

BLACK HONEY II

The Blac Girl Killer

by Dennis Osondu

Copyright 2013 by Dennis Osondu

Edited by Lashawn Gholson

Cover model: Lashawn Gholson

Smashwords Edition

This free ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be given away or resold to other people. You went through the trouble of finding it, and we thank you profusely. If you would like to share this ebook with another person however, please have them go to smashwords.com and let them get their own copy.

Thanks.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, and rather scary.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is without a doubt the most controversial urban fiction novel you will ever read. I caution you that many of the ideas presented here, may shock you. Some of the language may shock you. I make no apologies for the writing. But, make no mistake about it, this is the new template for urban fiction. Accept no substitutes.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

"For all black honies."

FOR STEPHEN KING

"Hile, gunslinger...!"

PART ONE

SATAN'S CAMARRO

...

CHAPTER ONE

The attractive woman in the tight, white, Roccawear ski-jacket exhaled in frustration. "But, the Post specifically said they're after us!" she was insisting, turning to address the people standing closest to her. Some short black woman who was shivering in a coat that seemed a size too small for her, and a Hindu man who was bundled up in a dirty green, moth eaten army jacket.

He wore a red and black checkered lumberjack's hat, and the brim was pulled very low. So low, it nearly covered his eyes. Eyes he was currently squinting against the frigid winds, as he and the female moved a cautious step away from the loud woman, both of them eyeing her warily.

"They said all of 'em had dark skin," she went on, "nigga shaved them bald with a razorblade or something, chopped 'em up, and stuffed 'em in plastic bags! The cops found the bags inside a dumpster over on Singleton Road, it was like ten of them motherfuckers and shit!"

Somewhere, a female said: "Oh my God!" in a low voice that Dawn barely heard above the gusting wind.

"You believe that shit?" the woman continued, surveying the crowd as if looking for the female who had just spoken. "What the fuck is wrong with niggas out here?" she said, "why are they so fucking angry? This last makes what, like seven and shit? This bullshit's getting outta hand!"

Dawn Laurelton, tired of dwelling inside her own mind, had decided to listen to the conversation this time; as depressing as it was. Maybe it will be different this time, she thought. Maybe hearing people talking would take her mind off the bone-chilling cold, instead of making her feel worse.

People behind her were murmuring again; it was a jumble of words she couldn't decipher, and nearly seemed like a foreign language. Like she'd suddenly transported to another planet where nobody spoke a lick of English.

A black guy in a bright yellow parka, said: "Go on thinking he's after blacks if you want, but you don't know that for sure, now do you? Maybe he's just starting with them?" he said, "or maybe that's who he happened to come across while looking for victims?"

He paused and added: "I wouldn't be so quick to label this evil motherfucker just yet!"

There was more noise from the crowd. Dawn could tell the topic was finally catching people's attention, making them discuss it. Lately, it was all she really heard when she came down to the center. Shivering, she glanced up at the five story building looming above them; it was made of dark, ominous brick (though most of the bricks were covered with a layer of snow), and the faint light coming through the large penitentiary style windows, only made her feel more despondent.

The man shrugged, adjusting his silver Beats By Dr. Dre headphones on his ears. Dawn shivered again, and regarded him with a slight frown. She'd never seen that color on headphones before—at least, not on the ones Dr. Dre sold.

And there was something almost weird about it, she thought.

The silver seemed to shimmer as if in sunlight, when the skies above her were filled with dark, brooding clouds. She hadn't seen the sun for some time, and in truth, the skies appeared to be steadily darkening.

"I got three daughters," the man said. "I ain't telling them not to worry just 'cause they light skin." He frowned. "How that bullshit sound?" he said. "If some strange man with a knife approaches you Lisa, just rub your arms and face, and say: look Mr. Crazy Killer, I'm pale and this long hair? I bought this shit, my nigga!"

Then he surprised Dawn by suddenly flopping to his knees right in the snow, puffing up flakes of dully sparkling ice, and the entire crowd seemed to gasp. He was squatting and looking up to the overcast sky; his dark, handsome face was grimacing as he flamboyantly spread his hands apart.

Like a slave character from Levar Burton's Roots, she thought.

He was clearly imitating a squeaky voiced young girl, presumably his daughter: "That means you can't kill me!" he cried. "Cause the Post said you's a nasty ole racist who only kills the darkies! Gawd no!" he screamed. "Please don't kill me massuh Gawd!"

The crowd erupted in laughter as he wiggled his fingers in mock terror. He stood back up, laughing himself, and brushing snow from the knees of his black denim jeans with his bare hands. Dawn noticed this small oddity (that he was actually touching the snow as if he couldn't feel the cold, and had even scooped up a handful, quickly making a snowball and tossing it off into the storm), but she didn't really consider it.

Not yet, at least, because she was too busy marveling over everyone's strange reaction.

It was way more laughter than she thought the joke warranted, and it had a nervous tinge to it, she felt. As if they didn't really find his antics all that funny, but were thankful for a diversion from really considering the murders.

Until further notice, she knew every female on the line was in danger the later and darker it got. The murders were getting much worse. That wasn't just the latest heading she'd written in her notebook over a week ago, it was also the cold hard truth beneath the gyrations and overly wild laughing.

The phony laughing, she thought, with a smirk.

She guessed the man in the yellow coat was helping them to forget about that, at least for a while. But, she also thought he was making a complete and utter fool of himself. And he was clearly feeding off the noisy, slightly insane sounding laughter. It seemed to give him the green light to continue.

She watched him stomp his boots on the hard, packed snow. He spit, and took a long drag on his cigarette; he had the pretty black woman's undivided attention. "If you don't mind, I'm telling them to watch they fucking asses no matter what the papers say!" he told her.

He gave her a pointed look, exhaling smoke. "And if I were you," he said, "I'd stop listening to the goddamn media! How you know for sure they were all even black?"

He raised his eyebrows, puffing on his Newport. The crowd murmured again. "Good question!" someone shouted from somewhere right behind Dawn.

"Tell her Jefthrow!" the voice said, "this country's full of shit! How you even know that shit's the truth lady? Answer that! What, you believe what the bullshit media be saying, now?"

"Because the—" she began, half turning around.

"Because the Post said so," Jefthrow finished for her. "Well, maybe the Post got a good reason for saying that?" he said, "but you don't have no proof it's a fact. Gorgeous young thing like you, just watch your back on these streets mommy, I mean it."

The man broke of talking as someone grunted in approval. He glanced into the slowly gathering crowd, as if only just realizing that he held a captive audience.

Dawn wasn't positive about it, but she thought the man was teasing them. "Especially around here at night, and during this nasty ass weather," he went on, with a slight grin in his voice. "I wouldn't want nothing bad happening to you, baby girl!"

The woman laughed. "Don't worry," she said, "if it gets too late today, I'm getting the fuck outta here, nigga. Believe that shit! I got two kids to feed, they at my mother's crib right now and shit."

She flipped up her middle finger, and jerked it towards the building. "No more of that staying past five o'clock shit!" she shouted. "Fuck you! You gone give me cab fare tonight while it's dark and snowing you dumb motherfuckers!"

People started laughing all around Dawn and she was reminded of the annoying laugh track on a sitcom. The kind she normally heard on the reruns of what she considered horrid, unfunny programs, like The George Lopez Show and Girlfriends. The dead mechanical noise always made her think of laughing mannequins.

"If you want," the man offered humbly, "I can take you home in my car, baby. It's parked right there, see that blue Camarro by the curb?" He grinned shyly. "Oh, I know it ain't much ma," he said, "but it works, and it sho does get me around the city. You wanna come?"

The woman smiled. "You serious?" she half-whispered, clearly considering it; staring at his car warily, then glancing up at the dull gray sky hovering over them, as if trying to decide which one looked more dangerous at the moment.

"I would love that!" she said, finally. "Since you're offering and the sky looks all dark and creepy and shit, like a really bad storm's coming. I haven't seen it look this nasty in a while." She grinned. "Thanks!" she said, "thanks a lot!"

He winked and laughed. "Boy oh boy," he said, pulling deeply on his cigarette, a small frown creasing his lips. "America sure done changed, huh? And, God works in some mysterious ways, now don't He? Your God is good!"

He hadn't exhaled the smoke after taking a pull and did so now. He also did the fancy thing with his hands again, bowing over extremely far and yelling out reverently:

"Your slightest wish is my sternest command your Highness. I only live to serve thee my African-American queen...my sexy black destiny!"

He suddenly raised his head, and started grinning at the woman like a used car salesman; a salesman on the verge of closing some big deal. A deal he'd probably missed his eighty dollar lobster dinner to close, Dawn thought, with a grin of her own.

"But, don't be spreading that bullshit around town baby girl!" the man stage whispered behind one hand. "I got a hustler's image to protect, and some big butt hoes to keep in check!"

Then he winked again, and stood back up amidst loud clapping, laughter and hooting, from the crowd. A shivering Dawn thought the shit was actually turning into a television show, maybe a version of Degrassi (that cheesy Canadian show Drake had starred on), but shot somewhere in Harlem.

The black woman in front of her erupted in booming laughter, her fat ass bumping up against Dawn's frozen legs again. Even the freezing cold couldn't blunt her shock over how big and round it was. She stiffly turned to Dawn, looking up and saying: "Excuse me baby, nigga crazy ain't he? But, I'm still letting him take me home. That nigga gotta start his murderin' business without my black ass, fuck the bullshit!"

Dawn, wondering what made everyone so sure that the killer was a male (or was only one person, the woman spoke with a conviction that seemed like more than just wild guessing), watched as she turned back to the man in the parka, and they continued discussing the murders. Their strident voices soon rose above the wind, grating on her already frayed nerves like the incessant screams of a crying child.

She had to admit that the man in the yellow coat and headphones (Jefthrow, someone had called him earlier, she thought), was putting on quite a show. Before long, the crowd was in an uproar as he even went into reenactments of how he thought each murder might have happened. It was a dreadfully chilling sight that Dawn thought she'd be having more than a few bad dreams about.

Tugging her brown knit cap down further on her head, she shifted her feet on the ice beneath her, and wished her goose down coat was a hell of a lot warmer. At times, it felt like she was standing there naked.

But, by the time she finally reached the center's front doors, the crowd was eating Jefthrow's bullshit up, and everyone on the line seemed to be discussing the murders.

By eleven o'clock, which was only the second hour of her five hour stay, it would already feel like the longest day of her entire life.

CHAPTER TWO

That particular conversation had taken place seven days ago on December the second. It was now December the ninth, 2013 (one of the coldest days that year), and Dawn knew the pretty black woman was referring to the policy the center had of locking the doors after five o'clock. That was why she had screamed out, "Fuck yall!" that day and had put up her middle finger. Dawn also knew that they called it: Safety Rule #1.

It was printed on a large white sign in the lobby that greeted people as soon as they stepped inside the building. Though she knew it was only put there so no one could claim they hadn't seen it (to avoid culpability should anything happen to one of the clients), she felt the other rules, which mostly concerned walking the streets at night, were much more sensible.

Never Travel Alone At Night! for example, was rule number two. And Always Carry A Charged Cell Phone! was the third one. The one Dawn already followed on a regular basis, she hadn't needed a sign to tell her that.

The fourth one was: Always Carry Mace! There were ten in all (mostly common sense shit, she felt), but it was the first rule that really bothered her: Anyone inside already after five had come and gone could leave, which made obvious sense to her.

As big as some of the security guards were, she couldn't imagine them controlling a center full of angry, frustrated people. If they wanted to leave, nothing would stop them.

But, no one could leave after five o'clock and get back in. Period...which she thought could pose quite the problem for any hapless female who walked outside after five, only to find the killer waiting patiently for them somewhere down the block. Perhaps, hiding crouched behind the mailbox.

And wasn't it even more likely, she wondered, that the killer already knew about the stupid policy, and would only use it against them?

The curfew of sorts started right after the first murders hit the papers and Dawn understood that warning the applicants was the logical thing to do, but couldn't help wondering how long it would take for that particular policy to backfire. She could only pray it didn't happen while she was down there applying.

She'd already had three strange nightmares about the recent murders. Nightmares that left her soaking wet, and tangled up in her bed covers the next morning, as if she'd been fighting someone in her dreams. Nightmares she could barely remember.

Yet she'd had no choice but to come back down to Center forty-five to finish filling out her application. Not if she wanted to avoid getting evicted by the little Asian asshole who owned her building, and seemed to have an odd fetish that involved repeatedly taking her to court. She got the clear impression he didn't like African Americans very much.

So, she was back on the same line, standing next to the same brick building, feeling a slight sense of déjà-vu though she didn't recognize any of the people on line ahead of her. At least, not those she could see from the front.

But, the temperature seemed to drop with every frosty breath she took just as it had last time, and she could no longer feel her feet inside of her leather boots (something she knew could become a different kind of problem while walking back to the subway), and when she stomped them on the ice, as the man with the Camarro had done last Monday, a disturbing tingling sensation erupted below her ankles.

Shit no! she thought, fearing the worse, and warily glancing down at her feet. Please don't do this, she thought.

She had an idea what the sensation meant, and fervently hoped what it felt like was happening, was only in her imagination. But, if she didn't get inside soon, she had the sinking feeling she wouldn't be capable of walking back to the train once she was finally done. And who knew when that would be; she'd actually spent eight hours in Center forty-five, once.

Dawn exhaled into the wind, peering over her shoulder, and saw that more people had suddenly joined the line behind her. A lot of them, and she was mildly shocked. They must have crept up on her because she hadn't heard anyone approaching at all.

But as far as she could now see down the block, a mob of men and women were standing in single file, and they seemed to be staring at her. "Fucking weird," she mumbled. "Where'd they come from?"

Dawn gazed at them a minute longer, noticing how unnaturally still they were standing, as if they had frozen solid in their tracks. Then she turned back around, telling herself she might have heard something.

I must have, she thought, and knowing she hadn't. The wind was blowing hard, was howling in fact (another similarity this morning shared with last week's), but not loud enough to block out that many people walking towards her. Not unless they had all walked down the block in utter silence.

A rather creepy idea, she thought, shivering hard, again.

It brought to her mind the long lines she often saw outside of tenant-landlord courts during the winter, and the people who would be standing there, bundled up in layers of clothing as if setting out on an expedition to Alaska.

But, this time, unlike last Monday, everyone was completely silent. More like a congregation of loved ones at a funeral procession, she felt, than people looking for public assistance.

She wondered if the latest grisly killings had anything to do with it, or if it was simply the eye watering cold winds and the dark gathering of clouds above them, threatening a blizzard just as they had last week, which had everyone acting so fucking morbid.

CHAPTER THREE

The murders started a few months ago. Dawn first heard about them on the channel five, ten o'clock news. That was way back on October the twenty-eighth, though she wouldn't have recalled the date even if asked to. All she could think of lately was trying to find a job before the weather got too bad to even go searching for one. She absolutely hated the snow, merely watching it fall past her bedroom window made her want to stay in bed all day smoking weed, drinking, and watching TV.

Now, she had finally reached the front doors, and quickly walked into the brightly lit, pleasantly heated building. Hissing with relief, she immediately heard the steady grumble of mingled voices and raucous laughter. She couldn't help thinking of the summertime; and of walking past the bars in her neighborhood at night. Not to mention the clubs she had worked in.

Dawn carefully removed her hands from her pockets, using her teeth to remove the gloves, which she then managed to drop into her left pocket despite her numb fingers.

The intense heat filling the lobby enveloped her, and she couldn't help exhaling with indescribable pleasure. She carefully studied her hands; her palms were pale, but her fingers were red, and most of them were extremely wrinkled.

She could feel her blood slowly thawing out and her fingertips were tingling like they did when she slept with her hands beneath her face. Like they were being pricked by a thousand invisible needles. When she shook them out, they felt stiff and springy

The noise was coming from around the corner of the wall to her right. A shiny beige wall, that gleamed in the overheads as if it had just been painted.

Looking down, she saw that the tiles beneath her boots were wet and nasty with a layer of greenish muck. It looked more like the floor of a train station after a heavy rain.

She guessed Felipe, the center's extremely amusing janitor, would be cursing loudly in broken Spanish all day. If nothing else, Felipe was quite entertaining. Especially, she thought, when he went into his perfect Jennifer Lopez on American Idol imitation. And Dawn didn't give a fuck what anyone said. She was nowhere near as hot as Nicki Minaj was, talent-wise or otherwise.

Now, she gazed straight ahead at the reception desk, which was a long Formica counter that stretched halfway across the lobby, and frowned. The counter was perhaps twelve-feet long and a solid gray wall was built beneath it.

A small white sign was posted there that read: No Eating, Drinking, or Radio Playing Allowed! below the much larger SAFETY RULES sign that had caused her frown. Especially, rule number one.

But then, she noticed a very peculiar thing...

Goddess Rhianna and Goddess Beyonce Rule! E.T. & The One That Got Away! NOW, DISAPPEAR! was written in black magic marker right beneath the words SAFETY RULES.

Her frown deepened; the incredible Katy Perry's name was missing, she noticed (she loved her some Katy Perry), but those were definitely two of her best songs.

Smiling a little, she wondered who had written it as she studied the four angry looking women sitting side by side behind the counter.

They were glaring down at identical black computers, and a

pale light flickered and flashed on their brown faces, doing grotesque things to their already unlovely features. They were all wearing glasses, she saw, and multi-colored lights danced in their lenses like drunken pixies.

Dawn sighed, unzipping her coat with fingers that felt nearly arthritic, and walking past them without saying a word. But, it didn't matter, because she knew they wouldn't have replied anyway.

She turned the corner and immediately saw a security guard speaking to people assembled in a tight group just inside the lobby. They were all jostling for a position closer to her, and Dawn envisioned people waiting on line for some big sale.

The security guard was tall, gorgeous, had a beautiful complexion, she felt, and a decidedly dyke-ish air about her. Dawn also thought she resembled an older Nicki Minaj. Which probably explained her thinking about Nicki, Dawn guessed. She even had the big round butt, her black uniform pants clung to it like Saran wrap.

"Everybody stand along the wall right there!" she was saying. Her voice was very deep and Dawn guessed, probably loud enough to reach every ear, even those still blurry from smoke and drink. Which by the look of it, she figured was probably everyone she could see.

"Listen up!" the security guard said. "If you came for food stamps, go straight to the second floor. If you've come for one-shot deals go sign that yellow sheet!"

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Dawn looked and saw a yellow legal pad attached to the wall at the far end of the counter. "If you want full public assistance," she continued. "Stand by this wall right here!"

She paused, chewing on gum she kept popping between her teeth, as she brushed long dark braids from her face. She was pointing at the wall Dawn was standing next to. "If you don't know why you're here," she said. "I ain't making any promises, my niggas, but I'll try and figure it out for you!"

Dawn knew it was a snide remark, but the security guard delivered it so smoothly, so filled with friendship and joshing, that some people actually chuckled out loud. The security guard grinned and clapped her hands together briskly. Dawn thought her first name was Dorothy, but seriously doubted if she could rap, the stuff she'd heard her mumbling was bad.

"Take out your I.D's!" she said. "And your socials, and any documents you may have! Walk to the counter, take a number, and have a seat. Wait 'til they call your number. No running and no pushing, and I mean that shit motherfuckers!"

As people went about doing what she'd said, Dawn glanced to her left, and peered into the waiting area where she'd heard the loud laughter coming from. People were already sitting in various places and some were reading newspapers or holding I-Pads.

It was a massive, well-lit room, that mostly reminded her of a school cafeteria. She could even smell pine and bleach and guessed Felipe had just mopped the floor.

A black man wearing a filthy sheepskin coat, and plastic bags on his feet, was sleeping in one of the corner chairs. He was already snoring rather loudly, a number of people were actually pointing at him and giggling, hysterically. One Mexican woman held her nose, her wrinkled face wrinkling further with disgust, as she turned to stare at the people sitting around her.

"Here we go," Dawn said, sighing deeply. "Let the games begin." Or should I say the fucking circus, she thought, suppressing a giggle.

Dawn knew some of them had appointments therefore they didn't have to wait in line or get numbers. But, she also knew that some were simply getting inside out of the wind and freezing weather. Center forty-five often doubled as a hang out spot, especially during the winter months, which Dawn couldn't understand for the life of her.

But, the forecast had called for flurries by noon and indeed, the clouds had steadily darkened as she walked the seven blocks from the underground train station to the center on Hove Boulevard.

The already dark and gloomy sky seemed to get darker, and her fingers and feet felt nearly frostbitten by the time she got three blocks. But oddly, the temperature seemed to really plummet as she traveled the last of the desolate streets before finally reaching Hove.

At times during Dawn's trek, she got the nearly suffocating feeling that winter would never end. It seemed too fucking cold to end. And, when the cute faces of the girls who were murdered at night, when there was no sun to shed at least a little warmth, materialized in her mind (the faces she saw in those adorable but heartbreaking article photos), Dawn grimaced, clutching her goose down coat about her shoulders, and had hurried on.

She'd already decided she was getting the fuck out of the neighborhood as soon as it neared four-thirty. Regardless of what the workers said in Center forty-five, because talk, as the old saying went, was fucking cheap.

She knew their paychecks came at the end of every two weeks, so they didn't have to travel by subway or bus, and then walk from the train or bus stop, however many blocks, to reach their homes. Either they owned cars, or simply took cabs.

But, Dawn lived in a one bedroom apartment in the projects, so even if she managed to survive the trip from the train station to her building (a walk of a good fifteen blocks), she then had to survive the dangerous world of her building's hallways. This was never anything to laugh at or dismiss.

People referred to the various housing complexes throughout the city as the Concrete Jungle. But, Dawn knew that was bullshit. She knew the jungle really started once you entered the damn buildings. And, assuming she survived the elevator ride, or the crazy trek up the dark, pissy stairways when it was broken, she lived to do it all another day. That was her only reward.

It turned something as seemingly simple as a trip to the local public assistance center (though this particular center was far from local, in her opinion), into a dangerous adventure worthy of the Harry Potter movies. But, that wasn't all...not by a long shot.

Dawn knew the black woman from the other day had been right. No matter what he said—the crazy man in the yellow parka. Dark skinned black females were being targeted, because they were the only ones who had been killed so far. Supposedly, her pale complexion protected her from the maniac who stalked the streets once the sun had set, searching for that hapless female stupid enough to test him. Stupid enough to travel alone near Hove Boulevard.

But, she thought Yellow Coat had been right about it regardless, you couldn't take anything for granted these days.

She also thought the man must have been from another planet, because it was now in all the papers. Every article she'd read claimed all of the victims had had American last names like: Johnson, Anderson, Bradford, and Adams.

She knew names could be changed (and were changed routinely in Hollywood), but it hadn't mattered this time because it was more than evident after she viewed the photos they'd placed in the Daily News. These really were her people getting murdered.

Most people no longer knew a weave when they saw one, but Dawn did, and all eight of them (not seven as the woman on line had erroneously said) had been dark skinned African-American girls with what some people called good hair. The kind she'd seen discussed in Chris Rock's movie.

Reportedly, the killer had dry-shaved all of them bald (using a machete it had been reported in one paper), and shoved the good hair up their asses. Reading that shit had chilled her blood. It had immediately brought back a terrible memory too, a memory concerning her mother (which Dawn had quickly suppressed, and as fast as she could!). But, as she stood there in Center forty-five, doing her best to ignore the din of strident voices coming from applicants and loiterers alike, she recalled reading about the first murder. Remembered it quite clearly; it was perhaps a week after hearing about it on the nightly news.

Only, the story started out in the New York Post. The glaring headline said: BLACK GIRL ON HOVE LEFT DECAPITATED AND EYELESS, KILLER MAY BE CANNIBAL! SOME BODY PARTS MUTILATED, OTHERS COOKED!

It was apparently the same murder she'd heard about, only now they were claiming that the killer had eaten some of the victim. Dawn couldn't say what it was about the article that had bothered her, but felt something was peculiar about the details given in the story. Something was either being withheld, she felt, or didn't quite fit.

So, she decided to cut the article out with scissors and place it in a red spiral notebook she had lying around. She neatly taped the sides of the piece to one blank page. She even labeled it with the time, date, and day of the week. She did all of this as if it were perfectly natural, when she'd never done anything even remotely like it before.

When the second murder came, Dawn repeated the process. Not really seeing any connection (except that both victims were beautiful black females), but still feeling that quiet sense of anxiety, as if there was something she should be seeing, but was missing. When she put the book up on a top shelf in her closet, she did it with the feeling that the source of her anxiety would be revealed in time.

So thinking, she eventually forgot all about it until nearly two weeks had gone by. And then the third, fourth and fifth murders, occurred. Suddenly, people were really taking notice and like magic, there were way more stories about it on television.

Even Inside Edition did a few half-hearted, five-minute, segments on it. They actually called it: THE BLACK GIRL KILLER, which Dawn had considered a rather lousy title.

Suddenly hearing loud voices, she glanced up from her musings, and smiled softly. The line she was in was moving faster than she could have hoped for, and she had to walk forward a few steps to close the gap. People were streaming into the building through the front entrance, many bundled up in expensive winter coats. Welfare center or not, some of them were so stylish, it looked more like a G-Unit video shoot to her.

Each time the door opened, a blast of cold air rushed in, sweeping white flakes inside as well as if expelled from a snow blower. Shivering slightly, Dawn quickly glanced down.

The floor now resembled a road map of muddy footprints that trailed off in all directions, and she thought of the Pink Panther cartoons, and of the bumbling Inspector Clouseau with a giant magnifying glass.

Looking up again, she focused on the line and saw there were only two people standing in front of her. One was a very short, light complexioned man, and the other, a female she hadn't noticed before who was standing in line ahead of him.

Dawn only caught a glimpse of her face, but thought she looked familiar. When a pleasant aroma finally reached her nose, some kind of expensive smelling perfume, and it too was familiar, Dawn gasped, staring hard at the female.

Is that...? she thought, stepping a little closer to the short man in front of her, and nearly brushing into him. Is that her? she wondered. Oh my God, she thought, I think it is!

Dawn squinted, thinking there was something about the size of the woman's—adrenaline swept through her six-four frame as she noticed the woman's lower body. Her ass was abnormally large and curvy, and from there, it only took a second to identify her as the woman she was standing behind a week ago.

"Oh my God!" Dawn whispered, this time. "It's her, that's the one!"

The one who she felt resembled her favorite actress, Nacirema Wolf. Dawn often had to direct people to Nacirema's website if they hadn't seen her already. But, when those same people heard the way she invariably raved about her, especially over that hypnotic (though spooky) photo of Nacirema wearing all black, they couldn't help wanting to see her.

"She's fucking spectacular!" Dawn would say, meaning Nacirema, "and wait until you see her eyes! I haven't seen eyes like that since that cutie Logan Browning's!"

This woman standing a few feet ahead of her had been discussing the murders with the guy wearing the headphones last week. Yes, she thought, yes, it's really her!

Her back was turned, she wore tight denim jeans, and a pink Baby Phat coat that was as tight around her waist as the white coat had been. It was accentuating her hips, and as if her shape wasn't sexy enough, the jacket made her ass much more noticeable. And, for some crazy reason, she appeared to be wearing sneakers this time, instead of the UGG construction boots she had worn before. Despite the steadily accumulating snow outside.

A pair of black Reeboks? Dawn thought, frowning. Not very smart in this weather. (In fact, it would nearly get them both killed, though neither female was aware of this at the moment.)

But, her hair, she noticed, was styled in a tight, perfect bun this time. The sides of her head were a lovely shining gold and looked naturally slick, and almost wet. Dawn knew she didn't need gel or mousse to keep it so nice and flattened.

"She's back?" she whispered. "I thought I'd never see her ass again!"

The man standing in front of Dawn immediately frowned up at her, rolled his eyes, huffed, and then turned away with his arms folded across his chest.

Dawn held her breath, hoping to God she hadn't made a horrible mistake, hoping this wasn't simply a female who also happened to resemble Nacirema. (And, what a lucky female she would have been! she thought.) But no, it was definitely her. Even if she hadn't seen her face, that amazing ass was unforgettable.

She watched as the woman turned to the side and spoke to a Hispanic man walking past her. Dawn couldn't hear her words clearly, but her lips seemed to be speaking Spanish.

She watched her smile, a beautiful smile, and nod her head at something the man was definitely saying in a foreign language. He touched her arm, walking by grinning and snapping his fingers. There was a noticeable strut in his gait as he passed by her, and Dawn had to cover her nose to block the powerful scent of some cologne that immediately washed over her as he went.

The woman (who resembled a much darker Nacirema Wolf as far as she was concerned) watched him go, turning her body around fully.

Dawn got a better look at her face than she'd had the entire time she was standing behind her on line last week, and inhaled sharply. She's remarkable! she thought.

Now, that she could really see her hazel eyes, she thought the contrast of her dark complexion and the pale color was astonishing.

Before Dawn could stop herself, she actually waved, her arm suddenly feeling heavy as if still frozen from the frigid outdoors.

She could suddenly feel the people behind her in line too, they seemed to be moving closer to her, pressing in on her without actually touching her. It felt like they not only knew what she was trying to do, but were waiting with baited breath for her attempt to fail. Dawn, above all else, hated getting embarrassed by women.

But, the woman glanced directly at her, smiling an even brighter, warmer smile than she'd given the finger snapper, and waved right back! The smile reached her hazel eyes and they seemed to sparkle beneath the line of lights attached to the ceiling. Dawn could only stare at her for a moment, feeling stunned and absently touching her own face.

She'd suffered with severe acne her entire childhood and had only just gotten rid of it, thanks to some excellent products she'd recently purchased. But, the woman's skin was blemish free, she noticed, and she found her tone amazing. It had an incredible glow, which made her suddenly seem much younger.

Dawn would be surprised to learn she used products from Skin Obsessions (a popular new company on the Internet which sold stuff designed to work utter magic on problem skin—African American skin, in particular), but had guessed it was most likely natural at the time.

Seeming to come to a decision, the woman walked the few feet over to where she stood and stopped next to the little man in the corduroys. He was steadily eyeing her body, Dawn noticed, and seemed to be especially focusing on her lower half.

Which Dawn also wasn't surprised by. But, the woman didn't appear to even see him.

"What's up?" she said, smiling brightly, and rubbing her overly wide hips. "You back in this joint huh?" she asked her. "Me too, what these dumb ass niggas got you doing now baby?" She grinned. "Some dumb bullshit, right?" she said.

"I'm here to finish applying," Dawn said, thinking: I was right, her eyes are fucking incredible!

The man in front of her turned to look over his shoulder, almost as if he'd heard her thoughts, craning his neck to give her a dirty sneer.

Dawn only glanced at him, her face expressionless, and then she looked down at the woman again. "I forgot to hand in a rent document," she said. "My asshole landlord's been giving me a hard time, the little prick, but never mind my boring ass problems. What's your name, hon? I'm Dawn."

The woman walked right up to Dawn now, having to look straight up to see her face. "I'm Lashon Nelson," she said, holding out a small, dark, hand. Dawn was surprised at how short she actually was now that she was seeing her up close.

Dawn didn't hesitate, she immediately grabbed Lashon's hand, feeling its silky softness briefly with one thumb (this was a secret she learned at one of the strip clubs she worked in before getting arrested that summer), and gently applied pressure to her warm, tiny fingers.

Then, used her middle finger to caress the woman's moist palm, another secret. It meant she ate pussy—all night, too.

If the female was down with it, and understood the gesture, she'd usually respond. It had been a very long time since Dawn tried it, so she was openly flirting with rejection.

But, her heart nearly leapt from her chest when Lashon did more than just respond, and actually hugged her! The woman squeezed her so tightly, air swooshed from Dawn's lungs, and she was surrounded by her perfume as Lashon stepped back, smiling up into her face.

"Damn you're tall!" she breathed. "What are you, like five-eleven and shit? My son's father is five-eleven, but you seem taller."

"Way off," Dawn said, laughing a little. "I'm six-four boo, I haven't been five-eleven since I was thirteen, and in the sixth grade! I was taller than all of the female teachers, even most of the men. They all called me Big Bird—the kids, I mean."

Dawn stopped talking and gazed down at Lashon, thinking she seemed different, somehow. Not only in her looks, but in the way she was talking. It was crazy, but she thought the way the woman was articulating her words made her seem much younger than she had last week. Last week, she reminded Dawn of her Aunt Clara, who was a few years away from a nursing home.

"Damn!" Lashon said. "Since you were thirteen?"

"Yep," she said. "You wouldn't believe what I went through, I felt like a fucking giraffe among pygmies and shit."

"They must have been bugging out!" Lashon said, "I'm only five-two, God didn't bless me in the height department as you can see. But I love tall slim girls." She grinned. "I know, I sound crazy right?" she said. "But seriously, I can't explain it."

She giggled like a schoolgirl. "The ones I've been with really knew how to eat ass and pussy, though," she admitted. "That might have something to do with it. Some bitches can't lick their way out a paper bag!"

Lashon broke out in girlish laughter and caressed her own ass with both hands. Then, she suddenly reached behind her head, loosening her bun, and shaking her head briskly.

Waves upon waves of golden curls tumbled down far past her shoulders, and finally stopped a little past her waist. Dawn inhaled in astonishment, her heart thumping as she watched the woman remove hairpins and let the rest of her hair fall down.

It resembled a golden veil on a bridal dress, she thought, cascading around Lashon's shoulders, and down to her thighs. Wondering how it would feel to wash it, she watched as Lashon swept it all up into a new, neater tail.

Damn, she thought. I'd lick her sexy black ass right now!

There had been little question that the woman was black, or that her hair color was fake, but the hair itself, real. She hadn't been completely sure about it at first, but it often seemed to Dawn that her people gave off a kind of mental telepathy that she eventually picked up on.

As Dawn gazed down at Lashon with her heart thumping steadily against her ribs, her body suddenly felt hot all over, and even her toes were tingling. She heard a strange sound, and immediately glanced in the direction of the short man in the white trousers who had apparently heard Lashon's comment.

He was grinning at them as if they were about to go at it right in front of him, right there on Center forty-five's muddy tile floor.

"Excuse you," Lashon said, before Dawn could even open her mouth. "Could you mind your fucking business, nigga?" she asked him with disgust. "Nosy motherfucker! You probably couldn't get your little wiener hard if we both stripped right here!"

Lashon was holding her thick mane of hair in both hands, as if her hands were a scrunchee; she was talking with a hairpin between her perfect teeth. "Turn the fuck around nigga!" she said. "Your shit too little to work the middle...sorry."

Her hazel eyes seemed to grow a shade lighter as she gazed at him, and the man's previous leer quickly turned to stone.

His face screwed up, he made some kind of gruff insulted noise, and then jerked his head forward again.

Dawn, desperately trying not to laugh, thought of a stork trying to stab fish in a lake. A bald one wearing white corduroy pants, and looking like he walked around frowning all the time and saying: "What you talking 'bout, Willis?"

Lashon glared at him for a second longer, and then smiled up at Dawn again. "I live on Miley Avenue," she said, clearly dismissing him. "Are you from Derrydale, too?"

She was combing out her ponytail with her fingers, now. It seemed impossible to Dawn that so much beautiful hair had formed such a little, unassuming bun, but it obviously had. Lashon's face was tilted to one side, her pale eyes twinkling like chips of quartzite as she peered up at her.

Dawn found it hard looking in her eyes for long, the odd color was gorgeous, but was also slightly unnerving. "No," she said, exhaling. "I live in Edgemont, but they sent me all the way the fuck out here for some stupid assed reason. I'm getting tired of playing games with these motherfuckers too." Dawn frowned. "I really oughta blow this bitch up!" she whispered.

Lashon giggled again, and it was one of the sweetest sounds she had ever heard. Dawn immediately thought of pillow-talk, it was the kind of laugh she wanted to hear coming from her after they had made love. And, thought she just might get the opportunity if she had read the signals right.

"Were you just speaking Spanish?" Dawn asked her, suddenly. "It sorta seemed that way from over here."

Lashon nodded. "I know a little bit," she said, "I picked it up living in the Bronx, but by the end, I was only nodding my head." She grinned. "I wasn't sure exactly what he was saying, I think he was asking if I was a Honduran, but I'm black," she said, "or African-American, actually. Why?"

"I was just wondering," she said, shrugging.

Lashon smirked. "You weren't just wondering," she said. "What is it?" she asked her, smiling a little. "My hair, right?"

Dawn blushed. "I guess so," she admitted, "I love its waviness, I was just thinking that—well, you know," she said. "Does that bother you? People focusing on your hair?"

Lashon shrugged. "Not really," she said, "people are always trying to guess my race. I'm pretty used to it, but it's silly because millions of black girls have this hair. Look at Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Mariah, and Denise Boutte—they're all as black as Wesley Snipes. Especially, Alicia and Mariah!" she added.

"Well, if you don't mind me saying," Dawn began, but hesitated. She wasn't sure if she come on this strong, or go this far, it might scare her off and had certainly happened before.

But then, she decided to say fuck it, thinking: What could it really hurt?

"You're so beautiful," she told her. "I'm dead serious, you remind me of Nacirema Wolf, the model? Only, you know, you're much darker than her," she said. "But, I would love to get to know you better, if that's possible."

Dawn's heart and mouth seemed to stop in unison. She suddenly felt stupid, like she'd said too much. She suddenly felt like melting into a puddle, and slithering down a dark drain.

But, Lashon only laughed as if Dawn had merely praised her trendy outfit. She was apparently used to compliments from females.

"Thank you," she said, smiling as if she'd been patiently waiting for that since they saw each other last. "Remember the black guy that day, the one with the headphones?" she asked. "Well, he's here and he's giving me a ride home, again."

She turned to glance at the counter, and then spun back to her. "But, I'll give you my digits before I leave," she said. "Okay? I don't plan on staying in this bitch all fucking day!"

Lashon turned back to the front of the lobby. Dawn looked too, and saw that a man was finished showing his documents or getting a number, and was now leaving the counter.

"Next!" the worker yelled, not looking up. She jerked her hand at them, frowning and waving them on impatiently.

Dawn felt she wasn't looking up on purpose, and probably wanted to avoid looking at Lashon as much as possible. Which she guessed was somewhat understandable, chicks like her could completely ruin a female's day.

"That's me," Lashon said. "I'm only handing in papers too. After I get my number, I'll wait for you to get yours, then we can sit together and talk."

She waved, wiggling her fingers at Dawn, and started walking away. "Don't leave," she said, grinning and glancing back over her shoulder. "I wanna show you some pictures of my two brats. Them niggas is fucking pains in the ass at times, but I still loves 'em!"

Dawn did her best to control her steadily pumping heart as Lashon left. She couldn't believe this was happening! She glanced down at her hands, and they were shaking badly.

But, whose fault is that? she wondered. Especially, since it was what she had prayed for the entire eight months in prison, wasn't it? A beautiful, brown-skinned, black girl with a fat, round ass, that would really make her stand out wherever they went.

She had dated a plethora of light skinned girls before, many who hadn't spoken much English (and one black dime in particular, who had a phenomenal face, burgundy hair, fat red lips, and a ridiculously poking ass), but Dawn was light as well, and felt the visual was never quite as striking. In fact, she'd always found couples of similar complexions rather boring.

Is this the start of something special? she wondered.

And, even the possibility of heavy snow suddenly didn't seem so bad anymore. The way she felt, she wouldn't mind a fucking blizzard. They could watch the storm from her comfy bed while she felt on Lashon's massive booty!

Dawn watched the massive booty switch up to the counter and produce some papers which she gave to the woman that had waved her over. Sour-puss was what Dawn always called this particular worker, because she never had a kind word for anyone, and never smiled.

Her hair was done up in what appeared to be jerry curls, and sour-puss was giving Lashon a nasty look, her huge lips flopping as she spoke. Her words seemed clipped and sharp.

Lashon was saying something back to the worker, and she seemed upset, as well. So upset, her skin actually looked a few shades darker to Dawn, as if she'd turned a deeper brown from anger. Which was silly.

She gazed at Lashon, tracing the shape of her body, all the way down to her wide hips and ass.

When she glanced back up, eyeing her long ponytail again, and thinking that her hair did remind her of Denise Boutte's hair, and Jennifer Nicole Freeman's too, she watched her suddenly swing at the worker behind the computer, the woman jerking back in her chair!

"Fuck you!" Lashon said. "You ugly assed bitch! That's why no man don't want your stupid ass, now!"

Lashon slammed her papers on the counter (one of them doing a loop the loop, and sliding along the smooth surface before coming to a stop), and then, she turned away in obvious fury.

What the hell just happened? Dawn wondered, her smile fading, as Lashon swiveled her head, and immediately made eye contact with her. When she waved, her face seeming to transform from demon to angel in mere seconds, Dawn was startled. And, not only because of what she had just done, which was as unexpected as shit got.

But, she was in the process of lifting her own hand to wave to her, thinking she might storm out after nearly assaulting the woman, when Lashon suddenly looked at her instead.

"Dawn!" she called, still waving. "I might have to kill a bitch up in here!" she said. "Talking 'bout I gotta bring my kids down to put them on my fucking budget. I told the ugly bitch my kids are in school! Fuck this shit," she yelled, "wanna break out and go to my crib?"

People turned to look at the demonstrative woman, a few whispering things to the person beside them. Dawn was flabbergasted, stunned, and utterly blown away.

"Of course," she said. And, it came out normal too, as if she did this all the time: hooked up with a super-model-pretty chick, and went back to their homes to—whatever they did, it would be things people like her only dreamt of doing to women like Lashon.

It's too good to be true, she thought, as she watched her walk back to the front counter, snatch up the papers she had thrown down, even the one that had nearly fallen over the edge after briefly going air-borne, then turn and smack her butt at the worker.

Kiss my fat ass bitch! was the clear meaning of the lewd gesture. The slapping sound was incredibly loud, a few of the people watching the drama applauded.

"Tell that dirty bitch!" someone screamed. "She probably need some black dick, 'cause that bitch got a nasty fucking attitude! They need to fire her evil ass!"

A drunk sounding woman had said it, and harsh laughter greeted this unexpected declaration.

"Come on!" Lashon said, turning to Dawn and beaming. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she stuffed the pages in her coat pocket. "I wanna leave before the snow comes," she said, "Jeff's outside, and you can come with us!"

Lashon made a smoking a joint gesture, miming a person using a lighter. "I got two crazy fat dimes," she said. "That good shit too! What's better than puffing some fucking trees on a cold, stormy day? Come on, ma!"

Pangs of unease struck Dawn, but not because of the smoking weed part. It was that she couldn't help thinking of the many dangers associated with accepting rides from strangers.

She paid attention to the current events, she knew that boys, girls and even adults, got abducted everyday simply because they'd decided to get in some strange vehicle.

But then, those thoughts blew away as she recalled that Lashon had already ridden with him once, hadn't she? And she was still alive, wasn't she? Then, she thought of something even better—her body up against Lashon's in the back seat.

A back seat that would be bouncing, and rocking, with the car's motion as it traveled the frozen roads. She wouldn't have to trudge wearily through the slush, and frozen puddles, she realized. Trying her best to block the wind driven snow, even as she tried to navigate the treacherous sidewalks.

She wouldn't have to squeeze onto some ridiculously overcrowded train or bus, inhaling the stale breath of her co-passengers, wishing to God the entire trip that she magically lived at the next stop. That she could feel the warmth of her ratty little apartment, much sooner rather than later.

"I'm coming," she said, ignoring her unintended pun, and started walking towards Lashon, suddenly noticing the nosy little man, the one who'd overheard their earlier conversation. His face was still twisted up and she again, thought of a taller, lighter, Gary Coleman. The lighter skin didn't help his pug features at all.

Dawn put up her middle finger. "I'm going to hit that!" she whispered down at him, the top of his bald head barely reaching her chest. "How's it feel nigga?" she asked him. "You probably jack off to those honeys in Straight Stuntin magazines don't you? But, you ain't Kay-Slay son, you straight clay!"

Dawn didn't wait for his response, the look that came across his sneering face said it all. It was clearly a direct hit, she thought, like in that kid's game, Battleship. The one they'd made into a movie, starring Rhianna. All she needed was the explosion sound, and someone to scream: "Oh no! You sank my battleship!" like one of the kids had in the commercial.

Dawn chuckled, watching Lashon sashay towards the doors, her wide, round ass cheeks rising and falling with every step. She thought Lashon looked as tasty from the back as she had from the side, which she felt was saying a lot.

"Goddamn!" was all Dawn could actually say, as she smiled, zipped up her goose down, then removed her gloves from her left pocket. She thought of seeing Lashon naked, of seeing all that booty without pants, or panties, and trembled.

"Yes!" Dawn said, pumping one fist and opening Center forty-five's front door for the last time. She thought of some pictures of Nacirema she'd seen once as she put on her gloves, and exhaled. Nacirema's six-inch heels had made her six-foot five in the photos, an inch taller than Dawn was standing bare foot.

Incredibly, it never occurred to her that she'd be sitting on the back seat of Jeff's Camarro alone. (Which would have only made perfect sense, had she been thinking instead of fantasizing.) Or, that she was on the verge of visiting another world, a place completely different from the one she was currently standing in, while preparing herself for the mind-freezing cold beyond the center. A place where the laws of physics and reality, the reality she'd grown rather accustomed to, didn't apply.

But, neither of them had any idea what was coming. Neither her, nor her brand new friend, who so closely resembled Nacirema Wolf—only, she was a lot darker.

