We know it's got to be here somewhere."
They had nearly come full circle in their search, a corner office and it's adjoining offices were all that were left. For some reason, none of them were very anxious to separate at this point. They huddled close together as David tried the first door only to find it locked.
"Oh well," David sighed, looking back around the offices, "a whole bunch down, two to go."
By the distance between the doors, it was evident that this corner office was much larger than the others; possibly a conference room. As they approached the doorway, they noted that the door was open and slightly ajar. They also noticed that the eerie sensation of nervous apprehension mixed with anxious excitement had intensified as they drew nearer to the door. Despite the dread their awareness instilled within them, there was also something enticing about the way the sensation made them feel.
"I don't know about you," Marcos stated holding back the urge to flee, "but I'm not going in there. I don't care if it is hers."
David, who was poised to push open the door, instead dropped his hand to his side and bluntly exclaimed, "Works for me." He then proceeded to the next office and tried the door.
Leslee noticed immediately that the grim sensation didn't dissipate as they withdrew, but didn't comment on it as she watched David enter the final office. There were empty boxes piled up in one of the corners. Whoever was in this office had either just moved or was about to.
"This is it!" David cried out as he recognized a photograph of he and Kim together. He picked it up from the desk and momentarily reflected on what he had thought were the best moments of his life, then returned it, face down, to its resting place and began to go through the drawers. Taking a cue from David, Marcos and Leslee started looking through the filing cabinets.
"Excuse me," Marcos said, pausing for a moment, "but does anybody know exactly what it is we are looking for?"
Leslee could only shrug, while David could only offer, "We'll know when we find it." He wasn't sure why he felt that way but he knew that they weren't sent here to fail. That being the case, he tried hard to remember exactly what John had told them regarding what they were to find.
"Wait a minute. John said the information was in Kevin Smith's briefcase."
"You mean the guy Kim shot?" Marcos asked.
"Yea, but I don't remember what it looked like, do you?"
"No," they replied together.
"Great!" David exclaimed looking around. "I don't even see a briefcase in here."
"Maybe it's in one of the boxes," Leslee offered, rummaging through the pile.
Most of the boxes were empty, while the others contained only papers and books. It didn't take them long to determine that there was no briefcase.
Marcos, completely bewildered, walked around the desk and sank sullenly down into Kim's chair. He looked down at the floor putting his head in his hands.
He immediately sat upright and looked up at the desk then down to the floor again.
"David, can you come here for a second? I think I've found something," he exclaimed barely containing his excitement.
David came back around the desk to where he had been sitting, but still couldn't figure out what his friend was so excited about. He gave Marcos a puzzled look and asked, "Entonces?" So? They had always used that expression when they couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was also used to indicate that you had no idea what was going on.
Marcos chuckled, pointing to the computer on top of Kim's desk. "How many computers does Kim have?"
"One," David replied feeling a little awkward about his knowledge of computers.
"Very good," Marcos chided innocently. "Now how many CPU's does she have?"
The blank expression on David's face let Marcos know that he was now talking way over David's head.
"Two," Leslee replied trying not to look too smug about it, but still taking great pleasure in being able to demonstrate her computer literacy. She turned to David and explained, "That's the box that contains the computer's guts. It's easier to remember it that way instead of the stuffy-old-techno-term: Central Processing Unit." She smiled warmly trying to let him know that she wasn't trying to show him up.
"OK," David acknowledged, "so what's your point?"
"My point is," Marcos replied, "it's not very likely that she has two CPU's connected to the same keyboard and monitor. Leslee, could you help me see how these are connected?"
To David, they appeared to be fiddling around with the two boxes, Marcos, tugging on the chords under the desk, while Leslee watched the ones connected to the CPU on top of the desk. After a moment she lifted the monitor off the box and moved the whole computer out of position revealing where the cables from under the desk ran through a little opening and then connected to the bottom of the box on top.
They removed the casing from the top box and there it was: Kevin Smith's briefcase packed neatly in front of some type of connecting interface that served as the back end of the computer making it look like everything was connected to a legitimate CPU.
"This is really quite clever," Marcos mused. "The only one's who would know the difference would have to see the whole picture from behind the desk, and even then they would have to really be paying attention before something looked out of place.
"Look," Leslee added pointing to the dismantled casing, "they've even got a functioning floppy drive hooked up."
Trying to avoid getting caught up in the techno-babble, David opened the briefcase and began sifting through the contents.
"All of this appears to be damaging to their firm, but I don't see how any of this information could save anyone's life, let alone millions," Marcos exclaimed somewhat bewildered.
"Yet it was enough to have cost Mr. Smith his life."
They had gone through all the papers, yet there didn't seem to be anything that matched John's description of great significance. Marcos, frustrated by the whole ordeal, muttered openly, "This really sucks!" He went to slam the briefcase shut, but instead knocked it off the desk, jarring a small object made of metal and plastic from its resting place in one of the side pockets of the case's lining.
Even David recognized what had fallen from the briefcase, and the impelling urge within his heart told him that they had finally found what they were looking for: a floppy disk!
Even before Leslee could pick it up, David cried out, "That's it!"
Without hesitating, Marcos turned on the computer. Leslee in turn, handed him the disk which he placed into the drive under the desk after the monitor had begun listing a string of commands that meant nothing to David.
Marcos typed furiously, at first only producing a series of undefinable characters, but after several different commands and changes, he was able to produce a completely readable document.
Leslee gasped as she read through the rather detailed text.

<~Chapter 33~>
Chapter Thirty-Three

This was no ordinary manuscript they had discovered, rather a specific blueprint outlining the organization's charter and their plans of action. The opening paragraph was an insidiously grim warning to anyone who chose to deviate from their established course, or seek to reveal any portion of the contents of the document. The range of the fatal retribution also included anyone who might appear to falter in their commission or compromise their oath of secrecy.
What followed were details pertaining to the creation of a computer virus, which, once embedded within the computer system would remain dormant until a specified time when it would disable the system for the period of thirty minutes before erasing itself and returning everything to normal.
The virus would go undetected since it was placed on the operating system disk and would be activated upon installation. They had gone to great lengths to infiltrate every Operating System, leaving nothing to chance.
"The old Commodore, Atari, Amiga, Texas Instruments," Marcos mused, "why they even got into the Timex systems. They didn't bother speculating whether or not the computer would succeed. They just made sure that the virus was everywhere.
"In order to protect their own systems," he continued, "there was an override. This consisted in a series of commands, one of which was to install a program that they had written which would de-install the virus and then serve as a watchdog to prevent it from being reinstalled on their system. This is incredible!"
Amazed, they then read in silence about how outdated computers would be destroyed rather than resold. This would eliminate the possibility of anyone accidentally obtaining a clean system.
They skimmed over the design of the resonance beam which would not only be used as a weapon but also allow them to produce the low-pitched droning noise heard around the globe. Skipping over the holographic laser projections, as well as the ionized flash that would be produced, they arrived at the part describing the preparation of a New Age Christ who would be used to induce the populace to embrace their ideology.
"This guy was handpicked and began training as a young boy." David remarked, "No wonder he was so smooth. Most of the delegation he rescued was made up of their own people. That's why they were so quick to endorse him."
He shuddered as he read about the Peace Council being established at the same time the terrorist group began training; all for a demonstration of their chosen impostor's potential power. No names were listed, but it even described how one innocent member of the delegation would have to be picked as the scapegoat for the treachery involved in staging the terrorist attack and subsequent kidnapping.
"They didn't miss a thing," David thought out loud, "and though they had all the right people in the right positions to have forced their ideas upon the people, they still chose the route of deception on top of all else they were doing."
They were just starting to read about how New York would be destroyed by a meteor when Marcos fiercely attacked the keyboard with his fingers, issuing commands which brought up a short listing of names and dates.
Seeing the list, Marcos shook his head in disbelief. "There's no way!" he moaned.
"What's up?" David asked, unsure of why Marcos stopped when he had.
"David," Marcos explained, "this document was written on a UNIX system back in 1976, when DOS was just a radical idea in Bill Gates' head. Yet somehow they knew, and were preparing for it and all the other things this document entails."
"When I read about the meteor," he continued, "I had to know when they had written all of this up, or if it had been updated. But it still has the original date on it. HOW COULD THEY KNOW?!?"
"What are the other files?" Leslee asked somewhat agitated. She was becoming anxious to finish their objective, especially now that they knew the nature of the information they now possessed. The stress was starting to wear on her too as it seemed that something was starting to close in around them as they read further.
Marcos noted that the dates on all the other files were more recent than the original blueprint file. He picked out one that was only a few years old and brought it up legibly to the screen.
It was a developmental summary on Mahstia's training. The report mentioned Mahstia by name as well as his mentor's personal comments as to how well he was doing.
"These are like addendums to the original document. Like a progress report for their plan."
Marcos, completely absorbed in what he was finding out, rubbed his hands vigorously to ward off a chill as he sought to bring up the most recent file on the disk. It being dated only one week earlier.
"Not a very big file," he muttered as he pressed the Enter key and waited for the text to come up on the screen.
A hollow feeling began to swell deep within as David read the brief dispatch, a deeper understanding of John's obscure message coming over him as well.
The message read:

RE: OPERATION DESTROYING ANGEL
OBJECT LOCATED IN APPOINTED SECTOR. SPEED AND TRAJECTORY ARE SUCH THAT IT WOULD HAVE GONE UNOBSERVED HAD WE NOT BROKEN FROM OUR STANDARD OBSERVATION PATTERN AS INDICATED.
PUBLIC SUPPRESSION MEASURES ALREADY INITIATED. THERE HAS BEEN NO BREACH OF CONFIDENCE. INFORMATION HAS BEEN SAFELY ALTERED AT OUR SITE.
INFORMATION IS CONCLUSIVE. NO FURTHER TRANSMISSIONS NECESSARY. REQUESTED DATA IS AS FOLLOWS:
CALCULATED TIME NECESSARY FOR SAFE EVACUATION OF AREA AT RISK: 48-72 HOURS.
ESTIMATED TIME OF POSSIBLE THIRD-PARTY DETECTION AND EARLY WARNING: 15 SECONDS PRIOR TO IMPACT.
ESTIMATED SIZE: APPROXIMATELY 100 METERS IN DIAMETER.
ESTIMATED TIME OF COLLISION: WITHIN 9 DAYS, 5 HOURS, 14 MINUTES.
MARGIN OF ERROR: 2.0% (72 SECONDS)
ESTIMATED POINT OF IMPACT: NEW YORK CITY.
ESTIMATED DAMAGE: INCALCULABLE.