CHAPTER FOUR

The air appeared to have gotten colder, if that was even possible. Dawn thought it was because her skin seemed to freeze as soon as she walked outside, and felt like someone had placed a form-fitting ice mask over her entire face.

Within seconds she could barely move her lips properly, breathing was difficult, and inhaling the dry cold air, made her throat feel filled with icy needles. She coughed harshly, her eyes watering, and tears literally flew from them with the howling, gusting wind.

Damn! she thought. Fucking cold and windy, a lousy combination! Dawn was squinting as she looked towards the curb where she saw Lashon talking to a huge black man. He was standing extremely close to her (almost right on top of her, she thought) and was rocking back and forth in the raging wind. Dawn instantly recognized him.

It was Yellow Coat from the other day, she realized; he was the one who had been talking about the Hove Boulevard Murders with Lashon. Only, she didn't know her name was Lashon back then, she had simply referred to her as the black chick with the pretty eyes and the huge ass, in her mind.

But, it had clearly been his fault (the fool in the yellow parka) that the entire center suddenly started discussing the murders, and eventually turned into a madhouse. The cops had even been called at one point, thanks to a fight that broke out on the carfare line.

He was wearing the yellow coat again, she saw, and should have noticed it first, as bright as it was. But she was having a hard time seeing anything at all because the tears were freezing her eyes shut, she had to keep opening them wide like Mr. Magoo. The violent wind wasn't doing much to help the situation, either.

Lashon turned to her and smiled. She waved at her to come over, a hurry up, excited gesture, that momentarily reminded Dawn of her younger sister. And of the bad accident she'd had so many years ago.

Dawn forced the memory away.

"I'm coming!" she said, quickly walking towards them. The wind blew snow from the trees standing along the side of the building, and it showered down on her as if it were really snowing. Dawn, still walking, ducked her head against the powdery mist, but the wind blew it sideways into her face as if on purpose. Some of it managed to slip up her nose, making her cough and sneeze explosively.

She wiped at her face, still crunching through the snow, and came to a stop right at the edge of the sidewalk. Lashon was shivering, and had watched her the entire way.

"Dawn, you remember Jeff, don't you?" she asked through chattering teeth. "The guy with the b-b-blue Camarro?"

Lashon was touching his shoulder, and moaning softly.

It's from the cold, Dawn thought. It feels like Antarctica out here! But, she tried a smile and glanced up at the taller man. And no, she didn't remember him, not really. She remembered his face (how could she ever forget it!), his coat and of course, the expensive headphones.

But, she didn't remember how he'd made her feel, which was obviously the most important part.

"Hello," she said, anyway. And thought it came out: "He-voh," due to her incredibly numb mouth.

"Hello," he replied in return. "What's up shorty?"

Dawn thought his voice was perfectly fine, and found it strange considering the biting cold and the fact that he'd been outside much longer than her.

"I was just telling your girlfriend," he said, "a storm's coming, a real bad one too, according to the weather stations."

He rubbed his gloveless hands together, made a double fist, and blew into them. "I told her it's best if we leave soon as possible," he said. "Since she can't apply, that means right now, you coming too? I got plenty of room and a tank full of gas. One more passenger won't matter, if you're ready."

Dawn couldn't help but glance up, past his head, to where the sky seemed uncomfortably low, and filled with clouds that resembled billowing smoke from a fire. Scant sunrays penetrated them, and the diffuse light reminded her more of evening time than early morning. It was a somber glow that made the air feel colder somehow.

When Dawn glanced at Jeff again, she saw he was showing her his keychain. It had a metal fob with the words: I LOVE NICKI MINAJ & LAUREN LONDON! SAGITTARIUS RULE! imprinted on it in shiny, silver, script.

What? she thought. Why would...

And, then she understood. He wasn't showing her his keychain, she realized, he was showing her the keys. Jeff was holding them by the tips of his fingers and was swinging them back and forth.

His fucking fingers aren't cold? she thought, because once again, hers were absolutely freezing. She hadn't fully considered it last time while watching him touch the snow with his bare hands, but was considering it now. Maybe because it felt much colder right now.

"Come on!" Jeff said. "What else you gone do? You want to stand at some fucking bus stop, freezing to death while some asshole driver waits for slow ass passengers at some other stop before yours—longer than makes any fucking sense, just to get on a crowded bus? One that reeks of yelling kids," he said, "corn chips, and stale bubble gum?"

Clouds of condensed air puffed from his lips with every word. "That was a mouthful!" Dawn tried to say. It didn't come out anything like that, but he obviously understood her.

He grinned, shifting his feet in the snow, and she noticed that one of his teeth was chipped. One of the front ones, and it was black around the broken edge.

Like a crack head's tooth, she thought, but it didn't mess up his smile. It was weird, but she felt the chipped tooth actually seemed to add to it. In fact, Dawn felt he had a rather charming smile. Like Denzel Washington's in Déjà-Vu, she thought. Jeff had reminded her of the actor from the very first time she saw him cutting the fool last week.

"Come on!" he said, waving one hand over his shoulder. He turned away from her saying: "Just like your father, so damn suspicious of everything! I'm as harmless as a kitten with one paw girl, I wouldn't even hurt a fly."

He chuckled as he walked away.

Dawn froze and watched Jeff walk off through the snow, then step off the curb and into the street. He was wearing the expensive Timberlands that went up to the shins, brown ones. She watched as Lashon followed close behind him, grabbing his yellow coat and struggling not to fall on the slippery ice.

Did he just say, your father? she wondered. Did he just say she was just like her father, so damn suspicious of everything?

It didn't seem possible, but that was exactly what she'd heard. Because it was dead quiet in front of the center. She liked that about freezing cold weather, if nothing else, the fact that it ran annoying people off the streets quick, fast, and in a hurry.

They usually congregated right in front of the building, yapping about whatever happened to come across their minds. From politics, to sports, to the latest slick shit Nacirema Wolf had said to some website or magazine.

But, there were no people talking right now; it was apparently too cold to be standing outside without a good reason. And if it didn't involve some kind of hustle, Dawn knew it probably wasn't a good enough reason for them. That meant she could hear everything, and the cold air held a strange, almost heavy quality to it, that made her feel extremely self-conscious.

As if she were being watched.

Birds were tweeting somewhere high above her head, as if it were the middle of summer, instead of a cold, dreary winter's morning. The occasional car rolling past the center made all the sounds she associated with vehicles moving through slush: the swishing of wet tires, the thump and rattle of the cars bouncing over ice and potholes. The frantic beeping of horns.

The man in the yellow coat who resembled Denzel fucking Washington, Jeff, had mentioned her father!

Dawn was sure of it as she watched the two of them walk over to a blue Camarro parked right alongside the curb, where Jeff unlocked and opened both front doors. She could see it was apparently a model from 1985. Dawn was no car expert, she saw the word Camarro and the number 85, stenciled across the top of the dusty, salt-streaked windshield.

The words were faded as if from constantly being in the sun, she thought, like the signs she often saw on the windows of the cars in the Larry's Used Autos on her block. The hood was covered in snow, as were the side windows she could see, and both headlights.

Suddenly, Dawn remembered something, what Jeff had said a week ago: "I can take you home in my car, it's parked right there. The blue Camarro? It ain't much, but it gets me around the city."

It was something like that, and though Jeff had pointed it out, Dawn hadn't looked. She had been so cold that day even the simple act of turning her head, had been a chore.

But, saying that his car wasn't much had seemed like simple modesty to her at the time. That was one thing about the man that she recalled, he was the type of guy she always saw starting conversations with strangers as if that were his job. Modesty would be his middle name.

But, she could see he'd been entirely too kind to himself last week, because the car she was watching them crawl into right now, looked like something she may have seen on the side of the road after a terrible accident. She imagined cops would be standing beside it, shaking their heads solemnly as they wrote their reports.

The paint along the side facing her was chipped, scratched and faded. Dawn couldn't believe it would actually work, but score one for Jeff, because the ragged looking vehicle immediately roared to life the second he turned the ignition.

The motor had barely turned over before she heard the car's engine spitting and growling like he had a cougar trapped beneath the rusty blue hood, one that seemed to be in a major hurry to hit the road.

She turned around for a moment, peering down the street looking for the white El Especialito lunch truck that always parked in front of the center, and she saw it. The front windows were covered in snow, and white clouds puffed from the little metal smoke stack on top of the roof. Snow surrounded it too, making a triangular snowman that had plumes of smoke coming from where the snowman's head should have been.

A black starling swooped down to the pavement alongside the vehicle, to peck at the frozen ground. Probably looking for food crumbs that she knew it wouldn't be finding on this terribly frigid morning. And shockingly, as if the bird had been the cue, the dark cumulus clouds drifting overhead like eyebrows, seemed to break apart and fat white snowflakes suddenly poured from the sky.

Dawn tried to zip her goose down up further, but her gloved fingers were too clumsy and she couldn't grasp the tiny metal zipper. A crow dipped overhead, cawing as if pissed with the storm, and soared off over the building across the street.

She clutched her arms about her shoulders, trembling against the wind, and turning back to the road.

Jeff honked his horn at that very moment, surprising her. Dawn waved at him. "I'm coming!" she yelled. "Hold up just a second!"

Lashon rolled down her window. "Come on girl!" she said over the Camarro's rumbling engine. "You trying to freeze out there? Can't you see it's snowing again!"

The wind seemed to rise and Dawn barely heard her voice, but she glanced up at the falling snow as she walked towards the car. It was really coming down, and if it stuck, traveling would get even worse. "I know!" Dawn shouted back. "Good thing Jeff was waiting for you! He's a fucking life-saver!"

You sure about that? a small voice suddenly whispered in her head. Is it really such a good thing? Shouldn't you just go back inside? Don't you have important shit to do? Why are you looking for excuses not to achieve?

The last question startled her; all of it startled her.

Her heart lurched, and Dawn stumbled just before she reached the Camarro's dented back door. She glanced at the front passenger window and saw that Lashon was smiling up at her. The window was still halfway open and wind blew in her hair, making her ponytail flutter. "You okay?" she said. "What happened babe?"

Lashon's full, pouting lips were puffing out white smoke and Dawn, still trembling, thought of the El Especialito lunch truck, again. "I'm fine!" she managed to say, her heart still knocking steadily. That soft inner voice had shaken her somewhat, but it had made sense, too. Why not just say: "I've changed my mind, I think it's best if I finish what I started. I've only got one document to hand in?" She could still get Lashon's number, say thanks anyway to Jeff, and get back on the line.

It was extremely early, and Dawn hadn't seen anyone else come in at all, not while they were standing there. And there was nobody coming down the street in either direction. The line would either be much shorter, or gone altogether. Wouldn't that be the best move?

But, don't you want to know why he mentioned your father? That voice in her mind spoke again. "I don't know," Dawn whispered in response. "I guess so, but I gotta apply, if I keep putting it off I'll never do it! Then they'll have my black ass doing a fucking WEP assignment!"

"What?" Jeff yelled in a slightly muffled voice. "You saying something sweetheart?"

Dawn glanced through the window. Jeff was smiling at her from the front seat, leaning over and ducking his head to see her face. She thought of Denzel again, and of him verbal sparring with the excellent Gene Hackman in Crimson Tide over his special stallions. "Just talking to myself," Dawn said. She smiled down at him. "I was saying how cold it is out here!"

Holy shit, she thought. He looks just like him! But, more like the way he looked in Man On Fire! She glanced at Lashon. That's twice, she thought. First it was Lashon resembling Nacirema Wolf, what the fuck is this bullshit? Did I smoke a fucking blunt and just forgot about it?

"Well hop in girl!" he said, exuberantly. "Unless you got a date with Mr. Freeze. Just look at them nasty looking clouds up there, I can damn near guarantee a blizzard's coming!"

Dawn finally opened the back door and slid inside, realizing that her last opportunity to change whatever destiny this particular car ride would bring her, had probably vanished.

Had probably disappeared the second she left the center.

As she closed the door, reaching out and pushing down the lock, and shifting her feet on the rubber car mat beneath her (something hard was down there, shoved up under Lashon's seat and was rubbing against the toes of her boots), Dawn understood that she was going against her own plan.

She was admittedly captivated by Lashon, because it wasn't every day that she actually spoke to women in the street who looked as good as she did (who were as undeniably beautiful in the face, with a slamming body to match), at least, not in any meaningful way. But, what would any of that matter, she wondered, if she wound up broke and homeless?

If she wound up living on these same freezing, snow covered, streets?

As she leaned against the backrest, thinking she was kidding herself about her father (of course she had to find out what the man was talking about!), she also realized it wouldn't make much sense to just get in a stranger's car, lock the door, and let him whisk her away. That was the type of shit that happened in movies where the writers clearly couldn't write, and had no grasp of logic.

But, it wasn't going to happen to her that easily, hell no, not if she could help it. So Dawn said: "Can I ask you a question...Jeff? If you don't mind, before we go anywhere?"

"Sure 'nuff honey," he said, turning his entire body around to look at her. He simply gazed at her for a moment. "What is it girl?" he said, finally. "Shoot babe," he whispered, flashing her his Denzel smile, again.

Dawn saw Lashon turn her head to also smile at her from the front seat. Her lips were red and fat (she had what some of Dawn's less sophisticated project friends called kool-aid lips, though it was usually in reference to very pale complexioned females), and her hazel eyes resembled flecks of ice.

They seemed to twinkle in the gloomy car and with the snow on the windshield and along the edges of the windows, it was like a cave in there. "What did you mean about my father?" Dawn asked, almost shyly, glancing at Jefthrow again. "Outside I mean?" she said. "You mentioned him, right?"

Jeff jerked his body unexpectedly as if stung by a bee, causing Dawn to flinch backwards. Suddenly, leaning over and reaching beneath Lashon's seat, he pulled out what she had apparently felt earlier. Something that was long and stiff, and felt like metal.

It took a moment for Dawn's mind to register exactly what it was she was seeing, and when it finally registered, her knees started knocking together and her breath hitched in her throat. "Oh shit!" she said. "Oh shit, nigga, please don't!"

"Well honey," Jeff said, chuckling. "I ain't mean no harm 'bout mentioning him, hell no! I was just thinking that unless he comes up with that fucking formula by midnight."

Jeff paused and raised the shotgun to Lashon's head. "Your daddy's gonna be needing a new baby girl," he finished, "and her thick-assed fucking side kick!"

His earlier pleasant, almost southern-tinged voice had suddenly turned cold, and no longer seemed so southern. When Jeff pulled the shotgun's trigger three times, eliciting three dry clicks, Lashon screamed terribly (obviously not realizing what had happened, Dawn thought), and then she immediately covered her ears.

The shrill sound seemed to ricochet through the car and Dawn suddenly couldn't breathe; and was beginning to feel dizzy. When there was a sudden movement to her right, she glanced that way instinctively, and saw that a security guard from the center had just walked outside.

He wasn't wearing a coat, she noticed, not even a jacket, but he was trying to light up a cigarette in between shivers.

His white uniform shirt was flapping in the wind and shone in the hazy light, his gold badge sparkling as he moved. Dawn easily recognized him. "Turn around!" Jeff ordered. "Now! Or I kill this fucking dyke bitch! I don't need her, she's what you might call expendable," he snarled. "If you catch my motherfucking drift?"

He grinned deviously, but Dawn couldn't see him. She was too busy lamenting the fact that the security guard wasn't looking their way. "Dawn!" he yelled. "Turn the fuck around, bitch!"

Dawn leapt on the seat, and jerked her head around. "Okay!" she said, staring at him, now. "I'm turning around, see? Now, please, put down the shotgun," she pleaded. "Can't you see she's fucking terrified? Why don't you leave her the fuck alone!"

"Fuck you!" Jeff spat back. "And you better worry about yourself being terrified, bitch! Keep your eyes forward!"

He turned his own dark eyes to Lashon, jerking the barrel of the shotgun at her face, making her yelp.

"You!" he yelled. "Lashon! Go to sleep right now, bitch! Eyes closed, and I mean it! I see you peeking and your friend gets popped instead of you! And then, I'll just pop your black ass next!" he hissed. "I don't give a flying fuck how pretty you are, you stuck-up bitch!"

Dawn glanced at Lashon's window, but it was already shut. She must have closed it as she was getting into the car. That meant the security guard wouldn't have heard anything but muffled sounds coming from the Camarro, Dawn knew, if that. Unfortunately, she also knew he wouldn't have cared anyway.

There was no reason to suspect anything was wrong. And for a second, she wondered if this man was the killer; the one terrorizing the females around Hove Boulevard. The one that had used some sharp object to dig out their eyes, and had apparently eaten some of them, judging by the gruesome remains the police recovered. She thought it would definitely explain his psychotic behavior!

But, that thought vanished as quickly as it came, and instead, she thought about the security guard again, and about him possibly hearing her. And even if he did, she thought, it's too fucking cold to do anything but look and maybe say some bullshit from the warmth of the doorway! These security guards are worse than the ones at the J.F.K. airport!

Dawn couldn't help glancing in that direction once more, but the security guard was gone, his cigarette probably smoked down to the filter before he could freeze where he stood.

Sorrow and deep disappointment caressed her heart, making it thump harder. She had even been prepared to praise Mayor Bloomberg for his stupid fucking cigarette bans, if the security guard had saved them. She suddenly felt very alone and to make matters worse, the snowstorm was still coming.

"I said turn around, bitch!" the man named Jeff yelled. The stranger, the man in the yellow coat who wore headphones that she bet weren't even attached to any music source. He was staring at her, giving her a look that spoke volumes.

I could kill your ass right now bitch! that look said. Nobody would know. And I wouldn't mind doing it, either. Just you try me!

"You sleeping bitch?" he said, clearly addressing Lashon, but he was still staring deeply into Dawn's eyes.

"I hope you got your fucking head down," he said, "and those sexy eyes closed like you knocked out after a night of wild partying, with yo big round ass!"

Jeff laughed, but this was a different kind of laughter, Dawn noticed. It was malicious, and was nothing like his earlier, friendly laugh. "I remember what you told me Mrs. Thang," he sneered. "You a real party-hottie, ain't ya? Hot in that fat ass?"

It was an exceedingly weird (but undeniably good), Ru Paul impersonation, Dawn thought. He even added a sharp twist of his right hand—a move Ru Paul was very well known for.

"I'm doing it," Lashon mumbled.

Dawn glanced at the woman who was indeed pretending to sleep. She had her face tilted to one side on the headrest, her eyes were closed, and she really did appear to be snoozing.

She silently thanked Lashon for being smart enough to turn away from the window. It was clear they would have to be careful around him; whether he was the killer or not, he was definitely crazy.

"I'm gonna take your word for it," he said, still staring at Dawn. "Now, you, back there, I want you to sit the fuck back and relax," he said. "Take a real deep breath, bitch."

He grinned at her for a few seconds. "Anybody ever tell you, you look like Paula Patton?" he finally asked Dawn in a soft, musing voice. "Well if they did, they'd be some lying motherfuckers," he said, "'cause you's a ugly bitch and ain't no plastic surgeries that can perform that fucking trick!"

Jeff broke out in harsh laughter. "Too bad you ain't get no eye color," he said, "but I bet you got a bunch of hair up under that cap, don't ya? Think that make you a special bitch?" he asked her. "Being light-skin with long hair? Well guess what I think," he said, "I think we're gonna take ourselves a ride, there's shit you need to see!"

Dawn, who actually had heard that she resembled the actress, watched in mounting terror as Jeff (if that was his real name, she somehow doubted it) removed the barrel of the shotgun from Lashon's face and placed it across his lap.

He turned back to Dawn. "Don't get any bright ideas," he said. "I know about your father. Mr. Alf-hume experiments are forbidden. And I know about the letter too, I'm going to be needing that shit, you get me? So I suggest you work on your fucking excuses while there's still time," he said. "Hear that?"

He suddenly placed one cupped hand behind his right ear. "The sound you hear ain't snow," he said, "it's the clock slowly running out of tick-tocks on yo' black ass!"

Jeff flashed her his chip-toothed grin and spun around. The car jerked as he released the Camarro's manual brake. "Buckle up!" he said, cackling as if he'd lost his mind.

"I don't have the slightest idea where my father is!" Dawn said. "And what formula? What letter? A letter from who?"

The car was incredibly warm, as if he'd had it running the entire time (which wasn't possible because she could recall him starting the engine), as if he'd somehow known they were coming and her face and especially her lips, felt normal again.

It was small comfort (perhaps because her head was spinning on top of her pounding heart), but Dawn found it much easier to speak—not that she wanted to speak to him.

Jeff laughed merrily, twisting in his seat again to peer at her. She had never seen Denzel Washington look so evil, not even in Training Day. "Nice try bitch," he said, "but I heard you think it earlier. See, I got dat real black Mojo! And by the time I'm done, niggas is gone be lost in my shadow forever!"

He smiled. "Competition is none," he said, "I revolve at the top like the sun, and—-!"

Jeff broke off talking and gazed at her, suspiciously. "You don't even know who that is, do you?" he said. "Rakim? The Microphone Fiend?" He grimaced. "Nah, you thought I was spitting a Little Wayne verse and shit!" he said. "You young black bitches is all the same, pretty face and a big booty, but don't know your ass from your elbow!"

Jeff laughed again, putting the Camarro in reverse, and slowly backed out of the space. He was parked in-between some kind of black jeep, and what appeared to be a green Toyota.

Dawn watched the Toyota slide by, noticing the empty red baby seat propped up in the back. For a moment, her dazed mind wondered about the baby that belonged to the seat. Was it a cute baby? she wondered. And where was it at that moment?

Was it sitting on his or her mother's lap in the center right now as she was getting kidnapped? Was it crying? Like her?

It all felt like a dream to her; like a fucking bad dream. It felt as if she were somehow dreaming awake.

In the hours to come, she would return to that exact moment over and over again in her mind. Not to the minute her captor was backing his beat up old Camarro out into the road. But, to the moment she'd ignored the voice that told her to simply walk away. That strange female's voice, that had reminded her so much of her horribly abusive mother.

Just walk back into the center, it had said (it wasn't really such a bad place now that she was thinking about it; the center was bright and warm, and filled with people, even though they could be annoying in large doses), and get back on line.

She could get her number, and then wait to be called like any sensible person would do. Handing in one document wouldn't have taken that long, she could have been in and out in no time.

But, why did I have to get in this fucking car? she wondered, her heart thumping, her entire body shaking as if the temperature inside the car didn't suddenly remind her of the Fourth of July. And, that was her very last thought as the wreck of a Camarro finally sped off into the storm.

CHAPTER FIVE

They had been driving for what seemed like forever, when Dawn finally struck up the nerve to ask Jeff: "Where...where the hell are we even going?"

Jeff didn't answer at first, only kept driving through the snowy, slush-filled streets. He drove with his upper body hunched far over the steering wheel (just like her father had, Dawn recalled with wry amusement) and was a surprisingly careful driver.

Dawn couldn't say why, but she'd pictured Jeff tearing down the block, his foot stomping on the gas, a look of insane recklessness glinting in his dark eyes. But thankfully, none of that had happened.

Lashon was still pretending to be asleep, or was actually really sleeping now. Dawn couldn't tell. But, her face was still turned to one side, facing her, and her eyes were closed.

"You're going to give me that fucking letter," Jeff said. "And then we'll call your daddy." He reached over and turned on his radio. "That was real slick of him," he said, "you know?"

He toyed with the dial, turning it back and forth until he found something he liked. Moments In Love blared through the speakers, and after letting it play for a moment, he turned it down to a manageable volume to talk. Dawn felt the song seemed to go right along with the falling snow, and the freezing gloomy weather, in general.

"Nigger learned to control his emotions," Jeff said. "They never counted on that. Personally, I think somebody gave him a device to help him control them." He barked laughter. "Of course, I can't prove it," he said. "But how'd he get past security when they have mental scanners and usually figure out who they can't trust long before they give 'em access to restricted areas? Riddle me that, Dawn." He smirked. "But, I shoulda known they'd fuck up," he said, nodding his head. "Fucking Glints usually do!"

Dawn didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about with him saying glints. She only knew that her dad had been a janitor at the laboratory in Jessica Plains. And as far as she had been able to glean from his quiet conversations with her mother, he'd had access to every room in the big white building.

If that was who the man was referring to (and it seemed apparent he was), Dawn thought he either had her dad's duties confused with some other Fox-Tech employee's, or she had been correct about her father being overly secretive about his job.

Dawn frowned. "Are you sure you have the right man?" she said.

Jeff laughed. "Am I sure?" he said. "Is he around five-eight, with a bald head and glasses? A ugly, light-skinned, motherfucker?" He laughed again. "If that's him," he said, "I'm sure."

Dawn didn't respond, she was too busy picturing her father, whom she hadn't thought about for at least six months. She was envisioning the way he looked the last time she'd seen him.

She didn't think she would ever forget it, and after a while, she no longer even felt the Camarro rolling bumpily along the icy roads beneath them. Her mind had wandered off again as she vividly recalled the past. A quiet part of her would forever resent Jefthrow for making her do it.

Yes, her daddy was light skinned, bald and relatively short at five-eight. Compared to her, at least. (Her mom was even shorter at five-foot one—Dawn's height at seven.) But back then, she and her dad had actually been the exact same height.

In her mind, she saw him coming home from work, rushing through their front door, looking disheveled and hot. It was in the spring about nine long years ago, and she could remember he had been carrying a small box.

It was cardboard, with holes along the side she could see beneath his large left hand; and there was clearly something alive inside of it.

Dawn could recall hearing something moving against cardboard, a small scratching noise that she'd heard even with the TV on. She was sitting on their Egyptian carpet at the time, watching The Ellen DeGeneres Show while eating a lime ice-pop.

She was only wearing a sports bra, and a pair of white silk panties. Her butt was big for her age, and the panties fit like a g-string. Her mother, who routinely complained about how quickly her butt was growing, and how tight her pants were becoming, was down in the laundry room separating clothes, preparing them for the washing machine.

Dawn had always wondered if her mother having such a flat, shapeless butt, had prompted the nasty treatment she received from her.

"What's in the box, daddy?" she'd asked her father. "A surprise?"

She wondered if it was the parakeet she'd kept asking him to buy her, even though her mother was dead set against it. She wanted a blue or green one, and hopefully a baby, so that she could train it. She'd read that parakeets could be taught to talk.

Her father slammed the door behind him, his hand fumbling with the latch until he finally locked it. He glanced through the small diamond shaped window up at the top of the door, seeming to peek outside. "Did anyone come here for me, Dawn?" he whispered. "Any strange men in white coats?"

"I didn't see anyone," she said, shrugging. "But, you can ask mommy, she's downstairs." Dawn sucked on her icee, her eyes glued to the television, but her thoughts were really on her father. Because something was apparently wrong.

She glanced at him again. Her father was still peering through the window where a shaft of sunlight was streaming through the pane, and he was shading his eyes with his free hand. He wasn't wearing his eyeglasses and they weren't in his shirt pocket, where he usually kept them. Dawn had certainly noticed that, and had found it strange.

"No," he said, sighing. "That's okay."

He slowly turned to her, smiling, and Dawn had gasped.

She had never seen him looking so tired before! She hadn't noticed when he first came in, but his face seemed incredibly drawn and ashen.

"You okay daddy?" Dawn said, realizing he hadn't answered her question about the box, but she suddenly didn't care. Something was very wrong with him!

Her father couldn't see a lick without his glasses. So where are they? she'd thought, searching her father's sweaty face, wondering what had frightened him so. He looked how she always felt immediately after surprise quizzes in math class!

"I'm fine honey," he replied. He glanced down at the box in his hand. "How was school?" he said. "You do well on your English test this time?"

"That was last week daddy," she said. "Remember? I showed it to you and I only got a B, but Mr. Hail said I'm doing better and better."

Her father chuckled. "Sorry honey," he said, sighing, again. "I had a pretty rough day, but yeah, I actually do remember."

He was still staring at the box and she glanced at it too.

For just a second, Dawn thought she saw a tiny black eye peering at her through one of the holes! She gasped again, jerking back in fear. And then, she slowly leaned forward, her icee forgotten, and stared harder. But, if she had really seen that, an eye that seemed to look right at her, it was gone.

"I'm proud of you baby," her father mumbled, as if he'd meant the fact that she'd noticed what appeared to be a hamster's eye, a squirrel's or some other kind of rodent's, gazing at her. "Nice work sweetie," he said, "and I'm glad you—-"

"What's that daddy?" she said. "Is it some kind of animal?"

Her father jumped as if she had yelled her question at him. "Oh this?" he said. He frowned. "It's a lab...a lab specimen that escaped, uh yeah. I was up on the fifth floor mopping by Dr. John Clark's office. Remember him?" he asked her, "the rapping doctor? The one we saw on channel four, he wears glasses? I introduced you the day you and mommy dropped by," he said. "Remember that huge blue office? I told you he nagged me for weeks to re-paint it, the kook. He wanted beige for whatever reason?"

Dawn smiled. Dr. Clark of Cardozo high school, and the esteemed Columbia University (and that was exactly how her father would always refer to his old friend), had been very nice to her. And she'd also found him kinda cute in a nerdy way.

But, it was the rapping part that she'd liked most.

Dawn absolutely adored rap music. She would often contemplate its existence, marveling over the notion that her people had invented an entire art form. She'd recently purchased a new app for her smart phone that allowed her to pick up radio broadcasts from around the world, and it was entertaining as well as interesting, to hear all of the versions of rap music existing in different countries. They had influenced the entire planet, and no matter where you went, African Americans were top news.

Of course, smart phones didn't exist back then. "I remember," she'd said. "He was kind of cool, but keep on going daddy, what else happened!"

"Well this little guy was scurrying down the hallway, alongside the wall," he said, "and I didn't know what the hell I was looking at, not at first. But, then it scurried right up to me, and—-"

Dawn broke out in giggles, and did a remarkably athletic thing, bending over at the waist until her forehead actually touched the carpet. She was only nine, but was extremely tall for her age and she had the lithe muscular body of a gymnast.

A gymnast with a big butt.

"What?" her father said. He was giving her a puzzled smile. "What's up baby?" he asked her, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"You said the H word," Dawn said, sitting up again. She cupped one small hand over her mouth to stifle the remaining bubbles of laughter. Dawn used the H word all the time but her father wouldn't have known that.

She used the F, B, N, and both S words too. But, it was hilarious coming from him, even a word as mild as hell. And she knew her mother would have gone ballistic had she heard him. When she wasn't in church, which she usually was, she was constantly preaching to them about the ways of proper Christians.

"A nasty mouth means a nasty mind," she often said. "And neither will get you through the gates of heaven!"

"Oh," her father had said, grinning vacantly. "Sorry, but don't tell your mother I used it okay? You know how she gets."

"I won't," Dawn said. "But, go on daddy, you saw it running down the hall by Dr. Clark's office and..."

"Yeah, and I thought it was a ball," he said. "One of those furry kinds they make for pets? Some of them, you can roll and they actually roll back to you? Only there was nobody around to roll this one!"

He raised the box to his face and shook it. "It's a good thing I saw it too," he said, "I was just about to run the buffer and I wouldn't have seen it until it was much too late. I definitely would have squashed it."

"Can I see it?" Dawn had asked her father, and his reaction was frightening. Even now, she could feel how stunned she had felt back then—how scared and deeply hurt.

"No!" he shouted. Not said, or replied, shouted. As if he had just walked into the kitchen, like he had back when she was four and caught her fiddling with the dials on the stove.

Back then, she'd turned on the gas enough to fill the kitchen with it, but not enough to light the pilot. But, that was how loud it was, and how vicious, as if he'd caught her pointing a loaded gun at her own face.

"Don't ever go near this fucking box!" he roared. "These lab animals are filled with all kinds of chemicals, God only knows what kind of experiments they run on them! So stay away from it! I'm taking it back bright and early tomorrow morning!"

"Why didn't you take it back today?" she'd asked him in a small, shocked voice.

Her father's face had looked dazed for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. He had actually impressed himself with his next lie. "Because by the time I caught it, all the lab techs were gone," he said, finally. "That's why, everything's on automatic lock in there, and I just have to wait 'til morning."

He patted his shirt pocket and something rustled. Like paper, Dawn had thought. "You just make sure you don't go near it," he said. "Okay?"

He'd tried to soften his tone, and take some of the sting out of his sudden explosion, but the damage had already been done. And perhaps he realized it, because he had mumbled something else that Dawn couldn't hear, and then he'd dropped his eyes to the box, again.

She had stared at her father at this point, stunned that he had just cursed at her (it was the first time she could ever recall him doing that), but mostly wondering why he was lying to her.

Dawn didn't know anything about his job (that was the big family secret, in her opinion, along with what her mother had done to her one night while he was working overtime), but she knew when her father was lying to her. It was because of the glasses. When he was wearing them, he always touched them when he was fibbing to her.

He had obviously forgotten he wasn't wearing them, but still kept reaching for his face as if he was. So he was clearly stretching the truth, Dawn thought. And she hadn't understood his panic back then (he'd always taught her that African-Americans, particularly the females, feared nothing), but what she really hadn't been able to figure out, then or now, was why? What possible reason could he have had to lie to her?

*******

"You thinking up some lies to tell me?" a voice called out.

Dawn jerked her body, glancing at the man who was leaning over in his seat and grinning at her. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage. The car had stopped moving, but she hadn't noticed until now because she was daydreaming about the conversation she'd had with her father on that fateful spring day. The radio was off and a deep silence filled the car.

"He was a pretty good liar too," Jeff said, still grinning at her, and Dawn noticed that his smile looked different. At first she didn't understand what had changed, and then she saw what was wrong. In fact, was amazed she hadn't noticed it immediately, because it was actually pretty obvious.

His front tooth, the one with the blackened edges, it was no longer chipped and his smile was now picture perfect!

She gaped at him with dull wonder.

"False cap," he said. He had noticed her noticing. "See?"

Jeff jerked his head to the left, downward, and Dawn looked. She saw the fake chipped tooth resting in the empty space of the cup holder. It gleamed in the dim light coming through the windshield like a small jewel.

Dawn remembered thinking that his face and particularly his smile, reminded her of Denzel Washington. It still did, now, even more so than before. If she hadn't known better, Dawn would have thought it was really him. Only for some reason, he was threatening to murder her.

"I'm a pretty good liar too," Jeff said, and guffawed. "You gotta be in my line of work," he went on. "You'd be surprised how something so simple can change a man's description. It throws off police reports like a motherfucker! Just remove my coat and the headphones and I'm good, see your little friend?"

Dawn looked at her. Lashon was leaning back against the seat and her eyes and mouth were both wide open! A thin line of blood dripped from one corner of her lips. She appeared to be in a trance, or at least some kind of shock.

"What the fuck did you do?" Dawn said. "Why is she like this! Oh my God, Lashon!" she screamed, rising up from the seat.

"You want to end up like that?" he said. "You want to see what she's seeing right now, bitch?" He glared at her, his previous smile seeming to melt like an ice-cube in the sun.

Dawn stared back at Jeff for a moment, noticing the dangerous look in his dark brown eyes, and slowly sat back down. She reached out and stroked Lashon's golden ponytail, caressing it with both trembling hands. She couldn't help inhaling her enchanting scent.

"What did you do to her?" Dawn said again. "She looks like a fucking zombie! Did you hurt her somehow?"

"Let's just say she's watching the most interesting movie ever," he said. "The type of shit Hollywood ain't never seen before!"

"What?" she said. "What do you mean watching? What movie?"

"Fuck her for now!" Jeff grunted. "Take a look around you. Know where we are? Go on and look, take your time."

Dawn did as he asked, and for a moment, she literally couldn't breathe. The feeling of surprise that swept through her would have made her swoon were she standing upright.

A slow, yet powerful sense of dizziness rolled over her, and Dawn could smell the faint aroma of cherries. But, not real cherries—-real cherries didn't have a scent.

The fake cherry fragrance was coming from the air-freshener Jeff had hanging from his rear-view mirror. A cluster of smiling cartoon cherries, with huge heavily-lashed, cartoon eyes.

They seemed to be teasing her, and the stifling heat seemed to be intensifying the cloyingly sweet smell, seeming to go right along with her utter disbelief.

They had been driving around for what felt like hours. Dawn could clearly recall them going over a bridge at some point. And even through a long winding tunnel where a light bulb hanging from the wall shone from the pitch blackness every few yards or so. She particularly remembered that part.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, pushing her sense of claustrophobia to the limit. Even though she hadn't suffered from that particular phobia until that moment. And it was crazy, but at one point, they seemed to be rolling across a large body of water, and Dawn figured she was dreaming.

No—she had to be dreaming. Even as she watched what appeared to be a salmon suddenly leap from the water as they passed, like it was trying to catch flies. Certainly, she had imagined that!

But, Dawn had damn near expected to be in another state by now. And outside the window, she saw that the snow was definitely coming down harder than before.

"Why are we back here?" she said. "At the center?"

Her voice was too high, almost shrill, and her heart was galloping in her chest as Jeff laughed wildly.

"You're pretty good," he said. "If I didn't know better, if I didn't already know him—-the lying little fuck, I might even believe you. But, you're not nearly good enough, bitch!"

Dawn looked past Lashon's chair, through the windshield and out into the falling snow. The lunch truck was gone and that was more than just surprising. It looked strange to see the blank space where the truck usually parked, it didn't make any sense to her. That fucking truck never left the side of the curb until...

"What time is it?" Dawn asked, glancing at Jeff.

"Around eight-o'clock," he said. "In the morning, right before you came in." He smirked and said: "Like you don't know."

In the morning? she thought, and turned from the black man to peer hard out the window on her side. But, it was nearly completely covered now, so she tried to peek through the one open space at the top which was about the width of her pinky, to view the sky. Dawn couldn't tell for sure but it actually did seem a lot darker out there. "Before I came in?" she said. "But how—-"

"You really expect me to believe he didn't show you anything?" he said. "None of the shit he was working on? He never gave you a purple liquid to drink? One that made you feel kind of woozy?"

Dawn didn't reply, she was still considering what he'd just said: Before you came in. Like he was trying to insinuate they had traveled back in time, which was downright nuts. And then, she had an idea. It was crazy perhaps, but...

She reached into her coat pocket and retrieved her cell phone. She turned it on with a shaking hand and saw that the time was: 8:03 exactly. Which she knew was patently fucking impossible!

Dawn suddenly remembered glancing at her watch that morning just before she got on the back of the line and it had been 8:23, which according to Jeff, wouldn't happen for another twenty minutes.

"Get the fuck out of here," she said. "This is some kind of fucking trick." Dawn stared down at the glowing numbers on the phone, a part of her thinking they would change while she watched, and go back to a more reasonable time.

Around eleven-thirty or so, she thought, if not past noon. She tapped the tiny glass with one finger, but the numbers didn't budge at all. It had to be a fucking trick!

"It's not," Jeff said. "And you know it's not. Dr. Yarakki told me you might try this bullshit, but it won't work. Put that shit away bitch, you know it's useless now. Here!"

Dawn raised her head. Jefthrow was holding some kind of electronic gadget. At first, staring at the neon green numbers had fucked with her vision, making it difficult to see what he was showing her. And the darkness of the Camarro only made it worse. Then, she saw it was a tiny video camera, one of the really expensive ones that recorded straight to DVD. The type she usually saw in Heartland America catalogues.

"Take it," Jeff said. "You're going to do the honors, and make sure it's real nice and focused bitch. I don't want daddy to miss a single motherfucking thing."

Dawn stared at the camera. It was a silver and black Sony, with weird writing on its visible side that made her think of Dragonball Z, and Chinese people, even though the Japanese had made Dragonball Z. "What am I supposed to do with that?" she whispered. "What the hell is it for?"

Dawn placed the I-phone back in her pocket, hearing it clink against her keys. She vaguely wondered what Jeff meant by you know it's useless now. It was fully charged and had minutes.

"You're going to point it at that fucking window when I tell you to," he said. "I don't care what you see, keep on filming. I'm through playing with the esteemed Dr. Laurelton. I couldn't care less about the awards he's won, or the articles and books he's written. Writers are snobby motherfuckers anyway," he said, "they should all be shot! The bitches too! But, if he ever wants to see your skinny ass again, he's going to whip up another antidote or produce that vial! And I mean like pronto!"

"Doctor?" Dawn said. "Doctor Laurelton? Nigger, my father was a fucking janitor!" she screamed. "The closest he ever got to medical school was when he worked sanitation and picked up some hospital's trash! The hospital was somewhere in Queens!"

"Is that what he told you?" Jeff said, and grinned. "Or is that just part of your script?" he asked her. "The acting like an innocent bystander, part? Pretty good Dawn," he said, "the apple didn't fall too far from the proverbial tree. But, if the apple doesn't do what the fuck I tell her, she's gonna feel like apple sauce real soon!"

He reached out and stroked the long shiny rifle. "And your friend's going to be next," he said. "Mentally, she's half-there already."

"What the hell am I going to be filming?" she said.

"You'll see," Jeff said, turning around to the steering wheel again. He was still holding out the hand holding the camera, not looking at her. She finally took it, thinking that the car was still very warm, but the cold air was clearly beginning to penetrate the heat. It was brushing against her skin like icy fingers.

How fucking long was I daydreaming? she wondered. It couldn't have been that long, not long enough for the cold air to be invading the prior suffocating heat.

She glanced down at the camera which was extremely light in her hands, and frowned. It felt warm, she thought. And it was so small, about the smallest she'd ever seen.

"Good," Jeff said. "That's more like it. There's no reason you should die for your father's mistakes; keep on cooperating and everything should be just fine."

Die for my father's mistakes? she thought.

And then, her mind slipped back to that strange conversation she'd had with her dad, back when she was nine and still thought the world was mostly okay. Long before her daddy decided he didn't love them anymore and left. Or at least, didn't love her anymore. Which of course, was the way she'd seen things as a nine-year old child.

Dawn remembered how nervous he had been acting. How he had thought people might be after him, men in white lab coats, he'd said. The type Dr. John Clark of Cardozo High and Columbia University, wore. "My father was a janitor!" she said. "I saw him in his uniform every day, and his new tool belt. The one my mom got him for Christmas when I was four!"

Dawn glanced up at Jeff, watching him shrug. "You want to keep up the charade?" he said. "Fine with me as long as you operate that camera properly. No mistakes, bitch; because you shouldn't pay for your father's, but I'll see to it you pay for your own. We understand each other?"

Dawn didn't know what he was talking about. Or why this crazy shit was even happening! "What about her?" she said. "What's happening to her?" She gazed at Lashon. "Why is—-"

"She'll be just fine," Jeff replied. "As long as you do what I tell you, that is. But since you insist on pretending, okay, I'll play along just for fun. Let's act like five-year old kids," he said, and smirked. "Right now, her mind is trapped in a kind of stasis," he continued. "I don't have the time or the inclination to explain to you what you probably already know. Just understand that she won't be harmed as long as I bring her back in time. Before they can come and find her. And believe me bitch," he whispered, "you wouldn't want that happy shit!"

"Before who can find her?" she said. "What are you talk—-"

"Don't worry about it," Jeff said, "you just better—-"

And then, he broke off talking and ducked his head. "Uh-oh," he said, "here you come now." Jeff glanced at his watch. "Right on schedule too," he said, "excellent! Take a look."

Dawn peered out the front window, scared out of her wits, wishing to God she hadn't climbed into the Camarro. Wondering if she could maybe unlock the door and bolt from the car before Jeff had a chance to raise and aim his shotgun.

Hoping against hope that any second now, Lashon would spin around in the front seat and scream: "Got ya! You fell for it, didn't you? I always do this to motherfuckers I just meet!"

She would laugh and say: "Come on Jeff, that's enough baby. It worked, but you can take us to my crib now." She would laugh some more.

Jeff would take them to Lashon's apartment where they would smoke weed and then fuck. Where Dawn would undress Lashon as if unwrapping a birthday present, and lick the beautiful woman like a chocolate ice-cream cone.

Her monumental sense of relief would probably cause her to do things she'd never done to a female before.

And, the fact that the woman she was doing them to resembled one of her favorite actresses, would have only made it a sweeter deal. But, that didn't happen (she knew it wasn't going to happen, maybe not ever), and what she saw out there, just beyond the heap of snow covering the Camarro's hood, was simply too much.

And, it was entirely too much to deal with.

The snow wasn't falling nearly hard enough to block her view, but Dawn wished it was. "I'm dreaming!" she whispered. "I'm obviously still in bed, having a very life-like nightmare. Like us riding across that lake because this shit can't be real!"

Jefthrow didn't respond, but Dawn didn't care. She knew it had been real, like she knew what she was witnessing right now was real. But, it was all she could come up with as she watched a tall black girl approach from far down the block.

She was hurrying, this girl, and was pumping her legs rapidly beneath a long goose down coat. The kind that Dawn knew had become something of a fad a few years ago.

"The camera!" Jeff yelled. "Daddy's gotta see I mean business! He shoulda told me his fucking plans, now we just gotta do it the hard way. Kia ain't pulling my arms and legs off, again!"

Dawn raised the digital video camera with shaking hands as the girl drew nearer and nearer. She didn't recall it snowing when she first arrived at Center forty-five. Not even a little.

But, by the time Dawn got there, the skies could have been filled with alien invaders in U.F.O.'s and she wouldn't have noticed. She had been that damn cold.

Nothing else had mattered, not finding a job, not sports, not Hollywood, not becoming a fiction writer, nothing. Nothing but making the cold go away. But, as she watched the girl pass the lunch truck and finally reach the center, Dawn nearly choked on saliva that had gone down the wrong pipe in her throat.