"Oh man," David gasped. "It's really going to happen. The whole thing is a deceitful illusion, yet the only lie regarding his calling down fire from the heavens has to do with where it really came from. Those who believe will evacuate, and then witness this phony miracle only to go on following the lie, while the skeptics who remain are wiped out."
"Well," Marcos offered, "I know what we can do. It will take some time and I'll need Leslee's help. You stand guard and let us know if anyone is coming."
Seeing David's questioning look, he commented, "At least she knows what a CPU is."
"I know, I know," David responded not trying to hide his disappointment as he backed out of the office.
"Will you be OK?" Leslee asked. Her face reflecting a genuine concern that lifted David's heart enough to smile slightly.
Putting on his best British manner he ordered, "Now don't you two be dawdling. Have at it and be quick about it now, won't you?"
He was about to close the door behind him, but didn't feel comfortable with the thought of having the door completely shut, and left it open about an inch. The sight of the open doorway reminded him of how the door to the corner office they had chosen not to explore had been, causing his smile to fade away.
Glancing toward the source of his anxiety, he caught his breath as his mind tried to cope with what he now saw: the office door was now completely open and, though he wasn't completely certain, there appeared to be movement within the dark chamber.

<~Chapter 34~>
Chapter Thirty-Four

The sensation emanating from the room was both loathsome and enticing at the same time. Without realizing what he was doing, David cautiously approached the doorway. He paused at the threshold and reached in, fumbling for the light switch.
A slight tickle ran across the back of his hand, causing him to frantically recoil his arm while shaking his wrist in a frenzied attempt to dislodge its source.
He caught a glimpse of a fairly good sized spider as it ran back under the door, the shiny, rounded body like polished onyx with its long delicate appendages clearly indicating the species. No doubt it retreated to the corner of the room to wait upon some other unsuspecting victim to stick his head behind the door.
"Let the janitor find it," David cajoled, trying desperately not to let an overactive mind get the best of him. He went to shut the door, but couldn't force his hand to grasp the doorknob.
David began to pace back and forth between the two doorways, wishing that his two friends would hurry; silently hoping that nothing would happen.
A piece of paper fell from one of the desks and fluttered gently to the floor, rocking from side to side like a small child in its mother's arms. He walked over and was about to pick it up, when a blast of cold air swept it from his reach, almost causing him to stumble to the floor. David turned to see where the breeze could have come from but seeing nothing, returned to his pursuit of the fallen paper; but it was gone. He looked under the desk, but it was nowhere to be found. Beads of sweat began to form on David's forehead as he fought to suppress the panic that was building inside of him.
It was then that he heard the muffled sound of padded footsteps along the carpet. This wasn't the distant sound of someone approaching from far off, but rather it seemed as though a presence were pacing directly in front of him; though he was unable to make out any kind of form.
There was more movement in one of the darker corners of the office area, but upon closer examination it was only a potted tree amidst a cluster of house plants swaying in the breeze. But there was no breeze, and though the plants were interspersed about the tree, they showed no signs of an agitating draft. There was little else that David could do to resist the overwhelming fear that was taking control of his senses. He was about to make a mad dash for Kim's office, when a voice from beyond this world called out, "Stay David, we've been waiting for you."
His limbs wouldn't respond as he attempted to will his way back to his friends. Panic completely seized him as he found himself unable to cry out for help; his voice having found refuge in some far away place deep within him.
Tears of apprehension streamed down his face as he watched the murky sensation, which was now growing to become a completely tangible force. The shadowy gloom forming an ebony hollow in the wall before him. From the recesses of that endless cavern came forth a presence that David immediately recognized, while at the same time he also knew that the voice which Russ was using, was not his own.
"So good of you to join us, David," the voice reverberated in a harsh whisper. He was standing directly between David and Kim's office, a sardonic grin on his wicked face.
David backed away slowly, his legs finally reacting to the urgent commands streaming from his mind. He continued his arduous retreat, Russ matching his pace step by step, until David bumped into the wall. The wall behind him only adding to the trapped sensation he was trying so desperately to deal with.
Though he couldn't utter the words vocally, he tried to formulate a command which would free him from this awful situation, yet his panicked state wouldn't allow him to concentrate, returning instead to the possible consequences of his failure.
"You seem tense, David," Russ mocked spitefully. "Is there something I could do that might put you at ease? You know, a last request so to speak."
David could only shake his head in defiance. His back pressed firmly against the wall, he began to slide along the wall hopelessly trying to maintain his distance from the malevolent creature now taunting him.
"Look at it this way, David," Russ sneered, "you'll be rejoining your precious father after all these years."
Though he was standing some fifteen feet away, David could still feel the evil essence that emanated from this unnatural being.
Russ took in a deep breath. His image wavered in a slight blur as he began, "Won't . . ."
There was no movement, only a negligible flicker. 
". . . he be surprised!" he finished, his face abruptly looming before David's, now only inches between them.
Absolute terror fell upon David as his eyeballs nearly burst from their sockets from the strain of having to refocus so suddenly. He shut his eyes in an attempt to escape the malicious glare that came from deep within Russ, from a being that was not only acquainted with David, but also held an intense hatred for him. That hatred's origin must have formed long before he had entered this life.
"Then we'll be even for the surprise he gave me," the Stalker continued, "when I found him in the truck instead of you."