She had heard the odd things the black man had just told her, something about Kia (whoever that was) pulling off his arms and legs, but Dawn was too stunned by what she was seeing to give it much thought.

She couldn't shake the sense that her life would never be the same. That it was like the impossibly beautiful Barbara Eden out of her bottle—there was no putting the magic back once it had escaped.

And with a feeling akin to horror, Dawn saw that the girl in the three-quarter goose down didn't only resemble her, but it was like looking in a fucking mirror!

CHAPTER SIX

"Now," Jeff said, "aim the camera at the entrance. You see yourself out there?" he asked her. "Forget about it. Act like you don't and keep the lens focused on the doors, that's where the action's going to be!"

Jeff laughed as the girl (her) stopped just outside the green doors and glanced up (it was the last thing Dawn would see with her own eyes before the window got completely covered in snow), right into the heavy white flakes drifting down from the sky.

I never did that! she thought. I never looked into the sky. I wouldn't have stopped at the doors just to do that, not when it's this damn cold! And where the fuck are all the people that were on line, anyway? I got right behind a short, light-skinned man that was wearing white corduroy high-waters. He had resembled Gary Coleman!

She had eventually sank his fucking battleship too!

The sidewalk in front of the center hadn't been empty, there had been a long line of people. And it hadn't been snowing either. Not yet. Dawn felt reasonably sure of that. She didn't know where Jeff was getting his information but it was clearly faulty.

The events were out of their proper sequence.

She wondered if the whole thing wasn't some kind of hoax. Why couldn't this just be someone pretending to be her? Wearing her type of coat, boots and brown knit cap? It wasn't as if she owned the only ones ever manufactured. There was no such thing as time travel, the very notion was ludicrous. And she didn't mean that crazy southern rapper.

"Okay," Jeff said. "Here it comes, get ready!"

Panic touched Dawn's mind. "I can't see through the fucking snow!" she blurted out. "Are you crazy? The entire window's blocked off! The only way I can see her is through this window! What am I supposed to do?"

Jeff exhaled. "Didn't I tell you to do exactly what I told you bitch?" he grunted.

"Yes," she replied. "But, still—"

"Still nothing," he said. "Press the small button on the bottom of the camera, bitch. The red one, go on, hurry up!"

Dawn turned the Sony over and examined its base. There was a red button smack dab in the middle of the plastic rectangle. Strange place for a button, she thought. But, she pressed it and immediately heard a sharp ringing sound.

Dawn nearly dropped the video camera as a white light flashed and the ringing sound quickly faded away.

She squinted her eyes against the light and the camera suddenly felt blazing hot in her hands! But, she held on to it, more afraid of dropping it, and the sensation passed. It was cool now—almost cold. And then, the light seemed to expand, the radiance doubling and trebling, shining like a beacon in the dark car. It was like she was holding the sun.

"Now, look through it!" Jeff yelled. "Quick!"

Dawn did, and the strangest, most unexpected thing happened. All of a sudden, she was looking straight through the fucking window! Straight past the snow packed on the glass and the image was crystal clear.

Sony, she thought. Leave it to them to design a camera you could use to spy on your fucking kids! Those motherfuckers are bugged over there!

Dawn was ecstatic, in spite of the utter insanity she was accepting (that she could actually be watching herself standing in front of a building, glancing up into a snow-filled sky), in spite of the fact that the luscious woman she planned on getting with, boyfriend and girlfriend type getting with, was currently zoned out, comatose or in some kind of daze.

Because the video camera was incredible! "I can see through the fucking snow!" she said. The excitement in her voice was palpable. She turned to Jeff. "How is that possible?" she said. "How the fuck is the camera doing it?"

"You know," Jeff said, "you keep it up and you just may convince me. You damn near remind me of myself the first time I used it." He chuckled. "But, never mind that shit," he said. "Now, press the other button, the one right next to the red one."

Dawn turned to stare at the viewfinder. The camera had a small screen that displayed what the lens was viewing; she used one finger to pry it open and was amazed to see the image of herself, out in the snow, right there on the screen!

She glanced back at the darkness of the covered window, then back at the screen. Her eyes narrowed. Yes, it was there. It actually was! And it really was incredible, but was also fucking strange. The image wasn't solid, she realized, but seemed to flicker and waver like a distorted picture on an old television set. Or like a ghost haunting a dark basement, she thought.

"What other button?" Dawn said. "I didn't..."

And then, she turned the Sony over again, and saw it. A glowing blue button! "That's it, press it," Jeff said. "Do it!"

The button hadn't been there, she knew that. But, she pressed it anyway (almost expecting a violent shock, nearly feeling one), and the bright white light changed into a vibrant pink one. As if the camera's glow was coming from a ball of cotton candy.

"Start filming!" Jeff said. "Go and get back to your fucking business, time is wasting. Pick that cotton nigga before I whip yo lazy black ass!"

********

The snow was still pouring from high above, and though Dawn couldn't see it with her naked eye, she could see it on the tiny screen when she tilted the camera upwards. Dark clouds stretched across the entire sky, they resembled puffy gray fish scales, she thought, and snow was now cascading down from them as if God were shaking a box of mashed-potato flakes over the frozen world.

For no reason, she glanced at Lashon, at the back of her head, really—since it was all she could see. And just before she looked through the camera again (and saw that the other her, the other tall, black girl in the long brown coat, was getting attacked), Dawn noticed that Lashon was staring at her, now.

With that same vacant, lost expression, except her pale eyes were moving this time. They had been darting around the car until they found Dawn's and seemed to plead with her.

She didn't know what Lashon had witnessed while in her daze (if Lashon had witnessed anything—Dawn only had Jeff's word to go by and he wasn't exactly a reliable source of information), but she looked like the survivor of a plane crash.

Her complexion was still beautiful, still glowing in the light coming from the Sony video camera like newly polished mahogany; a stunningly pretty Denise Boutte complexion.

But, she suddenly seemed twenty years older to Dawn, maybe even more than that. She looked like a woman who had commissioned some street artist to paint her as she would most likely look in the distant future, and while under severe stress.

And then, the illusion passed.

"Help me!" Lashon said harshly. "They have three fucking eyes Dawn, tentacles, and leather wings!"

What? she thought. Three eyes? What has three eyes? Lashon's perfect, sharp features, looked mostly normal to her again (it was apparently a trick of the light, she thought), but she was clearly still terrified. But why? Dawn wondered. What is she so fucking afraid of? And what did she mean by leather wings? What animal has leather wings? Bats?

And then, something totally unexpected happened as she watched, something absolutely shocking.

Jeff slapped the shit out of Lashon with his right hand, rocking her head straight back, making bright red blood gush from her mouth! It had been completely unprovoked, and Dawn couldn't help immediately thinking of what Lashon had done to the worker. She ducked her head, doing her best to ignore the graphic sounds of Jeff repeatedly punching Lashon in the head and face now! Clearly using his fists, because the meaty smacking thuds were very loud inside the car.

Lashon was yelling for him to stop, to stop hitting on her. But Jeff didn't, he beat her until Dawn heard the dry snapping sounds of her nose and cheekbones breaking. She was still cringing against the seat, but she had to look. And when she did, Dawn saw that Jeff wouldn't stop slamming his huge black knuckles into Lashon's dark brown, Nacirema Wolf features.

He was holding her with one hand, and striking her with the other! Lashon's ponytail was swinging wildly.

And then, without warning, as if he finally got tired of hitting Lashon with his bloody fists, he snatched up the shotgun, cocked it forcefully, and blew her face off!

The sound was deafening, like dynamite had just gone off beside her head, and her ears felt clogged with a quart of mud. When Dawn blinked, uncovering her face and glancing up, she saw a very puzzling thing. She saw that none of that shit had really happened! Her ears were still ringing from the shockingly loud blast and her entire body was trembling.

But it hadn't really happened, the insane violence. She had only imagined it. How or why, she couldn't even guess at, but she could see that a perfectly fine Lashon was really looking in her direction, now. Was staring right at her.

She was sitting just as she'd been sitting before. Her face wasn't bruised, but her beautiful eyes were still almost bug-like wide. And she was mouthing something, something that looked like...

"The camera!" Jeff yelled. "Look through the shit, bitch!"

Lashon shrieked, covering her head with both arms up in the passenger seat. She whimpered as the man leaned forward over the back of his chair, staring out the dark window. He could apparently see right through it and didn't need a special camera.

"It's starting!" he yelled. "You better not miss it bitch. Shit's about to get crazy over there and one chance is all I got! If I fail this time my ass is dead. So you better not fuck up!"

Dawn, still trembling badly, put the Sony's viewfinder back to her left eye and looked. As she leaned closer to the snow covered window, a part of her mind recalled what Lashon seemed to say to her just now.

Her huge, sexy, Beyonce lips, had formed a word. It was only one word, if that, Dawn thought, and wouldn't have bet her life on it, but she believed it had been: Valor.

Or maybe, it had been something else? she thought, trying to cope with the strange shit she was suddenly being forced to deal with. Maybe it was actually a nonsense word, a word I never heard before? Maybe, it had actually been Valon?

Perhaps, she thought. And if so, she somehow knew (and would never be able to explain the knowing) that it had rhymed with either talon or salon.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dawn did as Jeff had instructed and aimed for the green metal doors. When she looked through the viewfinder again, she saw that a large pack of dogs had suddenly appeared from nowhere, and were now cautiously approaching the girl in the long brown coat. At least fifteen of them, she saw, and they all looked incredibly vicious to her, and extremely fucking hungry. She thought she could even see ribs poking through the ragged fur on a few of them.

They had apparently been out in the storm for a long time, the top of their coats were completely covered in snow. They reminded Dawn of the vehicles she'd seen parked along the street, and even as she watched, one of them violently shook off the white flakes and crept closer to the girl.

Dawn couldn't hear it growling, but could imagine it was. Its huge muzzle was wrinkled, its head lowered, nearly touching the frozen pavement. Its eyes (or at least the one she could see) seemed to be shining.

No! she thought after a second. It really is shining, like the beam of a fucking flashlight! What the fuck is this?

"Hold it steady," Jeff was saying from the front seat. "It's about to happen, and I want you to catch every fucking bite!"

Dawn heard what Jeff said, but tried to ignore it. She thought she knew what he meant by bite, and didn't want to consider it. Now, she watched as the main dog stopped walking and stood before the girl. She could see the shit was huge.

The girl apparently could as well, because she had backed up a little, but was now standing completely still as she stared down at the pack of canines. She was clearly frightened.

"This never happened," Dawn said, "not to me." She was speaking mostly to herself, but a laughing Jeff responded anyway.

"It happened," he said, "just not in this dimension. You thought I just beat the shit out of her, didn't you?" Jeff gazed at her. "Wow," he said, "you got it bad for her, don't ya? What, you fall asleep tongue-kissing her asshole and shit?"

He sniggered. "That shit you just saw happened in another where, bitch—you ain't never read The Talisman? But, no need to worry about it," he sneered, "you just keep on filming, that's just what you do, motherfucker!"

Dawn heard more than amusement in his cold voice; she heard a note of insanity. "The sooner you're done," he went on, "the sooner we can get down to the real business, the real reason I snatched yo skank ass. And it wasn't because of ya fuckin' looks, you filthy hooker!"

She kept on filming, and the pink light was literally pulsating now. Outside in the snow, the first dog (and it was bigger than a Rottweiler, she realized, was about the biggest dog she'd ever seen in her fucking life) suddenly leapt at the girl, dipping low and grabbing her by the right ankle!

The girl kicked out violently, but it didn't let her go. Dawn gasped inside the car, the image jerking with her surprise, but she immediately steadied it.

The girl (me, she thought, the girl in the fucking goose down is me!) was struggling backwards with her ankle still between the dog's shiny white teeth. Her arms were flailing like a man walking a tightrope, as she tried to avoid tumbling to the frozen ground beneath her. And for a second, it seemed she might actually pull her leg free.

But, the dog simply dug its heels in, and started tugging in the opposite direction! Jerking its head from side to side, as if yanking on a length of rope. As if waiting for this, the other dogs began to creep in. "No!" Dawn said. "Get your foot out of its damn mouth and run! What the fuck are you doing?"

But the girl couldn't hear her, and didn't obey her suggestion. Perhaps, she couldn't obey had she heard it. Instead, she hopped backwards on one leg for maybe three steps, and crashed to the snow. The main dog went with her. It released her ankle and ran in a circle around her prone body. "Get up!" Dawn said. "Get up before—"

It was too late. The dog stopped circling the girl and lunged at her face! She tried to block its jaws, which she managed to do, but it was still no use. The dog clamped down on her right arm, and began shaking it viciously. "Oh my God!" Dawn said. "Help her!"

"Keep on filming!" Jeff said behind her. "Ain't no help for her ass now!" Dawn suddenly felt hot air blowing from above her head, and heard a light hissing sound, coming from the vents along the roof of the Camarro. It had a slightly plastic smell to it, an artificial smell, she thought. And she realized that Jeff must have turned on the heat, but ignored it, still staring through the viewfinder.

The dog bit through the girl's right arm! Straight through the sleeve of her fucking coat, actually chopping off the entire goose down sleeve with the forearm still in it! Dawn could hear its teeth clack together in her mind and it had looked like the special effects in a big-budget movie.

She raised her head, blinking her eyes in the gloomy car. "I didn't just see that shit," she said, turning to Jeff. "I didn't see that fucking shit just happen," she said again. As if speaking the words aloud would make it so.

"Did I?" she said. And how were its teeth that damn sharp? she wondered. No dog's teeth are that motherfucking sharp! Only that fucking shark in JAWS could do that type of shit!

Jeff was giving her a strange look. Part animosity, part reluctant sympathy, she thought. But, "keep shooting!" was all he said. And when a shaking Dawn went back to the scene outside in the snow, though really not wanting to, she saw that most of the dogs were crawling on top of the girl, now.

They were ripping her coat and biting her. And as they began to howl, pointing their black noses to the stormy sky like a pack of wolves, she saw that she'd been right, their eyes really were shining! Only, all of them were doing it, now.

But not just shining, because this was brighter than any candle or flashlight had ever been. Their eyes were literally blazing in the semi-darkness surrounding the Camarro, like miniature klieg lights! The snow was clearly exposed in their thin, but extremely bright, eye beams.

The dog that bit through the girl's arm, he was the biggest of them all, was running around with the severed limb hanging from its jaws. Other dogs lunged and snapped at the flopping wrist and hand. My damn wrist and hand! she thought.

She could see blood pouring from the ragged stump protruding from her tattered sleeve as the girl writhed on the snow in unimaginable pain. Dawn pressed the small button that controlled the zoom, and the image got much closer.

Perhaps a little too close, because now, the camera seemed to be right in the girl's face. Dawn was absolutely shocked, and felt she finally understood the meaning of the word insanity.

A word she had clearly been misusing, because she must have just gone insane—it was the only explanation for it.

Dawn was staring right into her own terrified, tear-streaked face! It was impossible of course, but the anguish she saw there was still beyond description, impossible or not. The pain the girl was feeling was too much for her to imagine.

"What I must be feeling," she corrected herself. "Somewhere." What had the crazy man actually said? In another dimension?

For just a second, a brief moment in time, their eyes met. What she saw in the girl's eyes (in her own eyes) would haunt her forever. There would be nights during the summers to come, when she would awake from nightmares where those eyes had been glowing and seemed to float in a solid darkness, like twin lanterns drifting in the deepest caverns beneath the ocean. Reminding her of the alien sea creatures she'd once seen on an episode of Blue Planet.

The snow was covering the girl's face now. Her knit hat had been ripped from her head by one of the dogs. A medium-sized white one that resembled some kind of mixed Collie.

When Dawn saw the hair that was exposed, a sliver of ice drilled into her heart. Oh no! she mouthed, still peering into the camera's eyepiece. Any doubts she'd still harbored about this person she was watching being her were completely obliterated.

And then, Dawn noticed that the small white dog was shaking the hat like a terrier, and was tossing it up in the air, now. Then it darted off with it, straight down the block, and she watched it go for a moment.

When she turned the camera towards the ground again, Dawn saw the huge, strange-looking dog suddenly bite off the girl's entire face! But she didn't scream, and jump back from the window as she might have under normal circumstances.

She could only wince as she watched the dog slowly pull the girl's skin from her face in a pale, almost rubbery, layer.

She wanted to reverse the zoom, but couldn't seem to move, not even one finger. She had never seen anything like this before: A human getting skinned alive! Her shock was so complete, a part of her mind refused to accept or even acknowledge what she was seeing, but only a very small part.

The majority of her was filled with deep revulsion and was already realizing the bitter truth of the situation. I have to get the fuck out of here, she thought. I don't care how; I only know I'm going to fucking die if I don't! But I can't leave Nacirema!

She gasped, choking back hot, horrified tears. Lashon, she'd meant, she couldn't leave Lashon behind.

Now, she watched in horror as more dogs suddenly noticed what the Doberman (that's not a normal fucking dog! she thought, that's not a fucking Doberman, and you know it! what fucking Doberman is three times bigger than a Rotty?) was doing, and joined it in the fun. Most of them had been racing through the snow, snapping at the blizzard, leaping around in the slush, fighting like puppies fight.

Two more fought over the blood-soaked, severed forearm, as if playing some gruesome "tug-o-war" game.

Now, in unison, they all quit what they were doing, almost as if hearing some signal that only they could hear, and completely ripped the girl's face up. Some used their claws to scrape at the soft flesh of her cheeks, chin and forehead.

Except she no longer really had a face. And, Dawn suddenly understood that this was no random attack. It was too well coordinated and deliberate, she felt. The dogs really seemed to know what they were doing.

When one of them darted forward and tore a chunk of meat from the girl's head, jerking its own head to yank it off, Dawn believed it knew exactly what it was doing! The others that began to attack her did too. And, soon the face was no longer there.

It had been scratched flat—the nose, eyes, and all her other features (the features that Dawn knew quite well, she woke up to them every morning!) were completely gone.

She thought it was like looking at raw hamburger someone had shaped into a person's face for some reason, and then attached a human neck, and very tall girl's body to it, and laid the whole thing down in the bloody snow.

The disgusting image was too clear, Dawn wanted to stop filming, but couldn't. It was like the way she'd felt when she first saw Lashon's face. She seemed utterly hypnotized.

"That's enough!" Jeff's voice said, and Dawn's daze finally broke. She blinked her eyes slowly, it felt like she was wearing a plastic ring around the eye she had used to look through the viewfinder. She gently rubbed at it, like a sleepy child.

"You can stop filming," Jeff's voice said, "that's more than enough if you didn't fuck up. 'Cause you was just shaking like a break dancer you stupid bitch!"

Dawn could only sit there for a moment as he laughed, listening to the sleet drilling into the roof of the Camarro. The heat was still blowing steadily but it no longer had that artificial odor, she could only smell the cherry air-freshener...and Lashon's perfume, a very beautiful aroma.

An aroma nearly as pretty as her, she thought.

When Dawn glanced at her, Lashon was still staring deeply into her eyes as if she'd never seen her before, which slightly startled her. But after a second, she turned her head from Dawn to peer out into the storm.

Dawn could see the dogs when she looked outside, and they were still racing up and down the street. Right past the spot the lunch truck normally occupied. But Lashon, who was watching them run, her eyes rolling side to side on her slack-jawed face, still looked totally stunned as if waking from a dream.

Only, she had actually awaken to a nightmare.

"What the fuck is all of this?" Dawn said.

The question didn't pass her lips as much as it bubbled up from the very depths of her fright. "Those dogs, they attacked that—attacked me," she said. "Are you saying this is the—"

She frowned, her pale face wrinkling up. "The future?" she whispered.

"Not the future," Jeff replied. "Call it a possible incident. It could be one future if I want it to be. I've got a fucking deadline and if your father doesn't stop playing games, it will most likely be your fucking future. I can promise you that!"

"Why can't I hear them?" she said. "The dogs? I can hear the wind, the ice hitting the car, why can't I hear the dogs? They must be snarling and barking or something. And I saw them howling but still couldn't hear them. I didn't even hear her, that girl, but I know she was screaming. I saw it!"

"That's how the camera works," Jeff said. "That blue light you pressed controls time across dimensions. A kind of force field surrounded the entire car the minute you pressed it. From outside it looks like a glowing condom for Camarros."

"So sound is trapped inside?" Dawn said, more to herself than anything. It probably explained his comment regarding her phone, but did nothing to explain her hearing the wind and ice. "Where did those dogs come from?" she said. "And why did they attack her in the first place? Did you make them?"

She wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.

Before the man could respond, Lashon spoke up. "Why are we back in front of the center?" she said. Her voice held a dull, dead quality that Dawn didn't like. "I can't let them find me—those things!"she said. "With the leather wings and the poison stingers!"

Lashon sighed, like a woman finally sitting down after being on her feet for hours. For a moment, she simply sat there as if unable to put the terrible things she'd seen into the proper words. Her dark, beautiful face was expressionless; only her bottom lip twitched a little, causing a slight frown.

"They killed a little girl!" she said, finally. "One of them...it jumped on her from the trees and stung her in the fucking neck. Like it was humping her neck and shit! And the poison..."

Lashon stopped talking, she glanced through the windshield and out into the storm. Snow was swirling along the Camarro's hood, stirring up flakes like a tiny tornado. Finally, she exhaled and turned back to Dawn.

"Her face turned jet black!" she said. "And I recognized her Dawn! I didn't know from where—-at first. But then, I realized who she was and cried. While I was over there I was crying actual tears Dawn! I actually reached up to my face and felt them! The bugs looked at me too, as if they could smell my tears!"

Dawn watched the woman absently stroke her own blond hair. "Why did they do that?" she said. "Why would they murder a little girl? She was around four or five, and she was so beautiful!"

Lashon sighed again, seemed to hiccup and closed her eyes. She leaned back on the headrest and covered her face with both hands. Dawn didn't respond to Lashon's questions.

She didn't know what to say. But at least one thing was cleared up. Jeff hadn't been lying about her seeing things. Real or fake, the woman had certainly seen something.

Dawn looked at the black man again. Jeff was holding out his hands to her. She glanced down at them, they were huge and rough looking, like he used them to crush rocks in his spare time.

"Hand it over!" he said. "Story time's finished. It's time to get that letter and then contact your father. People I work for don't like delays, and I don't like unnecessary questions."

He waggled his fingers at her. "Give it here!" he said. "Hope you ain't tired, bitch. I know yall motherfuckers been through a lot; a lot of mental abuse in this country and shit. Boo-hoo, cry me a river motherfuckers," he said, "'cause there's plenty of work left to do—bitches, we just getting started!"

After placing the camera in his hands, Dawn wiped her own hands on her lap, as if she had been touching something nasty. And actually, it did feel that way. Like the camera was wet and kind of warm. "How are we going to do that?" she whispered. "Contact my father? Don't you understand fucking English nigga? I haven't seen or heard from him in like nine fucking years!"

Jeff laughed. "Calm down!" he said. "That's all been arranged." He glanced at Lashon for a moment, then turned back to the front of the car. "When he sent you that letter in prison," he said, "some of my operatives had to be taught a lesson. Not good to have the help thinking failure's an option. We're about real achievement, we ain't no bullshit football team!"

Jeff winked at her, made a flying airplane gesture with his free hand, and laughed as he placed the video camera between his legs. He had to shift the shotgun a little to do it.

"You see how those dogs tore her face off?" he asked. "We did that to the ones we planted in the prison to keep an eye on you. We should of put 'em in cans and sold 'em to them nasty restaurants clogging up your filthy sidewalks. The dirty niggas will kill and cook anything that fucking moves! Why you think New York's rat population is on the decline?"

"What?" Dawn said, as her heart skipped from her chest to her throat. It lodged there like a small apple she had tried to swallow for some crazy reason. "I already told you," she said, "I don't have any letter—"

"Save it," Jeff said. "You can drop the bullshit act. Maybe we were wrong about some of it, maybe we overestimated Laurelton and made him out to be too good. But even if you don't know as much as we assumed, you definitely know about the letter."

Jeff had been staring out the front window as he spoke. He suddenly turned to her. "Wanna know how I know that?" he said. "Wanna know why you can cut the bullshit?"

Dawn only gazed at Jeff, her body feeling as hollow as the sound of the wind blowing outside. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. According to him, there had been people in jail with her, watching her every move! Dawn suddenly recalled feeling that way too, like she was being watched—and later on, followed.

The sensation of being followed started happening a month or so before the day of her release finally arrived. Maybe a month or two before that, she started getting the impression she was being watched. Sometimes, Dawn would catch some of the inmates (people she didn't know and didn't remember ever seeing before) staring at her, only to avert their eyes the moment she noticed them.

But they had wanted her to see them, that was the oddest part. The part that kept her wide awake in her cell long after the electronic gates had slammed shut and the lights had been turned off. She thought about them everyday, turning it over in her mind like a math problem.

While she was eating lunch in the mess hall, or while she was out in the yard, staring up at the lonely sky. Surrounded by women who had robbed and cheated, stabbed, shot and in some cases, murdered. Wondering if she would be able to exist without the bars and the guards and the population of miscreants around her that still had something in common with her: they were also convicted felons.

But it was during these moments of introspection that Dawn would often stop peering up at the clouds, suddenly glance around her, and see various women looking in her direction.

She had looked away as nonchalantly as she could manage, but her mind and heart had always been filled with a dark, suffocating terror.

That would explain the letter too, she thought. The one Jeff was clearly referring to. Someone had slipped it in between the pages of her book, The Audacity Of Slaves (an excellent urban fiction novel that was really science fiction in her opinion, though she felt the author was afraid to call it that), and when it fell from the book, Dawn had flinched.

With a pounding heart she had gazed down at the scrap of paper, barely comprehending what it was.

She nearly didn't notice it because the message was written on tissue paper, the electric blue kind that always came in her shoeboxes. If she hadn't shaken apple pie crumbs from the book's cover at one point, she would have never dislodged it.

It was a small piece of paper, no more than five inches in length and width. And Dawn guessed whoever had typed it out, also folded it into a neat rectangle and stuck in the back of her favorite novel.

At first, she had thought it was only a bookmark.

"I know, because I was the one who put the letter there," Jeff said. He grinned and licked his lips. "Had to make sure it didn't end up in the wrong hands," he said. "Remember the white girl with the huge ass and the big tits? The one with the green eyes that kept hitting on the new inmates? Olivia? Well, that was me."

Dawn stared at him, he was smiling as he suddenly reached beneath his seat and got something, and she couldn't help jumping a little. She was thinking of the woman he had just described—a huge, mountain of a woman, who had raped quite a few of the smaller girls.

Mostly black girls, if Dawn recalled correctly.

"You staring at me, nigga?" had been her favorite phrase when addressing the black girls, who as far as Dawn had seen, were never looking anywhere near the huge white woman.

This was invariably followed by: "You lazy fucking niggas make my skin crawl! I wish they'd ship all you monkeys back to Africa! All you niggas are good for is sucking my white pussy!"

These words would usually include the violent rape of whichever black girl she happened to be addressing at the time. Dawn had made it her business to stay as far away from her as she could, but ironically, had never seen Olivia watching her.

Or at least, she hadn't noticed it.

"The people I work for have some pretty sophisticated shit," Jeff said, "things that don't exist here." He rose up again and was now holding something in his right hand. "They call this a sand crystal," he said. He held it out to her; Dawn immediately glanced down and stared at it.

What Jeff was holding in the palm of his hand looked more like one of those fancy paper weights they always sold around Christmas time, to her; especially in hot climates. They were made of glass or plastic, were shaped into a small dome and were filled with water. They usually depicted some quaint wintry scene, and when you shook them, they snowed.

"A sand crystal?" she said. "Why is it called that?"

Dawn was intrigued despite her confusion and mounting terror. There was nothing about the object that explained calling it a crystal, nothing that she could see, at least.

Jeff raised it up, turning it in the dim light, letting her see it. "Beats me," he said. "Looks like one of those holiday trinkets, doesn't it? But it's not—nope. I can change my fucking appearance with this little baby; you wanna see?"

Dawn watched as he moved his huge dirty thumb along the top of the miniature dome. Rapidly, like a man about to flick his lighter on. And for a few seconds, nothing happened.

The car was quiet except for the heating vents hissing out their warmth, the wind howling outside the Camarro and the grains of ice tapping against the car's metal surface.

When Dawn glanced over at Lashon, she was lying back against the seat, staring at the object in Jeff's hand. Almost as if she recognized it. Then, just as Dawn was about to speak, a bright amber light erupted from the object (unlike the Christmas ornaments, this tiny dome world was empty, only water, or some other clear liquid, sloshed against the smoothly curved sides as he moved it side to side) and she jerked her entire body backwards as the black man's dark, grinning face, suddenly changed into a...

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Satisfied, bitch?" Jeff said. "Or do you need further proof? You high-yella bitches don't trust nothing, do you?" he asked her. "It's hard finding Mr. Right for you pretty light skin hoes, ain't it?"

Dawn didn't care about finding Mr. Right, Jeff was wrong about that one, but she was satisfied. In fact, she had actually peed on herself. And even though she wasn't nearly as distraught as Lashon seemed, Dawn had never been so afraid in her entire life. Not even on the day her father caught her playing in the kitchen, pretending she was in the cockpit of a rocket ship and the knobs on the stove were really the controls of the ship.

Dawn peed on herself that day too. But it was her father's loud shouting that caused it back then. This time, it was what happened to Jeff's body and face that did it. The only thing that she had ever seen like it, was in some horror movie whose name she couldn't recall, and had probably never known.

That the movie was called The Thing, starring a young Kurt Russell (one of her favorite actors), and was directed by John Carpenter (one of her favorite directors), was information she wouldn't be privy to for some time.

But in her mind, she could see the vile creature that had been the focal point of the truly frightening film, some type of cricket-roach, hybrid thing. And she could remember thinking it was a pretty decent looking monster for such an old movie.

"The formula I spoke of?" Jeff said. "It's hidden in the letter. Problem is, you and your father are the only ones that can decipher it." Jeff cut her off before she could speak. "I know!" he said. "Spare me the bullshit. You don't know anything about a letter, right? I'm making it all up?"

"Not that," Dawn said.

She had decided to come clean about the letter. It hadn't meant anything to her at all. It was only a few typed words that she thought she may have seen written somewhere or heard someone say before: nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It had seemed somewhat familiar, but didn't have any particular significance in her mind. Dawn only knew the letter was addressed to her because her name was on it and it had been placed in her damn book.

What had really frightened her was the idea that someone obviously had access to her prison cell. Because whoever placed the note inside her novel, did it while she was right there in bed, sleeping! And what if it was one of the women she'd noticed watching her? she'd thought. It had been a terrifying idea.

But, Dawn clearly remembered that day. After picking up the slip of paper from the floor near her bed and reading it, she was just about to yell for Thompson, the C.O., to tell her somebody had apparently snuck into her cell last night after lockdown, when the reality of what she was suggesting fully dawned on her. The utter craziness of it.

What Dawn was about to say was not only impossible (assuming someone did want to unlock her cell door just to stick a poem or whatever it was in her novel) there was no way it could have happened without her hearing them. Without damn near everyone on her cell block hearing. And it couldn't have been another inmate anyway. The bars, as far as Dawn knew, were electronically controlled. If it really had been Jeff, how the fuck did he pull it off? But she didn't ask that.

"This formula," she said. "Did he use animals to test it?"

Jeff seemed a little surprised by the question. "So, now you're admitting that he was more than a janitor?" he said. "Okay, that's a start. And like I said, you may be telling the truth."

He smiled. "Perhaps, you didn't know what was really going on," he said, "but I'm going to keep on acting like you're lying, if you don't mind. It's much safer that way—-comprende?"

"Did he use animals, like rats?" Dawn repeated.

She was doing her best to forget what she had just seen, Jeff's tentacles (hadn't Lashon mentioned tentacles? she wondered) and the hairy roach mandibles, or some other kind of insect's, that suddenly sprouted from his dark Denzel Washington face.

But she was pretty sure she'd never forget it, and would probably dream about it the very next time she went to sleep.

If I ever go to sleep again, she thought, sardonically.

"Yes, he used rats," he said. "Guinea pigs too, who cares? The formula I want will make me fully human again!" he barked. "That's my concern, why the fuck does it matter to you, anyhow?"

Dawn exhaled, thinking the aroma of fake cherries had gotten stronger, and she felt almost stoned from the torrid heat, like she was experiencing the mellow after effects of some really good weed. Perhaps sour, she'd been smoking it a lot lately.

And though logic dictated she ask Jeff to turn the heat off, or at least that he turn it down some, Dawn had long since gone past the boundaries of logic. Plus, she had a feeling he would only turn the shit up higher if she asked. "What do you mean fully human?" she said, wiping sweat from her face. "As opposed to what?"

"I was infected!" Jeff said curtly. "This ain't the Discovery Channel bitch, never mind me. Explain yourself, now! Why the fuck's it so important?" The blatant mistrust was clear in his dark, intense eyes.

Dawn sighed. "The last time I saw him," she said, "my father, I was only a child. I remember him coming home from work one particularly hot afternoon, and he was carrying a really small box."

"With tiny holes punched into the sides of the box?" Jeff said.

Dawn stared at him. "Exactly," she said. "I asked him what was in it, but he never answered, not really."

Jeff shrugged. "It was probably one of Yarakki's rats," he said, "did you see it? What the fuck it look like?" He eyed her suspiciously. "If you really saw it," he said, "you'd know."

"I never saw it," she admitted, "he screamed at me for even asking to see it, and I was only nine. What was it?" she said. "I mean, I know it was probably a lab rat now. He actually called it that, I think. But what the fuck did he do to it? And why was he acting so damn nervous?"

Jeff shrugged again. "We have to go," he said. "No more talk for now." He turned around and grabbed the steering wheel. "Maybe I'll explain more later if you keep on cooperating. I can be a pretty reasonable nigga, at times."

Jeff just sat there, staring out into the snowfall for a moment. Then he turned to Lashon; he leaned out and touched her stomach, seemed to rub it slightly. "Hey you!" he said. "Sleepy head! Hey, wake the fuck up! I gotta tell you something. Rise and shine bitch, this ain't no motel room!"

Dawn had been staring out the window, wondering why Jeff hadn't answered her question, but only just realized that the dogs had vanished. Every single one, and she didn't see how that was possible, how that many dogs could simply disappear without her noticing them leave!

"I'm not sleeping," Lashon mumbled. Her head was turned away from Jeff, so she didn't see him sit upright again. Lashon slowly sat up herself, staring out the front window, looking transfixed. "I'm just wondering what the fuck's happening," she said, "why it feels like this is only a bad dream, when I know it's not. I wish it was, but it's clearly fucking real."

Jeff laughed. "You got that shit right!" he said, ducking to try and see past the roof of the car. "This is as real as it gets bitches! As scary as Michael Savage becoming President, as scary as one of them Wolf bitches getting their fucking throne back!"

He sniggered. "And it looks like it's getting worse out there," he said, "we gotta go motherfuckers!"

Jeff straightened up a little and glanced at Lashon again. He smiled. "You know those things that you just saw," he said, "over there? You know what I mean, they killed the meddling little blue-eyed bitch, and looked like the ugliest prehistoric insects in the fucking world. Remember them shits?"

Lashon was giving him a cautious look. "What...what about them?" she said, and began to tremble as if the very memory were causing it, Dawn thought, and wondered exactly what the fuck she had seen. It must have been terrible.

"That's how I really look," Jeff said. "And you know what else?"

Lashon didn't speak and Dawn didn't think she could have even if she'd had anything coherent to say. Her, either. She could only stare at him, at his dark, menacing Denzel eyes. Eyes that were normal now, as far as human eyes went, but had just divided on his face and became three separate eyes.

Bug eyes, she'd thought, fucking praying mantis eyes.

"Her father's got the fucking formula that's going to turn me back to normal," he said. "And I fucking want it! He thought he could double cross me?" Jeff laughed long and loud. "Very bad idea," he said, "and everybody's luck runs out eventually, it's only a matter of time. Change is coming to this world baby, real change. Not some bullshit political slogan!"

He laughed harder. "I mean the kind of change that's gonna have 'em puking in the streets," he said, "wondering what the fuck's going on, 'cause some of us don't play that motherfucking bullshit!"

Jeff chuckled again, turning back to peer out his window. "We're going to make that call, young lady," he told Dawn. "Then, once I have my hands on the vial, you're free to go, and you two can suck each other till Jesus comes back for all I care. I ain't got nothing against the lezzies. But if your father keeps trying to play me, I'll have to show him the fucking film. And he knows what I know about their technology, he'll get the fucking point!"

Their technology? Dawn thought. Whose technology?

"And if that doesn't work," Jeff said, stepping on the gas and pulling off from the curb. Dawn clearly heard the tires crunching over the freshly fallen snow, and saw that Jeff was still staring at her as the car moved forward, essentially driving backwards.

"Then your little friend's gonna see firsthand how my kind eat!" he finished. "We don't always eat every little piece the first time around, but since our food remains alive until we're finished, we eventually get it all!"

Then, he snarled!

And for just a second, Jeff's entire face seemed to elongate and his bottom teeth grew and curved upwards like the tusks of a hundred tiny elephants! His mouth wasn't wide enough to hold them all and some of them sliced into his upper lip and into his nose, and poked through his cheeks on both sides as if he had swallowed a hedgehog!

Jeff spun back around, bouncing in his seat like a toddler. They were picking up speed as Dawn jerked back against the cushion, unable to believe what she'd just seen, and then the revving Camarro seemed to kick into another gear and they flew down the road! Jeff's back was hunched over again and he was humming something she couldn't make out.

They were doing at least sixty, Dawn thought, they had to be. And then a horrifying thing happened. Jeff's head turned and stared at her! Not his entire body, only his motherfucking head.

It did a full turn above his shoulders like the possessed girl's had on The Exorcist! While the car was speeding down the street and his arms were still steering! Jeff's hands were jerking the wheel side to side now, and the car seemed to be literally floating. And his eyes, his fucking glowing eyes—!

The gloved hands that Dawn used to cover her mouth, holding back a scream, and the arms attached to them, suddenly felt heavy. As if they were made of lead pipes and not the skin and flesh and muscle, that covered her bones. Dawn stared at Jeff's repulsive, disfigured face, feeling mortified, her heart racing.

"That's a painful way to go!" he said. "Take my word for it bitch. She's gonna do a whole lot of screaming before I'm through! So I suggest you persuade ya daddy to do the right thing. Like that Spike Lee joint said, ya heard?"

Jeff's head whipped back around and he started laughing. He gunned the engine, stepping hard on the gas pedal, actually rising from the seat a little to do it. The frightening jumble of vampire's teeth were still there, she saw, and for some reason, Dawn thought of Abbott and Costello meeting Mr. Hyde.

Jeff reached out and turned on the radio again, and some loud song pumped from the speakers. But not Moments In Love, it was like no music Dawn had ever heard before. There were whistles and echoing instruments in it that reminded her of the sea creatures she'd seen on another nature program one night. Perhaps humped back whales.

Lashon was screaming and at first she thought it was only a part of the music, just another weird sounding instrument that made up the hellish orchestra. And for a while, Lashon's screams had actually gone along with the strange sounds coming from the radio. Right in step with the weird beat, almost seeming to be the wail of some kind of alien trumpet, Dawn thought.

When the music changed tempo, her screams rose far above the new music, and Dawn could finally hear her clearly. She was screaming like a woman who had come home from work to find her only child lying dead on a sunlit road.

Eerily, at one point, Dawn thought Lashon may have even cried out: "Save me, NACIREMA-AAAAAAAA!"

PART TWO

DARK CROSSROADS

CHAPTER NINE

The Valonian sand dogs were long gone by the time Roan got there, and he viciously cursed himself for being too slow yet again. If this kept happening, he wouldn't really be surprised if one of the Council members suggested they replace him.

And could he truly blame them? Maybe they'd get a younger soldier, he thought, one that still longed for the rank (and the various perks that came along with it), that he perhaps took for granted. Roan was no fool, he'd heard such traitorous whisperings from the military before. Especially, after his promotion to Sand Fleet Commander.

"Watch your back!" was Evian's sage advice. "The planet is now rife with jealousy, and they would love to see you replaced!"

Roan grinned as he walked brazenly onto the icy curb, huffing defiantly into the raging wind. His toes didn't sink into the snow, but seemed to glide across the very top of it, as if he only weighed an ounce. "I'll die first," he said. "Roan Blood Leaker doesn't take being shoved aside lightly!"

He yawned broadly, revealing a multitude of razor sharp teeth. A sudden loud fart exploded from his hindquarters, and he made a deep chuckling sound.

"That mangy creature needs to work on her cooking," he grunted. "It was too spicy again, as usual."

The animal carefully sniffed at the blood that was literally everywhere. He thought it looked like someone had thrown a bucket of red paint up in the air and run. But this definitely wasn't paint.

"Fifteen of them," he said, "that many to retrieve a letter? Or is he after the actual formula, now? I know he probably regrets his foolish decision, but—"

"I would imagine it's both," a feminine voice purred.

Movement to his right made the creature step aside, and emerging from thin air now, was what appeared to be a fox.

But instead of the normal reddish-brown coat that most humans on Earth might expect to see, this one was colored a bright neon blue. "And that was rather disgusting," the fox said. "Whew! Talk about the foul winds of change!" The blue fox made a laughing sound, a rather eerie sound, truth be told.

"Stow it!" Roan grunted. "It's your fault for taking so long, so deal with it. Now, what were you saying?"

"The words in the letter are not important," it said. "That wasn't its purpose." The blue fox stopped walking and gazed around. The metal tip at the end of her fluffy blue tail, a cross-dimensions communicator, gleamed in the shadowy light.

"What took you?" Roan grumbled. "They are gone, but by the smell, they killed the girl in a despicable way. I taste her blood right here." He flicked the tip of his black tongue at another spot. Something that looked like shredded human skin to the creature, was piled there. "And here," he grunted.

"He is using the crystal," the blue fox said, staring down at the mound of flesh. "Can't you feel its power? I can."

"Perhaps I felt something," Roan said, and leapt straight up in the air, snapping at a huge snowflake, missing it, and crashing back to the ground. As big as he was, he had just jumped at least twenty feet straight in the air, but landed as light as a feather. Roan's massive bulk had struck the ice no louder than a leaf hitting grass.

The fox shook her slender blue head in amusement. Her eyes were wider than those on a normal fox, almost like a human's description of an alien's eyes (what they called Grays), and each iris was pitch black and shiny. "Either you felt something or you didn't," she said. "But never mind, because what you smell isn't the girl we want. At least, she's not in this dimension. Lord Dominoe warned me this might happen."

"So they murdered her on another plane?" Roan asked.

"Precisely," she agreed, "she's actually dead somewhere out there, and he probably made an afterimage video to use as a bargaining chip with her father. Most likely using Yarakki's new outlawed camera," she said. "The one he modified to see into the past as well."

The creature shook his massive black head. He pawed at the snow beneath him. "That would make sense," he said. "But it's forbidden to alter time without explicit Council permission. He's aware of that and he knows the consequences for breaking our laws—immediate exile into the Void." Roan sniffed the air. "I can sense they didn't get far," he said. "Don't worry, we'll catch them the next time they stop. If I must, I'll drag him before the Council myself and—-"

"We don't have time for that, yet!" the fox yelled, flopping down in the snow. The wind blowing through her pelt seemed to be gusting harder by the second. "How easily you forget Roan," she said in a softer tone. "We must make this right, first."

She whined, glancing around. "We have to find the dimension this happened in and stop it from taking place, we can't chase him until then."

Roan frowned. "Yes, you are right," he said, "forgive my momentary lapse in judgment. We must eliminate any leverage Jefthrow tries to gain, and render his video useless."

He glanced at her. "But how will we notify Dr. Laurelton in the meantime?" he said. "If we fail, and he thinks what he's watching actually happened, he'll eventually cooperate. He'll tell him how to decipher the formula, and we can't allow that to happen!"

The blue fox giggled, and it was a light, melodic sound. "Good thing I'm here to guide you Roan," she said. "That won't happen until Dawn gives him the letter, and she can't give him something she doesn't have."

The fox whipped her head side to side and a scrap of paper suddenly appeared in her mouth, accompanied by a light tinkling noise. "I have it," she mumbled. "That's where I—"

She spat it out on the snow, totally dry, where it began to glow with a faint, lavender hue. But stayed put despite the gusting wind whipping up snow all around it.

"That's where I was just now," she finished. "In Edgemont at Dawn's apartment. I figured it could buy us some time. When Jefthrow uses the crystal to locate the letter, he obviously won't find it. No matter how tough he talks, he won't really hurt her until he gets this."

"That was excellent planning Broshaine," Roan said. "And even better thinking. Tell me, do you think I'll ever be as smart as you?"

He watched the fox pick up the scrap of paper and swallow it in one huge gulp. He knew she would place it in her second stomach, to protect it.

"Fuck you," Broshaine said, grinning over her shoulder at him. To a human she would only appear to be panting, with her long black tongue lolling from between her slender jaws.

"But to answer your question truthfully," she continued, "your overall learning capacity is increasing daily. Whatever Yarakki did to you, it's seemingly working wonders."

Roan sighed and gazed up into the dark turbulent sky, where the clouds had formed a sooty colored quilt across the vast horizon. "Yarakki claimed the liquid I drank would make me five times smarter," he said. "How can you possibly tell that it's working?" Roan shook himself, yawned, and glanced down at her.

"Because I have watched you pick up concepts and information much quicker than you ever have before," she said. "It was amazing, Roan. You may not recall, but it was you who explained Nacirema's true origins to me."

"Well, I was never exactly retarded!" Roan said. "And I don't consider myself remembering—-"

"Only Torin has access to Nacirema's information," she said, "and a few of the Inherent Slaves. In other words, that data is top secret, and it's kept on the lowest levels of Mount Chrysler, right beneath an old Scavenger training arena. Getting past Scavenger defense measures is impossible."

"I may have picked it up somewhere," Roan said. "One of those slaves you spoke of may have told me and I've since forgotten. Living for three hundred years allows for the accumulation of massive amounts of knowledge," he said, "in other words, that proves nothing."

Broshaine huffed in exasperation. "Few know of her!" she said, "which is certainly about to change if we can't stop the Scavengers! But I started giving you shit out of a Cauc science manual I stole from Yarakki, and the shit was filled with things I didn't know the definitions to myself, and didn't even know existed. Can you imagine that?" she said. "But you knew them all!"

Roan gazed at her. "You little conniving scamp!" he said. "You've been tricking me? So it's really working? You've actually noticed a difference in me, Broshaine?"

"It appears so," she replied, "but now's not the time to discuss it. We have to find out where this—this savagery happened, and stop it. Dawn can't die in any dimension!"

"What about her?" the dark creature said, and stood up. "And her friend? Do you think they'll survive long enough for us to help them? Neither of them is a seasoned fighter."

Broshaine shrugged her blue shoulders. "In a normal situation, I would admit that they're most likely in big trouble," she said. "But that's why we're here, to protect them. The first stop will be Dawn's home where Jefthrow will search for the letter until he's positive it isn't there. When he doesn't find it, he'll still call Laurelton," she said, "and he'll bluff his way through it if he must. After that..."

Her sudden pause was as good as another shrug.

"So we must hurry," Roan said. "How will we find out? Where this really happened, I mean?"

Broshaine stood up and also shook her coat. White flakes flew everywhere, immediately blending in with the snow already covering the sidewalk.

"We have to go inside this building," she said. "A section of it belongs to the dimension Dawn was murdered in. We have to find the area and use it to cross over. But I sense that it has changed, evil is walking the halls, now. The kind of evil Evian Cerati and Torin spoke of."

Snow was piling higher in front of the building; it was already up to Roan's knees and was far past Broshaine's chest. Howling sounds were floating through the air like the depressing wails of lost souls. "There's no way of knowing what's inside this place," Roan said. "If you're right about a breach in dimensions, things have most likely come through. It won't be easy fighting creatures with abilities we can't even imagine."

"If I didn't know better," she said. "I'd think you were scared." The fox giggled softly. "Like a poor little scaredy-mutt," she said, "crying in the dark for his momma."

Roan grunted. "But you do know better!" he said. "I fear nothing, so move out soldier! I just wanted to make sure you understood the situation. I don't ever want you blaming me for anything!"

And then, the blazing light in his eyes, dimmed.

Roan sniffed at the blood once more. "It didn't get covered by snow," he mused. "The girl's blood, why not?"

He glanced at the lunch truck, which he saw was completely covered in snow, and the vehicle was a only vague shape beneath. Like a snow covered hill, Roan thought, and idly wondered what type of vehicle it was. It was clearly smaller than a bus, but seemed much bigger than a car.

"Those dogs are probably inside," Broshaine said. "Maybe you can ask one of them? I've heard that sand dogs can be very accommodating."

Roan growled, the fur on the nape of his neck bristling, his eyes shining. Coupled with the blizzard and the fierce wind, it was a gruesome sight. "If I run into one of them," he said, "I won't be asking any questions! And if I do, it'll be to a lifeless head hanging on my mantle! Right along with the others!"

The creature (that was actually a dog-like organism called a Scavbeast) strode up to the green metal doors and sniffed at their base. Then he peered up at the curving silver handles; snow had piled there against the door.

"They did come this way," he grunted, "the whole lot of them!"

Roan quickly opened his jaws and his black tongue snapped out to wrap around the frozen metal of the left handle. He gave it a tremendous yank, and the door slowly swung backwards.

"Inside," he said, blocking it from closing with his massive body. "Time is wasting, the quicker we reverse the damage Jefthrow has done, the quicker we go after Dawn and the other one. The one who is actually a queen on Alphius Eight," he said thoughtfully. "Imagine how she'll feel when she hears that! But he has certainly impregnated her by now, and I'm sure you know what that means?"

With his tongue like that, his voice was distorted but she still understood. And knew exactly what that meant. "How long does she have?" Broshaine said. "It will eat her as soon as it hatches. And won't stop until it eats everything it finds alive—everything. Yarakki's mind has really been twisted by the Scavengers, hasn't it?" she asked him. "To create something so horrendous without the Council's blessing?"

Broshaine sniffed at the opening. "And when Nacirema realizes who she really is," she said, "and the amount of power she wields..." She didn't finish. Instead, she whispered: "I hear Lashon's five-foot eleven now, weighs one hundred and seventy pounds, and has a level of beauty unheard of on Earth. Quite a lot of female, are you prepared for that dear Roan?"

Broshaine glanced into the shadows after asking her question. She thought there was something dead inside, perhaps many dead things. At least, she hoped they were dead.

The odor reminded her of a system of sewers she once explored as a young soldier, but not in this dimension. That particular system of sewers had been infested with four-foot long rats and giant albino scorpions that could eat and digest any living thing they happened upon. Roan had also commandeered that mission.

But he didn't answer her. He was still blocking the door with his body, and was also staring into the dark center as his tongue retracted. Despite the sounds of sleet and the raging wind, Broshaine clearly heard the howls and grunts coming from the darkness beyond the building's threshold. She couldn't help shivering, despite barely feeling the cold at all. She suddenly had a very bad feeling about this mission.

CHAPTER TEN

When they finally arrived at Dawn's apartment building, Lashon was still screaming. Only now, she was screaming: "Let me out! I can't take it anymore! I can't fucking breathe!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jeff was screaming back at her. "Tell this bitch something before I use my shottie Dawn. I'll blow her fucking face off. I don't give a fuck so don't test me!" He turned to Lashon. "Why the fuck can't you breathe anyway?" he yelled.

"I think she's claustrophobic!" Dawn said. "Calm down, Lashon. Please honey!" She reached out one trembling hand to stroke the woman's sweaty face. But Lashon wasn't having any of it, she wouldn't stop screaming and flailing her arms.

Dawn would have suggested they open the windows, and let in a little fresh air, only the little metal cranks beneath each one had disappeared at some point. Along with the door handles. "No!" Lashon said. "I can't fucking breathe Dawn! I feel trapped. I'm suffocating! Let me out of this car right—"

This time the smack was real. Dawn had never seen a person get knocked out from one blow, not in real life, but she supposed the day was going to be full of firsts. And maybe lasts, if she didn't get Jeff what he wanted. The formula that she didn't know anything about!

Lashon's head flew into the window and made a loud bonking sound. She hit the glass so hard, the snow that had been covering it fell off to the ground. Dawn actually heard it hit the pavement, or the snow covering the pavement, with a muffled thump.

Lashon slumped in her seat, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Even with her eyes closed, her face still appeared to be frightened to Dawn. But at least, she thought, the woman had temporarily found a measure of peace.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for her. Not even close. Dawn was still wondering why she'd gotten in the car.

"I want that letter bitch," Jeff said. "I'm going to need it before we contact your daddy. So we're going upstairs to your apartment and I'm going to get nice and comfortable while you search for it. Me and your little friend here. The longer you take to find it," he said, grinning. "The closer friends we're gonna become."

Jeff reached out and caressed Lashon's hip and the portion of her ass that was visible. He patted the tight material of her dark jeans, making loud smacking sounds. "She's nice and thick," he said. "I always had a thing for you black girls. I love a big, round ass—and those hips! Umm-umm-um!" he said. "Black honey, I'll drink every motherfucking drop!"

He suddenly cackled wild laughter, actually grabbing himself and bending over.

Dawn watched him sit up again and continue rubbing Lashon's ass, cupping her left butt cheek with both hands, and squeezing it. "You know?" he said. "I think I'm gonna fuck her no matter what. Yep, especially since I gotta thing for dark skin bitches. And now we're getting the fuck out." He peered through the windshield. "See that store out there?" he said.

Jeff dipped a little, as if trying to read the neon sign that was glowing out there in the storm, like a bonfire floating on the ocean. Snow swirled past it in frantic patterns. Multi-colored flags flapped in the wind; they were attached to a line of dirty white cord, and stretched from the building's roof to the ground, as if belonging to a grand opening.

"Sandee Abdullah's Grocery," Jeff said. "We're walking right past Abdullah's window and you're going to act perfectly normal. Your boy got some big shot Realmians to fool."

"What about her?" Dawn said, thinking Jeff was even crazier than she'd first thought. Realmians? "You knocked her the fuck out," she said. "How is she going to go anywhere?"

"I'm going to carry her," he said, "that's how, you just worry about yourself. If anything goes wrong everybody's going to fucking die, you hear me? Including Abdullah. He'll wish to Allah he was back in Iraq!"

Jeff laughed, opening the door, only pausing to take the shotgun off his lap and stick it back up under Lashon's seat. He picked up the video camera and placed it in a plastic bag Dawn hadn't noticed. It was white and had the words BLOCKBUSTER VIDEO printed on one side. And beneath that, something she had never seen before: CURSE OF THE BLACK DIAMOND. NEEQ SADNERB.

It was peculiar, just another weird thing in a day full of them, she thought. And things were only getting weirder.

But she didn't remember the last words from her earlier dream, or vision, or whatever it had been. She only knew that she felt strange, almost giddy, reading them. Almost, as if—-

"Open your side of the door and get out!" Jeff said, disrupting that thought before it could finish. "Nice and easy, like it's the most normal thing in the world. Because it is. You're just returning from the center, tired and wanting to get upstairs as soon as possible. You simply changed your mind about applying, didn't you? Yeah, it's too fucking cold."

Jeff actually shivered. "The lousy weather and all, it's got you beat," he said. "Anyone asks, I'm your uncle. She's my wife—and she's drunk. She's an alkie drug addict that drinks two six-packs of beer every morning. Smokes blunts too, got it?"

Dawn nodded. "Yeah," she mumbled, wondering why he felt it necessary to create such an elaborate lie. "I got it," she said, suddenly noticing with a nasty little shock, that the door handle had returned! Dawn gazed down at it, her heart thumping, thinking: I'm not touching it, I don't give a fuck, he's just going to have to shoot me, but I'm not touching that fucking handle!

But, knowing that she would regardless.

"Good," Jeff said. "Now, let's get a fucking move on."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When Jeff's side of the car was locked, he placed the white bag on top of the trunk with a light thunk. "Wake her sorry ass up bitch," he said. "I'm not carrying her if she's unconscious!"

Dawn was out of the car now, shivering in the cold. "I thought you were alien!" she stuttered. "Or whatever that was you turned into. You don't have some kind of super strength?"

Jeff chuckled. He glanced sideways at the grocery store. "I didn't come here to carry humans around like luggage," he said, "I could lift her if I chose to, but I don't. We gotta make sure she understands what's what. Now, wake her big ass up!"

Dawn opened Lashon's door carefully. The woman was still leaning her head against it and was snoring gently. Dawn took a moment to gaze down at her sleeping face. Her chocolate dark skin looked moist and smooth, like wet velvet.

"Lashon," she said. She opened the door slowly, letting Lashon's head slide from the door to hang over the edge of the seat. Now, Lashon was facing the sky with her eyes still closed. But they trembled as if she were dreaming about scary things. She had long, heavy lashes, and flakes drifted down to land on them, on her cheeks and forehead, too.

Dawn thought of Nacirema as she'd looked in some of the photos posted on her website. They were gorgeous, hypnotizing shots of her moon-bathing.

Of course, Nacirema's skin was glowing a pale white in the photos (since she was as light as some of her Puerto Rican girlfriends were), but Dawn thought she'd worn a similar expression on her face. A whimsical smile, she thought; the smile of a virgin experiencing a pleasant sexual dream.

Dawn didn't want to disturb her, but still reached down and gently wiped the flakes away. Lashon's eyes immediately flickered, and then opened. She looked at Dawn, her hazel eyes staying on her face for a moment, then peering up at the falling snow beyond her. Lashon blinked as more of it landed in her lashes. "Where...? Are we home yet?" she asked. "At my house?" She groaned, and tried to turn over, but couldn't do it.

My house, Dawn thought, she calls her apartment her house. Daddy did that too, before we moved to Queens.

They had lived in a tiny two bedroom apartment that was filled with mice and she could recall her mother smirking at him each time he'd said it.

Dawn sighed. Lashon seemed so peaceful, like a young child only waking from a deep, restful sleep. She wished she didn't have to disturb her. "We have to go," she said softly. "Come on babe, we're at my apartment now."

She grabbed Lashon's right shoulder and tried to lift her. Lashon didn't move at first, then she struggled up to a sitting position. She nearly slipped backwards and out of the car, but Dawn was still holding her arm tightly. After a moment, she regained her balance and was able to swing her legs around. Her feet landed in a huge puddle of slush before Dawn could warn her about it, splashing up icy water.

Lashon shrieked as her sneakers were submerged in it up to her ankles. "Damn," Dawn mumbled. "Sorry, my fault. I don't know your size, but I've probably got something you could fit upstairs." She stepped away from the door. "Come on honey," she said.

"What?" Lashon asked. She was hissing as she stood up. "Oh, my feet," she said, and smiled. "Yeah, okay. 'Cause this shit is fucking cold girl! I hope you've got some dry socks too!"

"Hurry up!" Jeff said. "What the fuck are you doing? You're taking too long and I'm trying to avoid being noticed here!"

He was staring at them through the blanket of falling snow, his face contorted into a scowl. But, he wasn't shivering she noticed, and in fact, didn't appear to feel the cold at all.

"He's going to carry you," Dawn explained, glancing at Lashon, again. "That's why I woke you up," she said, "it was his idea." She stood there with her arms crossed, the wind was actually making her rock.

Lashon frowned. She walked out of the puddle onto solid ice, tiptoeing and hissing the whole way. She slipped a little in a sudden gust of wind when she stepped on the curb, and Dawn quickly unfolded her arms and steadied her. "Carry me?" she asked. "I can walk Dawn, why does he have to carry me?"

Dawn heard Jeff hurry around to the front of the car, the hood of his coat had blown off, exposing his angry face.

"I don't give a fuck!" he said. "I'm not worrying about one of you running off. Here, take this bag Dawn. And I suggest you be real careful with it." Jeff walked over to them and placed the bag in her hands. Shoved it into her hands, actually. "Now, for you," he said to Lashon. He glanced at Abdullah's again.

The lot in front of the store was empty of vehicles, but was filled with snow. The sky was dark (since it's supposed to be early in the morning! Dawn thought), but the bright lights illuminated half her block. She wondered how long the time would stay like this but didn't dare ask him.

Jeff turned back to Lashon. "I'm going to bend over," he said. "When I do, you lay across my shoulder. And no funny shit, you hear me? One wrong move and I'll kill you both right here in this parking lot! And believe me bitch, I don't need a fucking shotgun either!"

Dawn watched him kneel in the snow. She was still clutching the white plastic bag as well as she could with her gloved fingers. She could feel the camera inside, and the paper weight that wasn't a paper weight. It was some kind of appearance-altering device that Jeff had called a sand crystal, and had used to turn into a Doberman Pinscher.

Or maybe it was some other kind of dog? She hadn't seen them all. But the next thing—well, she knew she'd never seen that thing before. In fact, she felt pretty safe in assuming no such creature had ever lived on Earth before!

Dawn didn't waste time wondering if she'd really seen it, either. She only knew that whatever it had been, it had scared the shit out of her. Now, she glanced at her new friend and saw that Lashon was staring down at Jeff as he bent over, the fur on the hood of her coat was whipping crazily in the wind.

Her hair was blowing around like mad too. She looked like a model from one of those hair commercials Dawn often saw on television. Commercials hawking shampoos and conditioners.

But staring at Lashon's face had revealed two things: firstly, that the woman still wore a dazed expression. But secondly, and most importantly, she could see that anger seemed to lurk just beneath it, now. It was a slight expression, just a faint glimmer of aggravation. But she thought it was perhaps just enough.

Just enough to...and suddenly, an idea came to her.

A crazy idea. One she thought just might work if God was on her side (and she could only hope that He was), but one that would get them both killed, if she was wrong.

Dawn didn't spend a great deal of time pondering the merits of this idea because she knew that was dangerous. She felt it was necessary to act on it before she could change her mind. It was rare in her life, but every now and then, some things had simply felt meant to be. Like that pretty genius Nicki Minaj judging talent on American Idol, she thought, and this was definitely one of those times.

So Dawn whispered the fastest prayer in the history of man, she inhaled deeply, gripped the bag tighter, steeled her nerves and rushed at Jeff! If nothing else, she was in excellent shape and her long legs covered the distance quickly.

Dawn reached him before he even heard her footsteps stomping through the snow, lowered her shoulder and dove into his right side! Jeff screamed as the air was driven from his lungs by the impact. He slammed into the hard ice beneath him and immediately reached for his left leg. Dawn thought she may have heard a faint cracking sound beneath the wind.

"Fuck!" he bellowed. "You fucking bitch!"

Dawn didn't even hear him. She scrambled up from the ice, her boots slipping and sliding beneath her, and frantically reached out for Lashon. She had been shocked by Dawn's sudden attack, and seemed frozen in place. "Lashon!" she said, seizing her left arm. "Run! Run straight towards that building, the white one. And don't stop for anything!"

Dawn shoved Lashon, not waiting for her to come to her senses. "Go!" she yelled. "Before the motherfucker gets up!"

Lashon glanced at Jeff for a moment. Dawn looked too. He was still lying in the snow, simultaneously clutching at his knee and moaning into the storm. Dawn could hear him clearly over the wind. She figured he must have landed on some of the ice rocks she'd seen in front of her building that morning. They were balls of frozen snow that seemed to crop up every winter after a storm.

Good! she thought. If his kneecap connected with one of those babies, his shit's fucked up! But was it fucked up enough to stop him? She didn't think so. The motherfucker wasn't even human, and that was beyond any question.

"Go!" Dawn yelled at Lashon again, pointing up the street. She reached out to push her, but Lashon started running on her own. Slowly at first, but she picked up her pace after she cleared the dangerous patch of ice on the pavement.

Lashon reached relatively clear sidewalk and kept going, the wind whistling and howling as she ran. "To the building!" Dawn shouted. "Wait for me there! And look out for the ice rocks! They're everywhere!"

Dawn turned back to view Jeff. He was trying to kneel in the snow now, but clearly couldn't put pressure on his injured leg. "You're dead bitch!" he screamed. "I heal fast, faster than you'd believe. Go on, and run. Let's see how good you are!"

Dawn didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. How good she was. And didn't care, she knelt down in the snow and started gathering up the biggest ice rocks near her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jeff yelled. He had been gingerly touching his kneecap and was now staring at her. But Dawn didn't notice him. She had stuffed the Blockbuster bag in her coat pocket, and was now fully bent over. Her arms were almost filled with the near perfect balls of ice, and she was still gathering them.

When Dawn finally looked up with an angry frown on her pale face, she said: "You're not going to chase me anymore, you hear me nigga?"

Her voice had a strange quality to it she had never heard before, a grim determination that was very unlike her. She had no way of knowing this, but she bore an eerie resemblance to Paula Patton in her role as Claire on Déjà Vu.

"I'm tired of feeling like a character in a fucking book!" she screamed. "So I'm taking control nigga, right now!"

Dawn threw the first ice-ball at Jeff and it was a perfect strike. Like Sabathia on the Yankees, wheeling and dealing. Even if every other one had missed him, the fight would have effectively been over. It struck him in the knee, the left knee, the one he had probably already shattered on the unforgiving ice. Dawn actually felt the dull crunch of the frozen ball connecting with his kneecap. She cringed at the sound, momentarily forgetting her own bewilderment.

The next shot smacked him in the mouth even as he opened it to yell. He still yelled, but the sound was muffled as the ball of snow muffled it, and Jeff flew backwards to the ice violently clacking his head. He was somehow gagging and screaming at the same time, and rolling sluggishly in the snow.

But, she didn't believe he would stop coming for her. She had come to the conclusion that whatever was happening, impossible or not, real or not, still had to be dealt with.

Dawn began to move in, walking carefully on the slippery surface, and throwing the snow balls as hard as she could. In prison, she tried out for the softball team, The Iron Maidens, and had made it easily. In fact, she was the prison's starting pitcher.

And since she was also ambidextrous, she dropped the pile of ice balls at her feet, not hearing the multiple thuds (the wind was wailing too loudly to hear much of anything), and started hurling them at Jeff again. Using both hands now, and each one she threw caught him in the face, his yelps of pain increasing in volume with each shot.

Dawn glanced at Abdullah's while her hands kept throwing. While her arms reached down and her fingers snatched up the balls of ice without her realizing. She was studying the front door, trying to see if anyone had come to see what all the yelling was about. But whoever was occupying the store apparently thought it was only the wind, which was howling crazily, because the door was still closed.

Or maybe, she thought, they can't hear him screaming at all. She didn't know, but felt it was definitely time to leave.

When she finally looked at Jeff, Dawn was shocked. "I just did that?" she whispered. "Oh my God." Her entire body was shaking as she came to the realization that the man was either unconscious, or dead.

She fervently hoped it was the latter, but whatever the case, Jeff looked like a heap of old rags (old, yellow rags) and wasn't moving except for the wind tugging at his coat.

She considered going to check. Maybe she should finish it now, make sure he was dead? She thought she could do it if she really had to, kill him in cold blood, if she had to. Maybe she could break into the car somehow and even get the shotgun?

But Dawn suddenly heard a scream—not the wind. Very faint, but it was still noticeable, and she immediately knew it was Lashon. Her heart beat sped up.

She stared at Jeff's body a moment more. He still wasn't moving and really looked dead. The falling snow was already beginning to dust him with a layer of white powder.

He looks like a fucking burnt doughnut, she thought disjointedly as she started off, carefully making her way across the area that was slickest until she finally reached the sidewalk. She could see it through the heaps of filthy snow.

Wind blew at the sparse hair beneath her cap, and she grabbed it before the wind could snatch it away, and off into the storm. Dawn turned back to where Jeff lay (still clutching the top of her head with both hands), and when she did, she was so frightened for a moment she completely stopped breathing. Because Jeff was somehow gone. His yellow coat, his crumpled up body...

The spot was empty. She saw the patch of ice, it was glinting in the glow coming from Sandee Abdullah's pink and purple neon lights. It reminded her of Times Square down in lower Manhattan during a blizzard. She saw the snow steadily falling on the patch of ice which was also getting frosted like a fucking doughnut.

She saw Jeff's footprints on the surrounding white, too. They were deep and muddy from the huge, half-frozen, puddles.

But Jeff...well, Jeff was gone.

It struck her fully, and she exhaled. He healed fast. That was what he'd told her, faster than she would believe. Well, Dawn believed it! She quickly turned to scan the entire area, remembering that he wasn't human (he'd proven that to her beyond any doubt), but he wasn't anywhere around. And when Dawn heard the scream again, she thought she could just make out what it was saying:

"Dawn!" It was clearly Lashon calling for her. She was obviously at the apartment building now, at 216 Envoy Street, waiting for her to come and let her inside.

Up into Dawn's warm apartment with working lights and a kitchen filled with utensils, like sharp knives. A part of her wondered if it was even a good idea to go there, after what had just happened; Jeff somehow disappearing like that. It meant he could literally be anywhere, didn't it?

"No choice," she said. "It's a fucking blizzard out here! And if we don't get inside we're both going to die!"

As if on cue, Lashon screamed again. It reminded Dawn of being on the beach during the hottest days of June, and hearing people call to each other from far away. On the beach, it had been a lazy hypnotic sound that seemed to float along with the crashing waves and shrieking seagulls...Dawn could actually smell the salt water right now, and the seaweed piled around moss covered rocks. She could almost feel the sun on her skin, the gentle breeze blowing..."Neeq Sadnerb," a voice whispered. "She is the light, the light of all lights."

Dawn glanced around, hissing: "What the fuck was that?"

Something had made her think those thoughts and feel those emotions just now! And someone had just spoken, or some thing. Whispered some strange words to her, seemed to almost sigh the words. Neeq Sadnerb?

It made her think of Sandee Abdullah, the nice Muslim man who owned the grocery store right beside her building. The one she was currently gazing at, watching the colorful flags flap.

She knew his first name was Sandee. Was that his middle name? she wondered. Had she heard it somewhere and forgotten it, and the words had decided to return to her at the least opportune moment?

Then, she finally remembered the white bag Jeff gave to her. Those may have been the words she saw written on it!

Dawn had put it in her pocket to pick up the ice balls, now she fumbled for it and finally took it out. She peered at it, her heart thumping, and saw that the weird voice might have whispered the strange words she was now staring at.

Neeq Sadnerb.

Was it Jeff? she thought, could he do shit like that if he wanted to? Whisper strange words in her mind like that from some great distance?

On the other hand, maybe it wasn't from a distance, and he was standing right beside her, laughing? She simply couldn't see him. And supposing he could accomplish that, she thought, why had he done it? All good questions, but unfortunately, she didn't know any of the answers. In truth, she wasn't even sure if Jeff was the whisperer.

But, the mere possibility of it got her ass moving.

Dawn stuffed the white bag back in her pocket, turned and ran across the sidewalk to the small parking lot in front of her building. She could hear the wind screeching in her ears now and seeming to run with her. And beneath it, there was the frantic sound of Lashon calling her. "Dawn!" she was screaming, "Where are you Dawn!"

CHAPTER TWELVE

Roan was in the lead as usual. No matter how many missions they went on, Roan just had to be the first into danger. They could say what they wanted (and she knew many on the Council had plenty to say), but she knew he certainly didn't lack for courage.

Broshaine watched as he carefully scanned the floor and the walls around them, looking for places that hybrids could crawl from without them noticing. He stopped at what appeared to be an extremely long front desk. It was made of plaster she sensed, and looked ancient.

"This place was crowded," he said. "I can still smell them, all the people that were in here. Must have been at least a hundred."

"Killed by sand dogs?" Broshaine said. "I heard grunting before we entered, but I couldn't determine the source."

Roan glanced at her. "I doubt it," he said. "There would be no point to it. Something else killed them, something that has a taste for human flesh but doesn't mind getting attention. Only altered Scavbeasts fit that particular description."

"Scavbeasts? On Earth?" she said. "The Council would forbid it!"

"Not if they commissioned it," Roan said. "I have reason to believe the Realmian Goddesses want control of Valon. Goddess Marlana wouldn't hesitate to do this to undermine Priscilla. I've heard rumors that a mighty conflict is brewing."

The blue fox shook her coat. "Marlana is a power hungry fool and Kia is her footstool," she said, "a rather large one, at that. But, she will never get enough support to defeat Queen Priscillia. The Glints don't trust her, and the Realmians, especially the Scavengers, remain loyal to the throne. Let's concentrate on the matter at hand if you don't mind," she said, "espionage makes me rather hungry."

"Hungry?" Roan echoed. "That's right! We haven't eaten in forever, have we? Perhaps I should eat you?" he said. "Your Foxonian flesh is edible to a Scavbeast. And a hot meal is a hot meal!"

Broshaine rolled her wide, slanted eyes. "You'll find me a little tough around the edges," she said. "And rather spicy." She yawned, revealing black teeth. "Wanna see big guy?" she asked in a voice that suddenly seemed more like a growl.

"No," Roan said, thinking: Shit! What did I do? "I was only kidding!" he said. "Wait a second, Bro—"

Broshaine suddenly braced all four of her spindly blue legs, and at least a hundred twelve-inch spikes sprung from her fur. It was like a multitude of giant blood red thorns were now magically poking from her pelt! She grinned at Roan, and the tips of these thorns immediately began to glow.

The radiance increased until he had to squint his beady black eyes against the brilliant glare.

Then, lightning ripped down from the ceiling and slammed into Broshaine! But, she didn't move an inch. The glowing spikes on her back and at the sides of her body, even covering her bushy tail now, actually absorbed the lightning.

"Here it comes!" Roan said. "Okay Broshaine, I get the point!" he hissed, "that's enough!"

But it was too late. All the Scavbeast could do now, was jump and hope for the best. He crouched and leapt for the ceiling, his claws already unsheathing, as lightning seemed to jump from Broshaine's fur and strike in a dozen places on the floor!

It reminded the alien dog of molten rocks flying from erupting volcanoes on Planet Zombia.

Roan landed on the ceiling like Spiderman from the Marvel comics. He turned his head and watched the blue lightning continue to bounce along the dirty tile. It made small craters everywhere it touched and spread out along the floor as if seeking something to strike. Roan knew anything alive within a fifty-foot radius of Broshaine, even the tiniest insect, was now fried to a blackened crisp.

Broshaine, herself, was just fine. She was sitting down and washing her blue coat in the middle of the floor like a cat just awaking from a restful nap. Her fur was normal again. The lightning behind her struck a few more places and vanished in a cloud of electric blue smoke.

"You can come down," Broshaine said. "It's mostly safe. Of course, I'm still here, but I'll stop it if you behave."

The smoke drifted to the ceiling where Roan was, causing him to gag violently and choke. The Scavbeast released his claws, they retracted from the ceiling and he dropped to the ground like a stone. Only, he landed on his claws, not making a sound and crouched there. When his claws retracted again, Roan dropped the last six inches to the lobby's floor in silence.

Broshaine was sitting in the middle of the floor, still idly washing herself as if he didn't exist. Roan peered at her through watery, stinging eyes, because even the smoke from her phasemic electricity was dangerous. From the moment she began to glow, like him, Broshaine also hadn't made a sound. Even the lightning ripping from the air had been more like wind swooshing from the ceiling.

That was the dark beauty of their abilities: utter silence, the stealth of the Valonian wolf. Roan frowned and pushed his immediate thoughts of the princess away. His thoughts of Nacirema Wolf, the special Earth female they ultimately had to protect once they defeated Jefthrow.

If we eventually defeat him, he thought morbidly. Despite Torin's mild assurances, there was no sure way to predict what might happen. It was admittedly rare, but the Histories Of The Future could be tampered with. He had heard some of those stories, too. A thought that made him shudder.

"We can't attract attention Broshaine!" he yelled at her, but in a hushed voice. "Quite impressive but imprudent," he went on. "You want to bring whatever's in here down on us? Maybe even breach fiends?"

"A Tyrinian mouse makes more noise," she said. "A growing plant. Relax your nerves tough guy, and let's move."

Broshaine stood up and walked past him, brushing him in the face with the white tip of her huge blue tail. Roan sneezed. "Little bitch," he said, grunting. But he followed her. "You'll have plenty of time to show off!" he said. "I promise. But for now, can we please find the damn breach?"

"Aye-aye, captain," Broshaine said, "full steam ahead." She glanced up at the top of the counter they were walking past and saw the black computers. She read the signs written in human language on a gray wall, too. Foxonians could read and comprehend any writing, even writing they had never seen before. "What is this place?" she said in a hushed voice. "It's disgusting!"

"A welfare center," Roan replied, sniffing at a dark smudge on the floor that resembled blood, but realizing it was only mud. "A place supposedly designed to assist the citizens who are in need," he went on. "But I wonder, and from what little Evian told me, it's a place much like the Mental Centers on Alphius Eight."

He glanced up again. "They say those who enter the building are trapped forever."

He walked faster to catch up with Broshaine, who'd kept going. Soon, he was keeping a steady pace with her again.

"So, they're designed to keep the people passive?" she asked him, glancing into the deep shadows on their right.

"Who can say?" he said. "On Alphius Eight, they give the needy citizens plastic cards that have digital recorders built into them. Using them, they keep track of their every thought and move without their knowledge. Yarakki claims they even have tiny explosives designed into them that are controlled by the workers."

"To prevent against an uprising," Broshaine mused. "I've been inside one; it would explain the lack of legitimate security anywhere in the structure." She sniffed as they walked. "I wondered if the workers were afraid of getting attacked," she said, "and now, I see why they probably weren't. Nevertheless, I believe the Realmians picked this place because of the ability to fully blend in. From the scents, many different kinds of humans occupied this area," she said, "Yarakki would know that."

Roan barked harsh laughter. "Preposterous!" he said. "As dumb as humans are, I doubt even they would fail to notice a fourteen-foot tall, dark-skinned female with black eyes, skulking about!"

"Skulking?" she said, "see what I mean? Fancy talk. You didn't sound that way before drinking that shit he gave you!"

"So you say," Roan replied. "But I recall that—"

"Wait!" Broshaine said. She suddenly crouched low. They were just past the muddy black and white tiles that covered the floor of the reception area and had turned the corner of the beige wall on their right. They had no idea, but the distance from the front doors to this point, had lengthened dramatically.

Just as the whole front area had widened, and was now the size of a small catering hall. The entire center was steeped in darkness and shadow. The shadows were coming from the glow of the emergency lights built into the EXIT signs. The two doors were ten feet apart, along the left hand wall. The radiance didn't reach far beyond the doors.

"What is it?" Roan said. He dropped low to the ground himself, activating his night eyes. Artificial light flooded his vision a moment, then the image returned and was incredibly clear. It was as if he had suddenly walked from the dark building and out into bright Valonian sunshine.

The stench hit Roan before the sight of the mangled bodies did. They were staring into a large open space that was filled with chairs and the bodies were heaped in the middle of the floor. Piled at least seven feet high. But Roan had basically expected that. "I don't see anything else," he mumbled, glancing up at the ceiling. He wrinkled his nose. "What are you—" he began.

Roan stopped talking, finally noticing what had Broshaine freaked out. It was actually impossible to miss but he had still nearly walked right into them. The problem was that he had been mainly focusing on the ground, sniffing for fresh scents, and had forgotten to check the ceiling.

They came from their dimension and were called Sifters. Sifters were made of sand, but could take any form. And no matter how they looked, the form would be as solid as granite.

In their natural state, they resembled ordinary bats. In fact, the only difference was that their eyes had a natural blue shine to them (that glowed in the dark, were glowing now, in fact), and that they were bigger than full-grown snowy owls. Their sand wings were the same dark gray as their huge rat-like bodies. The tails were long and curled at the tips.

There's another difference, Roan thought, staring up at them in horror. A painful difference! I think we're dead!

"Run!" Broshaine yelled. "They're coming!"

And they were. The bats dove from the nest of human flesh they had built on the ceiling and swooped down at them! Roan had noticed the waving arms and legs of the humans that were still alive up there in the shadows, had heard the muted screams (muted thanks to a Sifter's webbing, he knew), but it was difficult to tell which flailing limbs belonged to living people, and which were simply severed parts filled with venom.

The poison somehow even affected dead muscle, making it jump and twitch. He thought it was like watching the wild birth throes of a sand octopus.

The screeching came then, the ear-splitting squeals that dug into both their extremely sensitive eardrums; a sound like giant nails being pulled from a floorboard.

They turned and fled across the lobby. "Which way?" Roan shouted. "I don't know this place, should we go straight? Didn't you create an Internal Map this time?"

"Just run!" Broshaine repeated, thinking that an Internal Map wouldn't help them at all, unless they knew exactly where the breach was located. And they didn't.

Roan was far ahead of her now, his back legs pumping frantically as he fled down the corridor. The Scavbeast was incredibly fast and agile for his size, but he was still slowing her up. A Foxonian could reach speeds of up to one hundred ninety miles an hour (and nearly ten times that over short bursts), and she could have easily run circles around him if she had wanted. But, that would entail leaving him behind to face the Sifters on his own.

Something she would never do.

So, Broshaine resisted the urge to hit sonic speed, and when she suddenly heard Sifters shrieking behind and above her, seemingly right on top of them, she yelled, "Go upstairs, Roan! Second floor, we'll start looking there! Try that gray door down the hall, the breach is definitely in this building!"

Roan, who by now had reached the middle of the corridor to the left of the lobby, surprised her by suddenly skidding to a stop on the grimy tiles. Broshaine couldn't see or sense what had made him stop, and yelled out: "Fuck!" as she quickly assessed the situation.

She would have suggested he hadn't stopped, but it was too late for that. So, she also stopped running and sat down, letting her body slide and spin up the hallway, rotating like a child's top.

Then, the glowing spikes that had immediately reappeared in her fur flicked out and began to shoot at the bats. Slender arrows trailing red smoke, impaled the creatures; they dropped like dead pigeons to crash and crumble on the floor.

One swooped in a circle and went into a barrel roll. When it raised its stone bat's head and shrieked, Broshaine saw its eyes flash for an instant, right before the beams of red light blasted from those same sinister eyes!

There was a booming thud and the hole that suddenly erupted in the floor right in front of her, looked impossibly deep. She had noticed it even as she spun, and had just managed to leap it.

"Goddamn!" she yelled, soaring through the air to the other side of the smoking crater. "Since when can Sifters do that?" she screamed, already preparing for the impact.

Broshaine hit the ground hard, still squatting, and her blue tail as stiff as a swimming board. She came out of her spin still shooting the glowing red darts, and saw that the bats were now dipping and diving toward her like fighter pilots!

She spread her jaws wide, and her tongue shot from between them. It zipped through the air, snagging one of the bats by the wing and ripping it off!

The Sifter stumbled mid-flight, tumbling repeatedly, until it slammed into a stone bat coming from the opposite way. The collision was enormous. It made the sound of cinderblocks colliding, a cloud of dust and grit falling to the ground, pattering on the floor, reminding her of the sleet falling outside.

The broken pieces immediately began to slide together, as she watched, skittering across the tiles like mice, reforming new stone bats right before her eyes! Broshaine watched them hopping and awkwardly leaping from the ground, as if too heavy to fly, and finally take wing to rejoin the battle. Soon, they were gliding in her direction!

"That's enough!" Roan bellowed. "Save your energy for an emergency. There are too many!" The Scavbeast roared in frustration, Broshaine knew, and rushed through the door at the end of the hall. She watched his bushy black tail slip through the exit just before the door slammed shut with a resounding boom.

Broshaine spun around and whipped her tongue again for good measure, smacking three more from the air like bothersome flies. She didn't wait to see them fall. She turned and raced up the corridor, her black tongue already slithering back into her panting mouth, her black teeth flashing.

Broshaine reached the far EXIT sign, and the heavy gray door at the end of the unusually long hallway, and barged through it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Roan was waiting for her on the other side, and Broshaine ran straight into him before she could stop herself. They both crashed to the tiles, and slid a few feet, neither of them making a sound. They came to a jarring stop at the bottom of a staircase that led upstairs, disappearing in shadow.

Though small, the Foxonian really packed a wallop. But, the spikes were gone, and she was no longer glowing, which was the only reason Broshaine didn't immediately turn the Scavbeast into a pile of charred and smoking fur. She was now lying on top of him, panting steadily and peering around. The stairway was dim, but wasn't completely dark.

Broshaine untangled her limbs from Roan's, grunting, and glanced up. The EXIT sign above the door was glowing a pale, somber orange.

"Are you okay?" Roan said. "You hit me rather hard!"

"I'm okay," she said. "Let's get—-"

A heavy thud made them both jump!

"Shit!" Broshaine said. The sound had come from the door. The Sifters were obviously trying to break through! She wondered how long it would be before they remembered to change shape and simply slide beneath the door.

The aches and pains that were threatening to slow her up, immediately vanished as her body filled with adrenaline. "Upstairs!" she said. And nimbly ran up the dark flight.

Roan watched Broshaine for the second it took her to disappear, and then he turned back to the gray metal door. The thud came again; hard enough to push it open a little. "You'll never get through there!" he said. "You're too weak to—"

He paused as he heard a strange sound. A sliding, hissing sound. It was sand, he realized with a deep feeling of dread, beginning to come underneath the door.

Roan stepped back and glanced down, watching it cautiously slip into the stairway like a live organism; as if it had somehow sensed that he was standing there on the other side of the door.

Roan was no scientist, but he was still pretty sure that it had. Not taking his eyes off the deadly living sand (a sand that could literally eat him alive), he leapt backwards until he hit the stairs, and then like a sand dervish, he raced up the dark steps in pursuit of Broshaine.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dawn immediately saw Lashon standing at the glass door to her building. She knew it was locked and couldn't be opened without the right password. Or in this case, the right numbers. So, perhaps it was a good thing she had memorized it as soon as she moved to the building.

Lashon looked horror-struck as she approached her at a dead run, yanking off her gloves. "I'm coming!" Dawn said. "Don't freak out, baby! Just hold on, and stay calm!"'

Lashon wasn't freaking out, but she was shivering violently and was apparently crying. "What's going on!" she wailed. "How are all these crazy fucking things happening?"

Dawn didn't reply. She had reached the building now and was breathing too heavily to speak. She couldn't have answered her question anyway, so she finished removing her gloves, moved Lashon aside, a bit roughly perhaps, and peered down at the electronic lock. She pressed the numbers 1051984, and the small light glowing from the metal box turned a bright, neon green.

Dawn heard a loud click as the door unlocked.

"Come on!" she said. "Go inside and straight to the elevator!" Dawn was pointing into the shadows filling the lobby. "Wait over there," she said, "but don't touch the elevator, just wait!"

Lashon only hesitated a second. Then she ran inside, limping badly. Probably from stepping in that puddle, Dawn guessed. She would have to get her out of those sneakers and clothes soon or she could get dangerously sick. The air seemed to be getting even colder. And I could use another pair of pants for that matter, she thought, still holding the glass door open against the wind. Peeing in them wasn't something she made a habit of doing.

Dawn spared one last look over her shoulder, trying to see past the curtain of snow. Looking for any signs of the crazy black man that turned into a Doberman right in front of her. Right before he turned into some kind of alien insect that made her feel like crying just to see it. A creature she thought resembled one of those nasty looking aliens on District 9.

But all she saw was falling snow, so she raced into the building, blessing the warmth that immediately surrounded her, and ran towards the elevator. The lobby was dark and silent; the stench of stale urine and beer assaulted her as she ran, causing her to gag. Her footsteps echoed wildly on the dusty tiles, making it seem like she had a mob of people chasing her.

When Dawn finally got there, gasping for the foul air, Lashon was staring up at the bank of glowing numbers that showed each floor. "The elevator's moving!" she said. She glanced at Dawn with wide eyes. "I swear, I didn't touch it," she told her, still panting. "I was standing right here and it moved on its own!"

Dawn glanced at the numbers. One of them was glowing with a pale light and had apparently stopped moving. On the fifth floor which was her floor. "I think he's here!" she said. "Fucking no! How did he get here so goddamn fast?"

But that was a silly question, wasn't it? Dawn knew exactly how he could move so fast. That thing he turned into inside the car. Didn't it have wings? Transparent wings?

"Where else can we go?" Lashon asked, impatiently. "My feet are killing me. I feel like I'm already losing my fucking toes!"

Dawn looked down at her feet where ice was clinging to her black sneakers. Lashon had extremely small feet and despite her panic, Dawn couldn't help wondering how they looked bare.

But if we don't find Lashon something dry to wear, she won't have any feet, she thought. Or at least, not any toes.

Dawn mentally shook herself, breaking off those pointless thoughts. "Maybe we should go down to the basement?" she said. "I don't know, but we've gotta go somewhere!" She stuffed her gloves in her front pocket, and exhaled.

"What's down there?" Lashon asked. "A laundry room is in my building. It's small but it has lots of hiding places."

Dawn shook her head. "We don't have one in this building," she said. "At least, not one that's open to the public. Someone was killed in the one we did have and they closed it off."

"But you have one?" she said. "Let's go down there, is it open?"

Dawn thought about it. "It's open," she said, "or at least, it's unlocked." She glanced at the numbers again. "Can you walk that far?" she asked her. "Like two floors? I'm not fucking with this elevator; the shit gets stuck for no reason sometimes."

"I don't care," Lashon replied. "I'll walk, if it means taking off these fucking sneakers. I'm with it, come on!"

"Okay," Dawn said. "But listen Lashon, this nigga isn't human. Do you understand me?"

Lashon seemed to grimace slightly.

"He's got powers or some shit," she went on, "and they're far above and beyond humans. I know how it sounds, but we don't have time to debate the definition of reality. This is real; doesn't it feel real to you?" Dawn frowned down at her. "Well, doesn't it?" she said.

Lashon stared up at her for a moment, and then nodded her head. Almost reluctantly, Dawn thought. "Yeah, it's real," she said, finally."I didn't finish telling you what I saw...what I saw over there while we were in his car. I think I saw where he really comes from. Or whatever he was saying is inside of him, comes from." She paused, her mouth trembling.

"There's oceans of sand," she went on, "and the trees grow upside down Dawn! And the roots are alive. They slithered all over the little girl that those...those insects killed." She gazed at her. "The one with the long hair?" she whispered. "She resembled Nacirema Wolf, Dawn! Can you believe that shit? But after her beautiful hair fell out, the alien bugs sucked her up with tentacles like she was soup! Her entire body had liquefied somehow! And then they ate her hair, Dawn!" she cried. "They were actually fighting over it—-it was fucking disgusting!"