What this creature had just said aroused a long dormant anger that David had suppressed long ago. He had covered it over with the guilt of not having been there when the accident had occurred. But now, this creature was implying that it was no accident. His eyes flashed open, no longer fearing the torment from the creature's heartless stare.
"BOO!" the creature cried with delight.
David wretched on the repulsive stench which emanated from Russ' mouth. The nauseating odor far exceeding that of a rotting corpse. An overpowering smell, made up of excessive sweetness far removed from anything produced by death. It not only took the breath away, but forcibly sought to replace it with its own smothering foulness.
"What do you mean, when you found my dad instead of me?" David challenged, defiantly. He knew he was balancing precariously on the line between anger and total rage, but the shame he had carried over himself for all of these years demanded an explanation of what had really happened. "Are you saying it wasn't an accident?"
"The only accident was that you weren't there! The only thing that made up for it was watching your father die. You see, when I came up to the door, your father thought I was there to help him. But when I held the door shut so that he couldn't escape, it added an element of outrage to the fear of death he was already experiencing. I wasn't sure whether I would ever have the opportunity again of savoring those two emotions at once . . . until now."
David's body went cold, the meaning of what the Stalker had said becoming crystal clear. Still, the understanding of what had really happened to his father allowed his anger to surpass his fear and he swung viciously at Russ' jeering face. The blow didn't even come close to its intended target, but his momentum became augmented by an unseen force which whirled him around and sent him reeling into the wall.
The impact knocked the breath out of him, but did nothing to dispel his burning fury. Bending over in an attempt to catch his breath, David never took his eyes off the patiently advancing Stalker.
"Let's see, it seems to me that you rather dislike not being able to breathe," the creature heckled. "Funny, your dad didn't seem to mind at all. As a matter of fact, he seemed to welcome it once he realized I wasn't going to do anything but . . . watch."
Once the oxygen's sustaining flow had dispelled the thought that he might never breathe again, David threw himself impetuously in one mighty lunge at Russ in an attempt to knock him off his feet. His headlong charge was intercepted by an unyielding force so perversely powerful that it caught him in midair and, like a tennis ball being struck by an unseen racket, sent him flying across the room. The blow was caused by such a tremendous burst of energy that he became a human battering ram literally thrust through the closed office door, the wood casing exploding in a shower of stinging splinters. David's entire body began to throb in protest of the treatment it had just received and the vertigo in his head wouldn't allow him to rise to his feet.
Marcos and Leslee flinched visibly at the crashing sound coming from the work area.
"What was that!?" Leslee asked heading for the door.
"Wait," Marcos ordered, "if we don't get these files out now, then everything we've gone through will have been for nothing."
Leslee pleaded, "But David . . ."
Marcos cut her off briskly, saying, "David knew what we were getting into. We can't leave this office without knowing that millions of people could be spared provided that we have successfully warned them in time."
Leslee began to sob uncontrollably. She knew he was right, but still she found it hard to resist the urge to be by David's side.
"Leslee, even if it's the only thing to leave this building, we have to get that message out."
She nodded, then softly implored. "OK, but let's just send what we need to and you can show me what to do. Then go help David!"
Marcos nodded, hoping to reassure her but secretly thinking, "I only hope that I can."
Seeing that David was still conscious after the brutal display of his power, Russ hesitated briefly in the demolished doorway. He fought to understand the abnormal resistance that David was somehow able to muster and marveled at what it might take to finish him off. The prospect sent a surge of exhilaration up his spine.
As David lay sprawled amidst the broken door fragments between the desk and the trophy case, an autographed baseball fell to the floor beside him. Despite the pulsating pain that coursed throughout his body he reached out for the ball. Gripping it firmly in his fist, he threw it with all the force his aching arm could muster.
His aim was true as the ball raced toward its intended target. But again, only inches away from impact the ball careened wildly, arching up and away from Russ, bursting through a ceiling panel out of sight.
"Well David, I must admit that you are trying . . . VERY TRYING! You must get that from your mother. We know how spineless your dad was. You know he didn't even try to force the door open once he realized I wasn't going to help him. He just gave up." Russ shrugged as the beast within him cherished and fed upon the resurgent flow of emotions streaming from David's soul.
"Liar!" David screamed, his face now livid with pain and rage. He was about to attack Russ again for what may have been his last attempt, when just behind Russ, standing in the doorway just above the ground was the resplendent figure of David's father. His face was calm despite the malady taking place within the room. His presence giving David a calming reassurance that quickly dissipated his wrath.
"David," he gently spoke, "you must control your emotions. That is the only way in which you can hold an advantage."
Russ whirled about like a dog who had just had its tail maliciously pulled, and spat, "What are you doing here? You can't deny that I watched you die. I may not have been inhabiting this body, but I was there just the same. Now you can tell your son what a humiliating death you suffered, just as he is about to suffer now."
David Sr. simply ignored the comment and continued his message saying, "Death is not to be feared. It's as much a part of life as birth is. And it doesn't matter how, where or even when you die, David. It's how you live that counts."
"Then why do you still walk among the living?" the creature howled. "Is the life hereafter so dismal that you feel compelled to remain here among these miserable mortals?"
Treating Russ as though he weren't even there, David's father added, "My life was full of joy, for that was how I chose to live it. And now I am still filled with joy and peace, surpassing anything I ever experienced or even imagined here on earth. Don't try to avenge me, Son. Despite the lies this miserable creature has told you, I would not change the events that have led me to where I am. Yes, I am dead, but I am also quite content."