Dawn shuddered, imagining it. She was far past the doubting stage and no longer wondered if everything they had experienced was real or not. "Later," she said, in no mood to contemplate riddles. "Save the story for later. As long as you can walk without falling, we'll make it down there somehow!"

Lashon frowned. "You'll help me?" she whispered. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," Dawn said. She moved up against the much shorter woman, feeling the softness of her wide hips against her own legs. "Put your arms around my waist," she said. "Lean on me, Nacirema. But I'm going to move as fast as I can. You have to try and keep up, especially going down stairs. Okay? But no matter what, I'll never, ever, abandon you!"

"Thank you," Lashon said, still glancing up at her.

Dawn stared down at her, gazing deep into her nearly crystal clear eyes, and wondered what it would feel like to have them (as a child, she'd always thought blacks with pale eyes were blind, and couldn't imagine how they saw through them), thinking how odd it was that two people who had completely different backgrounds, and physical characteristics, could look so similar. Not realizing that she had just called the woman the completely wrong name.

And before the moment could pass, Dawn bent way over grabbed her by the face with both hands, and planted a kiss on Lashon's full lips. Lashon closed her eyes, and Dawn kissed both her eyelids, gently. Then she shoved her tongue into the woman's hot mouth, tasting her saliva and the saltiness of the tears that had trickled between her lips.

Soft, pink lips, that Dawn sucked on greedily. She inhaled the woman's breath, and grabbed her by the back of her head, luxuriating in the cool silkiness of her hair, letting her fingers tangle in the wet curls and waves, feeling the particles of ice that hadn't melted yet. It actually felt like she was kissing Nacirema Wolf for a second, and it was pure heaven.

Not knowing she meant to do it, Dawn dropped to her knees in front of Lashon and unbuckled her pants. "Pull them down!" she said, "I have to see that ass up close!"

Lashon did as she asked, and soon her jeans were puddled around her thick calves. Dawn gazed at her exposed body for a moment, drinking in every incredible curve and then said, "Turn around!"

Lashon turned, and before she could fully display her butt, Dawn crawled forward and stuck her entire face into the wide crack of her ass. It felt like her entire body was levitating, floating a few feet off the lobby's floor, as she licked and sucked Lashon's ass cheeks. After sucking and kissing her asshole for a full minute, Dawn released the older woman, a woman old enough to be her mother, she was sure, and moved back. Her heart was pounding enough to cause a slight dizziness as she rose to her feet.

"What was that for?" Lashon said, pulling up her pants and smiling up at Dawn; a beautiful, sexy smile that made Dawn's nipples harden. "Don't get me wrong, I loved it," she said, "but you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at what?" Dawn asked, honestly confused.

Lashon shrugged. She glanced down at her own feet, then back up at Dawn. She had to tilt her face way back and tears shone in her light eyes. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me," she said. "It's all my fucking fault!"

Dawn squeezed her hard, burying the woman's face against her left breast. What little there was of it. "You're right," she agreed, laughing merrily. "But I'll forgive you if you be my girl. I wanted you from the second I saw you! I'll do anything for you Na—" She stopped, thinking: Oh, shit! I nearly called her Nacirema! Which wouldn't have done, at all.

On Nacirema's main website, there was a page allotted to comments from the public. One person (a nigga who would probably cum in his pants if either one of them even breathed on him, Dawn thought) had written: Nacirema's mad pretty but looks like a ghetto Lorna London, her butt's way too big for modeling!

The comparison to Nacirema had obviously stuck in her mind, and since Lashon also resembled Lorna London, only much darker, the other words had come out before she could check them. Her body suddenly froze up, she tried to continue chuckling as if she hadn't just spoken what she were truly thinking. That she'd also wanted Nacirema, even this darker, shorter version of her, from the second she first saw her.

Just to do something, Dawn removed the BLOCKBUSTER bag from her coat pocket and gazed at it. And the words were still there: Neeq Sadnerb. Dawn suddenly felt that it would be a good idea if she carry the bag. When she glanced up to look at Lashon again, unable to avoid it any longer, she felt more embarrassed than she ever had.

But Lashon, God bless her, didn't seem to mind. Or maybe, Lashon didn't even hear her near slip. And, was it even important in the end?

"Whatever!" Lashon said. "I'll be your girl, big deal. I'm tired of these worthless ass niggas anyhow. Maybe I can finally experience an orgasm. Now, let's get to this fucking basement of yours!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Broshaine was walking down the pitch-black hallway when Roan finally reached the second floor and he had no trouble spotting her, his night vision made everything perfectly clear. Roan remembered the Sifters beginning to slip beneath the door and did his best to control his thudding hearts. He knew that Sifters never stopped coming at you.

In that way, he thought, they were a lot like black humans. (Roan meant the ones from the American territories; the ones his kind called nubians, though he couldn't recall why.) But like them, once Sifters were released and placed on your trail, it was said your death was all but certain.

Roan was good, was one of the best soldiers Valon had ever produced, but he wasn't sure if even he could escape them.

"Wait Broshaine!" he called out. "Don't get too far ahead of me. That's exactly what they want you to do!" His voice didn't echo, and had a flat, stage-like, quality to it.

"Hurry!" she yelled back to him. "This entire place is demolished. It looks old and decayed, as if it has been standing this way for centuries! I have a bad feeling the breach may be on the verge of closing up!"

"That is only the sand crystal at work," Roan said. He finally reached her and stopped, gazing up at the high walls. He scanned the ceiling, but other than the horridly warped and peeling white paint that covered it, all was clear.

"There is mold growing everywhere," Roan said. "It's glowing a reddish color, do you see it? It comes from fresh Sifter droppings, human cells in the fecal matter merge with the Sifter cells, which is how they reproduce." His nose appeared to elongate a few inches. "I can smell more rotting bodies up here, as well," he said, "I wouldn't be surprised if all we have to do is follow the scent straight to the breach."

"That would be a blessing if it's that simple," Broshaine said, "but somehow, I'm not feeling that lucky."

"Do we check every single door, then?" he asked. "There seems to be dozens."

Broshaine sighed. "We don't have time," she said, "this is the part I was afraid of. We are going to either have to split up, to search more rooms, or just take our chances on a handful of them. Neither way guarantees success."

"We're not splitting up!" Roan said. "And that's final. How many floors in this place?"

"Six," Broshaine said. "My sensors detect sixty-two open spaces. Or rooms, and that's sixty-two doors to check. We wouldn't have the time if we'd brought the whole team with us." She exhaled again. "It would take the two of us forever," she said.

"We'll just have to go with intuition," Roan said. "It's never failed us before, no sense in doubting ourselves now."

Yes, Broshaine thought. But, retrieving a chemical that can turn humans into monsters isn't exactly the type of mission we're accustomed to accepting! She didn't dare share this thought, however. Roan frowned on negative talk, unless it happened to come from him. In those instances, he called it wisdom.

Instead, she said: "I say we try three rooms a floor, that greatly raises the odds against us, but it's a start. We don't even have to stay in each one long—just sniff and go."

"Sounds good," Roan, said. "We can mark each one, to avoid rechecking the same doors. With your speed, it wouldn't take long to find the breach. Set your olfactory functions."

Roan strode up to the first door that Broshaine had come to and stopped in front of it. He peered up at the small window, a dark circle of glass. "Can you hear that?" he asked. His voice was abnormally low and gruff, even for him. "It sounds like something's alive in here!" he hissed.

Broshaine's fox ears twitched. "I hear it," she said. "Something is alive in there, something rather big too. Maybe more than one of them, whatever it is."

"Is it locked?" Roan said, gazing at the door that was apparently metal, and had deep, circular dents in it, as if something heavy had been slammed against it repeatedly.

Broshaine closed her eyes, concentrating. Finally, she opened them. "I can sense that it's unlocked," she said, "and no magic has been used in this area recently. In fact, I can't feel any magic at all. I'm ready to go in when you are."

"Stand back!" Roan ordered. "Just because you don't feel magic, doesn't mean it's not here. Do you remember the time we went to Alphius Ten and that young red water serpent—?"

Roan broke off speaking and spun around. His ears were up and alert. "The Sifters have reached this floor!" he grunted. "They have somehow regained their forms—much faster than usual. And did you see one of them shoot at you? Sifters have never done that, this smells of Yarakki's black work!"

They could both hear the screeching and hissing sounds of the Sifters brushing against the second level door, now. Then, they heard the hollow thuds, the banging sounds the stone bats made as they slammed into it. Almost like someone knocking on a pipe with a sledgehammer.

"It won't be long!" Broshaine said. "They'll eventually figure it out. Plus, the door is weakening with every blow!"

"I know," Roan replied. "And we'll be long gone when they get here if I can help it. Step aside, Broshaine!"

He suddenly lashed his head to the left and his tongue snapped out again to wrap around the doorknob. He spoke mentally: When I open this door, whatever is on the other side is going to attack us. Understand? Prepare yourself, Broshaine. His eyes were gleaming, and he seemed even bigger than his normal four hundred pounds, to her.

I understand, Broshaine thought back. Whatever came through the breach into this room is going to try to kill us. Open it, Roan. And may the Realm be with you!

Very funny, he thought back. But Roan nodded once, then used his tongue to twist the knob and open the door...

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The basement laundry room was locked and Dawn simply couldn't believe it. She stared down at the huge shiny padlock, breathing heavily, unable to make sense of what she was seeing. There hadn't been a lock on this door before!

"This wasn't here!" she yelled, reaching out and slapping at the lock, and badly hurting her hand in the process.

"Ow!" she said, and sucked on her stinging fingers. "I don't know who put this shit here," she screamed, "but I'm getting the fuck inside, regardless!"

"Dawn," Lashon, said. "I think—"

"There's got to be something down here I could use," Dawn said, walking away from the door and frantically glancing around. "A crowbar," she said, "or maybe even some bolt cutters!"

"Dawn?" Lashon said, again.

"What?" Dawn said, she stopped walking and glanced at her. "I'm trying to find something to help us break..."

Dawn's next words seemed frozen in her throat.

"He's coming," Lashon said. "Look."

Dawn glanced in the direction the woman was pointing at, and was stunned. They were standing far down the corridor on the basement level where a dirty black floor with huge cracks in it, stretched out beneath them for what seemed like forever.

Dawn couldn't even see where it ended, and found that alarming. She wondered what had happened, because her building's basement had clearly gotten much bigger; impossibly fucking bigger, in fact.

I'm bugging the fuck out! was her very first thought. Because she figured this had to be the longest stretch of basement ever, and she couldn't help thinking of that long, winding tunnel, again. The one that she could barely remember going through.

She wondered what could possibly change the size of an entire fucking building like this. She rarely came down here ever since they closed off the laundry room after the murder, but regardless, the difference in the area's size was obvious.

What she was seeing was simply impossible, and that was the long and the short of it.

When they first got down there, Dawn saw the various items she normally associated with basements in apartment buildings: large, industrial-sized bags of salt, for instance.

The kind Mr. Orchard usually sprinkled around the building and right in front of the front door but hadn't so far, for whatever reason. Thus, the ice balls. Maybe his arthritis is acting up, she had thought, because he was a mean old little man, but he usually did his job.

But beneath the weakly glowing fluorescents (so weak the basement nearly seemed dark), Dawn also saw stacks of cardboard boxes, old machine parts that seemed dipped in tar, and a collection of mountain bikes leaning against one dusty wall.

The bicycles looked ancient to her, like maybe Mr. Orchard (who she thought had to be eighty, if he was a day), once owned them. One of them, she saw, was missing its front wheel.

Dawn saw the misshapen wheel sitting atop a pile of plywood, and if it had once been beige, the wood was now ash black, as if it had been painted.

Everywhere she looked, spider webs hung in loops from the low ceiling like ghastly jewelry. They billowed on invisible currents of air and brushed against her face as she had walked with Lashon down the musty smelling corridor.

The door they wanted (with the CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER sign on it) was right beside the elevator. And when they finally reached it, Dawn glanced up at the bank of numbers above it, and noticed that the car was still stopped on the fifth floor. The small number five was still glowing a bright white and that had given her a sliver of hope.

Assuming it was really him, if he stayed up there waiting for them to show up, maybe they could find something for Lashon to change into down here. Before she caught pneumonia or something. And maybe, they could even figure out some way to escape him altogether.

But, the door to the laundry room had been padlocked. And now, she could see two bright pinpoints of light coming towards them at an alarming pace. "You're right, it's him!" she said, knowing that the pinpoints of light were really his eyes. "How the fuck did he get down here so quickly?" she asked herself. "This nigga's faster than Speedy fucking Gonzalez!"

Then, she recalled his disappearing act outside in the storm.

"I don't know," Lashon said, "but we can't just stand here waiting for him! We have to fucking run!"

"I know, I know," Dawn said. "Calm down, honey." She rubbed Lashon's head, stroking her hair and looking down at her. "We're not done," she said. "Don't give up just yet."

Dawn's voice was reassuringly calm, nothing like she actually felt. Because she could suddenly feel the brightly glowing eyes racing towards them! The sensation was similar to what she felt while watching the headlights on a subway car barreling down a dark tunnel headed straight for her. Down in the subway, an almost overpowering urge to leap down onto the tracks and let the speeding train hit her, would suddenly come over her.

Nevertheless, Dawn somehow knew they were his eyes. And knew they were focused directly on her, and then she heard him screaming—-yelling something like an escapee from some nut house. It didn't seem possible that he, or any person, could scream so fucking loud.

"Go on and run!" he shouted. "Here I come you dirty bitches! I'm gonna fuck both of you too! Kill your asses like I killed those black bitches around the fucking center!"

Dawn could suddenly see him, and her throat seized up. Because he no longer looked even remotely human, he had become the revolting thing he changed into inside the Camarro!

What Dawn had thought were two glowing eyes, were really three. Then she heard the shockingly loud blast of a shotgun! More than likely, the one Jeff was carrying in the car.

The one she had thought of trying to get from the Camarro, but hadn't, and the sound echoed and rolled down to them like oncoming thunder. Dawn's ears were ringing, she couldn't help shrieking and covering them with both hands. They felt plugged again, as if she had maybe stuffed hot marbles into them this time.

Lashon was in a complete panic now. She had left Dawn and was already hobbling away from her and down the hall. "Let's get the fuck out of here!" she screamed.

The shotgun went off again and they both ducked. "That way!" Lashon shouted over her shoulder. "Let's try that door down there! Can you see it? It looks like a metal door on the right side!"

She stumbled on her bad feet at one point, but regained her balance and kept on running. Dawn didn't need a second invitation and immediately ran after her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Roan heard the screams before Broshaine did, but they both heard the gun blasts coming from the opposite side of the metal door. Roan jerked his head away from it, his tongue still wrapped around the silver knob, and the door swung wide. The hinges creaked, and as it opened, the alien dog saw the last two things in the worlds he had ever expected to see.

First of all, the room wasn't a room at all. The door opened up on a dimly lit corridor that actually looked like a basement of some kind. The kind Roan imagined most of the buildings in the area had. Ugly colorless walls that resembled the walls in a cave. Odd pieces of furniture and greasy non-descript machinery lying about; a floor that looked like it belonged in a forest. That was the normal stuff had Roan expected to see a basement and not another room.

What Roan saw next was even more surprising, and was far from normal. There were two Earth females racing towards them! The taller one was carrying something white that swung against her leg as she ran, and he recognized them both instantly.

Roan's tongue zipped back into his mouth, making a noise similar to the sound used in karate movies during sword fights. "Look!" he grunted. "It's Dawn, coming toward us!"

Broshaine gasped. Her fox face wore a comical expression that would have frightened any human to see an animal looking that way. Then she grinned, her long black tongue lolling from between her slender jaws, and it was an even more frightening sight.

But there was no one to see her like that, and she was so overcome with a deep sense of joy, she wouldn't have noticed or cared, even if there was. Broshaine was a careful planner; she tried to stay one step ahead of her adversaries at every turn.

It was how she had built her reputation as a master tactician back on the burning hot sands of Valon.

But she hadn't even considered this: that Dawn would somehow escape Jefthrow. There was no way she would have felt sensible even hoping for such a thing. Jefthrow was slow of thought, true, but had killed some of the fiercest races alive in mortal combat. From plenty of dimensions across the galaxy, and up until now, no adversary had ever eluded him.

Nevertheless, the girl had done it! And Broshaine felt a strange sense of pride over her because of it. She wasn't sure if it was because Dawn was also female. Or because she had known her father well, back before he had switched allegiances. Either way, she had clearly underestimated the young girl and was glad Dawn had proven her wrong.

Of course, that presented a completely new set of problems. Broshaine hadn't planned on finding them so soon, and it would alter her plans a great deal. But there was no time for any of that, because she could suddenly smell what had them running like devils were chasing them.

She sniffed at the room again. So far, neither she nor Roan had crossed the threshold, and she was getting antsy. Roan was only standing there, staring into the gloom with his hackles raised. Hot air was blowing towards them; Broshaine could smell the stench of decay and grease. When she smelled the more familiar odor, blown to her on that wind, her black nose wrinkled with disgust.

It was Jefthrow, just as she had known it was from the first whiff. He seemed to be flying down the hallway towards them with his eyes shining a bright red now, and Broshaine sensed he was carrying some kind of weapon.

"He's got a shotgun!" Roan snarled. "And he's gaining on them. The short one, she appears to be hurt. And Jefthrow appears to be flying! It seems we were too late, because he's a Rizorbeak, now!"

"He is flying!" Broshaine said, crouching low and gathering her energy. "He's transformed and he's using his leather wings, but maybe there's still a chance!"

"The tall one, Dawn," Roan said. "She's carrying something, Broshaine! Can you sense what it is?"

Roan had taken a step forward towards the open doorway. The foul wind seemed to get even stronger, making the fur ripple along his broad back, as he peered through the doorway.

The females were nearly to them now. But, so was Jefthrow. He was now hovering right above their heads as they fled and was easily keeping pace with them.

Lashon was hobbling badly, and Dawn was doing her best not to trip over her and fall as she held her up. But it was difficult, running like that, and they weren't going to make it. Roan could see that, he didn't need any special senses.

"Roan!" Jefthrow said, finally noticing him. "How dare you interfere!" he screamed. "You dare go against the Council?"

Roan said deep in his throat as he watched Jefthrow float closer. He saw the bag in Dawn's hand, it was swinging wildly as she ran, and she appeared on the verge of dropping it.

He had asked Broshaine if she could sense what it was, but only for confirmation. Roan shared every one of her abilities so he already knew the answer. Moreover, he knew that it was their only chance of escaping the vile creature above them.

Jefthrow was bearing down on them, and Roan could sense his energy building, preparing to emit one of his deadly beams. Roan knew that one well-timed shot was all Jefthrow would need. He wouldn't kill Dawn, because he couldn't. Not if he ever planned on going back to Valon where the Dark Goddesses were waiting for him. He would aim for Lashon instead. He understood that destroying her would be nearly as good as blasting Dawn.

So, the Scavbeast closed his eyes.

Dawn! he thought at her. If you can hear me, the bag. The white bag you are carrying! Open it and take out the video camera! It's your only chance. Do not think Dawn, just take it out and throw it in the air ahead of you!

********

Dawn couldn't run anymore. She felt like if she took even one more step, she would simply collapse to the concrete floor and Lashon would probably go with her, both of them scraping up their hands and knees. Lashon probably scraping up her impossibly pretty face. Lorna London's and Nacirema Wolf's face, only much darker. They would lay there until the thing chasing them dropped upon them and...

There was a stitch in Dawn's side, a burning pain that wouldn't go away. Her lungs were burning as well and when she first heard the shotgun blasts, Dawn nearly felt the bullets shatter her spine and the back of her head. But, that was only her imagination running wild. And when Lashon shrieked and nearly fell, Dawn reached down without thinking and picked her up again with one hand! They continued down the hallway that seemed to be getting longer as they ran.

The door Lashon told her to run for seemed to retreat from them like a glass of water retreating from a man dying in a desert. When she saw the door suddenly swing open and she saw the animals standing there, one huge, one small, Dawn nearly panicked. Her first thought was that the dogs she saw murder the girl that resembled her, her double, had somehow made it back to her apartment in Edgemont before them!

How they knew she would be going there, Dawn couldn't imagine. But then, she saw the strangest thing: one of them appeared to be a fox. A neon blue fox that suddenly leapt backwards, vanishing from the doorway!

And the other was some kind of Doberman (again with the Dobermans, she thought.)

And they both seemed to be looking right at her; as if waiting for her. And when she heard the guttural voice in her head, a voice that made her think of Dragonball Z again and of Vegeeta as a Great Ape, Dawn thought she had completely lost her mind.

She was just about to collapse, she could no longer carry Lashon's weight as well as her own and the light was getting dimmer, or maybe she was simply starting to pass out?

But the words had suddenly drilled into her mind, snapping her awake. A Great Ape's frightening voice; almost like a mental slap...

The bag! The white bag! Open it and take out the video camera! It's your only chance; throw it in the air ahead of you!

That was all she caught, but it had been enough.

Dawn didn't think, she couldn't think. She stumbled as she swung the bag towards her body. Lashon skip-hopped at her side like a one-legged jackrabbit, and she was clutching Dawn around the waist, inadvertently dragging her downward.

Dawn slowed just a little to reach in the bag, feeling past the smooth sand crystal thing for the camera. Her hands felt it, grabbed it and yanked it out. And that was when Dawn felt the massive weight slam into her back and was driven forward as if struck from behind by a bus!

They both were, Lashon yelling out and tumbling to the concrete floor right in front of her. Dawn lunged ahead, having to leap Lashon, and landed awkwardly, nearly twisting her ankle.

But, she immediately regained her footing and kept on going. She ran a few more steps down the hall, and was about to stop and go back, when she turned and saw Lashon scramble to her feet again.

Thank you God! she thought, thinking that for just a second, it seemed like Lashon had actually been floating. As Jeff's Camarro had seemed to float earlier. Then, Lashon was running in step with her again, stride for stride. Their footsteps were echoing loudly, seeming to chase them down the hall.

Throw it! the voice yelled in Dawn's mind again. Throw it while you still can!

There was a new urgency in the voice, as if the fate of untold worlds hung in the balance of this strange drama taking place in her building on Envoy Street.

Therefore, Dawn threw it, as she had thrown the ice balls at Jeff, and the camera spun wildly through the air.

Dawn watching it go, saw the blue light glowing on its base (twinkling like the lights on the world's smallest spaceship), thinking it just might be the last weird thing she ever saw, and she prayed for a miracle.

She didn't know what was supposed to happen, or why the grunting voice had told her to throw the camera in the first place or for that matter, why she was even obeying that alien voice broadcasting from her mind. Nevertheless, she had thrown it and what would come, would come. There was a God, a Creator, and He (or She) controlled all things. Besides that, Dawn had reached the end of her rope and was both physically and mentally spent.

********

Roan saw the camera spinning and took aim. The time for thought had come and gone. He saw Jefthrow shoot Dawn, hitting her with a low-level beam that knocked her forward. But, she didn't fall completely, and she was clearly about to fall again when she finally threw the camera like he'd kept urging her to do.

But, Roan knew the hybrid was about to shoot her, again. His eyes were blazing as he hovered over them; he was screaming some harsh insanity, his leather wings flapping, his eyes glowing a horrific color and Roan also knew he wouldn't bother with Dawn this time.

Why kill the serpent when you can eat the eggs?

Roan's dark eyes flashed a brilliant green. He snarled, revealing long gleaming white teeth. They looked overly sharp, like biting through wood or even metal, wouldn't have been a problem. He jerked his head back, his ropy muscles rippling along his wide back, and then lunged outward, his black fur bristling, his mighty jaws gaping and yawning!

Releasing a tremendous lion's roar, a beam of emerald light rushed from between his jaws, slashing through the air and striking the camera directly on its glowing blue button!

There was a great blinding flash of brighter white light that lit up the entire basement, causing mice and cockroaches to scurry for cracks and crevices.

In response, the angry Rizorbeak immediately let loose another blast of energy, except it rushed from all twelve of his claws this time and sped down the hall at the shorter woman, the one that could barely run due to her injured feet. She had fallen far down the corridor but managed to get back up somehow and actually catch up with Dawn. The Rizorbeak would have guessed Broshaine had done it; she was always meddling in his affairs, only he had already killed her.

Now, the beam went straight for Lashon, like a homing missile closing in on its target, and Jefthrow howled in triumph. Once it touched her body, she would simply explode. They would be picking up her body parts for days!

Further down the corridor, still standing in the doorway, a panting Roan saw Jefthrow release his beams, but only smiled. Praise Princess Nacirema Wolf, he thought, future Queen of the Dark Realm, and the reason we are all risking our lives, because he is far too late!

The two humans might die in the end, regardless of their efforts to prevent it, Roan knew that (he would never admit this to Broshaine, but he didn't like their chance of survival, there were entirely too many obstacles in their path), but it wouldn't be right now. Because the two human females had just gone into another dimension.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Broshaine saw when Lashon fell, so she had sent a stealth beam at her, enshrouding her and cushioning her before she struck the ground. Then a simple flick of her eyes had filled the woman with energy, and Lashon suddenly leapt back to her feet. She hovered a moment in mid-air, then the fox gave a slight tug, and Lashon was drawn towards her like a magnet to metal.

Jefthrow saw this, howled, and focused his attention on Lashon. Broshaine, sensing his attention suddenly turn to the woman, focused on him and realized Roan had been right. He really was a Rizorbeak, now.

Where his human head should have been, she saw a thick cluster of gray tentacles twisting in the air. His human eyes were now three wide, bug-like eyes. Like the eyes she saw on the ants Roan showed her once. Only ants were miniscule organisms she could squash beneath her paws.

Jefthrow on the other hand, was at least the size of a fully-grown Earth moose. He had mandibles instead of a human mouth, and his eyes were blazing with a bright light. A sinister red light, like stop lights, that beat back the shadows around him. Long black wings were keeping him afloat; they were leather wings, with dagger-like claws on the very tips.

In addition, he was screeching like a Sandsucker. A monstrous creature that prowled the Void during the daylight hours back on her home world. The young Sandsuckers resembled dinosaurs with skeleton heads, and were even more dangerous than the adults.

According to Torin, the Sandsuckers were becoming craftier, and were getting closer to infiltrating Mount Chrysler by the day. But, that was for later, assuming they ever made it back to Valon.

Right now, Dawn had finally thrown the camera as Roan had told her to, and Broshaine watched it flip through the air and didn't even flinch when Roan fired one of his throat beams at it, at just the proper degree of force, triggering the ESCAPE HATCH that all Yarakki inventions had.

It was a button, that when activated correctly, opened up a tear in the fabric of time. The only danger was in controlling what dimension the tear opened up on. She had heard stories of ESCAPE HATCHES transporting creatures to horrid places they hadn't planned on going to. But Broshaine didn't think it would matter to the two human females at the moment.

When Roan struck the glowing blue button, the white light that erupted from the camera illuminated the entire basement, and the air began to shimmer directly in front of the two staggering humans. Like the sands of the Void, Broshaine thought.

And, she wondered if they were possibly heading there.

She saw Dawn duck from the glare of the light, while still running. She was still clutching the white plastic bag with the crystal in it, too.

Lashon was keeping up with her, but just barely. And, suddenly, before Broshaine could react, she saw Lashon stumble hard and trip forward!

She reached out wildly and grabbed Dawn's waist again, pulling her with her. They both reached the shimmering patch of air hovering perhaps four feet above the ground, and at that exact moment, the Rizorbeak released a powerful laser that lashed out at their fleeing backs...

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dawn didn't know that Lashon stumbled, but she felt the woman grab her waist when she did. Until that moment, Dawn was staring at the corridor just ahead of them as she ran for her life, wondering again if it were possible that she was still lying in bed asleep. And that what she was experiencing was only a very lucid nightmare. It was a dangerously hypnotic notion.

She hadn't gone to Center forty-five yet. She hadn't run into the pretty black woman again. The one with the dark skin, hazel eyes, and a fat round ass. The one who could be Lorna London's shorter, darker sister.

But, there was no black man in a dirty yellow coat. No murders that took place around the center on Hove Boulevard. No such thing as other worlds or dimensions or cameras that could control time. No crystals that weren't crystals, that altered your appearance as easy as snapping a finger.

No blue foxes and talking Dobermans, either!

Dawn was only dreaming. And yes, it was an extremely attractive thought. One she longed to hold on to, like a drowning woman might reach for the last vine within her grasp.

And, Dawn knew this was no dream, no nightmare. Not unless nightmares had somehow evolved, and could now exist beyond the realm of her sleep.

The iridescent space floating perhaps five feet from the ground (maybe up to her elbows, and a little below the top of Lashon's head) had come from the digital camera.

Dawn knew that. She also knew that the landscape she saw on the other side of that cloud, or whatever it was, didn't exist on Earth. She was staring at another world, or another...dimension.

The word Jeff had used, she recalled.

But, words didn't matter, and she saw sand amid lush vegetation that seemed to expand across a vast horizon. Strange flying creatures winged their way through a pale sky, a sky that was gunmetal gray, and filled with what Dawn thought were clouds. Only, they appeared to be shining, these clouds. As if each one had a miniature sun spinning in its blazing middle.

And speaking of suns, Dawn thought she could see four of them, glowing up in the sky like colossal stage lights. That was where she and Lashon were headed. That was where they both flew when the white blast rocked them up off the ground, and straight into the glittering, nearly invisible space.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Roan saw the humans go into the ESCAPE HATCH and the breach closed, disappearing like a cloud of sparkling smoke.

Jefthrow was still flying down the corridor with his eyes glowing fiercely. He was letting loose his energy beams at random, shooting them at the spot where Dawn and Lashon had vanished. Shooting them all up and down the hall and before long, he was hovering just outside the doorway.

"No!" he wailed, throwing the shotgun to the floor where it clattered loudly. "Roan!" he screamed. "They took Yarakki's camera, and Kia's sand crystal motherfucker! Kia will literally have my head, goddamn you! She already warned me about losing it!"

Roan backed up from the door. "You shouldn't have gone after the formula!" he said. "I warned you didn't I? Repeatedly. Now, you must pay for your rash decision!"

Jefthrow paused for a moment, hanging in the air, his wings flapping. The tentacles on his head were writhing madly now. His three eyes were slanted, blazing, orbs.

"I'll kill your ass for this!" he said. His voice was a high-pitched squeal. "Like I killed that sneaky bitch back on—!"

Broshaine ran up to stand beside Roan and the alien insect twisted his bug eyes in her direction. "Broshaine!" he screamed. "I thought you were destroyed out in the Void!"

"Stand back!" Broshaine said. "Let me get at him Roan!"

She suddenly puffed out her pelt and crept forward, the hundreds of spikes springing forth already starting to glow. "Let me send him back to Hell where he belongs!" she hissed.

Roan immediately leapt backwards, he had learned his lesson earlier. The Rizorbeak saw the blue fox transform and swerved higher to the ceiling until he was forced to lean over.

"Where are the others?" he screamed down at them. His voice reminded Roan of an entire bee colony trying to scream as one. The Rizorbeak hissed and snapped out at the empty air.

He spun around, his humped bony back glistening from some wet looking substance. Roan saw the tiny black things crawling all over him, they were moving frantically, squealing themselves and hopping from the slimy coating to the ground.

Parasites! he thought. And probably from a Valonian rat.

The creature's leather wings flapped lazily, the clawed tips brushing against the ceiling, were actually grasping black fingers. Roan could smell him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

The scent reminded him of rotten eggs putrefying in stagnant water. Even completely shutting down his olfactory senses didn't work; the stench penetrated his very pores.

"They're trying to sneak up on me!" the Rizorbeak squealed. He suddenly dropped to the ground, hopped around a few times, and rose to the ceiling, again. "I'm not falling for that one!" he yelled, his mandibles darting this way and that.

Jefthrow, apparently seeing that the corridor behind him was empty, shrieked and whipped back around. And, Roan realized too late that it had all been a clever diversion, because he was now pointing the shotgun at them!

But, that was also when Broshaine released her darts.

They flew from her puffy blue fur as if shot from a hundred guns. They were glowing neon red as they sped towards the floating creature. "No!" he screamed, quickly floating backwards. "How dare you attack me, you little blue shit!"

Jefthrow tried to dip and dodge, still holding the shotgun, but it was no good. The darts followed him, sinking plunging into his strange body; chipping off some of the hard material, slicing through his wings and continuing down the corridor to explode far behind him.

Where his skeletal outer covering was cracked and scraped, the shrieking insect began to claw at it wildly. Using all twelve of its appendages, trying to put out the orange flames that were suddenly erupting all over its shell!

One of the darts had stuck in the floor right beneath the half-human creature, but it didn't notice that, or the flashing blue light winking off and on like a radar signal at its very tip.

"What did you do!" the hybrid wailed, again raising the shotgun, and desperately trying to aim it at them. "How are your darts doing this?" it squealed. "They've never affected me this—"

The next explosion rocked the entire building and the world literally seemed to drop a few feet! Chunks of plaster and concrete fell from above, Roan and Broshaine ducking as Jefthrow was suddenly flung towards them, screaming in a hellish voice! He was coming towards the door they were currently blocking like a missile propelled by the tremendous blast.

Jefthrow would have gone straight through the doorway had he not been entirely too big. Instead, he crashed into it, shattering the wood beams of the doorframe, and bringing down more jagged chunks of plaster. Both creatures had yelled and leapt backwards just before he struck.

Roan was behind Broshaine, but could still see that Jefthrow's entire upper body was now lodged in the shattered doorway. The shotgun was just inside the corridor, where he had dropped it after colliding with the doorframe.

The slimy tentacles were somehow still trying to get at them, trying to pull the unconscious hybrid through the space that was much too small to allow its passage. He was out cold, but they were still literally yanking him through it!

Then, both Broshaine and Roan heard the sliding sounds. The sounds of the Sifters that were finally coming beneath the locked metal door down the hallway. The hallway on their side.

In this dimension, Roan thought. Earth: Alphius Sixteen.

They had obviously found the breach in time. The hole in the fabric of reality that would most likely take them back to the moments just before Dawn (the other version) was attacked.

It was the hallway, a corridor that Roan couldn't see the end of even though he had used maximum magnification.

He figured there were more doors down there, doors that lead to many different places. On their side, it was the welfare center. On Dawn's, it was actually her apartment building. Something about that didn't make sense to him. Something Torin had said once regarding time travel. But he couldn't stop to consider it.

They had to go, and immediately, but Jefthrow was completely blocking their way!

Roan, hearing the loud grunts and hissing noises to his left, turned to peer down the corridor, and saw them. The Sifters. And they had clearly changed shapes, again. They were now giant stone spiders, with what seemed a thousand legs each, scampering along the concrete floor!

The sound of their claws hitting the ground reminded him of hammers striking against metal, again. They had rows and rows of green glowing eyes, and long slender feelers that waved crazily at the air. Roan could easily make out their bristling needle-like teeth.

"They're here!" Broshaine yelled. "And we're trapped. Jefthrow is blocking our path. We have to get past him before the Sifters reach us!"

Her huge, black eyes, gleamed in the dark hallway. Roan had to shut down his night vision, Sifters could somehow pick up his inner light, and he was now seeing her as any human would.

"Dawn has taken both devices with her!" she yelled. "Into wherever she and Lashon went, we must find them! Who knows what they will see over there?"

Roan only nodded. He had been thinking the exact same thing, but what to do? He heard the stone spiders scuttling toward them and knew they had at the most, fifteen seconds, before they surrounded them.

In addition, he could sense they had multiplied outrageously this time; there were now hundreds racing in their direction! Even if Broshaine used her lightning weapon, some of them would survive. Which was why they'd multiplied in the first place.

Broshaine had her back to him, watching them approach. So, she didn't notice when Roan finally turned from watching the spiders himself, and glanced at Jefthrow again.

Furthermore, she didn't see when the writhing gray tentacles, that seemed to have minds of their own, carefully aimed Jefthrow's shotgun at them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Fucking shit!" Lashon said, clutching at her belly and flopping to her knees in the grass ahead of Dawn. "This shit fucking hurts!" she groaned. "I can barely walk!"

Dawn stopped walking herself, and turned to the woman. "Your stomach again?" she said. "The sharp pains?"

She glanced back at their coats piled in the grass perhaps fifteen yards away. Her long brown goose down and Lashon's pink Baby Phat coat. Dawn was still wearing her knit cap, despite the weather. But the other garments looked strange lying there when the temperature felt much more like summertime than winter, to her. Right down to the hot breeze and the strange flower-like scents drifting through the air

Lashon only grunted and nodded. Dawn couldn't see her face, only the top of her head, where her golden hued hair hung in disarray. "It feels like something's inside of me now!" she said. "Crawling around deep inside of me!"

Fear coursed through Dawn because this was what she had been afraid of ever since they jumped through the shimmering cloud and into...well, Dawn wasn't sure where they were.

Nevertheless, this unfortunate notion had been slowly forming in her mind ever since they landed in the tall strange-looking grass. While the person Dawn saw down the road, a darkly clothed figure that seemed stooped over, could perhaps give them some idea of where they were, she doubted if they could explain Lashon's pains. (A belief she would be very wrong about.)

But, she remembered what Jeff had said. What he'd said about Lashon's nightlife. And, he'd even called her a dyke-bitch. Dawn suddenly wondered where he got that particular notion.

She recalled how close the man had been standing to Lashon when she first left the center, too. Right on top of her, she had thought.

That was before any of the strange shit started happening, and the idea that something had happened between them, something sexual, had immediately occurred to Dawn while she watched them. It was something about their body language. It never lied.

Dawn had been entirely too preoccupied with her own terror since then to really consider it, however. But, once they crossed over into this world (or dimension, she thought, it's another fucking dimension!) time seemed to be all she really had to work with. It was the only tangible thing that she could even reasonably contemplate, the alternate universe bullshit she would leave alone for the moment.

Her cell phone still worked. At least, the minutes on the clock seemed to progress as they normally would have in her world (a weird concept, she thought, her world—a chilling concept).

But, when Dawn tried to call a number, there had only been dead silence, as if the world she knew had completely vanished. She did her best not to panic at that thought, she also tried to avoid considering the implications of the existence of such a place as the one they were currently traveling in.

Another dimension.

One they might very well be trapped in too, she realized. It was another notion Dawn did her best to avoid considering.

And, until they noticed the figure standing in the road, at least ninety yards away, she had been doing a pretty bang-up job of forgetting about it. But now, Lashon was kneeling in the grass, panting and moaning, and grabbing her belly with both hands.

"Did you fuck him?" Dawn asked.

She was standing over her now, and she gently placed one hand on Lashon's back. Her shirt was blazing hot. The incredible heat was the first thing Dawn noticed after they landed in the weird grass. She was already sweating profusely from her forehead. "Lashon?" she said. "Did you hear me, girl?"

Lashon looked up, and she was crying. "Huh?" she said.

Dawn's heart sank all the way to her toes because the woman's expression said it all. Dawn found that she liked seeing Lashon cry even less than her looking terrified. Tears didn't suit her gorgeous features. "What did you ask me?" Lashon whispered.

"You heard me," Dawn said. "Did you have sex with Jeff? After he took you home last Monday? Don't play dumb with me."

Lashon stared at her for a moment, and then she glanced down. She didn't say anything, but nodded her head twice.

"I thought so," Dawn said, sighing deeply. "What happened?" she asked her. "Was he too big? Did his dick hurt you inside?"

"No," Lashon said, actually chuckling a little. "Shit was tiny, I had to fake moan and groan, it wasn't that." She glanced up. "I'm sorry Dawn," she whispered. "I was drunk...or something, I don't know." She exhaled. "He gave me some purple liquid—not wine, I don't think," she went on, "but the shit fucked me up!"

"Not liquor?" Dawn said, "A date rape drug? Was that it?"

Dawn thought of what Jeff had said earlier: "You really expect me to believe he didn't show you anything? None of the shit he was working on? He didn't give you a purple liquid to drink? One that made you feel woozy?"

Lashon shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "It tasted like grape juice, I recall that. But it wasn't regular alcohol. Even though it was sweet and burned my throat. It wasn't that kind of feeling," she said, "it was more as if...I don't know...like the whole world seemed to shift, to waver and change. And then, I seemed to be paralyzed, Dawn. I couldn't move. Sounds crazy huh?" she asked her.

Lashon removed her hands from her belly and glanced up. "It's better now," she said. "The pains didn't start until about two days ago." She quickly looked away. "Maybe it's just gas," she said.

Lashon appeared to have a hard time looking her in the eyes. Instead, she gazed down the road stretching out ahead of them. And for a moment, Dawn followed her gaze. Except for one spot, the strip of brown seemed to go on forever, and was covered by a sea of verdant green grass on both sides.

"Who do you think that is?" Lashon whispered. "Up there? I think they're watching us."

Dawn wouldn't be distracted so easily. "Never mind them," she said. "We have to find out why your stomach is hurting like this. The way you just screamed—"

"What?" Lashon said, and looked at her. "How did I scream?"

Dawn hesitated. She considered lying, but then she said, "You were screaming like a pregnant woman and it scared the shit out of me." Dawn looked away, suddenly wanting to see what the person standing in the road was doing, herself.
She could still see them, and couldn't be sure, but thought Lashon was right, the person appeared to be looking right at them now. "Like my mother was screaming," Dawn continued, "while she had my baby sister Arveen. My dad and I were standing right there, watching."

Lashon smiled a weak smile that nevertheless, touched her eyes. "You have a sister?" she said. "A baby sister?"

Dawn turned to her, remembering Arveen's smile and her carefree laughter. And the quiet conversations they would have while cold rain pummeled their bedroom windows.

She was the type of kid who thought happiness was sitting in front of the television on a Saturday morning, watching cartoons while she ate from a huge bowl of cereal. Apple Jacks, Lucky Charms, or Honey Combs more often than not. Those were her favorites.

"I can't wait 'till I grow up and we can live together!" she'd told Dawn once. It had been one of those Saturday mornings in fact, which had surprised Dawn because usually, her sister wouldn't utter a word while watching her Toony 'Toons, which was how she referred to them.

"We can eat dinner together," she had said, "go to movies together! Even take baths together! I love you so much Dawn, we'll be best friends forever and ever! And you better not ever go away to college!"

She had then got up from the floor and hugged her.

Neither of them, especially not Dawn, had known at the time, just how short forever could sometimes be. "You reminded me of her earlier," Dawn said now. The beginning of tears sparkled in her dark eyes. She wiped them with one trembling hand and sniffled. "Back at the center," she said. "My sister died when she was four. She drowned in a pool during a trip my family took one year. But that's not important right now," she whispered. "There are other things to think about."

"I'm so sorry," Lashon said. "Are you okay?"

Dawn shrugged. "I'm fine," she said. She sniffed again. "Sometimes, it hits me out of nowhere, that she's actually gone. That there's so much happening in the world that she'll never get to see or know about." She, paused.

Lashon didn't respond, only stared up at her with a concerned look on her face.

Dawn hadn't really expected her to respond, that was a private thought that had slipped out by mistake. She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it and grinned. "It'll pass," she said. "It always does, don't worry about me, babe. That's one thing my father said which turned out to be the truth. With enough time, the pain always passes."

For a moment, she wondered had he been sending her a message with those cryptic words, knowing he was about to split?

"Well, if you need to talk to me," Lashon said, "don't hesitate." She reached up and grabbed her leg. "Do you hear me?" she said, "you can talk to me, Dawn. And I mean that, we have to stick together. For all we know, we're surrounded by millions of enemies out here." She glanced around. "And we just can't see 'em yet!" she finished.

Dawn smiled down at her, thinking that if Lashon was right, and there were people or whatever, existing in this weird place that wished them harm, it would be no different than what America had once been. Still was, some said. Surrounded by millions of enemies. Dawn suddenly reached down and touched Lashon's hand.

"Thanks," she said. She cleared her throat. "Get up, Lashon. It's hot out here, and we don't know what's crawling through this fucking grass." Through this weird fucking grass, she thought, but didn't say. "I'm not sure I want to see this world's idea of insects," she admitted. "Not after Jeff!"

Dawn thought her own voice seemed damn normal considering how terrified she actually was. But, she needed to be strong for Lashon. In real life, her being only nineteen, and Lashon having two kids, and being at least thirty, didn't matter.

"Come on gorgeous," she said, "you giving the worms a free peep show and shit."

Lashon laughed and let Dawn pull her up. "We're going to see who that is, right?" Lashon said, leaning over and brushing dirt and strands of grass from her tight jeans.

"It looks like a female to me, at least, from here," she went on. She finished dusting off her jeans and stood up straight. "What do you think, Dawn?" she asked, and turned to gaze the opposite way as if suspecting there might be more than one person out there somewhere. Maybe one of those millions of enemies trying to sneak up on them.

Dawn placed one open palm over her eyes. After a moment, she said: "I think you have some fucking amazing eyes, beautiful. More than just amazing to look at too; see for yourself."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Lashon was right, it was a female. A young girl, Dawn thought, with the biggest pair of tits she had ever seen in her entire life. If they were real, and she thought they were, they jiggled like plastic bags filled with water when the girl moved and she couldn't help thinking of the stunning Christina Hendricks.

The girl was wearing some kind of gray cloak, and the front was cut in a deep inverted A shape.

So deep, her pale breasts were spilling over the top of the jagged V. They were ivory colored and smooth, like two hills of marble. Her nipples were thick knobs poking from the front of the garment. Very, very far in front, and were the first thing Dawn noticed when the girl had somehow appeared out of nowhere. Well, not exactly out of nowhere.

Dawn saw her vanish way down the road and then a split-second later, the girl was suddenly standing right beside her, giggling! It had happened so damn fast, she didn't even get the chance to be startled. One minute she was trying to see what Lashon saw to make her think the person was female.

The next, she was staring into the face of one of the prettiest girls she had ever seen. But oddly, she didn't look completely human to Dawn. Then, she remembered: another dimension right? Not Earth, where humans dwelled.

When Dawn told Lashon to look, the strange girl was smiling at her. She waved her hand and twiddled her white fingers. Even these slight movements made her breasts jiggle. "Hello," she said, "you two ladies seem lost. Perhaps, I can help you find your way?"

She had a beautiful husky voice that instantly made Dawn think of Smallville's Kristen Kruek.

Besides being one of the finest chicks from Canada to ever hit Hollywood, Dawn felt, and definitely one of the best actors, she thought Kristen had the sexiest voice she'd ever heard.

But she decided to ignore that and didn't speak for a moment. Instead, she turned from the newcomer and glanced at Lashon who was staring at the girl mistrustfully, looking her up and down. Dawn glanced at the stranger, again.

"Who are you?" she said finally. "Where are we, and how the fuck did you just do that crazy Star Trek, shit?"

The girl giggled. "My name is Evian," she said. "Evian Cerati, it rhymes with karate. Pleased to meet both of you, and you are on Valon. The world next door to yours, you might say. The other dimension. We share many similarities, our air, for instance."

Evian waved her arms above her head, making her breasts bounce crazily. Like Christina Hendricks doing jumping jacks, Dawn thought.

"But we have four suns as you have probably noticed by the heat," she said. "And by the way, you are correct Ms. Laurelton. It is dangerous to sit on our grass, Gandy grass we call it. It attracts the creatures that live far beneath the sand."

She frowned. "But walking on it is okay," she said, "as long as you don't stand in one place for too long. One single drop of sweat could bring them swimming to the surface!"

"Valon?" Dawn said, glancing down warily, and thinking the girl hadn't answered her last question. The one she actually considered most important. But, she made the word rhyme with salon. That may have been the word she saw Lashon say back in the car.

Dawn raised her head, turned from staring at Evian, and gazed around the open space surrounding them. They had come to an area where the road divided further up, suddenly splitting off to the left and to the right, like a highway.

It was the massive hole in the ground that caused it to divide, Dawn knew. The exuberant girl had been standing on the far side of the hole. So far away, she could barely see her from their distance.

Now, Dawn gazed down into the fissure, and as far as she could see, the grass grew everywhere on rocks bathed in blinding sunlight. It was like viewing a Grand Canyon that had suddenly sprouted vegetation on every inch of its petrified stone.

Dawn glanced beyond the fissure and noticed the same grass covering hills she saw humped against the skyline off in the distance.

She saw no trees or buildings, and wondered if looking at the scenery all at once, would make her dizzy. But she could no longer help it, and just had to look. Perhaps, the awesome sight of it had even triggered Lashon's stomach pains.

Maybe, she thought, but not likely. She bet the woman's condition had much more to do with biology than vertigo.

Evian laughed, suddenly, breaking off her thoughts.

"Quite a sight huh?" she said. "This is our last oasis, as you would say in your world. And it is shrinking day by day as the Black Diamond dies. The rest of the planet is sand, one great big desert. You came through the breach into the one place you could have survived coming to. Somebody really likes you two!"

She giggled. "I've seen Alphius-worlders phase right inside a Sandsucker's yucky mouth!" she said. "And believe me, it's not a nice experience."

"What are you?" Lashon said. "I mean, your eyes—what color is that? I've never seen it before."

Evian smiled. "They are no color," she said, "they are perfectly clear. And I am called a Glint."

"Oh," was all Lashon could say, and Dawn sympathized with her. She guessed it was one of the few times Lashon had come across a female pretty enough to challenge her own beauty. The girl they were both gaping at looked exotic, to say the least.

Her face was a soft oval, her nose was barely there. Her eyes were slanted (she actually resembled that sexy Lawrence girl from The Hunger Games now that Dawn thought about it), and she had just said they were colorless, but Dawn thought they looked slightly beige. Or, maybe they were actually bronze.

Whatever they were, she had never seen stranger, more exotic eyes in her entire life. She couldn't stop staring at them.

"I no longer even think of my eyes," Evian said in her deep Kristen Kruek voice. A voice that had always made the actress seem much older than she was. Especially when she was chastising Tom Wellington.

"But I can see they captivate you two," she said, and giggled. "Wait until you see their eyes, the Realmians!" She grinned, clapping her hands with delight. "Talk about spooky?" she said, "but for now, we must leave here. Mount Chrysler will send Scavengers to investigate the breach. They will eventually find us. And, if Lana Aria leads the Grit-Pullers..." Evian shivered.

"Not good," she whispered, "not good at all." She exhaled. "Only Oprafine Aryat is more dangerous," she said.

"Mount Chrysler?" Lashon said. "Grit-pullers?"

Evian glanced at her. "Yes," she said. As if the answer should be obvious to both of them. "They will send altered sand cats too," she said. Evian glanced down at Lashon's mid-section.

"That thing inside of you," she said. "It must be killed before it escapes and kills all of us. Yarakki will perform the procedure."

Evian rolled her eyes and turned away, oblivious to their shared looks of confusion. Before either of them could say a word, she said, "Hold on to each other, this will be a little hairy. I've never tried transporting two fully grown humans to the palace, before."

With that, she threw her cowl over her head and spread her thick legs. She was wearing some form of brown spandex material that looked like it had been painted on to her lower body. Evian wasn't as big as Lashon in the butt, but she had plenty of shape. More like Nicki Minaj, Dawn thought, wondering why she kept thinking about her.

Evian had her back to them as she leaned over a little, seeming to stare at the ground. Then, she stretched out her arms and screamed, "Caveat Emptor!"

Her deep, booming voice echoed across the canyon.

A loud rushing noise came, like the sound of waves breaking against the mossy rocks along a beach. A sudden push of wind rocked their bodies forward. Then, a cloud of purple smoke gushed from thin air and they were all enveloped in the smoky substance! Dawn instinctively held her breath.

Lashon shut her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand. Evian Cerati only laughed.

"I keep forgetting to remind you humans," she said. "You have my deepest apologies; there is no need to cover your eyes or mouths. But hold on now, this won't be easy!"

Dawn heard that part, the girl was talking as if she had met humans before! A high whistling sound rose in the air, like a teakettle boiling over. Evian laughed as the purple haze blocked out the sunshine and the view of the grassy Grand Canyon.

And, as Dawn clutched Lashon (both still had their eyes shut, their mouths covered), she thought of what the strange girl had said: That thing inside of you...it must be killed.

That could only mean that she had been right and Lashon really was pregnant! How this girl (or Glint, she had called herself, the same word Jeff had used in the car) knew about them or Lashon's possible pregnancy, was a mystery.

But before they left the patch of Gandy grass, one of the last green areas left on a dying Valon, another more sobering thought came to Dawn: According to Evian, the overly jovial alien female they'd just met, Lashon was pregnant and in grave danger, and judging by what she'd just said (it must be killed before it escapes and kills all of us), this was clearly no normal pregnancy!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When Dawn and Lashon first left the basement, fell from the cloud of sparkling lights, and entered Valon, she had been somewhat prepared for what they found. Before they actually reached the breach, Dawn noticed the strangely moving grass. The Gandy grass, only she didn't know it was called that at the time. She also saw the strange black things flying around in the sky, and so far, they hadn't seen any of those. Something she was exceedingly thankful for!

But when they fell from Evian Cerati's purple cloud and landed in the pool of warm rose colored liquid, Dawn was stunned. She hadn't expected that. Lashon hadn't either, she was thrashing about so wildly, she nearly drowned them both.

"Calm down!" Evian yelled. "Or you'll hurt yourself. The water is only knee deep, silly. Stand up, and save yourselves from the watery depths!" She giggled, pointing one finger at them like a student teasing an underprivileged classmate.

Dawn had already realized this, but couldn't manage to stand with Lashon grabbing frantically at her arm. She was tugging on her legs now, screaming and spitting out pink water.

At least, it feels like water, Dawn thought, trying not to fall into it. Then again, it somehow didn't. It almost felt like she was standing in a lake of liquid wax.

"Relax!" Dawn said, trying her best to soothe the panicked woman. "It's okay, honey," she said. "She's right, if you just stand up you'll be fine, it's really not that deep Lashon!"

Lashon slowly stopped struggling, and finally looked around. She was sitting spread-eagle in the pool, her arms hovering just above the sparkling water. Her hair glistened with beads of moisture and it dripped from her ponytail.

Dawn, who was standing up straight now, slowly glanced down. She was soaking wet and water was literally pouring from her clothing. She could see the reflection of the candles glowing high above them on the pinkish surface, like a rippling mirror's image. She saw the knit cap on her head, and watched as the rippling image took it off with one rippling hand.

She dropped it in the water, and stared at what she had revealed. After a moment, Dawn frowned, and deeply exhaled. It was a terribly bitter sound.

One cold, rainy night, her drunken mother lathered a five-year old Dawn's head with a white goop that was so strong, and smelled so bad, it had made her mother's eyes sting and water (though Dawn hadn't known this, her own eyes were too busy stinging and watering to know much of anything), and then after waiting a good ninety minutes her pissy drunk mother (you gotta go through pain to look beautiful girl! she'd told Dawn in her deep, manly voice), grabbed Dawn roughly by the neck and scraped her permed hair off with a sharpened kitchen knife.

A knife that Dawn had sharpened herself, as a matter of fact.

There were no pictures, but Dawn was informed by some of her relatives who claimed to have seen the aftermath of this evil act (like her mother's twin sisters, for example), that she was basically bald with a bloody scalp when the cops finally busted into their apartment in the Bronx and arrested her mother. "Hold it!" one of them had supposedly bellowed at her. "Freeze bitch! Drop the fucking knife or I'll shoot!"

Apparently, some of the tenants in the building who eventually called the police had heard Dawn's hysterical screaming. One of her perpetually drunk Aunts, Aunt Emma, claimed Dawn only had two tufts of permed hair sticking up on her head like black cotton balls, like Minnie Mouse ears, she'd said. Dawn could vividly recall her laughing about it, too.

Her father, who had been working late that night, was terribly upset by what happened, but couldn't bring too much attention to the situation. Dawn didn't know this, but his real bosses on Valon had discovered a new drug that could be used to control a person's mind. A drug crucial to their complicated plans.

"Make this go away," Yarakki, told him. "Our work is more important, and the Council doesn't seek unwanted exposure. If you can't handle it, perhaps a few of Kia's sand dogs..."

Dawn was taken from her mother immediately after that conversation, and was placed in various foster homes until the age of eight. At which point, the courts awarded custody of Dawn back to her mother. Of course, the damage had already been done.

Later, when Dawn had gotten old enough to ask her mother why she did that to her, her response had been, "Because, the shit was too long and curly bitch. I was only trying to straighten it!" This of course, hadn't made a bit of sense to Dawn, not even for a moment.

Now, that she had quit stripping, she no longer even bothered with weaves or wigs. She always wore hats (even in the summer), and if not hats, then scarves.

Dawn exhaled again, wondering why God had cursed her with such a dreadful mother (a mother so jealous of her own child, that she would try and ruin her life), as she peered around the chamber, fighting back tears, wiping them away before they could fully form in her eyes.

She finally noticed the strange velvet curtains, and her own concerns were mostly forgotten for the moment.

She gazed across the large room for a long time, her heart pumping steadily. She wasn't sure if what she was seeing was real or not, and the first word to immediately come to her mind was hologram. The curtains were a deep green, just like the grass outside. Yes, but...

When Dawn called it weird in her mind earlier, she was referring to the fact that the grass seemed to be crawling along the ground. Sometimes, it appeared to be waving as if caught in a wind, even when there was no wind.

The green curtains across the room appeared to be waving, as well. They were definitely moving along the wall, and were crawling in a complete circle, it seemed. A never-ending march of weird velvet.

"The curtains are moving?" she said, her voice a bit trembly. She was staring at Evian. "Am I really seeing that?" she asked her.

The girl grinned. If she noticed Dawn's tears, or the way Dawn had flung her hat to the water, making it splash, she didn't let on. "An illusion," she said. "Once a person enters this chamber that doesn't belong, they will have quite the time trying to find the door. Wouldn't you think?"

Dawn only nodded. She didn't know what to think about any of the craziness they were experiencing, let alone some alien curtains that appeared to move on their own. "What were you saying," she said, "about something being inside of her?"

Evian gave Dawn a playful look. "No need to be coy," she said. "We both know she's pregnant. The black human in the yellow coat? You call him Jeff. Roan and Broshaine know him as Jefthrow. Over here, he's Benn Bratticus, The Gladiator!"

"Yes," Dawn said, not knowing who Roan and Broshaine were. She glanced at Lashon who was standing up now. Her face was wet and she was absently wringing water from her ponytail with both hands. Dawn turned back to Evian.

"Yes, we know who Jeff is," she said. "What about him? And can I have a straight fucking answer for once?"

Evian giggled. "Torin was right about you," she said.

She was standing on black marble, just beyond the edge of the huge pool. It was sunk into the floor like a Japanese goldfish pond. "He fucked her, as you humans say," she continued. "Planted one of his disgusting offspring in her, and we have no choice but to take it out."

"What is all of this bullshit about?" That came from Lashon who appeared to be back from her stupor. "Since this fucking day started," she said, staring balefully at Dawn, "it seemed like you knew something about this shit, girl. What's up? I was blaming myself, I still do. But why do I feel like you have much more to do with this crazy shit than me?"

Dawn shrugged. She was about to speak, but Evian interrupted her. "I'll explain it," she said. "None of this is either of your faults. But first, get comfortable. Take off those wet clothes and bathe if you wish, you are safe here."

Dawn and Lashon stared at each other. Like actors in a sitcom, they both shrugged simultaneously and laughed. Despite the utter weirdness of the situation, the laughter felt great to Dawn. Nearly therapeutic. It didn't suddenly transport them home, back to their world, but it was still the best suggestion she had heard all day.

If only for a little while, they could try to forget that they were actually in another dimension, after barely escaping a man that was really (and this was actually the hardest part for Dawn to swallow) an alien insect. A hideous one.

"Sounds good to me," Dawn said, still not believing this was all happening. "I guess so, if you're sure it's safe," she said, "we can just strip right here?" It seemed a stupid question, considering that the girl had just suggested it.

"Of course," Evian said, and smiled, her teeth actually seeming to twinkle. Then, without the slightest warning, she screamed, "Mother! Refreshments!" and a small woman wearing a white robe and holding a silver tray, came scurrying from a cloud of red smoke that suddenly appeared across the room.

The woman's short legs sped her across the floor and to a sudden stop right before them. She bowed before the girl, long white hair spilling over her forehead and partially obscuring her face, as she dropped to one knee. She gently placed the tray on the floor with a muted clink. "Yes, Mistress!" she said, breathing heavily. Dawn saw a glass pitcher of what appeared to be ice water and two silver chalices, standing on the tray.

Evian glanced down at the old woman. Dawn thought she had to be at least seventy by her posture, but her face seemed young. "This is my mother," Evian said, and grinned. "She can be stubborn at times, but she mostly serves me well."

The tiny, pale woman absently squeezed her own small breasts through her from-fitting robe. She seemed to cringe as Evian spoke. Dawn was puzzled beneath her amazement. "Your mother serves you?" she said. "Like a...like a slave?"

Evian stared up at Dawn. "Of course," she said. "All Goddesses and Queens have slaves, they're born with them. Usually, the infant females are given to the slaves when they are fifteen of your years, old. Or sometimes, for the Goddesses, the slaves don't even know they're slaves until they actually see their Mistress."

She shrugged and smiled. "I know how it may sound to you, considering your history," she said. "But our customs have endured a million years. Our scientists as you would call them, were stunned when your slavery ended."

"You were watching us?" Dawn said. "How?"

"We monitor many places, and many dimensions," Evian said, rubbing her own slender arms. "Our scientists have also created a computer that can generate 3D images of what your world would be like today, had the slavery continued." She smiled at Lashon. "You know of 3D don't you? I think you would be quite surprised to see how different your America would have become had your enslavement endured."

"Different, how?" Lashon asked her.

"Well, for one thing," Evian said, "your entire planet had been renamed America by the year 1986." She waved one hand. "But never mind that," she continued, "we call them Inherent Slaves, and each Goddess inherits fifty of them per lifetime. Since Realmian Goddesses live for hundreds of years, the numbers work out. I am neither Goddess nor Queen, not truly, but serving me is still all mother lives to do. She has taken the Sand Oath."

She suddenly stopped speaking and clasped her small, pale hands together. "If you need to use the restroom," she said, "as you say in your world, this drink, created by your Dr. Clark, will naturally erase that need for the next ten hours. Both versions of the need," she added, "and it will also prevent the child from leaving your body, though not forever. A rather useful potion as you will soon see. And now," she said, "mother will bathe you both, together if you wish."

Dawn and Lashon shared looks, again. Neither of them was quite sure of how to respond to the first part. But, Lashon spoke first this time: "I think we should be able to manage—" she began.

Evian Cerati quickly cut her off.

"I wouldn't hear of it," she said. "Mother, you are their slave as long as they remain in the castle. Understand? And keep your mouth shut about this." She exhaled. "Goddess Kia has already shared some of your ramblings with me," she said, "you really like to talk, huh? How many times must I say watch what you speak about in her presence? Should I use the metal mouth locks again?"

"Forgive me, Mistress!" she said. "I beg your smile of forgiveness, sweet young goddess."

"Are you truly sorry?" Evian asked, smirking just a bit.

"Fervently, Mistress!" she said. "I worship thee! Please, don't kill me daughter, allow me to breathe another cycle and I'll improve!"

Evian stuck out her foot, she was still wearing the black boots she had worn outside, Dawn noticed. Some of the Gandy grass was still caked to the bottom, and it appeared to be wiggling. "Remove it and kiss them!" she ordered. "And do it like you truly mean it. Your effort has been sorely lacking just lately, mother. You are sorely testing my patience."

"Suck them, Mistress?" she said. "Your toes, would it please you, daughter?"

"Kissing is fine," she said. Evian glanced at Dawn, a roguish glint in her pale eyes. "It isn't all bad on Valon," she said. "And Nacirema Wolf will soon be back to claim her throne." She giggled. "It will be a glorious day!" she said.

The old woman complied, and the two females stood there motionless, watching the girl's mother (this can't be her mother! Dawn was thinking) remove her boots, after carefully unlacing them. After massaging her daughter's tiny feet for a few minutes, she started kissing them. She was using her tongue too, as if kissing on a cute guy.

After a while, Evian jerked her foot away. "Enough!" she said. "Now, bathe our guests. And do whatever they tell you to do!" Evian peeked at Dawn and dropped a wink. "Whatever they tell you to do," she repeated, "do you hear me lowly bitch?"

The old woman bowed her head until it was touching the floor. "I kiss your footprints, Mistress," she said. "I obey your slightest whispered command my benevolent, beloved, daughter."

Then, to Dawn's stunned surprise, she actually started kissing the floor that was muddy from Evian's boots!

Evian giggled. "You're learning bitch," she said. "Now get up, you filthy dog, and do as I said." She glanced at Dawn, again. "I will return in a little while to finish our conversation," she told her. "In the meantime, please, enjoy your baths."

Evian had turned away to leave, but suddenly spun back to them. "Do not forget to drink the Grapewah," she said. "You wouldn't want the hybrid coming out of you when you least expect it! I will notify the doctor of your arrival."

The girl turned again, and strode barefoot towards the far wall. It was still rippling around the room in currents of bright green. They watched her go, her mammoth breasts jumping and swaying, her butt cheeks lifting, dropping and bouncing, as she went. She stopped just before she got to the wall. Dawn was expecting some kind of flashing light, or colorful smoke, but Evian only waved her arms in circles and the curtains (or whatever they were) immediately disappeared.

A smooth, white wall was revealed. Evian walked up to it, and a portion of the surface slid up from the marble. It was a doorway. The girl walked through it and disappeared. The portion that slid up, slid back down. The curtains returned.

The chamber was silent. The aroma of some flowery scent drifted across the bright room to them. Dawn glanced up as cool air began to blow from high above. A light mist was falling as well; it felt like tiny electric sparks on her skin.

Both Dawn and Lashon bent down to the silver tray and poured themselves some of the liquid. They both drank from the chalices, and after a few seconds, Dawn exhaled with relief. It wasn't water, but was freezing cold and delicious. And actually had a taste nearly like lemonade, she felt. (The idea that she may have just swallowed poison occurred to Dawn, but her thirst overrode that notion.) But, she didn't believe lemons had made it. At least, not Earth lemons.

But then again, according to all she'd heard, there was more than one Earth. Maybe they all had lemons, or a fruit that was the equivalent?

The little old woman was now standing directly before Dawn and she had to glance straight up. Incredibly, she was even shorter than Lashon was.

"What is your command?" she asked in a soft voice. She took both of their cups and returned them to the tray, briefly bending to do it, and then stood up again.

Dawn smiled. "I would rather you didn't wash us," she said. "I think we—-"

"It is forbidden to disobey my Mistress!" she said. She lowered her eyes. "Did your people not experience slavery in your dimension?" she whispered. "Her punishments are severe. She could maim me, or kill me, at her slightest whim! She is my Goddess and I am her plaything. I mean nothing to her beyond my usefulness as a slave." She paused, and exhaled. "By law," she can murder me whenever she sees fit," she whispered.

"She's your daughter," Lashon said, as if she hadn't heard a single thing the old woman said. "You serve her as a slave? I suppose you wash her, brush her hair and feed her too? Do you even wipe her after she uses the bathroom?" She chuckled dryly.

It was clearly meant as a joke, but the woman didn't laugh. She didn't speak for a long moment, then she sighed. "Of course," she said, "if I understand your meaning, correctly. Only we call them Latrines over here. It is one of our main purposes for existing; we are dedicated to the well being of our beloved Mistress. From our lowly birth, to our death."

She exhaled again, and swiped at an errant strand of silky, white hair that had come loose.

"The audacity of slaves," she said, glancing down at her feet, "that is how she describes the new uprisings taking place throughout Valon. She says such audacity will be their undoing. But you, the tall pale black one." Her eyes were still lowered. "I am sorry," she said, "but your father is dead. And has been for some time. Dr. Yarakki, not him, changed Benn Bratticus but he still thinks your father did it. That is why he believes you know of the formula. It was apparently told to him that you would."

She brushed hair from her face with both hands this time, tucking it behind her slightly pointed ears, and tying it into a knot. She whispered something they couldn't hear. Dawn thought it might have been some kind of prayer. Something about the holy sands fulfilling a destiny.

The woman clasped her small, white hands before her. She still didn't look up. "You must talk to the Scavbeast, Roan," she said. "And especially, to the Blood Leaker fox...the one called Broshaine. I believe she now holds the key."

Dawn heard what she had said: Your father is dead. But strangely, she immediately focused her thoughts on the two animals she saw before they went through the shimmering air.

The Doberman (and she thought it was obviously what the woman had called a Scavbeast), had somehow contacted her mentally. Something she wouldn't have even considered believing a few hours earlier. The type of stuff she normally scoffed at while listening to Coast To Coast, a late night radio program that dealt with U.F.O's, ghosts, and other unexplained phenomenon.

But, the dog told her to throw the camera, which had ultimately saved their lives and the old woman had just referred to him as Roan. Apparently, talking animals were the norm around here, but why did this knowledge suddenly seem so important to her?

"Where did you get all of this information?" Dawn said. "And why are—"

"No!" the old woman yelled. "You must listen, this is no game! Nor, one of your silly movies Evian showed me, where everything happens in a neat little world of coincidences! I do not know much of your world. Nothing but what my Mis—Evian, tells me. She rants and raves of your customs. Longs to get her face altered to resemble your models and actors. Who is Alexis Bledel?" she asked, frowning. "Or Lorna London and Odette Annable? Strange names, but she is obsessed with them. Are they truly as pretty as she claims?"

When neither female spoke, she grimaced and sighed. She'd said the names as if they left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I cannot respond," she said. "If I even bat an eye in disapproval of anything she says or does, she would notice. And have me skinned alive if she felt like it. I live in fear of her retribution for even imagined transgressions."

Now, she finally looked up, but at Lashon. "Do you know how that feels?" she whispered. "To fear your own child? To wonder if she'll allow you to live even one more second?" She seemed to tremble. "That creature inside of you is pure evil," she said, clearly changing the subject.

"What Benn Bratticus shoved into you, he shoved into the other females he butchered, the ones around the breach. You might call it Center forty-five, or the House of Horrors." The old woman smiled for the first time, and they were both shocked at how natural—and pleasant, a smile it seemed.

"He told you, but you forgot," she said. "You weren't paying attention. Only the best would recall hearing him scream that." She turned to Dawn. "The ones he placed in those eight females have already hatched," she said. "They ripped through their lifeless bodies even as they lay in the morgue or deep in their final resting places. The reports are everywhere in your world. Some fool named Bloomberg is calling for military assistance in a place called New York. Evian constantly talks about it. Your people believe the graves have been desecrated by vandals, but many more deaths are coming."

"Who do you mean?" Dawn asked her. "Who's he?"

"You don't know?" she said, looking up at her now.

"Jeff?" she said. "Yes, he did say something like that!"

The old woman smiled, again. "You will have to stay more alert than that," she said, "if you hope to survive Valon."

"That's going to happen to me?" Lashon said. "Are you saying that?" Her eyes were wide, staring. She turned to Dawn, then back to Evian's mother. "Are you referring to me?" she asked her.

The old woman slowly turned her head to Lashon. She gazed at her for a moment, perhaps assessing what she saw there, calculating her worth. "The ones who sent me don't want that to happen," she said, finally. "So, they're going to help you. They are having a hard enough time tracking down the ones already loose in your dimension, they don't need more escaping."

Dawn, who hadn't heard about any of the things she was telling them happening in their dimension, said: "What about this?" She held up the white bag that had fallen into the pool of water. It was plastic and she had closed it tightly even as Evian's cloud was emerging from thin air.

"These are the things Jeff, or Benn Bratticus, was carrying with him," she said. "What do I do with it?"

To Dawn's utter surprise, the strange camera had somehow returned. She could feel it through the plastic, and when she finally peeked into the bag, it really was back. But, she didn't have the slightest idea when it happened.

Evian's mother walked over and took the white bag from her, carrying it as if it were filled with snakes. She placed it by the edge of the pool directly behind Dawn. And for some reason, Dawn suddenly realized what had bothered her so much about the articles she collected regarding the Hove Boulevard murders.

The fact that in each case, a strange man was seen in the area wearing a yellow coat. Dawn had somehow forgotten about it, and had consequently missed the obvious connection to Jeff.

"You hold on to it," the woman said, and shrugged. "Magic is evil, especially when fools pretend to wield it. I keep far away from it!"

She was giving Dawn a steady look. "Your father didn't change Benn Bratticus," she said, "but his hands are still dirty in this. My people have a saying: Lay down with sand sharks, wake-up with titsy-beetles. Do you recall the day he came home late from work? The day you saw him carrying the white box?" she said.

Dawn gasped with surprise. "Before you answer," the woman said, "take off your clothing, it is filthy and damp. That can't be comfortable." She bent and picked up Evian's boots, and then, glanced at Lashon. "And you," she said. "You're in no condition to be flopping around like this. Remove your clothing and let me examine your feet."

Lashon, wondering how she knew about her sore feet, did as she was told. Soon, the old woman had an armful of wet clothing, and Dawn began undressing. She slipped her sweatshirt over her head and dropped it in the water. It drifted along the surface like a dead cat floating in a tub of pink lemonade.

Next, she removed her boots. Then she slipped out of her pants, bra and panties. Dawn did her best to ignore how bad she felt about her now exposed hair. But, the hat had gotten wet, soaked actually thanks to Lashon, and Dawn couldn't wear it like that.

Thinking of the hat, she glanced towards where she had dropped it and saw it still floating in the pool. Suddenly, as if waiting for her to look, something Dawn couldn't see rose to the surface, snatched the hat, and jerked it beneath the water!

Dawn inhaled, uttering a small shriek.

The old woman laughed and took her clothing and her boots, too. They were piled high in her arms, past her chin, as she turned away. "Don't worry," she said. "It was only a chamber wraith. The Goddesses loan them out to the Glints that serve them."

The old woman eyed Lashon's naked form for a moment. "You truly have a phenomenal body," she said, after some time.

"I can clearly see the African-American in you. In your enormous breasts, hips, and buttocks. The Africans provided the blueprint, but life in America has also affected your physique. And that face," she said. "I haven't seen such beauty in decades. Not since her, at least."

She paused, then.

"But you resemble a queen from an adjacent dimension," the woman said, almost shyly. "Queen Brenda."

She grinned. "Perhaps, you've heard the term: Neeq Sadnerb," she asked her, "or Brenda's Queen, said backwards?"

She said it all so matter-of-factly, both females were utterly stunned. Lashon, because of the comment regarding her body. Dawn, because of her use of the words: Neeq Sadnerb, the very words she had been puzzling over all day.

It meant Brenda's queen, she'd said. As in Nacirema's sister Brenda? Dawn wondered briefly, but quickly dismissed it as mere coincidence. That was going a bit too far.

The old woman turned back to Dawn. "The day your father had the box, his eyeglasses were missing," she said. "You wondered what had happened to them. Didn't you, you've wondered for years?"

"Yes," Dawn said. "I thought it was strange because he always wore them in the street. But, how the hell do you know about that?"

The old woman nodded. She strode through the water until she reached the edge of the pool; she unceremoniously dumped the wet clothing on the shiny black marble, where it smacked the floor like wet newspaper. "Would you like soap?" she said.

Both females immediately glanced at each other in surprise; and then they nodded in unison.

The woman half grinned. "I figured as much," she said. "It's the very first thing most off-worlders request when they get here." She pulled a small vial from the pocket of her apron and studied it carefully. Her slick, white hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, exposing smooth alabaster skin.

Her eyes were as colorless as Evian's, but she lacked Evian's natural beauty, and certainly didn't have her humungous breasts.

Dawn, who was only an A-cup, knew Evian wore a bra-size over triple D. Maybe, even an E-cup. Her mother however, mostly had ass. Her butt was so big, and stuck out so far, she appeared to bow even when she walked normally. She could have come from any African American neighborhood in America, Dawn thought.

The woman poured the contents of the vial into the water and it immediately changed the liquid from its previous crystal pink state, to a pale shade of blue. Dawn felt there was an inordinate amount of color changing going on, and she was beginning to feel like Johnny Depp as Willie Wonka, minus the fun chocolate factory. Then, the water began to bubble.

"There," she said. "Now, you can enjoy your baths."

She looked at Dawn. "His glasses were missing because the rat snatched them and ate them," she told her in a quiet voice. "Better that than his eyes, I suppose. But that's the answer to that little mystery. If the lab techs hadn't come when they did, he would have died that day. Your father lied to you," she said, and sighed. "By the way, he died of food poisoning and I wish I knew where his body was buried. I would tell you in case you wanted to spit on it. On Valon, there are few sins worse than lying to one's own children."

A perplexed Dawn and Lashon had already lowered themselves back into the water, and were now slowly washing. The water felt silky against Dawn's skin (obviously, from whatever Evian's mother had poured into it, she thought) and smelled enchanting. She gazed at the old woman while she washed, thinking that at least, she had dropped the "help them bathe" routine. It had been very annoying.

She exhaled, and completely submerged her body in the tepid water, finally allowing herself to relax as she considered Evian's mother's words. She claimed that her father was dead and perhaps not seeing him for nine years had something to do with it, but the news didn't surprise Dawn nearly as much as it should have.

The worst part was probably the fact that she believed it so easily. As if a pert of her wanted it to be true. But, she set aside these thoughts for the moment, and considered Evian's mother, instead. She wondered what had brought her to this point.

Where she felt she had to obey the demands of her own daughter. Dawn felt sure it was something complicated; she seemed like a complicated woman.

Nevertheless, she had used her daughter's name twice instead of saying Mistress. That meant she wasn't completely subservient, didn't it?

"Your feet," the old woman now said to Lashon. She walked along the edge of the pool until she stood above her. Lashon was already sitting in soapy water; she raised one leg out of the pool and let her carefully examine her foot. The old woman nodded. "The other one," she grunted.

Lashon dropped her right foot back into the pool with a loud splash, and raised the left one. After a few seconds, the woman nodded again. "Not too bad," she said. "The chemical I dropped in the water will heal them. They will feel sore for a few hours, but they will get better."

Damn! Dawn thought, staring at Lashon's tiny brown toes as she lowered them back into the pool. Even her fucking feet are beautiful!

And, she still hadn't gotten over seeing her huge tits when she'd thought Lashon only had ass. She watched the white haired old woman smile at Lashon. Then she stood up straight and exhaled.

"You must keep what I've told you secret," she said. She glanced at Dawn, too. "Both of you, my daughter doesn't miss very much around here, and she has plenty of spies snooping for her."

"Why deal with her treatment?" Lashon said. "I can see you don't want to—I think she can see it, too."

The woman smirked. "Evian works for Goddess Kia," she said. "If you're lucky, you'll never meet her. She is missing quite a few grains of sand in her hourglass. But while my daughter is under her thumb, anything she says, goes."

"Who is Nacirema Wolf?" Lashon said suddenly. "Nacirema Wolf, who?"

The old woman's pale face seemed to grow paler. Her colorless eyes grew wide. "We must not speak of her!" she whispered. "Evian is a reckless fool for mentioning her! An uprising is coming on this planet. Nacirema Wolf is a princess that we have just learned still lives. But not here," she said, "on your world."

She frowned. "Her family was slaughtered even as she was born," she said, "and her throne, the throne of Valon, has been usurped by a Realmian named Dominoe. It is written in our Histories Of The Future that the princess would return to Valon and destroy the evil Black Diamond that drains our hopes dry, thus saving our dimension. But it is death to speak of her, I will say no more!"

"You can't mean the same Nacirema Wolf who acts in movies?" she asked, feeling stunned. "Do you?"

The old woman shrugged. "She is the same person," she said. "As I told you, she is originally from here, Valon. She doesn't know yet, but that will all be changing very soon."

"What did my father do exactly?" Dawn said, thinking that the old woman had shared a lot of information, considering that she had called the topic off limits. And also thinking that they had officially entered the Twilight Zone because when you stripped away the bullshit, the woman was basically claiming that Nacirema Wolf was an alien.

"You said his hands were dirty?" Dawn said, just to say something and get off the subject of Nacirema Wolf. "What did you mean by that?" Dawn asked her. "Dirty in what way?"

The woman glanced at her. "The letter that someone slipped in your prison cell?" she said, "Benn Bratticus put it there, want—no, needing you to find it. The actual words written on the scrap of paper come from the poet Shakespeare, I believe."

"How is the paper important?" Dawn said, trembling a little, though it was comfortable in the chamber. But she was beginning to get a really bad feeling about all of this. "And what's your name if you don't mind me asking?" she said.

The old woman smiled. "My name is Vita," she said, lowering her voice. "And, the paper is only important because—"

Dawn heard a loud whistling sound that came from high in the air above them! A yellow cloud suddenly formed directly over the old woman, making them all glance up. The cloud hovered there, and then, what appeared to be red neon wires shot from the puffy mass and wrapped themselves around Vita's stunned face!

The old woman's body was violently yanked up into the cloud, and after seeming to bulge a little, the billowing yellow smoke simply vanished! It all happened that fast. Dawn sat in the still bubbling blue water, feeling totally shocked, and still gazing upwards.

A few faint tendrils of yellow swirled above them for a second, and then disappeared as well. She turned to Lashon. "What the hell just hap—-?"

An explosion came from a far corner of the room! Both of them screamed, jerking their heads in that direction. Yellow smoke was now blowing from a jagged hole in the floor where the sound had come from. Something shrieked inside the cloud (making Dawn think of Stephen King, and of his movie about creatures that dwelled in a deadly white mist), and she saw a huge shadowy form thrashing around. Something roared, and when she finally saw it, the creature slowly crawling up out of the smoke and broken marble, Dawn screamed even louder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Sifters stormed down the dark corridor, hundreds of stone spider legs were clinking on the floor in unison. Broshaine watched as they finally remembered their acidic webbing, and started firing blood red webs at them. The bullwhip sounds of the substance spinning from their mandibles filled the air.

Broshaine didn't have to feel one of the glowing tendrils touch her body to know what it would do to her. Her youngest child Olaina, had been sliced in half by one of them a few weeks back. Only, those had come from a hybrid caterpillar.

"Roan!" she said. "They're shooting the webs, and they have turned acidic! We must get past Jefthrow right now!" Her fur was puffed out and glowing as she slowly backed up.

Roan heard Broshaine say the Sifters were now shooting webs. Acidic webbing, she'd said. And by the smell, Roan could tell she was right. It was another nasty Yarakki invention that he didn't doubt had also been banned by the Council.

He was using his night vision again, and the spiders were everywhere. He saw them crawling along the walls on both sides of the hallway, and scampering towards them on the ceiling. They resembled army ants rampaging through some hidden Amazon jungle.

But, Roan couldn't respond to Broshaine because he'd already turned around and was busy watching a shotgun float in the air. It was kept aloft by slimy gray tentacles that had twined around the trigger like vines.

They were controlling the shotgun, and were slowly swiveling it around to aim it at him. He heard Broshaine yell "Roan!" and she was suddenly by his side, brushing up against his massive body with fur that appeared electrified.

"We must fight!" he said. "They have multiplied to a mind-numbing degree and we won't be able to outrun them!"

His ultra sensitive ears clearly heard the Sifters closing in all around them, even the ones up above where the clink clank of their stone claws tapping concrete and plaster was nearly maddening. And then, as if some silent signal had been given, Roan sensed rather than saw, when they all finally leapt from the ceiling and walls as one! For a split second, the world seemed to freeze. And then...

When the gun went off, he ducked, and the blast ripped through the hallway behind him. He didn't realize that Broshaine had emitted a force field around them at that very moment, and was pleasantly shocked when all of the spiders were blown back down the corridor, missing emerald eyes and stone legs, or were simply vaporized on the spot!

They had been saved this time, but Roan knew there would be plenty more coming for them if they stuck around. He also knew that her force field wouldn't work on them, again.

Broshaine screamed: "Don't move, Roan!"

The blue fox leapt over him and landed right in front of the floating gun. It immediately shot at her, just missing her head! The fox did a somersault in the air, landing a few feet away in a crouch. The tentacles turned the gun that way and released another blast. Another and another.

But, Broshaine was already gone, her spiky blue pelt blazing with light as she dodged the bullets. Every shot missed her but made a massive booming sound and tore a smoking hole in the stone floor.

The gun turned to her again, the tentacle twisting like an earthworm exposed to sunlight, and shot. The shotgun jerked upwards and this time, the bullets struck Broshaine in the right side, but only grazed her. The fox yelped, and suddenly ran in a wide circle, her slender blue legs moving so quickly they seemed to disappear!

Broshaine kept running until her entire body was a blur. She reached out and snagged her own fluffy tail between her jaws.

Broshaine became a spinning orb of brilliant blue radiance. "Jump onto me Roan!" she yelled. "Hurry! You know there's no other way!"

Lightning sliced down from the ceiling, stabbing at her body as she ran. Roan saw what she was doing and didn't need to be told twice. It was a maneuver the Council frowned upon because it released pure phasemic energy, enough to puncture a hole in time. Which of course, was precisely what Broshaine was attempting to do.

The Sifters learned eventually, the next wave of attacks would end with the stone spiders simply self-destructing. Everything on the second floor would be obliterated. The spiders themselves, would simply reform. Broshaine was no dummy and had already figured that out.

Roan saw the tentacles pull the shotgun's trigger one final time as Broshaine spun, but also noticed that Jefthrow was no longer unconscious. His three bug eyes were glaring at him with undisguised hatred. He was frantically jerking his black torso backwards, attempting to free himself from the doorway.

The shotgun went off and the bullets ricocheted from Broshaine, striking Jefthrow in his misshapen head! Roan saw him rear back in pain, but couldn't hear him yelling.

Roan leapt onto Broshaine's back as the winds came from the breach she was forcing open. He was immediately caught up in the her circular rotation, like a page of newspaper sucked into the vortex of a tornado.

Together, he and Broshaine rose from the floor and spun in mid-air as sudden, brilliant light erupted beneath them. Roan saw the floor crumbling away and worry washed over him.

This had never happened before; the breach was always along a wall, in thin air and sometimes even on a ceiling. But never in the ground. Where the hell are we going? he thought.

Roan tried to keep his eyes open as they floated down into dark nothingness, desperately trying to see where they were headed. But, the Scavbeast only saw a smooth black surface far below and though Roan thought he'd heard females screaming somewhere, he couldn't be sure with the violent wind whipping in his ears.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Roan and Broshaine went into a hole on Earth, but rose from a hole on Valon. Broshaine was no longer spinning, but her fur was still radiating bright light minus the blood-boiling heat. Roan had fallen from her back as soon as they crossed dimensions, and the fox was now staring about wildly.

"We're back on Valon!" she hissed, amazement clear in her voice. "I didn't aim for here!" she said, glancing around. "I didn't have any specific destination in mind Roan!"

Roan finally stood up, also glancing around. "Doesn't matter," he said. "You mentioned Valon, or thought about it, and the sand crystal heard you. Once you activated the artificial breach, it automatically pulled you here."

"The sand crystal," she said. "So, Dawn's—"

"Evian!" a voice yelled somewhere, and both creatures flinched. They were standing in a semi-dark corridor where small electric lamps were providing a modicum of light. Broshaine was staring up at Roan.

"They are here?" she said. "But, how?"

Roan shrugged, and shook his dark, furry coat. "Not important," he said. "The females are clearly in danger. The plan isn't going as smoothly as I hoped for, but we must improvise. Can you sense them?"

Broshaine shut her eyes, inhaled and opened them. "They are on the upper level," she said, "I believe they are in Evian's chambers, but how can I detect their essence all the way down here when Kia and Marlana have activated the new security system Yarakki created?"

Roan glanced at the jagged wound in the black marble floor they had just emerged from. "I'm not sure," he said. "I've heard that it disrupts all transmissions sent or received, but the sand crystal may have something to do with that, too." He paused, listening. "But what is that sound?" he whispered. Can you hear that Broshaine?"

Broshaine walked to the edge of the crater. "Hear what?" she said, glancing down, but it was like staring into an oil pit. She couldn't judge how far down the crater went, and couldn't even see the sides of it.

For a few moments, all was relatively quiet and still. Mostly quiet, somewhere water was leaking. Broshaine knew it could have been coming from anywhere in the castle, considering her powerful sense of hearing. But, utter darkness filled the space, and even her glowing body couldn't penetrate it. She moved a cautious step closer to the hole, still peering down.

Roan cocked his head to one side, listening. "Yes!" he said. "I hear something! I think I can hear—"

Jefthrow's tentacles jabbed out of the dark like spears and impaled the Scavbeast in his head! Through the ear he was attempting to listen with, and straight through the other side!

"Got you, motherfucker!" a reedy voice squealed. The creature rose from the hole in a flurry of frightening legs and leather wings. It flew high in the air (Valon ceilings were nearly thirty-feet high), and carried Roan with him!

The Scavbeast was hanging by his own head, with blood pouring from the wound to the floor far below, leaving a trail that splattered Broshaine's coat. She was so startled, she forgot normal procedure, and actually moved in to try and help him.

"No!" Roan barked, and Broshaine couldn't believe he was even capable of speech! "Help Dawn and Lashon!" he yelled. "Leave me! You have it, and you know what to do with it if you must!"

Broshaine struggled with herself for a second, then realized the wisdom of her commander's words. Dawn Laurelton was top priority, was the reason they were even involved. The half-Realmian's words returned to her:

"We'll see to Naomi," Dominoe had told them. "You and Roan must get to Dawn before the Scavengers do. Torin couldn't tell us for sure which of them is most important, and that blasted John Clark, a rapping doctor of all things, refuses to cooperate! He's afraid of losing his precious position if things don't work out in Nacirema's favor!"

Lord Dominoe had made it abundantly clear that they simply couldn't fail. Not if they wanted Nacirema Wolf returned to her rightful place as ruler of the Valonian universe.

"I'll be back for you!" she said, staring up at them, and then she fled down the hallway. A split-second after, what seemed like hundreds of stone spiders began to pour from the rent in the ground. They were screeching and hissing, and spitting out the acid webs in all directions. Before long, a massive battalion of angry alien creatures were racing down the corridor after her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dawn saw the abomination scrambling from the hole in the floor and yelled: "Evian!"

It was all she could think of to say. She had no reason to believe Evian could hear her, or would actually come to her rescue even if she did, but Dawn was beyond using reason. And again, she thought of that moment back in front of Center forty-five, when she'd had the chance to change her mind, and didn't.

The thing that finally pulled itself from the chunks of broken, shattered marble was beyond nightmare. She could see it was one of the creatures the black man, Jeff, had turned into.

But it looked different, she thought, as if it had gone through another horrific transformation.

It was only one half of the creature, Dawn realized, as if it had been violently ripped apart by giant hands. It was glistening along that nasty torn half like raw meat and she fought down the urge to vomit as she glanced around for Lashon, and saw a very terrible thing: Lashon had apparently fainted!