"YOU ARE THE ONE WHO LIES!" the creature shrieked hysterically lashing out wildly at the air.
"David, you should know that there is more than one way to look at things. After all, you have the reminder there, in your pocket. That is where you will find the answer." As he spoke those last words his image began to fade, but his voice spoke softly even after his figure had completely vanished from sight, "Give your mother my love. I will love you both, always."
Tears streaming down his face, David softly whispered, "I love you too, Dad. I love you too." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the never-to-be-forgotten coin, holding it up in his cupped hand so that Russ couldn't see what he held. There, next to George Washington's head was the answer his father had referred to. He focused upon it as the creature within Russ began to rant and rave in frantic frenzy.
David felt a sense of composure envelop him like a glass bubble and he became totally separated from the tormenting rage and ruin of his surroundings. The mad howling that emanated from Russ sounding more like the rustle of a far distant wind.
"WHAT IS THAT IN YOUR HAND!?!? WHAT DOES IT SAY!?!?" he screeched spitefully.
The question seemed to penetrate the trance David had been in as he slowly looked up, a slight grin upon his face as he tossed the coin lightly into the air.
"In God we trust," he responded as the coin spun toward its resting place on the floor. It bounced mildly then began to roll on its side. Once again the coin wobbled slightly, then slowed its pace until finally coming to a complete stop . . . still standing upon its edge.
Russ looked down incredulously, his face a mask of fury and amazement. "What . . ."
But before he could even finish his statement, David had calmly raised his arm and reproved the fiend saying, "I command you to depart, and forbid you to return."
There was a warm rush of wind that swept past David as he finished his sentence and Russ began to howl and writhe in agonizing pain. A look of disbelief covered his face as he clutched his mid-section and began to crumple to the floor. Even as he lowered himself to the carpet, a still imposing shadowy figure lifted itself from his frame and hissed
menacingly at David. It stood there suspended above him, as if waiting to see if David would lose his resolve, then abruptly vanished.
Slowly, David stepped over the fallen body of Russ. He stepped into the hallway and looked toward the office where his two friends were, and let out a sigh of relief.
It was soon followed by a stifled groan as David felt a crushing blow along his shoulder blades that sent him sprawling to the floor. He was able to catch himself and turn around in time to see Russ standing behind him; a baseball-bat in his hands.
"You can't just wish me away, David," he said, his teeth clenched to fight back the anguish. "I have a job to do and I'm not going to leave until it's done!"
He then lunged at David feigning another blow to the body, but instead turning the bat around and jabbing David squarely in the throat.
David's teeth rattled as the bat handle struck his jaw while being pulled back. David immediately began sputtering and coughing as he fought to regain his breath. His body already intensely embroiled in tormenting agony, David was completely taken off guard by this added stinging sensation that erupted from his throat surprisingly surpassing all previous anguish. 
He had already imagined himself incapable of experiencing any more pain, but this latest blow made him realize that there must be several more levels of affliction that he had yet to endure in his grief-stricken life.
The room began to spin around wildly as the dizziness from lack of oxygen began to set in. David stumbled passed Russ who raised the bat to deliver another smashing blow to the head, but David was able to raise his arm so that the bat collided with the underside of his elbow with a bone-
shattering crunch. The force of the blow raised David's arm awkwardly, painfully ripping the shoulder from its socket and knocking David back through the shattered doorway.
As he fell upon the desk, he caught a glimpse of the coin resting on the floor, still standing on its edge, immovable as before. He reached across the desk in an effort to help himself back up when his fingers ran across an old familiar grain. He picked up the basketball and stumbled back into the work area. Russ was already heading for Kim's office using all the stealth he could muster, when he caught sight of David trying to sneak up from behind.
He turned swiftly, then seeing the basketball in David's hands, he started to laugh. "Is that the best you can do, huh Sport?" he chuckled somewhat amused. He strode deliberately toward David, daring him to try anything.
Russ didn't even hesitate as David raised the ball over his right shoulder and thrust it toward him. The ball skipped harmlessly past him as it spun around the corner.
"Nice pass," Russ taunted, "but I would say that your best days are definitely behind you."
David tried not to look surprised at Russ' recognition of what he had done. It was intended to be a pass and David looked beyond Russ to the doorway he had actually aimed for. The opening had widened indicating that his pass had struck his intended target, but the door quickly closed again, without any sign of relief from within.
Then, in a vindictive rage, Russ spun David around and began choking him with the baseball-bat. Darkness began to gather around him as the bat was pressed against his already sore neck. Fresh pain surged from the focal point of the attack as he found there was little he could do to resist the pressure that quickly closed off his supply of air.
Russ chided gleefully, "You know what your problem is David? You just don't know when to die, that's all. They've sent assassins, Stalkers, and who knows what else after you and yet, you're still here. Well not this time. No, I am going to make sure that I succeed where all of these others have failed."
He bent down, putting his mouth up next to David's ear and shouted, "You know what that means, don't you?"
David could barely hear the response that came from somewhere just behind them as he was on the brink of passing out.
"Arbor day comes early this year!" Marcos bellowed as he struck Russ squarely across the head with the potted tree from the corner arrangement; ceramic shards went flying in all directions as the pot smashed into pieces. The bat fell from Russ' limp hands and hit the floor simultaneously with his body.