She was still sitting in the warm scented water, but her arms were resting on the edge of the fucking pool. And her head was resting on her folded arms!

At least, she didn't fall backwards into the water! Dawn thought, fighting back a sudden attack of the shivers.

But, Lashon was still naked, they both were. And, they didn't have any other clothes to wear since their old ones were near the newly formed hole with the monster crawling from it—which was where they would stay as far as she was concerned!

Whatever this horrendous thing was, she would have to face it alone and naked.

It roared at her when one of its remaining eyes found her. It started towards her, stomping cracks in the marble with each heavy, hopping step. They made brittle crunching sounds that reminded Dawn of huge machines tearing down massive trees.

It somehow managed to howl even though its entire ugly head had also been split apart!

It seemed to have at least twelve hairy black arms (of which, Dawn could only see six), and a huge red stinger positioned where a human's penis would have been on a human body. (Then again, she thought, thinking of black guys, how do I know it isn't a penis?) The single lower leg appeared to be a dinosaur's leg. Perhaps, a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

And suddenly, something fell from the air and crashed to the floor right beside the thing, making the entire room quake!

Dawn screamed, realizing it was the other half of the monstrous creature! She watched in abject horror as the sides quickly slid together, the creature hopping forward on that single lizard's leg, shrieking as if in tremendous pain.

And then, they merged with a disgusting, sucking sound.

When it was finally whole again, it shrieked louder than Evian's wind had. The Rizorbeak shook itself and roared.

Dawn rose from the water and started moving backwards. "Lashon!" she shouted. "Wake up, Lashon!"

The creature roared again, as if in response. "Lashon!" she yelled again. "You have to wake up, it's coming for you! Please, wake up!"

Dawn saw the woman stir, perhaps the floor quaking as the creature stalked towards her, had jarred her awake. Whatever the case, Lashon opened her eyes, and immediately saw the monster. She still seemed groggy, a little dazed. But, she screamed as soon as she saw it.

"No!" she said. "What the fuck is that?"

The thing saw her and seemed to grin, its mandibles opening and closing rhythmically. All three bug eyes blazed. And suddenly, it charged at her! The nasty looking tentacles were trailing behind it as it ran, the leather wings spread out stiff to either side of its alien body.

"Run!" Dawn yelled. "Oh my God, run!"

It felt like she had ruptured something in her throat, but she didn't care. She obviously hadn't heard Lashon speaking from so far away, but the way the mosquito thing was charging her made that a moot point. She spun around and was running through the water herself now, towards the edge of the pool.

Dawn searched the floor for the bag (panicking a moment when she couldn't find it), and then finally saw it.

She wanted the camera. The one that could see through solid objects, and seemed to manipulate time. She didn't know what she would do with it, but getting it felt right somehow. And then, Dawn cried out as a siren suddenly began to wail!

"Thank God!" she said, her heart pounding, as she realized that the sound was coming from somewhere far beneath her. Dawn climbed from the water, her body dripping like she'd just come inside out of a sudden rain shower, and snagged the plastic bag. She reached her hand in and grabbed the camera. She took it out, closed the bag and placed it down, but far away from the edge of the pool.

Dawn heard the monster smashing up the marble floor as it rushed at Lashon. She heard the woman screaming like all hell was breaking loose. But, when she glanced up again, what she saw shocked the fuck out of her. There's no delicate way to put it.

She was standing by the pool, stark naked, dripping warm water, and watching the black mosquito thing lunge at her new friend. And she had already accepted that it was over, that Lashon was about to die a terrible death.

It was too late to say or do anything. Plus, Lashon was only staring up at the thing as it came. As if she were hypnotized by its ugliness. It seemed to happen in slow motion, everything that happened next.

Like Dawn was watching it on a DVD player and had slowed the speed of the action. It could have easily bitten Lashon's entire head off in one vicious chomp.

Dawn thanked God it didn't, but it could have. Its jaws were filled with some kind of strange jagged teeth (more than enough to decapitate a human female, she assumed), and she didn't think they would have had any trouble biting through the woman's flesh and bones.

But before the alien thing could bite Lashon, a purple cloud puffed into existence right above her! Dawn couldn't help thinking of Evian's mother, hoping to God she'd come to save them.

Is it really her? she wondered. Maybe, she's decided to stand up to her daughter?

The creature roared again as it swept through the cloud, snapping viciously at the smoke as it ran across the chamber for a few yards, made a wide stomping U-turn, and came back.

Dawn knew the cloud distracting it that way wouldn't work a second time, it was no longer even looking at the floating purple smoke. "Come to me, Lashon!" Dawn yelled. "Hurry up girl!"

But Lashon wasn't moving. She'd had tons of time to get the fuck up and run—but she hadn't moved at all! The next thought that came to Dawn, she truly didn't like. It was a quiet whisper of a thought she feared had been lurking in her mind all along, lying in wait, right beneath the breathtaking terror she was experiencing:

I should leave her ass right here! The stupid, pretty bitch! It's her fault I'm in this weird-assed shit in the first place! If she didn't accept a ride with that crazy nigga this...

Dawn smacked herself in the mouth with her free hand! It was a rather powerful blow, considering that she used her left hand, and that she was smacking herself in the face. But it worked like a charm, and her head cleared immediately.

Those weren't her type of thoughts! She wasn't a spiteful person by nature and abhorred any emotion she felt might even be construed as jealousy. It was one of the things that made her feel a measure of pride over being an African-American.

Plus, the Sagittarius have taken over once again .

And, because she had momentarily distracted herself with those thoughts, even that last strange one, Dawn didn't notice the blue streak come flying from the very same hole the mosquito thing had come from.

But she watched the other fearsome looking creature reach Lashon and suddenly lunge its black head down at her again. Its eyes were gleaming terribly, the gray tentacles whipping like power lines twisting and sparking on a wet road.

It wouldn't miss this time. Even as she watched its jaws open wide above Lashon's pretty golden head, praying to a fair and just God (for He clearly didn't like ugly) that it would miss, Dawn knew full well that it wouldn't.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The blue fox was running down a long narrow passage when the first Sifter somehow hopped from the ceiling and landed in front of it! She skidded to a stop, fur puffing up automatically, the spiked tips already beginning to glow and radiate searing heat.

"You motherfuckers never quit!" she screamed, and flashed a dazzling light that lit up the entire tunnel, fully exposing the creature.

The Sifter hissed and shot webbing at her. It made a sound like leather slapping against human skin. The fox watched the white cord float in her direction and waited until the very last moment to jump to one side. The spider's thread touched the stone floor where she'd stood, and began to sink into it. It sizzled like bacon frying in a skillet.

The grotesque spider hopped in place, turning in wild circles and squealing. The web was gone, but its wiggly S shape was etched deep in the ground where it had fallen. As far as Broshaine knew, the web would keep sinking until it reached the lakes of molten lava flowing at the planet's core. There was no known material that could resist its deadly acid.

The fox slowly backed up as the Sifter reared its stone legs in the air. She was expecting more spiders, but as long as this was the only one, she knew she could defeat it.

Its webs were deadly but terribly slow. And she would have to kill it quickly, where there was one Sifter, there were always more on the way.

But, this spider never shot webs at her, again. Suddenly, its six rows of eyes flashed a dark red!

The beams caught the fox in the chest, ripping a hole through her body, singing her bright blue fur to black; slamming her into the wall as if tossed from a catapult where she then, crashed to the ground with a sickening thud and didn't move.

Smoke was drifting from her blue coat when the next beam blasted her in the side, slicing her body in half, her steaming guts spilling out on the dirt like coils of raw sausage!

More spiders scuttled out of the shadows where they had been hiding and pounced on the lifeless body. They were squealing as they covered it with webbing, already using their proboscis to suck at the fluids within the corpse.

They squealed with utter delight, and some of them, with confusion, as they realized that something was wrong. That the dead body tasted a lot like...

The explosion blasted over fifty Sifters apart and the entire corridor seemed to rock and shake. The air was suddenly filled with smoke and falling debris, as chunks of jagged rock and dust showered to the ground. Broshaine watched this from the ceiling where she was clinging like a bat—perhaps, a stone bat.

"Take that!" she said, dropping to the floor, and muttering: "You stupid fuckers!"

Creating the droid had drained her, but she could still hear the rest of the stone spiders approaching from far down the corridor. A legion of them. "They're still coming!" she said. "If I don't stop them now, I'll lead them straight to Dawn!"

She knew this was the main reason the Council frowned on creating breaches. All Void creatures were attracted to the energy they gave off. "But if I waste any more time," she said, "Dawn could already be dead by the time I get there!"

Broshaine was frantic to act, but just stood there contemplating her next move. The alien fox knew she would only get one chance at this, and simply couldn't fuck up. An entire world was depending on her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Roan was nearing death, and his Scavbeast blood was nearly depleted. He could feel his energy draining away, intolerably slow, and his body was already growing cold. They were floating in the air high above the ground, the Rizorbeak was dangling him in one claw like a dead thing.

Roan couldn't help choking, its stench was incredible, even more so to an olfactory system like his. It was the smell of a dead rat rotting beneath a stack of old tires in some humanoid's backyard, he thought. A heavy stench that was nearly frightening in its vileness. Roan had experienced that once, a long time ago during a mission on Planet Zombia.

But he didn't think the rats in this dimension grew to over four feet long, or had hundreds of eyes all over their furry, wide bodies. Broshaine had left in the end however, which was only the proper thing to do. He knew she didn't want to, but the mission was more important than either of their single lives.

Lord Dominoe had made that shit perfectly clear. Dawn Laurelton couldn't die. Protecting her should be his number one goal. The fact that the human females appeared to be in Evian's quarters for some reason was a truly unexpected break.

Evian, like all the Glint slaves, had a huge pool of water in her chamber, more than enough to activate the hybrid formula. It might be the only way to prevent Jefthrow from getting it.

But, he wished it wouldn't come to that, because activating the formula without a host could be extremely dangerous.

The Rizorbeak laughed. "Do you see?" it yelled. "The Sifters are on your friend's trail! She cannot outrun this many of them. They will track her down, get in front of her and literally tear her ass apart!"

He shrieked and flapped his massive black wings, rising higher.

Roan had seen. The stone spiders suddenly started crawling from the hole like mice fleeing a fire. And were still coming. More than he'd ever seen at once, in fact. The webs they shot into the air landed on other spiders and sliced right through them. The body parts were still wiggling in the dirt.

"You will fail!" Roan said. His voice was weak, rasping. Weaker than he actually felt, but that was by design. "Broshaine outsmarted you before," he said, "out in the Void. And I'm sure you know the Council will be sending Scavengers after us?"

The Rizorbeak screamed, "Fuck them! I want that goddamn formula Scavbeast! They're the reason I look this way in the first place!"

"You had your chance!" Roan whispered. He knew the creature could still hear him, the damn thing could read his thoughts. "After they brought you here, we saved you," he said, "we risked revealing our carefully hidden existence, just to give you a choice. But you were filled with the dark visions Goddess Kia gave you, weren't you? In the end, your perverted lusts betrayed you. Yet, you knew much more about the physical risks than most. You're a fool, Benn Bratticus!"

The alien insect went berserk, which was exactly what Roan had hoped for. It wasn't the words he just said that bothered the Rizorbeak, it was the tone of his voice. That: I told you so, in his voice. Its human side would despise that sound. It suddenly jerked the tentacle lodged in Roan's head, swung it around its own head and whipped it straight down!

Like an arrow, Roan sped towards the stone floor, a stream of blood trailing behind him! Perhaps, the Rizorbeak realized it may have been tricked, because the next shriek was even louder. The sound echoed, bouncing around the vast chamber.

"NO!" it screamed and immediately went into a dive, like a hawk, and sped towards the falling Scavbeast. Its three bug eyes were already shining, preparing to shoot a beam once it got within range.

Roan felt the world rushing past him, it was all a multi-colored wall of smoke. The air whistled in his ears. His fur whipped, and his eyes were rolled back in their sockets. His tongue lolled from his jaws, flapping in the wind as he plunged to the ground. The wound in his head no longer hurt, or the pain was beyond his feeling.

In either case, the Scavbeast knew he only had one chance. A very slim one, at that. Angering the Rizorbeak made it overreact and throw him. But Roan had severely underestimated its strength. He was falling so fast, he wasn't sure his plan would work. He could barely open his eyes and when he finally did, his hearts immediately lurched in unison.

He had maybe twenty seconds before he struck the ground, and that was being optimistic about it. The concrete floor was speeding up to meet him in its rocky embrace, he would be squashed like a bug if he hit it at this tremendous speed.

I must turn around! he thought. Turn my legs over!

He was falling head first, which meant it was going to be basically impossible to perform such a maneuver going so fast. Even if he did manage to turn, his legs would certainly shatter from the impact. But he was willing to pay that price, since Yarakki could probably regenerate his broken bones with one of his contraptions. If he hit head first, however, there was absolutely no chance of his survival.

Roan tried to concentrate as he fell, there were maybe ten seconds left. He imagined his body twisting in the air, his legs rotating until his paws were pointing downward. He summoned whatever reserves of energy he had, strained, and tried to spin his torso. But, his limbs didn't budge and he only continued on his downward plunge.

The Rizorbeak was gaining on the Scavbeast and was now close enough to hit him. It read some of Roan's thoughts, mostly broken fragments of images. But it was enough to figure out what the beast was attempting. Roan was trying to land on his feet.

Oh, yeah! the hybrid thought. Think you're a fucking cat, huh?

"What if you have no fucking feet!" it screamed.

It shot a fully charged, double eye laser at the falling Roan that would have blasted his legs from his body had something blue not suddenly slammed into him, knocking him to one side! The beam missed him cleanly and hit the hole instead, the one the spiders were still swarming from.

The blast disintegrated every Sifter in range and totally collapsed the hole in on itself. The heat of the beam immediately cauterized the breach and now only a smooth shiny surface remained where the fissure had once been. The Rizorbeak howled and swerved upwards just before it could crash into the floor, itself. A wash of dirt and leaves were swept along the ground with it.

The claws on the tips of its huge leather wings actually scraped the ground, throwing off sparks, and leaving deep groove marks in the concrete. It rose up again, and soared in a wide arc, the tentacles on its head frantically searching for Roan. And quickly found the Scavbeast still lying motionless on the ground.

The Rizorbeak also saw the blue fox that had been standing next to his body. It was already springing from the floor, puffed up with a thousand glowing darts like the quills of a giant porcupine. And then, the fox rushed at the alien insect like a ball of blue fury!

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Broshaine had heard the sirens finally going off, but just couldn't leave her closest friend behind. She knew the risks involved with her decision. Scavengers were coming, probably altered Scavbeasts as well. And not only was it possible that Roan was already dead, it was even more likely that Dawn and Lashon were too. She could no longer sense anything from the females, not from Evian or her mother.

It felt as if something were completely blocking her abilities. Perhaps it's the Rizorbeak, she'd thought. Perhaps, Evian had mentioned him possessing that skill?

But, Dawn had screamed Evian's name, which meant the Glint was somewhere in the vicinity. Should she simply let her handle the situation going on up there, whatever it was?

It was something to consider.

Evian was acting like a fool lately, but the fox knew that it was only a part of her disguise. Kia Plazine watched her slaves very carefully, and it was crucial that the Realmian Goddess feel Evian was completely trustworthy. There could be no doubt. So even Vita, her own mother, didn't know Evian worked with Michelle Roan. She was commander of the secret mercenary organization in charge of monitoring Nacirema Wolf, who knew nothing of her royal history or her grand destiny.

Evian couldn't possibly trust Vita with that kind of sensitive information. Of course, she couldn't.

Because she was a traitor and Broshaine had discovered the truth, personally. After becoming suspicious of Vita, Evian asked her to trail the old woman. It had taken a few days, but she eventually wound up in Kia's chambers, even though she hadn't been summoned by anyone. Not even once.

Broshaine's ears would have easily picked up any form of message sent from Kia, or Marlana Carter, or anyone else on the Goddess levels. Plus, the Goddesses were using Yarakki's new security system which supposedly prevented the transmission of phasemic waves. She knew that could only mean Vita was delivering information to Kia.

So, Evian started planting information, telling her secrets. Making her mother promise not to tell anyone, and Vita had quickly taken the bait.

On three separate occasions, the fox had overheard the planted information being whispered about in the halls of the castle. That was why Evian had left Vita alone with the two human females in the first place. She wanted to hear what Vita was being told and more importantly, what she was after.

Evian had the impression her mother had been ordered to deliver the humans a false message. Hopefully, they might also learn who was controlling her. Broshaine had suggested it was obviously Kia, but Evian didn't think so. She thought someone else was involved, someone they'd never suspect. Someone with something to gain they couldn't imagine.

Broshaine didn't argue the matter again, but kept her own counsel. She would still keep an eye on Kia, the Goddess was acting very strange lately. More and more human, she felt. But in truth, Evian's mother had seemed overly concerned with the arrival of the two Earth females.

Broshaine could detect the remaining echoes of the entire conversation they'd had. The only problem, was that her alien ears could only detect the words from so far a distance. Not the actual sound of them, or the emotion behind them. In human terms, it was like watching close-captioned television and Yarakki's device was disrupting that as well.

But perhaps Evian was right, she thought, and Vita would eventually reveal some of Kia's plans if she was actually the one pulling her strings. Broshaine would still keep an open mind about the whole thing, however, just to be on the safe side.

As soon as the last Sifter stopped twitching, she had used her inner radar to thoroughly scan Evian's chamber. That was how she picked up their thoughts; some from Evian herself, others from Vita and the humans. It had been bad, realizing that Evian was right about Vita.

She really was spreading lies, and was telling some true whoppers too! More fanciful shit than she knew the best Royal Historians, many of which had come from Alphius worlds, could ever concoct on their most creative days. In her version of things, the Black Diamond was evil. And the part about Lord Dominoe being the usurper of the throne, she'd found outrageous!

But at that very moment, the sirens had gone off. The ones that signaled a breach in the castle's defenses. (Broshaine herself, had caused that breach.) And now, she could no longer withstand the pain and whined on the floor as the strident sound tore at her ears.

The electronic voice was even worse: Alert! Alert! Enemy breach in outer layer! Breach in outer layer!

The fox cringed, wishing for the first time that she had hands to cover her ears with. Not that it would have helped much. She could no longer hear the spiders over the wail of the bugles and horns, but she knew they were still coming. Her toes were as sensitive as her ears and the ground beneath her was trembling like the early warning rumbles of an avalanche.

In that next instant Broshaine made her decision. Against all protocol, against her commander's orders. Against her extensive experience and training. In that moment, Broshaine decided to try and save Roan. If Benn Bratticus lived, and went on to do the unspeakable things he was destined to eventually do, let it be on her blue head.

None loved the princess more than her, none dreamt of the day Nacirema Wolf would take her rightful place as Queen of Valon more than she did, but this was her commander. They had fought together since kit and pup!

They owed their lives to one another, and Broshaine couldn't have left him even if she knew Dawn and Lashon would be saved if she came immediately. She would pay for this decision, probably with her life. But, she no longer cared.

The fox stood up, trying to block out the piercing sounds, her shiny black eyes gleaming. She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what amounted to a suicide mission. There was that to consider too. That trying to take on what may be thousands of Sifters, plus a Rizorbeak alone (one who had fully transformed by now into something even worse than what they encountered in Dawn's basement), was plain insanity.

Roan would kill her for disobeying him (something she prayed would come to pass, it would at least mean he was still alive!), if the stone spiders didn't kill her first.

Broshaine said, stepping back and planting her powerful hind legs, then she leapt twelve feet and landed in a frantic dash. Her legs flashed as she sped down the corridor faster than the fastest creature on all of Earth.

Broshaine became a solid blue streak as she hit every curve and corner along the tunnel she came to. Her body seemed to levitate the faster she went. The walls rushed by, just dark rocky images she ignored as she tried to sense Roan. A part of her didn't want to know, not like this. But she had to try. Her training dictated she learn the odds before beginning the actual battle, if that were at all possible.

But she couldn't sense anything, and somewhere along the tunnel up ahead, Broshaine heard a wild cry she knew came from Jefthrow the Rizorbeak. She couldn't tell what kind of sound it was, happy or angry, but she hadn't liked it.

Broshaine actually sped up, reaching a velocity that would have given most Earth fighter jets a run for their money. She heard the low rumbling sound grow closer like an oncoming avalanche, and when she finally came upon the Sifters, the long stretch of stone spiders scampering frantically towards her, Broshaine dipped, crashing into them like a missile and they were leveled as if struck by a nuclear bomb.

Webs had shot in unison from every creature that saw her coming, a giant glowing net forming in the air. But Broshaine maneuvered around every single strand! Her tail suddenly released a thin white laser that methodically swept through the spiders behind her, leaving a pile of rubble and glowing green eyes, two feet high.

She suddenly spun like a propeller!

The spiders on the walls and ceiling were pushed forward with the force of her passage, they flew the entire length of the tunnel before they came to the entrance. Or in Broshaine's case, the exit. They rushed from the tunnel and shattered against the far wall a second after the fox whizzed out of the dark cave like a condor and didn't hesitate. The sound of the alarm rang in her sensitive ears as she finally took full flight.

Broshaine was well known for her vision. The slanted shiny black orbs on either side of her slender head, did more than just make the alien look decidedly female.

They could see, categorize and catalogue, a hundred different life forms in a blink. Which was why when Broshaine flew from the mouth of the tunnel, she already knew that Roan was alive and just barely at that. But was currently about to hit the ground at ninety miles an hour!

Broshaine saw the Rizorbeak high above suddenly drop into a dive, its leather wings folded against the sides of its loathsome insect's body. And she was right about it changing. It was now something that resembled Planet Zombia's version of a dinosaur. It roared as it fell, all of its anger and focus clearly on Roan's limp form.

Roan wasn't unconscious, but had lost an incredible amount of blood. Broshaine didn't sense that, she saw the blood all over the floor in glistening red puddles. And Roan was falling head first, which meant he was more hurt than he'd let on in the beginning. Had Broshaine known, she never would have fled.

"I'm coming!" she yelled. "Hold on, Roan!"

Like a streaking blue bird, she swept across the concrete floor, stirring up a funnel of dust and then curved upwards, heading to intercept Roan's body.

Her amazing eyes saw the Rizorbeak preparing to shoot at Roan, clearly aiming for his legs (it was what she would have done) and she called on her special reserve of energy, the one Roan had suggested she save for an emergency.

How ironic, Broshaine thought vaguely, that Roan's own advice may wind up saving his life!

And when she finally put on the sudden burst of speed, Broshaine grinned in her alien fox way of grinning, because she knew she had just made it.

Broshaine glanced up and saw the Rizorbeak shoot just as she slammed into the Scavbeast's body and knocked him out of the path of the beam! She heard the crackle and felt the static energy singe her tail but it had completely missed her.

The creature flew by them, screaming as it kept going down. But, Broshaine didn't look to see what happened to it next. She had hit her commander harder than she'd ever hit a living thing before, and he was already badly injured so she had to catch him before he struck the floor, knowing the impact would undoubtedly finish him off.

Roan was spinning like a rag doll now, completely out of control. So, Broshaine quickly fluffed up her blue fur and raced after him. And it was a close thing, but she just snagged his back leg with her tongue before he slammed into the concrete, and yanked him backwards.

Broshaine felt something crunch in Roan's leg, but didn't release him until they were both safely on the ground. She was standing on the floor, panting harshly, but couldn't stop to rest. Broshaine sniffed Roan, smelling that he would live if he got medical attention soon, and spun around to face the Rizorbeak. She hadn't heard it hit the floor, which meant it was still flying. And was probably coming for her.

Broshaine saw she'd been right, it was coming. The horrible creature was dropping down upon her, howling, its dinosaur's feet spread wide, its curved talons grasping at her.

Like a sand vulture landing on an unsuspecting titsy-beetle, she thought. But, she was no fucking titsy-beetle.

Broshaine took off like a rocket to meet its attack, and her entire body was suddenly set aflame like a bright blue torch. Her glowing spikes launched at random. The sound would have reminded Dawn and Lashon of a sprinkler system watering a lawn during the summertime, had they heard it.

A multitude of flaming darts left neon trails of red smoke in the air as they sped at the Rizorbeak. But, the Rizorbeak dodged the darts, and also released a volley of red beams in her direction, in return.

Broshaine easily ducked those, releasing more of her own, even as the Rizorbeak shot his beams, again. And they continued on their collision course, but before they could collide, the beams and the darts, Broshaine and the Rizorbeak, something truly unexpected happened...

CHAPTER THIRTY

The glowing, yellow cloud hovering above them, had come from nowhere, and the Foxonian knew exactly who it belonged to. But remarkably, she didn't panic. A lesser Foxonian would have swerved out of harm's way. A lesser Foxonian may have realized the futility of taking on a Realmian Goddess such as Kia Plazine, or Marlana Carter.

But, Broshaine The Blue, was no such thing, and there was no time to waste. She had ducked the monster's newest attack, and gathering the very last of her strength, Broshaine released a final beam of radiance that slashed out at the Rizorbeak like a spinning disc. A flaming, spiked disc, that flew vertically instead of horizontally, and was imbued with the remaining energy she'd used to create the breach.

As soon as it struck the beast, Broshaine dodged to the right, and the Rizorbeak's own beams of energy swept past her.

Her flaming disc sliced through the middle of the creature's abdomen and traveled upwards! The alien let loose a blood curdling yell, crashing to the ground, breaking through the stony surface and snapping off some of its talons.

It tried to turn and shoot at her as she flew by, but its exoskeleton was already splitting down the center, and the wild beams struck empty air. Its wail was terrible as its leather wings smacked stone. The siren was still blaring out: Alert! Breach In Outer Layer! Alert! Alert!

Broshaine turned in mid-air, and was now flying back towards the Rizorbeak. She could see that its body was actually pulling apart. It squirmed in the dust, its tentacles slashing at the air, the loathsome wings sluggishly flopping on the stones. It made eerie gurgling, squawking sounds, that may have been amusing under different circumstances.

As she watched, the exoskeleton finished peeling apart, the Rizorbeak screaming terribly as some dark fluid poured from both sides of its hideous form. The yellow cloud was now hovering directly above the thrashing creature as Broshaine slowed her approach in mid-air, her spiked fur already smoothing out as her energy was extinguishing.

She saw her landing area was clear and allowed her body to drop. She fell like a cinderblock, her blue fur fluttering, her blue tail sweeping back above her head. She seemed to fall forever, and when she finally hit the concrete like a grenade, and managed to release her spikes just one more time, her body bounced high off the ground like a basketball.

Broshaine flipped and came to a crashing stop on all four paws and something snapped, a brittle sound like a dry twig snapping, that came from her lower right leg. The fox howled horribly, and after taking a moment to assess the damage to her back limb, she was now panting heavily, and peering up at the billowing smoke floating above. Just in time to see the Rizorbeak getting sucked straight up towards the cloud!

One of Goddess Kia's clouds! she thought. Damn it!

Cables of golden light had wrapped around its gruesome forms like the webs of a Sifter, and they were yanking it violently from the ground. The massive insect finally broke its silence.

"My Goddess!" it squealed, as it rose. "Please let me finish! I need the cure, the pain is too much, I just can't take living like this!"

Its dinosaur claws were ripped from the concrete where they had dug in to the knuckles. It roared as chunks of stone flew upwards with it. Broshaine couldn't help wincing, she could see the black curved shapes of the talons still embedded in the rock, and the strips of glistening black flesh that were still attached.

The thing continued pleading, but the cloud didn't respond, only seemed to grow brighter. The cables jerked spasmodically, and both halves of the creature were immediately snatched up into the cloud of yellow, the Rizorbeak screaming the entire way.

Broshaine saw the cloud expand, like a throat swallowing food, just before it vanished in a blinding flash of light. For a moment, the fox just stood there panting hard, and unable to think clearly. There was something she should be doing, something she may have meant to do, but just couldn't remember—then, she remembered.

Broshaine whined, turning to scan the huge room, and ducking a little from the strident voice still coming from the sirens. The noise seemed to be getting louder and louder, disrupting her senses, but luckily Broshaine's nose found him immediately.

She could no longer fly, and her right leg was broken. But, it would take more than an injured limb to keep her from running. And, even at seventy-five percent of her health, the fox was still faster than any modern day Earth creature in existence. According to Yarakki, some of the creatures from the Prehistoric age may have challenged her, but...

Broshaine raced across the floor, and within seconds, was standing over Roan and was cautiously staring down at him. He hadn't moved an inch, but dark liquid glistened in his shaggy fur which wasn't normally shaggy.

Usually, the Scavbeast's coat was shiny and luxuriant. But now, it seemed lifeless and dull, nearly like steel wool Broshaine thought, and knew it was because of his inordinate loss of blood.

"Roan," she said, nudging him with her nose. Broshaine knew he wasn't dead because she could smell his life force, and could hear his hearts still pumping slowly. But, only two of them now, one had clearly failed. He was dying. She really didn't want to leave him this way, in such a vulnerable state, but knew she had no choice.

She had already gone against Roan's orders and had actually saved him, she had gotten lucky. But, assuming he survived and recovered completely (Broshaine had never seen him lose so much blood!), it wouldn't stop him from ripping her to itty-bitty blue shreds. At least, verbally. If there was one thing that raised his ire, it was the disobedience of his soldiers.

"I have to reach Dawn!" Broshaine muttered. She thought of how the yellow cloud grabbed the Rizorbeak. The split-down-the-middle, Rizorbeak. She had a pretty good idea where it was headed, too. "I'll be back for you Roan," she said. "If you can hear me, don't give up!"

Broshaine reached down, grabbed his non-injured leg and dragged him across the floor. Leaving a crooked trail of blood, she deposited him among a heap of broken stones. Slabs of concrete had fallen in a teepee-like structure, they had come from the ceiling collapsing when Jefthrow's energy beams hit the breach, sealing off the stone spiders. But, Broshaine didn't know that. She only knew a dark space was created that was large enough to hide Roan in.

She continued to slide Roan's body, limping on her injured leg as best she could, until he was sufficiently hidden.

When she was done, Broshaine paused to rest, trying to focus on what she had to do next. Roan hadn't stirred the entire time. Not even when she dragged him over a particularly rough patch of ground, and she knew that meant he was really hurt this time. Broshaine gazed at her commander for a moment, then she rose to her feet, a little unsteadily, and gathered herself.

"I'll be back Roan," she said. "As long as I'm alive, nothing will prevent that." Then, she dashed across the room into the maw of the tunnel and disappeared. The maniacally wailing sirens were still accompanied by that booming god-like voice, and seemed to chase her down the dark corridor.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Dawn felt as if she were paralyzed and her nakedness was completely forgotten. There was a slight burning sensation in her right hand, but she ignored it. It was a far away feeling anyway, as if it wasn't really her hand that was feeling it. Like an old injury that only awoke during rainy days.

Dawn was holding something, she couldn't recall exactly what, but it didn't matter. What she was watching made it impossible to care about anything else. She didn't even realize that she had pressed the button, the little blue one. Her hand had pressed it on its own, her fingers seeming to creep like tarantula legs. But, she wasn't aware of that.

She didn't see the pink light begin to pulse beneath her, or the way the air above her head began to shimmer either. Because she was watching the alien creature dip its grotesque head to snatch up Lashon when something tiny suddenly slammed into the insect's jaws!

Something blue, that had come from directly behind and above the monster. The impact knocked the creature's head off course, its jaws snapping shut on empty air! The thing roared and stumbled to one side, its footsteps shaking the ground like an earthquake's aftershock.

Lashon, who had been cringing and glancing around the room (as if looking for her, Dawn thought), finally leapt to her feet and scrambled from the pool. She slipped as her bare foot touched the smooth, black marble, but quickly regained her balance. She frantically glanced around the room again, her face a dark mask of terror.

"Over here!" Dawn yelled, glancing at the alien creature which had turned back to snarl at Lashon. And its eyes, she saw, were now glowing with a bright, demonic light!

Lashon turned her head, saw Dawn, and started running towards her. She was slipping and sliding, her bare feet smacking the tiles as she came. The mysterious blue shape that struck the alien, had stopped moving and was now standing along the edge of the pool where Lashon had been sitting. Dawn saw that the shape was actually the blue fox she had seen down in the basement of her building!

And it was staring at her again! So, Dawn stared back at the fox nonplussed, wondering why the hell it was blue, watching as it suddenly turned to meet the attack of the alien insect. The creature had tried to sneak up on it, but the strange animal had clearly been baiting it. Dawn saw a brief electric flash of light, there and gone so quickly she may not have seen it.

The fox jumped backwards and the insect's lasers, or whatever they were, blasted a deep trench in the floor where it had stood! The trench was so wide and deep, it reminded Broshaine of the tunnels tiger snakes dug beneath the Void.

The sirens were still going off, but Dawn barely heard them, she was too busy watching the strange battle taking place across the room. Now, she watched the fox dash between the monster's huge lizard legs, and get behind it. The monster said, spinning to reach for the fox.

The fox raced around to its blind side. "Stay still!" the creature shrieked at it. "Stop moving you motherfucking pest!"

Lashon had reached her by now, she was attempting to cover her bare breasts with her arms. "What the fuck should we do?" she screamed, looking back over her shoulder at the fighting creatures. "Dawn!" she yelled. "Did you hear me?"

Dawn decided it was time they try and escape. Where they would actually go, she didn't have a fucking clue. But she was tired of waiting for shit to happen.

"Don't move!" she shouted. "We're getting the fuck out of here!" She was trying to yell above the blaring sirens.

"And go where?" Lashon yelled back. "We don't even know where the hell we are!"

The woman was about to say something else, but she stopped, her pale eyes wide and glittering, one hand pointing.

"Look!" she said. "Look at your hands, Dawn!"

Dawn didn't respond. Instead, she quickly glanced down, and suddenly, she remembered the sensation of heat she'd felt. It was coming from the camera she was holding, which was still hot and was glowing a bright pink. She saw that the blue button was shining as well, and couldn't recall what that meant. But, a split-second later, Dawn glanced up and finally noticed the dark shimmering space above them.

"Up there!" she said, and Lashon immediately looked up.

A gigantic black hole was now hovering directly above them! Wind was blowing from the darkness, as well as a low stench that reminded Dawn of the foul smelling factories located around Center forty-five.

They both heard a tremendous growl, and when they turned back to the front of the room, they saw an amazing thing: the fox was actually defeating the creature! It was zipping back and forth across the floor, weaving between its dinosaur legs, somehow managing to avoid the monster's weapon.

The ugly thing was staggering around as if badly injured. But, whatever the fox had done to it would have to remain a mystery for the time being, because Dawn was leaving.

She glanced up at the black hole, again. Dawn decided she would try and use the weird video camera. She would press the button, the blue one, and see what happened. If they were lucky, the gateway or whatever it was, would magically appear. Where it would take them, was something they would just have to worry about later.

But, she was stunned to see that she must have already pressed it, or it had somehow activated itself, because the shimmering space appeared to be a dark sky, now. Dawn thought she saw stars twinkling far back in the inky night, and she could hear a flock of birds hooting somewhere in the blackness. And also, she thought, what appeared to be the hollow-metallic knock of clanging machinery.

"We're going to jump!" Dawn yelled. She reached out and grabbed Lashon's shoulder. "There's no time for anything else," she said, "on the count of three, we jump straight up!"

"Will that work?" Lashon shouted back, peering up into the void spreading across the air like black smoke. Her hair was slick against her scalp and hanging past her waist. Her eyes were red, obviously from the colored water getting in them, Dawn thought. "How do you know it will work?" she screamed at Dawn.

"Only one way to find out!" Dawn replied. "Get ready!"

Dawn glanced at the two fighting creatures while preparing to leap. She saw another one of those electric blue flashes, but couldn't tell where it had come from. She tried to ignore the fact that wherever they wound up, if this actually worked, they would get there completely naked.

The alien insect was shrieking and flapping its wings. The blue fox appeared to be moving slower than it had when it first streaked from behind the monster, but it was still running complete circles around it.

Dawn thought the fox turned to her, and said something. But then, it was racing up the beast's leather wings, running towards its head! Dawn had seen enough.

"One!" she shouted. "Two!" She grabbed Lashon's right hand, crouching down. "Three!" she said. And, they both leapt straight up in the air. They immediately shut their eyes as the darkness came, and then they were gone. The breach snapped shut and what had once resembled an oil-slick in the air, was also gone.

The sounds of a fierce battle could still be heard. There were growls and shrieks and a bevy of violent explosions. A sudden scream of: "I cannot lose, I am a Rizorbeak!" pierced the air and then, a thudding crash came.

Lying forgotten near the wall just beyond the pool, was a white plastic bag with BLOCKBUSTER VIDEO written on it in black lettering. But, the other writing had changed. It now read: COMING SOON: CURSE OF THE BLACK DIAMOND. There was no other visible writing on it.

Were it a movie, the camera would have panned in closer to the bag, perhaps with ominous music playing in the background, until the plastic bag, and the glowing sand crystal inside, suddenly vanished. Where it actually went, is a very long tale for another day. A tale I'll owe you. Suffice it to say, that it would end up in a young boy's hands. A young boy named Sean Blade, on another world, who would embark on his own terrifying journey because of it. But, Dawn Laurelton never saw it again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Broshaine was exhausted.

When she finally caught wind of the creature's scent, followed it, and eventually flew from the hole it had created in the chamber's floor, she had nearly been at full strength. But, avoiding the Rizorbeak's energy beams was wearing her down.

The two females were long gone, she had turned just in time to see them jump up into a breach. Either Dawn had activated it, or the device activated itself. But, they went through, and Broshaine was both happy and glum about it.

On one side, she had the fact that she could now fight without worrying about them.

On the other, there was the question of where the females would end up. There were many strange worlds out there. Places that would drive both of them insane just to view them.

Broshaine didn't even want to consider the wildlife they might encounter. But, when she turned to Dawn, screaming: "Think of the center!" the human hadn't understood her.

For whatever reason, Broshaine still couldn't touch her with her mental abilities. But that no longer mattered, because now the Rizorbeak which was whole again, was roaring with pain as Broshaine used a deft flick of her right claw to scratch out the last of its eyes.

The fox was surprised at how relatively easy it had been to reach its head, and knew the creature's tentacles emitted a corrosive substance that would literally melt her flesh, a substance similar to the acid in the Sifter's webbing. The very same substance that had brought about the end of her daughter's life. The tentacles were located right above its three bulbous eyes.

But, luck was on her side, and the tentacles were now flopping around like dead sand snakes.

She wondered if getting split apart like that had killed them, but it didn't really matter. Broshaine ripped the final eye from its socket, some noisome green fluid squirting out, and tossed it away. She watched it fall for a moment.

And then, it was gone.

The creature jerked, whipping its head and shrieking as Broshaine leapt from its back, landing on the floor and wincing as if in tremendous pain. Her leg still hurt, she would need medical attention as soon as she could possibly get it (assuming she even survived long enough to get it!), but the hybrid never hit Broshaine dead on, only grazed her, and in some instances had only singed her fur, so she could still function.

She was still wounded, even a low level burst of the Rizorbeak's beams could maim, and her body was throbbing from the plethora of bruises she had suffered, but her lightning weapon had finally injured it, and just in time. Only, this time, she had focused it into a thin laser to protect the females.

Now, Broshaine watched as the monster yelled: "I cannot lose, I am a Rizorbeak!" and crashed backwards to the floor with a heavy flopping thud. Broshaine thought of a huge Alphius world building toppling to the street as black creatures began to leave the damaged body. All kinds of organisms, some the fox had never seen before, were crawling from the monster's flesh and plopping to the ground.

Broshaine momentarily wondered where they had come from originally and thought: Bratticus hadn't been a full Rizorbeak long enough to become infested with parasites!

But regardless, they sensed her and started crawling madly in her direction. Nothing to worry about under normal conditions, but she was currently lame. And she still had to get Roan and then find the two females.

"First things first," she said, watching the organisms skitter and creep towards her. A few of them were nothing more than walking fangs with glowing red eyes.

She was just about to leap over them and head for the door when a loud staticky sound pierced the silence.

"Come in," a distorted voice said. "Broshaine, respond!"

The fox nearly leapt with fright. She had forgotten all about her communicator! It was attached to the tip of her tail, in the metal thorn that doubled as a laser gun. She twisted her tail around, until the metal spike was in front of her snout.

"Broshaine, here!" she said. She backed away from the dying Rizorbeak and the parasites that were vacating its body. With only a few strides, she was halfway across the room. "Jefthrow is dying," Broshaine said, simply. "I'm looking at him right now. I'm going to finish him off and then, go get Roan." She exhaled. "I had to leave him down—"

"Leave him," the voice said. "I mean the Rizorbeak."

"What?" she said. "Leave him? He was after the formula! He's been opening breaches like it's going out of style. And, he's become a full Rizorbeak now! Didn't the Council forbid him from reaching his final stage of transformation?"

"None of that is your concern," the voice said. Rather snidely, Broshaine thought. "I have orders to let him live."

Broshaine was stunned. "Let him live?" she said. "Do you know who it is he's supposed to help kill? Our Quee—"

"I have all the pertinent information," the female voice replied. "Let him live, that's an order." Static crackled again.

"What about Roan?" Broshaine said quietly. "Leave him too?"

The feminine voice laughed. "Of course not," she said. "I see your sense of humor has returned Broshaine. Roan is right outside the door, currently dying. You will get him first and then go to these coordinates: Earth A-16, 2013, Center forty-five, December the ninth, at exactly nine-fifteen a.m. I imagine you're injured and weak, so I'm providing a mini breach to lessen the strain. You can—-"

"Nine-fifteen?" Broshaine repeated. "But that was when Jef—"

"I'm perfectly aware of when it was soldier," the voice said. "Leave now and you'll just make it, what comes next is up to you. But remember we only have one queen. The true queen: Neeq Sadnerb. I won't let them cheat her, and her Inherent Slave might not find her in time."

"But what if—" Broshaine began.

"Or convince her," the voice said, as if she hadn't spoken. "Lashon is reportedly more cerebral than the average Goddess, but getting a Goddess to actually read anything is usually difficult. I can't afford to risk the reports being wrong. You can handle both things, can't you?"

"What about the Earth females?" Broshaine said. "I can't just leave them out there, somewhere! What if they—"

"Just follow your orders soldier!" the voice said. "Can you do that?"

"I'm leaving," Broshaine said, exhaling in frustration. "Out."

"That's better," the voice said. "And stay in touch!"

Broshaine dropped her tail to the ground, the metal spike clinking. The voice may have said something else but she ignored it. Her mind was already mapping out the quickest route to those coordinates the voice had given her. She wanted her to go back in time...back to the time before Jefthrow kidnapped Dawn and Lashon, but after he impregnated Lashon.

"Why?" Broshaine said. And a scuttling sound, as if in response to her question, made her glance up. The creatures had nearly reached her, one of the walking fangs was actually right on top of her now! Broshaine didn't hesitate or think about it. On impulse, she flicked out one of her darts and impaled the toothy-organism.

It shrieked, leapt back and suddenly flopped over. Its numerous legs twitched frantically at the air, and came to a sudden stop. It was so still now, the creature seemed frozen.

"Didn't know I had that," Broshaine said, and chuckled. But she wouldn't be able to stop all of them. There seemed to be thousands pouring out of the failing body.

"I'm gone," she said, and dashed across the floor, leaping the approaching creatures and landing far past them. She raced towards the front door, or where she sensed it was, and stopped.

There was some strange substance flowing in green waves around the room. Some kind of force field, she thought. It appeared to be liquid and gave off a slight ozone smell. It was the security system that Yarakki had invented for the sole purpose of protecting the Goddesses.

Broshaine shut her eyes, trying to feel for Roan as she had down on the lower level. Trying to see if she could pick up his energy on the other side of the force field. And she did. But it was incredibly faint, almost non-existent.

Broshaine peered at the waves of shimmering green, it wasn't outrageously strong and despite her lousy condition, she thought she could probably break through it without having to use a breach.

"This is probably going to hurt," she said, backing up perhaps ten feet. "But here goes nothing!"

Vaguely wondering where Goddess Kia was (she knew Marlana never ventured beyond her chambers up on the eighth level), Broshaine put on a violent burst of speed and darted towards the wall. When she reached the curtain of energy, she puffed up her spikes and rammed her entire body into it, breaking through the barrier and then the wall behind it.

The explosion was enormous as Broshaine crashed through the bricks and slammed into the opposite wall.

She managed to slow the impact by reversing her spikes, but still smacked the wall hard. She crashed to the marble floor out in the corridor Evian had entered earlier, and yelped.

Before Broshaine could even locate all her aches and pains, she heard the annoying mewling and thwipping sounds of the Sifters shooting their acidic webbing. The spiders were coming and she had to leave. She spun around and saw Roan even as she heard spiders rushing down the hallway, now. Roan was lying in a crumpled heap, not moving at all.

"Roan!" she said. But he didn't even stir.

Broshaine immediately raised her tail and pointed it over his head. She closed her eyes and thought of the location she wanted. She could picture it, could suddenly feel it around her. "Center forty-five!" she shouted, trusting that the mini-breach would work. Refusing to even consider what would happen if it didn't. A thin beam of blue light slashed through the air, seeming to strike a solid object above Roan and splashing off to all sides.