<~Chapter 35~>
Chapter Thirty-Five

Marcos half-dragged David's crumpled body back into the office where he had left Leslee.
Seeing David's fallen condition, she left her post and hurried to his side. "Is he alright?" she asked Marcos nervously.
"He's alive," Marcos whispered in relief, "but he wouldn't have been if I hadn't gone out when I did. Did you send out all of the files?"
"Not all of them," she admitted. "When you left I had just finished sending the blueprint along with the opening header you created. I . . . got scared so I started sending that last file about the comet or whatever hitting New York. I
didn't think we would be able to send any more and I wanted to make certain . . ."
"You WON'T be sending anything ever again!!" Russ shouted from the doorway taking them all by surprise.
Marcos felt a flash of panic as he remembered John's warning about the futility of attacking a Stalker physically. He couldn't believe that Russ could have recovered so quickly from such a blow, unless it wasn't just Russ.
David sensed Marcos' trepidation as to Russ' capacity. "It's . . . just . . . him," he sputtered trying to spur him on.
Understanding the meaning behind what David had said, Marcos positioned himself between Russ and the others and ordered, "As soon as that last file has been sent, take the disk and David to the car. Don't wait more than one minute for me. If anyone shows up before I do, then you'll know that I won't be coming."
Not taking his eyes off of Russ, Marcos tried to think of how he could clear an escape route for Leslee and David while still avoiding his own capture or worse.
Russ' face was held in a contorted mixture of outrage, distress and shame. It was clear that he had not anticipated the level of resistance he would be facing and was now grieving over his lack of preparation and regrettably wishing he had not been so overconfident.
Russ reached for his jacket, which triggered a reaction within Marcos to lunge forward at Russ. The momentum of the impact sent them both rolling in a ball of intertwined arms and legs. A black metal object spun away from Russ' grasp sliding across the carpeted floor, exactly as Marcos had intended. He was relieved somewhat to see that it was not the handgun he had expected, rather a short-wave radio.
He had also expected Russ to go after David, but was taken off guard as Russ scrambled urgently in the opposite direction after the radio.
Scooping it up he shouted urgently into the receiver, "Shadow Two to Security. The warranty is about to expire! Repeat. . . ." Before he could say any more Marcos punched at his stomach knocking the wind out of him.
Marcos could tell that Russ was weakened and not fully coherent of what was going on. As he tried to wrestle the radio out of Russ' hand, he was amazed at how savagely he fought to retain the device. Clutching it firmly in his hand, he swung out at Marcos striking him across the side of the head causing a dizzying effect of flashing sparks to appear about him.
Despite Russ' weakened condition, his fear of failure was now driving him beyond the physical norm. His adrenalized attack forced Marcos back into Kim's office. Uncertainty compelled Marcos to abandon any thought of personal safety as he commanded firmly, "Get out of here now!!"
Leslee was watching the screen so intently, she was only mildly aware that the raucous melee had returned to the office. It was only when Marcos shouted out and she saw the word Completed flash onto the screen that she sprang into action.
She jabbed at the button on the floppy drive, snatching the floppy disk as it began to emerge from the slot. Paying no attention to David's protest of pain, she jerked him to his feet and prodded him forward mercilessly. She was determined to see to it that they both got out of there alive.
Marcos threw himself wildly at Russ, wrapping his arms and legs around his torso in an attempt to take him to the ground, but he was somehow able to maintain his balance and began to pummel Marcos' rib cage with a barrage of stinging blows.
Acting as though he were overcome by the assault Marcos eased his grip and began to slowly slide to the floor.
Meanwhile, Russ having become totally obsessed by the fear of losing David, disregarded Marcos completely as he saw David and Leslee fleeing the office area. He was about to rush after them when he was grabbed from behind by the shirt collar and drug to the ground.
Marcos began to twist the shirt collar, tightening the choking grip around Russ' neck as he did. Russ began to frantically thrash about in an attempt to release himself from Marcos' hold but to no avail. Marcos had positioned himself underneath Russ with his head directly between Russ' shoulder blades. As long as he maintained his hold, which prevented Russ from raising up, the ground and Russ' own body prevented him from being able to grasp or strike out at Marcos.
It didn't take long for Russ to lose consciousness and Marcos immediately loosened his grip once Russ had clearly succumbed. He may have been justified in taking Russ' life, but he would feel more secure in knowing that he wouldn't have to plead his case to a higher authority; one who couldn't be swayed by a clever argument or rationale.
Not knowing how much time had expired since the others had fled, Marcos bolted for the exit hoping that he would still be able to catch up with David and Leslee.
She was just starting the car as Marcos approached. He could see that she wasn't going to be caught off guard waiting to recognize the approaching figure.
As she was unlocking the door, Marcos' frame was illuminated by the headlights from several oncoming cars.
"They must have seen me running from the building," Marcos cried, openly disgusted. He slid into the driver's seat and quickly threw the car in gear, allowing the forward thrust to slam his door shut. They entered the street with the rear tires spinning, narrowly beating their pursuer's attempt to cut them off.
Marcos opted to try and lose them rather than try to outrun them. He pitched the car into the first corner they came to, the back end sliding around the turn though maintaining control.
The pursuing cars made the corner just as easily though one of the trailing cars, in his exuberance to catch up, butted the rear fender of preceding vehicle just enough to send him skidding onto the sidewalk. The driver was somehow able to control the car enough to avoid a collision with the building, but was forced to come to a complete stop taking himself completely out of the chase.
"Maybe, if I hold on long enough, they will all take themselves out," Marcos mused, trying to calm himself. They could not afford any miscalculation or emotionally-driven mistake at this point. He had to think clearly.
The driver's side mirror instantly shattered into a web of cracked glass and though he heard no gunfire he knew that bullets were being fired. They needed a plan, and they needed it now!
He was so engrossed in the automobiles that were following that he didn't even recognize the oncoming police cars that immediately turned on their flashing lights as they spun their vehicles around to join in the chase.
Seeing the added pursuit made Marcos' decision final. It seemed like the only choice they had.
Heading for the foothills, he began to climb one of the steeper inclines hoping that he would be able to gain a little distance on the slope.
Without breaking he spun the car into a wooded lane that could have easily been missed if he hadn't already known of its existence.
The narrow street stretched across the crest of a good sized hill overlooking a small park below. To the right stood a beautiful church house surrounded in horseshoe style on three sides by an oversized parking lot. An extra wide sidewalk ran along the narrow lane crossing the front of the churchyard which joined the two entryways to the parking lot. In the middle of the front yard, adjacent to the sidewalk, stood a tall flag pole, planted firmly within a solid concrete foundation. The foundation sloped from its top to the much wider base below giving it the appearance of a small, flat-topped pyramid.
Marcos recalled that there had been a chain-linked fence which ran between the sidewalk and the street across the front. He also remembered that in order to discourage any drive-thru traffic they had blocked off both ends of the street with two padlocked gates and installed imposing speed bumps throughout the parking lot.
But the fence was now gone; replaced by a sturdy cinder-block wall and the padlocked gates had been replaced by thick iron-barred portals which formed an impenetrable barrier preventing any would be passers-by from crossing. Though these imposing changes caught Marcos somewhat by surprise, his plan did not change whatsoever.
Turning the car as if to enter the parking lot, Marcos quickly swerved onto the sidewalk and bolted forward following the course of the cement pathway; only one set of tires resting on the concrete. The right side tires briefly churned up the turf before adjusting to the wet conditions of the newly watered lawn. Marcos focused intently on the center of the narrow gap between the cinder-block wall and the flag pole.
Leslee, certain that they were going to collide, apprehensively recoiled from her doorway as they drew nearer to the flag pole.
"Slow down!" she wailed, shutting her eyes.
But Marcos was oblivious to her cry as he aimed the vehicle straight for an imagined point somewhere in the distance, hoping that the car was perfectly centered.
There was a slight jolt that caused them all to flinch as the tires nicked the base of the flag pole and Marcos let out a long sigh of relief as they cleared the narrow passage. He then checked his rear-view mirror to see if his plan had truly succeeded.
The first car attempted to swerve out across the lawn rather than follow them between the fence and the flag pole; but the last second decision resulted instead in a frenzied spin that sent the vehicle reeling across the lawn toward the building. They came to an abrupt halt as they collided with the masonry work of one of the brick planters.
The next ensuing car, undaunted by the obstacles before him and seemingly indifferent toward the lack of success achieved by its predecessor, raced carelessly toward its ultimate goal: directly at Marcos.
In the light of the street light overhead Marcos could see the driver's face clearly enough to recognize Russ' haunted face hunched over the steering wheel. He then understood the lack of caution being taken.
Though the margin of difference between Marcos'
passing and Russ' attempt only varied in inches, it was enough so that when his front tire-which struck at a higher level along the flag pole base-crashed into the cement, the front end of the car was lifted up and the vehicle was tossed toward the wall. Upon striking the cinder block barrier the back end was thrown back around and the car ricocheted back into the flag pole.
Instead of being bent or broken, the flag pole remained immovable slicing through the passenger cabin, ejecting Russ as it did. His momentum was abruptly terminated upon colliding with the wall and his limp, lifeless form slid to the ground.
David, watching from the rear window, thought he could make out the shape of another shadowy figure standing over Russ' inert remains, howling in lament. The face, so visibly contorted in derisive torment that he hardly recognized it as belonging to Russ. The tortured image quickly vanished, leaving David to wonder whether Russ was suffering more now than he ever had in life.
David's mystified trance was immediately broken by flashing lights and an amplified voice crying, "Get out of the car!! Keep your hands in sight and step away from the vehicle!!"
From out of nowhere there had appeared several police vehicles which had strategically positioned themselves preventing any means of escape. The officers were now crouched down behind their open doors, guns drawn and ordering them to give themselves up.
David glanced back at the other car and could see that they had already cuffed its occupants who were now laying face down on the damp ground.
"Sorry guys," Marcos lamented, putting his hands up in the air. "Game over. At least we got the message out."
Once he had stepped out of the car, he was immediately seized upon and forced to the ground.
"Your name!" one of the officers demanded.
"Marcos Vigil."
"Where's David?!?"
"He's in the car. But he's pretty beat up," Leslee volunteered as she stepped from the car.
Marcos was about to protest when he noted that the officers had returned their guns to their holsters. One of the men came over helping him to his feet.
"Sorry about the rough treatment," the officer apologized, "but we were told there might be a hostage situation and we had to be certain of who was who."
"Tom!" another officer shouted from the back seat of Marcos' car, "we've got to get this guy to a doctor quick. I think he's going to be alright, but he's in an awful lot of pain."
Marcos helped the men remove David from the car and they placed him gently in the back seat of the police vehicle. He was about to close the door when the officer interceded and gestured for Marcos to enter as well.
"Am I under arrest?" Marcos asked.
"Oh, no. We just want you to come with us," he explained.
"I think I'll just follow along in my brother's car. I promised I'd . . ."
"Mr. Vigil," the policeman interrupted, "nothing will happen to the car . . . or yourselves. We want to take you for your protection. It's our understanding that your lives are in danger because of the information that you sent out over the Internet. We have already sent someone over to David's mother's and she will meet us at the station."
"Excuse me for sounding a bit skeptical, but I just find it a little too convenient for you guys to show up here; and at just the right time." He wasn't sure how they would react to his statement, but he was prepared for the worst.
Instead they began to chuckle amongst themselves. "Look," the officer offered, "David needs to be looked at now. Get in the car and we'll explain it on the way, but we aren't going to leave without both of you. So if you want to help David, you'll get in the car . . . please."
Marcos sensed the sincerity behind the officer's words and got in.
"We were more than a little skeptical ourselves when we first got here. You see, we got this 911 call that sounded more like a prank than anything I'd ever heard before. This guy tells us to be at this address no later than 11:00. Says there is someone out to kill the three of you, and that you need to be protected.
"So we asked him how he knew all of this and whether he was a witness. He goes on to say that it hasn't happened yet, but it will. He gave us the address of David's mother and said that someone needed to pick her up. The guy also gave us the address of the law firm you were coming from but said that there was no point in going there."
"We sent the other two squad cars over after we had been here for a few minutes, thinking maybe that was where he had called from," the other officer added.
"Yea, when they radioed that you guys were on your way . . . well, it was a little spooky," the driver admitted.
"So you sent out all these men based on that story?" Marcos asked, still not certain that they were safe.
"Oh, the story gets even more crazy than that," the driver continued. "We decided it was a prank and tried to trace the call. But no matter how long we kept him on the line, our instruments wouldn't function. They basically treated the call as untraceable. Finally when we asked why they would want to go after you, he explains that it was because you knew about how New York would be destroyed the day after tomorrow." He began to chuckle as he recalled the dispatch.
"But just a few minutes before you guys came, we got a report of the message you sent over the Internet. That's when two and two quickly became four and we all of sudden got quite serious."
Glancing back at Marcos he commented, "That was a nice piece of driving back there, but I've got the feeling that you weren't just lucky to have made it through that gap between the wall and flag pole. You've done that before, haven't you?"
Marcos' grin spread from ear to ear, then replied
mischievously, "Hundreds of times! They didn't stand a chance." The entire car filled with laughter. Even David mustered a smile in spite of his pain. But the smile was replaced by a look of shock as Marcos leaned over and whispered candidly, "On a motorcycle."
Leslee didn't hear the remark, but asked the officers, "So do you know who called?"
"Oh yeah," they said in unison, giving each other a knowing wink.
"We tried to get a name out of him, and he always would respond, 'John'. So when we pushed him for a last name he says, 'John! Just John!'" They erupted in another explosion of nervous laughter, though the mood in the back seat didn't reflect their frivolity.
David's heart swelled with gratitude toward this once mysterious stranger and he inwardly hoped that he would be able to see him again to personally offer his thanks for all that he had done.
For the first time since the death of his father, David finally felt at peace with what had taken place throughout his life.
Out of habit, David reached into his left pocket to feel the reassurance of that long kept token of the miracles that had accompanied his life's journey. He paused as he remembered tossing it on the office floor back at the law firm, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he buried it further where it was greeted by the familiar metal wafer that had occupied that space for so many years.
David no longer questioned how, nor did he ponder over why it had been returned. Instead he remained grateful for its reminder that very few things are actually as they seem. It helped him understand that he couldn't take life at its face value, rather he would have to look at things more from the edge.

<~Epilogue~>
Epilogue

Two men strolled wistfully through some of the darker recesses of Central Park, their minds focused more on the conversation than their destination.
To some they may have given the impression of being easy prey, strolling carelessly about after dark. But to those who knew who these men were, it was understood all too well that if someone were foolish enough to attack them, there would be little doubt as to who would actually be the victim.
"Then it has only been a set back, nothing more?" the shorter one questioned.
"Yes, and . . . no," the other responded. "It's nothing we hadn't been forewarned about, but I hadn't anticipated it to come about this soon. Because of this, we can't afford to deviate in any way from our course. Instructions must be followed to the letter and even the slightest hesitation must be taken as a sign of weakness and dealt with immediately. You must leave tonight and make sure that there is no more trace of the law firm."
"Understood. What about Mahstia?"
They came to a stop as they faced each other. The taller of the two looked upon the other with sincere regard. His lips formed a slightly amused smile, though his eyes still carried the promise of extreme malice as he spoke, "Mahstia will be fine, though he is about to fully receive a deadly wound."
"Remember," he warned, "it must be by the sword. But he will be healed. It has all been foretold, even in their ill-wrought scripture." His hand swatted at the air in a disdainful gesture.
His grin broadened as he looked out upon an imagined new world. "Yes, they even foretell the promises which await."
Giving a farewell gesture, he turned and began walking away, quoting as he went, "And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations."
"And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him . . ."
The voice faded as he became one with the shadows leaving only a disturbing stillness which hung in the air.

THE END