The air over the Scavbeast's head began to shine and waver like the air above a heated grill. And then, the empty air split apart like a zipper and Broshaine saw a gray light and falling snow. Bitterly cold air was also blowing from the breach and into the hallway. When she glanced to the left, she saw the Sifters were everywhere, on the walls and on the ceiling now!

She would be completely surrounded in mere seconds. And from this close, she was certain that this many Sifters wouldn't miss her.

Broshaine didn't even consider using her lightning, not with a breach open. The last time she'd tried that, the dimension the breach led to had gotten off lucky with a minor hurricane. But she knew it could have been much worse. So, Broshaine rushed over to Roan (knowing she only had one chance to grab him and couldn't miss), reached out with her jaws to snag the scruff of his neck, hurtling her body (and Roan's) through the portal just as the stone spiders sent a flurry of acid webs and beams at her.

They all missed, the webbing only touching the floor and hissing like a nest of rattlesnakes. The breach stayed open for a few seconds and then simply disappeared. Like a bubble blown by a small child popping for no reason at all.

The long grotesque leg hanging curved in thin air, belonged to one of the stone spiders. Only, this didn't look like a spider's leg, stone or not. It seemed a lot more like a scorpion's appendage.

Whatever it was, the rest of its stone body wasn't among its brethren as they scampered and scuttled and shot their now pointless acid webs.

PART THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"FROM PRINCESS TO QUEEN"

Earth: ALPHIUS EIGHT

In the hour before the dawn of a new morning, while all below the hill was silent, a lone brick chimney puffed up white clouds of smoke. It resembled signals sent from one Cherokee Indian tribe to another across a vast grassy plain. The chimney sat atop a squat wooden house that looked more like a barn, and had obviously seen better days.

Trees surrounded the structure, like a gathering of ancient beings from a Tolkien novel. But, these trees didn't walk and talk. They simply grew in a semi-circle around the home, providing shade and a measure of privacy, that the current occupants couldn't have cared less about.

Somewhere behind him, perhaps up in the trees, an owl was hooting. And down below at the house, a small window was glowing brightly. It was maybe ten feet from the roof and about four from the ground. A heavy curtain blocked the view from the outside, but the figures inside were still visible, in a manner of speaking. Their bodies were revealed as black shadows as they constantly streaked past the window.

Back and forth, they went. First one dark shape would flash by, then another.

Sometimes, and this was the thing that had the crouched over figure peering through the binoculars nervous, both shapes would seem to run together. He knew that wasn't good. And that what it signified, wasn't good. Depending on their size and weight, it could mean that the change was coming.

And, this was exactly what he was imagining as he reached into his pocket and removed the breathing weapon.

It glinted in the moonlight gleaming through the leaves and branches like cold steel. Except, this wasn't cold and it most certainly wasn't steel. Or any other metal that could be found on any of the known Earths. He gripped it tightly, it had a habit of squirming from his hands, especially when it ran out of bullets and needed to use his energy. He loathed that.

"Don't you leap from my hands again!" Vladimir whispered. "You hear me Torin? We can't make any mistakes this time, the Council wants these Scavengers caught!"

"Make sure you use me wisely," the gun said in a robotic, nearly monotone cadence. "The last time, you squandered many opportunities to kill two birds with one stone, as the silly Earth saying goes. Those Earth fools are ripe with silly sayings, aren't they." This clearly wasn't a question.

Vladimir chuckled, gripping Torin tighter. The gun had become slightly more human since they first hooked up, and his sarcasm had evolved the most. He was called a neuro-weapon, and his functions were permanently connected to Vladimir's nervous system.

"They're both inside," Vladimir said. "They killed the entire family, and it looks like they're about to hibernate, how long does it take to complete the change once it begins? Would we have enough time?"

"It depends on many factors," the gun said. "If they have eaten, the process will speed up. If not, we may have only two hours, or as many as ten. The bodies inside the structure are intact."

"Is there any way to find out if they've eaten?" he said.

"Not without going down there," Torin said. "Or even better, why not send a snooper through the window? A snooper should be able to penetrate the glass without being detected."

"Unreliable," Vladimir said. "Remember what happened last time? The snoopers wouldn't stop flying around the room, a radar malfunction. The Elkin saw us, sent an entire squadron of Sand-boats to move in behind us. Scared the hell out of me. If it wasn't for Queen Brenda monitoring the mission..."

He paused, shuddering. "We barely made it out of there alive," he said. "Do you remember how angry she was?"

"I recall," Torin said, almost seeming to shiver in his hand. "When angered, her temper is more ferocious than Queen Priscilla's. Few species dare even look her in the eye while paying tribute to her. But with all due respect sir, that malfunction was really all your fault."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Vladimir said.

Before the gun could respond, what seemed like the clank of a gigantic metal gear, and a high-pitched whining sound broke the silence, tearing through their bodies like a bolt of lightning. A loud flapping of many wings erupted in the trees high over Vladimir's head and he ducked instinctively. His body was tense, every muscle in his legs was taut and vibrating, as he peered up into the dark leaves and branches. But he didn't see anything.

"What was that, Torin?" he said, crawling on his knees to the edge of the small cliff. They were overlooking a grassy, moonlit field, where dandelions and giant wild mushrooms, grew side by side. They were glowing a pasty white, but weren't Earth mushrooms, and definitely weren't edible.

They were called acid-domes, and in fact, he knew that if an organism wasn't extremely careful around the fungi, they would end up getting eaten by them. Vladimir already noticed the bones of a careless human that had been left to rot.

"I believe it was owls sir. A whole family of them."

"Making that weird whine, and clanking sound?" he said.

"Maybe not then," Torin said. "But, certainly the flapping sounds, and I don't detect anything else in the area right now."

Vladimir exhaled, and peered through the binoculars. He could see that the figures inside the cabin, or whatever it was called, were now looking back at him! His heart bumped in his chest and he ducked lower, knowing it was far too late for that.

"They've spotted us Torin!" he said. "Can you tell what they're doing?" He felt his back pocket for the Scavtrap.

"Yes," he said. "They are coming through the window, sir. And they are still looking this way."

"What?" Vladimir said. "Are you sure?" He sat up and raised his binoculars again. And saw that his gun was right, they were climbing through the window. Actually, they were slithering through the open space. Vladimir saw a square of bright light that was only broken by the deformed shapes that were rushing out of the building, and coming right for them!

"We have to run!" he said, backing away from the edge of the hill and slipping the binoculars back in his pocket. "They move faster than ever now," he whispered. "Being up here gives us a little time, but not much."

"I'm aware of that," Torin said. "Should I siphon from you and save the nitro bullets?"

"Affirmative," Vladimir said. He was crouching now and breathing harshly. "Give me a second!" he grunted.

The sound of them climbing the side of the hill raised the hairs on the nape of his neck. It was a rough, scrabbling sound like crabs scuttling across stone. But Vladimir ignored it, letting his energy gather so that Torin could use it.

He knew he couldn't stop them, but he could hopefully slow them down a little. At least, long enough to try and set a trap up.

Vladimir heard the violent splintering of wood (most likely a tree growing out of the hill, he thought distractedly), and couldn't wait anymore. With a final steeling of his nerves, Vladimir leapt from his hiding place and raced across the meadow behind them.

They both shrieked below, probably smelling his sweat he guessed, or hearing his quickened heartbeat. Vladimir headed for the two lamp posts that bordered the huge driveway at the front of the facility's grounds.

They were both shining like mini suns, fireflies and mosquitoes flew around the glowing globes in awkward patterns. He was no longer surprised that he could see them from so far away. John Clark's chemical had worked well.

"I detect three human life forms sir," Torin said. "People—and straight ahead of us!"

Vladimir rarely talked while running, it slowed him down. But, he tried to focus on the front gates as he approached them, and couldn't see anything unusual. Only the gravelly asphalt glittering beneath the pale moonlight and the shiny black twelve foot, iron wrought gates.

He was huffing and puffing now, but his legs had gotten much better, and he decided it was time to make his move. He didn't know what people Torin was referring to, but if he didn't stop the demons pursuing them, it wouldn't matter anyway. Under no circumstances could they escape.

People, Vladimir thought, as he slowed up and spun around. The things chasing him were far from being people. The last time he'd looked, people didn't have six arms, four legs and the bodies of giant crickets.

Giant chameleon crickets, he thought as he faced the creatures. "And heads like a fucking praying mantis!" he yelled, already raising Torin as the first one roared at him and raised its clawed hands to strike.

Vladimir was doing his best to aim his gun as the demon slid through the shadows. It was dodging this way and that, screeching and screaming at him like a sand cat.

"Ready, sir!" Torin said.

Vladimir braced himself for the tremendous jolt, and a bright light flashed as the weapon discharged. The explosion was unusually loud, and a panting Vladimir knew full what would come next, but didn't care. He ducked as the beam of radiance blasted from the gun and went straight for the slithering beast!

It slashed through the air in a perfect line, ignoring the thing's zigzagging movements and hit it directly in the chest! There was another brilliant flash of light as the creature was flung backwards into the darkness at the edge of the yard.

Its howl was cut short as the beam returned, slicing through its torso, and kept going into the ground where it blasted a twenty-foot crater across the yard! The upper half of the nightmare flopped to the grass, the lower, fell off into the dirt.

"Direct hit!" Torin said. "Excellent sir, your abilities have already increased—the other one!" he yelled, suddenly.

Vladimir had ducked as he released the beam, knowing the monster could have swatted it back to him. Now, he rose up and moved away, watching the second demon leap at his chest. And then the sirens came, a strident, wailing sound that drilled into Vladimir's head as Torin released another shot, draining him and causing him to stagger sideways.

It was good that he did, because the creature's forward movement carried him straight past where Vladimir had just been standing. Even though it had been struck squarely in the face, disintegrating its entire head, the body continued to thrash and swing its muscular black arms and clawed hands.

Vladimir clearly heard the whip-like sounds of its fifteen-inch talons cutting through empty air, and also heard one wild talon slice him across the right cheek, just before the next explosion came.

He would have been torn to ribbons had he not stumbled at the last second.

But the creature mostly missed him, and flew past Vladimir to crash to the sandy driveway, headless and smoking, the body twitching and jumping as if filled with electricity. "That will only give us forty minutes," Torin said.

"I know," Vladimir said. He got up from the ground, raising Torin, again. He had followed the trajectory of the altered Scavbeast as it sailed past him, and saw as it struck the ground violently, and bounced to a stop.

It lay in a heap of gruesome arms and legs, now. Its automatic camouflage made it resemble a simple mound of grass to the untrained eye.

Only, what appeared to be smoke rose from this particular mound of grass. The sirens were still blaring and were nearly deafening, they filled the early morning air like the end of the world had come.

And perhaps it has, Vladimir thought.

"The life forms, sir. They are moving away!" Torin said.

Vladimir jumped, he had forgotten about them. He was watching the creature lying in the dirt, looking for the slightest movement. He now glanced over at the front gates where moonlight frosted the thick black metal, making it shine and twinkle in some places. But he still didn't see...and then Vladimir saw them. Two figures running away from where he stood. Moving so slowly, he wasn't sure at first which direction they were actually moving in.

"Who are they?" Vladimir said, glancing back at the motionless form on the ground, the one lacking a head.

He was prepared to shoot it again if necessary. But, it was lying still, the stump where its head once was, appeared to be leaking some dark fluid. A fluid Vladimir knew was really acid.

"Are they male or female?" he asked. He looked up again.

"Three females, sir. One unborn," Torin replied.

Vladimir sighed, turning around to make sure the first one wasn't beginning to restore itself yet. Getting sliced in half would lengthen the process, but he could only spare one more shot and would have to make sure it actually meant something.

"We'll find out who they are," he said. "And what they're doing here. I checked the footage thoroughly, there weren't any unidentified life forms on the grounds. They must have come through a breach, it explains the sounds we heard."

"My thoughts exactly, sir," Torin said.

"Okay, then," Vladimir said. "I'm better, though not fully energized. But they're moving slower than turtles in mud, and I think—"

"One of them is badly injured sir," Torin said. "In her feet. That might explain their lack of speed. And both of them are naked."

"What?" Vladimir said. "Naked?"

"Yes, sir," Torin said. "One of them is exceptionally endowed in her lower half, too. Nearly, like a Realmian. Only, much shorter. More like a black female from an Alphius world. Not crucial information, I just thought it might interest you."

He thought the robotic voice held a faint note of sarcasm.

"Good for us," Vladimir said. "Let's go." He gave both lifeless creatures another long stare, and then started running towards the gates. His feet were utterly silent on the gravel and when he got to the locked barricade, he leapt it without breaking stride. Vladimir soared up and over the pointy iron tips and landed safely on the other side. And kept on going.

He was soon running towards the cluster of trees on the left side of the grounds that also bordered the land in all directions, and he could clearly see the strangers up ahead. One of them was obviously hobbling.

"Armed?" he asked, and Torin immediately responded in the negative by vibrating twice. "Good," Vladimir said. "Because I'm fucking drained and I don't need another fight!"

In no time at all, he was running silently behind the intruders as they traveled through a dark copse of evergreens. They made the noise of a battalion, and clearly weren't from the military.

The moon rays created an eerie, shifting quilt-like pattern on the dark grass beneath him, and passing silently through the shadows like a wraith, Vladimir increased his speed, overtook the fleeing strangers, and leapt over them.

When he landed, they both shrieked and stumbled, falling hard to the grass, making wood chips scatter across the dark field. Vladimir turned back to look and could see that Torin was right. They were both completely naked!

The taller of the two was now lying on her stomach and was pointing something at him. Vladimir stared at the object she was holding, and thought it looked familiar. Only, wildly out of place in her pale hands. Then he glanced at her face.

Despite her coloring, she was clearly a black woman. Which Vladimir knew was basically a version of the Brownies from Planet Zombia. An extremely beautiful one, from what Vladimir could see in the dim light of the moon shining through the trees. In fact, for just a moment, Vladimir thought he actually recognized her. Perhaps, some Alphius world actress or model? he thought. But, then, the moment passed.

She was incredibly thin for her height, he noticed, and had child sized breasts and unless Vladimir missed his guess, an exceptional butt. It seemed to protrude very far from her back and was perfectly round. She was somewhat small for a black female, but stereotypically shaped. Her long waist complemented her hips and extremely long legs.

She had done something to her hair, he realized. Cut it apparently, a style that he knew was quite common on every Alphius world other than Eight, Sixteen and Ten. But those were the dimensions where Caucs ruled, and long hair was basically worshipped in those places.

Vladimir had always wondered about that, what did the Brownies in those dimensions do for sex and reproduction? From what little he'd seen of their Vid-programs, he got the distinct impression that black females didn't have their own men that found them attractive.

Looking at these two, despite their obvious nakedness, Vladimir found that difficult to believe. Found it laughable, actually.

Now, Vladimir peered down at the taller female. Her long arms were stretched out, the camera in her hands already beginning to glow. Then the loud whine started.

"It's one of Yarakki's!" Torin said. "How did she come by it? I don't believe John Clark would do such a foolish thing. Do you think Goddess Kia gave it to her?"

"No time for talk," Vladimir said. He immediately retreated into the thicker part of the shrubbery, not turning around out of fear of getting hit in the back by the phase-gadget. The woman (or perhaps, she was merely a very tall girl, he thought) kept pointing it in his direction, and Vladimir wondered if she knew exactly what she was holding, if she knew what it could really do.

She appeared to know it could do something and she must have used it to create the breach, which all equaled dangerous in his book. So Vladimir kept walking backwards until he could no longer see her. The evergreens closed off the view.

"What now?" Torin said. The sirens had stopped and Vladimir was only just noticing it. "Sir," Torin spoke again, "what should we do?"

"Hello!" Vladimir called out. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Interesting choice of words, sir," Torin said. "Considering she is holding one of his time-splitters and not us. We can't allow her to keep it. You know the dangers!"

"I know them," Vladimir said. "Now, hush up for a moment! Hello!" he called again. "We don't have long, the guards are coming even as I talk. If you stay here, they're going to find you and kill you. No questions asked!"

There was a deep silence for a few moments, and then they both heard the rustling of the shrubbery and the dark evergreens before them. Fronds shook, moved and parted as two shadowy figures emerged into the small clearing. Vladimir was pointing Torin at the spot where they finally walked through.

He kept imagining the camera erupting in bright, pink light, and striking both he and Torin, sending them into another dimension. And he knew there were millions.

But, the tall black one was holding the camera in one hand, almost casually. It hung by her thigh, no longer glowing or making noise. She apparently knew how to turn it off, too.

The two females strode up to Vladimir and stopped. He looked at the shorter one. She had her arms wrapped around her breasts, which did little to hide the rest of her body. Did little to hide her breasts as a matter of fact. She had a board flat stomach and rather large breasts, but where the taller female was hairy down there, at her private area, this one was as bald as a newborn child. It was a strange dynamic, he felt, considering her incredibly big butt and full hips. Vladimir thought Torin was right, she did resemble a Realmian.

"Who are you?" he said. "Why is she carrying Yarakki's property? And furthermore, why are you even here?"

"Why are you talking to her?" the taller female asked. "I'm holding the camera. Is it because of her gorgeous face and phenomenal body? She is incredibly curvy, isn't she?"

Vladimir was shocked nearly speechless. But wasn't too shocked to finally figure out where he'd seen her face before. Paula Patton, the Alphius Sixteen actress.

"Um, I..." Vladimir stammered, wiping one hand over his face. "I meant no offense," he said, offering his other hand to her after transferring Torin to the holster on his back.

He walked forward, having to look way up. Paula Patton was tall by Alphius Sixteen standards, but this black was incredibly tall. "I only addressed her because she is hurt," he said. "Since you're carrying the camera, I figured whatever you were running from had only attacked her. I assumed you could have used the camera." He wasn't sure if it made sense.

She smiled. But there was a glint in her dark brown eyes Vladimir didn't like. He wondered if she had feelings for the attractive shorter woman. He also wondered what she had witnessed, and where she was from. Which was why he repeated the question: "Who are you two?" he said. "And where did you come from? I know you used a breach. Who taught you to do that? Opening breaches in any dimension without explicit permission, signed by Queen Priscilla personally, is expressly forbidden! And I find it hard to believe such permission was ever given to you!"

The girl (Vladimir could tell she was extremely young now that he was right on top of her, even though she was the height of a Realmian child) grasped his hand and pumped it twice, her acorn-sized breasts not moving at all.

"We are from Earth," she said. "I'm Dawn, she's Lashon. We were running from a—" She hesitated. "I'm not sure what you call it," she finished. "But the shit was a fucking nightmare, plain and simple. By the way, not to change the subject," she exhaled. "But what the fuck is this goddamn place? Is it Earth? Or is it another one of those dimension thingy's?"

"It's a version of Earth, called Alphius Eight," Vladimir said. "Didn't you know where you were going when you opened the damn breach? That is no toy you wield, black!"

Dawn frowned. "We were being chased," she said crossly. "I tried the first thing I could think of. I guess I just started pressing buttons!" The part about being chased wasn't technically true, but he didn't know, and it served its purpose.

"Yes," the shorter woman finally spoke up. Vladimir had already catalogued her with his first glance. She was fully grown, though only the height of an adult Glint. It was easier to look in her eyes now. Not that her eyes weren't stunning!

But, Vladimir was already used to them, to their strangeness when coupled with her dark skin, and he thought she also looked vaguely familiar, only Vladimir couldn't imagine from where.

He couldn't recall when he'd seen such a pretty face, and he found her deep dimples as sexy as hell.

"It was horrendous!" she said. "Like a bug mixed with a lizard, except it had leather wings, and this long slimy tongue. It had actually started out as a black man wearing a yellow coat!" She paused, thinking. "And headphones!" she added.

"Sounds like a hybrid," Torin said, "maybe a Rizorbeak."

And both females shrieked with surprised fright. "But the guards are still coming, sir," he said. "We must vacate the premises immediately!"

"Where did that voice come from?" the taller one asked, her eyes as wide as an albino serpent's, Vladimir thought. She glanced around for a few seconds, and then looked down at the weapon on Vladimir's back. "Unless I'm fucking high," she said with a shaky voice, "it came from your gun, didn't it?"

She gaped down at him.

"I don't know whether your high or not," he said. "But, the voice was Torin." He reached behind his back and grabbed the gun. He raised the gun to eye level. "Say hello, Torin," he said.

"Hello, Torin," Torin said, laughing shrilly while both females looked stunned, and Vladimir suppressed a chuckle.

"What is all of this?" the shorter woman said. She was staring at the gun as if it had suddenly started levitating. "Talking weapons?" she said, turning to gaze at the taller female. "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," she said. "Help me, Dawn. We never did finish our conversation, how do you know about any of this craziness?"

"Wait!" Torin said. "Are you two from Princess Lashon and Princess Nacirema Wolf's Earth, from New York in the 2000's? Alphi—-"

A loud shout prevented either of them from responding to his inquiry. And then another shout called out in obvious response to the first. They all jerked their heads around, except for Vladimir. He was staring at the grass, and seemed to be considering something.

"Sir!" Torin said. "The guards?"

Vladimir jerked his head up as if he could suddenly see them coming. "Right!" he said. "We have to get the hell out of here." He looked at Dawn. "I'm going to wait to ask you why you're naked," he said, grinning. "I'm sure it's going to take more than a few minutes to tell that tale!"

Dawn nodded in agreement. "Quite a few," she said. "But leaving sounds good right now. Where are we leaving to?"

Vladimir was about to answer, about to say: "Anywhere, but here." But loud stomping distracted him. Torin whispered: "They've come! They must have used a breach though I didn't feel it. Mini breaches are absolutely forbidden!"

The sound of the soldiers that patrolled the facility was right on top of them, just on the other side of the wall of evergreens. It wouldn't take long for them to break through. "Give me that camera!" Vladimir said. "Quickly!"

Dawn didn't hesitate. She nearly threw it at him, she was so glad to be rid of it. And it felt wet, again. Almost slimy.

Vladimir grabbed it and rotated it until he could view its base. "Hold hands!" he said. "I don't have time to program it for a pinpoint location. But we can get close."

"Close to where, sir?" Torin said. "You have a plan?"

"I think I know what's going on!" he said. He pressed one of the buttons, and the pink light Dawn had become used to seeing, flowed from the device in gorgeous bright waves. The loud whining seemed to come from all around them, growing in intensity, rising like a violent storm's wind.

*********

Dawn was clutching Lashon's right hand, and was startled when Vladimir grabbed hers. "Hold on!" he shouted as the whine rose even higher, like some giant turbine engines revving up. Sudden, green light momentarily blinded Dawn, causing her to shut her eyes and quickly lower her head.

Green light? she mused. Not pink, or even blue? The ground beneath her seemed to drop, as if God had shaken the planet.

Or whoever it is they worship over there! Dawn thought crazily, falling forward, and immediately felt that the surface beneath her had changed, drastically. What had once been grassy, was now cold and hard. Like ice, she thought.

They were back at the center though, just like that, there was no doubt about it.

Dawn knew this because she immediately smelled the stench coming from the factories around Hove Boulevard. Then sudden air hit her naked form, dispelling this thought, making her teeth chatter, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

Dawn had forgotten that it was actually a blizzard in her world! She opened her eyes as much as she could, shivering in the fiercely blowing wind and thinking of hypothermia.

The wind was driving hard particles of ice into her naked body, and she hadn't thought it was possible to feel so cold and still live. But, she finally managed to glance up, and saw the rest of them.

Lashon kneeling in the snow with her head down, and she too, was shivering violently. The man, who had never said his name, was bent over and apparently, was trying to help Lashon stand. Dawn noticed he hadn't dropped the gun, the talking gun. Its voice reminded her of Data's voice on old episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Only, with much more emotion.

It was one of the creepiest voices Dawn had ever heard.

Now, Lashon was standing up on her bare feet, and Dawn winced, thinking of her injured toes. The man (he was white in appearance, judging by his pale skin and facial features) was taking off his black sweater and putting it over her head.

Dawn watched Lashon push her arms through, and realized a wild and crazy thing. Something she had somehow missed. The stranger was tall, though not nearly her height, and his sweater went down past Lashon's knees. But the weird part, was that he looked exactly like Tom Wellington, who had played Clark Kent on Smallville! Hadn't she thought of him earlier?

Suddenly, he turned to Dawn, waving and saying something she couldn't hear over the howling wind. Then he came over to her, the camera hanging around his neck by its strap; he walked easily on the ice and snow. "Here!" he shouted, beginning to remove his shirt, which was also black. "Take this, I won't be bothered by the cold!" he screamed.

Dawn shook her head. "No!" she said. "I'll be okay until we get there! Are we going where I think we're going?"

He stared up at her. "So you've figured it out, huh?" he said. "Torin remembered first, but he didn't connect all the pieces. You're Dawn Laurelton, and she's Lashon Nelson! The Council ordered that Jefthrow be stopped at all costs. They realized he was going to try and get to you, in order to influence your father!"

"For the formula!" Dawn said, and the man nodded.

It was still gloomy and she wondered if this was around the time she and Lashon had first left the center. Such thoughts of time travel were no longer so insane. Who could still deny the reality of their situation after going through what she had just gone through? But she had already noticed that the man had strange, but beautiful eyes. A pale, nearly colorless shade, she thought.

"Who are you anyway?" Dawn yelled.

"I'm Vladimir Cerati!" he yelled back. "You may have met my sister, Evian? Deep voice, and a strange personality?"

Dawn was stunned, it explained his eyes. Tom Wellington and Kristen Kruek, she thought. And they're related! But she was too cold to dwell on it. "Let's get inside!" Dawn said, her teeth chattering harder. "My feet are dying out here!"

"Okay!" Vladimir said. "Follow me. He's still inside the center, watching you and Lashon. We'll wait for him to come out, and give him a nice little surprise!"

Dawn half grinned, not sure of what Vladimir had in mind, but already liking the sound of it. She was walking across the ice barefoot, trying to will the outrageous pain away. But suddenly looked down with surprise, noticing that her toes no longer felt frostbitten, simultaneously realizing her body wasn't nearly as cold as it should have been.

Dawn glanced down at her slim arms, the wind was hitting them hard but it didn't feel as frigid or as sharp, as it had.

"I took the liberty of surrounding us in a pocket of heat," a voice said. It was Torin, the name Vladimir used to refer to his talking weapon. "I hope it's good enough," he went on, "I scanned your bodies, both of you were in danger of succumbing to varying degrees of frostbite and hypothermia."

So I was right about the term, Dawn thought as Vladimir led them across the snow covered pavement in front of the center, and over to the blue Camarro. Jeff's Camarro.

The gun was strapped to his back, in a leather holster. But Dawn didn't feel comfortable talking to a gun.

Lashon had joined them now, and the three of them quickly reached the car. "Vladimir?" Dawn called out. "What did I figure out?" she asked him. "I just thought with all this jumping through dimensions, it wouldn't have been shocking to wind up right where we started. Other than that, I still don't know what's happening!"

"I'll explain as much as I can!" Vladimir said, opening the car's rear door. Dawn wasn't really surprised that it was unlocked. "Get in," he said. "Everyone in the back seat! How long Torin?"

"Exactly thirty minutes, sir!" the gun yelled above the wind.

The man stood to one side and let the two females slide into the car first. The moment Dawn's flesh touched the seat, her body was shocked by the cold material. But amazingly, the feeling disappeared immediately and a deep, soothing warmth replaced it. Even her bare feet quickly warmed up!

Lashon sat near the far window, Dawn in the middle and Vladimir at the window facing the sidewalk. Dawn watched snow fall past the car, feeling a little uncomfortable being that she was still naked, and she finally asked Vladimir for his shirt. Which he promptly took off and tossed to her.

"Thank you," she said, putting it on. She tucked it under her bare bottom, which immediately made her feel much better. "Is thirty minutes long enough to explain what's going on?" Dawn asked him, her teeth still chattering a little.

Vladimir closed the door and locked it. He adjusted the camera's strap around his neck, holding the camera in his hands. "We are from Valon," he said, and exhaled "Please, give me a moment," he whispered, "I've just exerted a vast amount of energy."

He exhaled again, and then seemed to gather himself. Then, he continued. "Torin and me, we come from there," he said. "Valon. Also known as Realm but only because it was conquered by the Realmians long ago. We were sent on a mission to capture a pair of Sifters, grade A human types. We were on their trail, and were just about to set the traps, when you two appeared. Your unexpected arrival distracted us."

"We came through a breach," Dawn admitted, "but I didn't set the sand crystal to go anywhere. Maybe Jeff did it. But whatever happened, it took us where we were when we first saw you."

"How easily she uses our terms sir," Torin remarked.

"Yes," Vladimir said. "I've noticed as much."

He leaned past Dawn to smile at Lashon. "We were never properly introduced," he said. "My full title is Vladimir Cerati, third captain of the Blood Leakers, Special Glint Division." He grinned suddenly. "And I've just figured out where I've seen your beautiful face before," he said. "Believe it or not, I happen to know a very powerful queen who shares your facial features. Only, she is much paler skinned," he told her, "more like me and Evian. Which is why I didn't realize it at first. And she has a twin on Alphius Sixteen who is actually related to Princess Nacirema Wolf—she has many twins."

"Lorna London," Torin said, "an actress from Alphius Sixteen; she is another of her identical twins."

Vladimir exhaled in surprise. "Yes!" he said, "I thought I'd seen that face recently!" He frowned, waving his free hand. "But never mind any of that for now," he said, "you asked your friend what this was all about? Perhaps Torin can assist you with that information."

Vladimir reached behind his back and removed the weapon. "Give them what details you can," he said. "Hold back anything you think might hamper the mission. I'll add what I know of this...uh, situation, as you go along."

"I understand," Torin said. "Place me on your lap sir."

Vladimir did, and Torin said: "There, that's better. Now, I should think that starting at the beginning is always best, is it not? Isn't that how it's done?"

"Start where and how you please," Vladimir said. "Only, get on with it, we don't have forever."

Torin made a clearing his throat sound. "Dawn Laurelton, from Edgemont, New York," he said. "Your father is dead. He was murdered by Dr. Yarakki, who by the way, also happens to be the one who turned Jeff into a hybrid. Jeff thinks your father did it. And with good reason. It was your father who began the tests on him as he was instructed to do. But he is wrong about the rest, it was Yarakki who received the message that said to make Jeff into a Rizorbeak."

Vladimir shifted on the leather seat and turned to her. Dawn could still smell the cherry air-freshener, it brought back memories she didn't want to recall. She'd heard what the gun had just said. It simply wasn't processing at the moment.

"Twice, Yarakki was ordered to put Kia's alien blood in Jeff," Vladimir said. "But there hadn't been a way to do it a third time without your father realizing what he'd done. So he told him about it beforehand. Hoping to sway him over to his view of things. But Laurelton put up a fuss, and threatened to go straight to the Council. Experimenting on genes was forbidden unless authorized. And then," he said, "he even stole a few of Yarakki's experiments to show to the Council Elders." Vladimir, sighed. "Yarakki couldn't allow that," he said, "some on the Council already knew of the clone experiment. But those were the same ones Yarakki had to protect. Others would have forbid it, had already forbidden it. And once they found out it was a done deal, they would have forced Yarakki to reveal who gave him the initial order. A nasty can of worms as you might imagine."

"So Laurelton had to die," Torin continued. "I am sorry to have to tell you in this fashion, so coarsely, but I see no other way to do it. Time is something of a factor as the captain said."

Dawn sat in the warm vehicle, hearing the words the man and the gun were saying, but still couldn't seem to grasp the reality of them. Her father was dead. A part of her had known that was possible (even before hearing it from Evian's mother), but to actually hear it confirmed, startled her. Even more so than the notion of a talking gun did.

"Why was this experiment so important?" she said.

"That information is rather sensitive," Vladimir said. "It concerns an ongoing conflict in our dimension. Animosities that have been building for ages are finally beginning to reveal themselves. People are suffering nervous breakdowns at a record pace, and acting out in peculiar ways. It will probably get even worse after this. Especially after they really see her. She who has remained hidden, the special black honey within. Nicki Min..." Vladimir stopped. "Suffice it to say that two major forces are on the verge of full scale war," he continued cautiously. "The control of our entire world hangs in the balance."

Lashon, who had been stone silent, deep in her own thoughts, finally said: "Where is he now? The other Jeff, I mean? The thing that was chasing us in Dawn's basement."

"Torin," Vladimir said. "Can you sense him?"

"I've been monitoring him on a low frequency," he said. "He was fighting and I saw that his life force was greatly diminished. Something extremely powerful nearly killed him."

"But?" Vladimir, said. "What's his current status?"

"But whatever or whomever it was, didn't finish him off. His energy seems to be returning—and rapidly."

"That isn't good," he said, "any reason you can sense?"

"Negative," Torin said. "But I did pick up a massive surge of phasemic energy on Valon in the upper levels of Mount Chrysler, I'm sure it was one of Kia's clouds." The weapon stopped talking. Then said: "I think Roan was also there, sir. His physical signature is fairly strong all about the castle. At one point it sped from a lower level to the Goddess Chambers on the sixth floor, then completely disappeared."

"Roan!" Vladimir said. "I know he and Broshaine were sent after him. But that was weeks ago! Do you think they were sidetracked? We haven't heard a thing from them."

"I don't know what it means, sir. But it wasn't Roan fighting the Rizorbeak," he said. "I picked up his signal in an entirely different area while it was happening. I fear he is badly hurt, perhaps, near death. Maybe it was Broshaine doing the fighting? She certainly has the abilities required to beat one."

"What about now?" he said. "What can you sense?"

Torin made a sighing sound. "Scanning," he said. "Okay, Roan is gone, now. But I see the Rizorbeak is still there." He paused, and Dawn could hear the wind outside slamming into the Camarro, making it rock. "The surge of energy I spoke of?" Torin asked. "From up on the Goddess levels?"

"One of Kia's clouds, you said." Vladimir was staring down at the gun in his lap. It resembled a silver handgun, Dawn thought, with a weird attachment on the muzzle. Like a pointy silencer, she supposed, but one she had never seen before.

There seemed to be Earth script writing on one side of the gun. Dawn could see what appeared to be a capital B, L, A, and then the gun shifted, and she couldn't read the rest clearly. She wasn't sure, but thought she also saw the letters: H,I,N, and E, going down the rest of the handle.

"Yes," Torin agreed. "I haven't been monitoring Mount Chrysler's communications for some time, so I can't say for sure why she's involved. But I believe Kia has healed him, sir."

"What!" Vladimir said. "You must be mistaken! She knew Roan's mission was to destroy the Rizorbeak before he could get his hands on the antidote. She also knows that with his new transformation, Bratticus would easily figure out that it was actually the paper he sought, and wouldn't have needed Dawn in the end, she would have been as good as dead!"

"This is a very disturbing development," Torin said. "Kia is obviously a traitor. She must be down with the Realmians."

"Yes," Vladimir said, uncertainly. "Where is it, anyway?"

"The formula?" Torin said. "According to my tracking equipment, it was present on Valon for some time, but is now gone."

Vladimir exhaled. "Holy Sands," he said. "Please tell me Broshaine has it. Wait," he grunted, "what about my sister?"

"Firstly, if Broshaine does have it," Torin said, "she must have left with it. And as far as Evian goes...according to my phasemic radar, she isn't even in the castle. Yes, she may actually have it herself, but I don't detect her presence at any time in the last three hours or so. So I seriously doubt it, sir."

"What does all of this mean?" Lashon said. "We're sitting here basically naked, discussing shit that makes no fucking sense! When is this craziness going to be over?"

"When we have the formula," Torin said simply. "It's lucky for you Jefthrow pre-programmed the time-splitter. It brought you straight to us, now we can protect you. And as for your clothing and footwear, I'll have to figure something out," he said.

"What do you mean protect us?" Lashon said. "From what?"

"From the alien growing inside of you," Vladimir said. "Torin sensed it back in the last dimension. A female child. Though calling it a child is being overly kind. I take it by your reaction that you didn't know you were pregnant?"

"Pregnant!" Lashon began, sitting up straight. "That's right!" she said. "I forgot you'd said something like that Dawn! You, that strange girl Evian and her mother!"

She wore a dazed expression that made Dawn recall the strange incident back in Jefthrow's car; when the woman had seemed nearly catatonic. "How the fuck did I forget about that?" she whispered, now. She turned her pale eyes back to Dawn's face.

"She didn't know," Dawn told Vladimir. "But I had an idea."

"Since when?" Lashon said. "And why would you think that? Because of them?" she asked. "Why would you believe anything these people say!" Her eyes suddenly squinted mistrustfully. "Who are you really?" she said. "Do you know these fucking people?"

Dawn stared at Lashon, feeling a vague sense of hurt because of her suspicious expression, noticing the dull gleam in her eyes. She'd also noticed that Lashon was no longer limping around, apparently, the old woman's cure had really worked. For a second, she considered pointing that out to her, but decided against it. It might only exacerbate matters, and might look like she was taking sides. Who are you really? Do you know these fucking people?

Dawn shrugged, and said: "Ever since we first—"

Something heavy slammed into the Camarro's passenger side window, causing Dawn to jump! "What the fuck was that?" Lashon said. All three of them turned to view the window behind Vladimir. Strangely, a startled Dawn wasn't really surprised to see Jeff standing there and holding his gun. But the old Jeff, who'd been wearing the yellow coat and headphones. She'd forgotten how this version of him looked.

We did go back in time, didn't we? she mused, unable to take her eyes off the shotgun and already imagining herself dead in the snow. And we're about to die in the fucking past, she thought, why'd I get in this damn car!

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Broshaine Bly landed in the snow and rolled over, coming to a tumbling stop in a huge drift of the frozen white powder. Roan, who had fallen right beside her, still wasn't moving. The wind was gusting all around them, driving snow into Broshaine's pelt and was already beginning to cover Roan in a blanket of white. She heard a loud, gruff voice, as she stumbled to her feet.

"I said, what the fuck are you doing here!" the voice said. "Get the fuck out of my car, nigga!"

Broshaine stood up fully, recognizing the voice, and quickly glanced about her. The coordinates were right. They had returned to Center forty-five. She turned around, and could see Jefthrow's blue Camarro behind her, and then Jefthrow himself!

He was standing outside the car, wearing a bright yellow garment, and was wielding what appeared to be a shotgun. His broad back was to her, but Broshaine saw something around his neck seem to shine for a moment and then the shine was gone.

What was that, she wondered. What shines like that?

But she dismissed it, because she and Roan had made it. Anyone who got the impression that transporting between worlds was easy, had obviously never done it. Each time they crossed dimensions, they ran the risk of becoming lost in the dimensions between dimensions.

But that hadn't happened, and they had come through the mini breach directly behind the white lunch truck that was just beginning to disappear beneath the falling snow.

Broshaine immediately scanned the car and identified Dawn and Lashon. And they were apparently still naked, or mostly naked. They appeared to be wearing some kind of Earth garment on their upper bodies.

There was another life form inside the vehicle, not including the creature growing inside of Lashon, carrying a weapon of some sort, but Broshaine couldn't see them with her optic scanners. She could only sense their heat, which she found strange.

There was only one species in the universe that her senses couldn't fully detect, and she doubted if this weapon belonged to that group. She scanned the Camarro and then Jefthrow for time devices, found three, and they all said: nine-seventeen a.m. Right before Jefthrow kidnapped Dawn and Lashon.

Suddenly, Broshaine understood everything.

The snide sounding, husky voiced woman speaking on the earlier transmission, sent her back to save the child inside of Lashon Nelson! That was the only explanation that made any sense.

The words returned to her: We only have one queen. The true queen, Neeq Sadnerb. It was code, and it meant that the woman was either going to raise the child as a Glint, or use her as a bargaining chip for something else. She might even be foolish enough to try blackmail. Maybe, she was even crazy enough to really consider Brenda on the throne?

Nacirema Wolf's identical sister? A woman who was entirely too smart for her own good, in Broshaine's estimation. Running around Alphius Sixteen, bringing unnecessary attention to herself, and calling herself Brenda Goddess?

Brenda was entirely too wild, Broshaine felt, and would never adhere to the policies enforced by the Elder Council. Nacirema was born a Scorpio on the cusp of being a Sagittarius. Close enough to become a blood-member in some circles, and it was seen as a dangerous mix. Which simply put, meant she was nobody to fuck with.

But, Brenda was a full Sagittarius.

Sagittarius, Broshaine had learned, wasn't merely another astrological sign invented by humans to help explain their tiny existence in an endless universe. It was also the name of the race of aliens who first populated Earth.

Apparently, all humans born under that sign (whether Black, White, Hispanic, Asian, or Indian), were a direct descendant of the Sagittarius race.

Their individual races meant nothing in the overall scheme of things. Broshaine had been intrigued by the concept, and had deemed to investigate it further.

What did that mean for the people born under other signs?

Seeking to answer that question, she confided in Torin, explaining to him that the Sagittarius truly fascinated her, and she therefore wanted all the information on them he could locate. Which turned out to be quite a bit.

And after carefully studying every scrap of data the Royal Historian could find, she realized just how incredible the Sagittarius were. Unfortunately, she never found any images of their true forms. Since they were also chameleons, they could take on any form they desired.

Though they didn't create all of Earth's people (they weren't gods after all, and certainly weren't the only alien race depositing their kind there), they did populate the planet with many of their own soldiers.

And now, they had finally risen to the top, and had completely taken over Earth's entertainment and artistic industries. Rapping, singing, writing, acting, and directing. The Sagittarius had risen to the very top in every field. Googling Sagittarius on the planet's Internet System had revealed just how talented they were.

It was quite the list of celebrities.

But, the life force Broshaine couldn't detect was most likely a Blood Leaker soldier. Maybe even Captain Cerati, she thought, Evian's own brother. Which meant the weapon was probably Torin. A notion she had simply been trying to avoid though it had immediately occurred to her.

He was actually the Head Royal Historian on Valon, a very lofty and respectable title. So lofty, that some had turned against him the minute it was bestowed upon him. And more than that, she considered him a true friend.

But, neither his lofty title, nor his close relationship with her, would prevent Broshaine from eradicating them both if she was right. She knew assassins had been sent out to destroy the baby (after it left its mother's womb, or before, really didn't matter as long as it was killed), and Broshaine's instincts told her that she had just found them.

The evil child was to eventually be trained to replace the next queen of Valon. It was Nacirema's younger sister (the one that not only resembled the Earth singer, Brenda Goddess, but was actually her), that would claim Valon's kingdom and effectively make it a Queendom, if ever allowed to.

Such had been prophesized in all the writings Broshaine had come across in her research. Lorna London, Broshaine learned, was simply the full-blooded Sagittarius that Nacirema Wolf had been physically modeled after. But she couldn't say who was in charge of such things, or why they had specifically chosen her.

The Council, who despised the Sagittarius, and their endless meddling in their affairs, wanted Brenda abducted and replaced with a clone, to prevent her from reaching her seventeenth birthday. Because, Queen or not, she would gain unimaginable powers on that day.

The Sagittarius had apparently given her these powers and had written the Histories Of The Future eons ago, and had consequently stuck their tentacles in every world and dimension known.

Whatever the technology was that made it possible for them to read the future and even affect it, this technology had also made them god-like in some respects. And though they varied the tactics used to achieve their complete domination of a given world, they never failed to achieve it. They were slowly taking over every dimension, one by one.

The Blood Leakers, her Blood Leakers, had fallen right into the middle of the conflict simply because they were loyal to Mount Chrysler (even if they didn't agree with all of its policies) but listening to Lord Dominoe had eventually inserted seeds of doubt in their minds, making them collectively question their blind allegiance.

She also knew that despite what everyone had been told about what happened to Nacirema and her mother, in truth, three people had escaped assassination on that historic day (April 13th by Earth's calendar), one of them being Brenda, Mikela's illegitimate daughter.

How the Valonians would react to this knowledge was a mystery, but was really the key to everything, Broshaine realized. Would they side with Brenda or would they stay loyal to Queen Priscilla?

Unfortunately, Broshaine also realized that the espionage Roan had spoken of earlier had finally come into play. What she was about to attempt, even if she succeeded, but especially if she failed, would probably get her thrown before the Council in chains.

Then brought up on charges of treason even though she was now being told by the same Council, in a roundabout way, in fucking Glint speak, to prevent the child's murder!

Whoever changed the plan (for she knew it hadn't been Evian, her snide tone had come from relaying a command that came straight from someone on the Council), obviously felt both she and Roan were ultimately expendable.

Broshaine finally started limping towards them, towards Jefthrow, trying to prepare herself for battle. She would have to dispatch of the hybrid quickly, because Roan's energy was fading rapidly. Once the child was safe, she needed to get him back to Valon immediately or he would die.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

"What are you doing here?" Jefthrow repeated. "Get out now!"

Vladimir had only flinched when the black man struck the window with the butt of his rifle, nearly cracking it. But his body immediately went into attack mode, his energy had fully returned, and his muscles twitched with the power flowing through his limbs.

"It's him!" Lashon said. "But he's normal. I swear to God, he was just a fucking monster! Wasn't he Dawn?"

"We know!" Vladimir said. "Hush up! And lean back. You too, Dawn. Torin, modify the lighting, make it dark. He only saw me!"

Dawn gasped as the Camarro's interior suddenly dimmed. She could see the cold, pale light shining through the windows on all sides, and the snow falling past them, but nothing else.

"I'm getting out," Vladimir said. "You two don't move and don't make a sound!"

The door handle on Vladimir's side shook. "Don't make me shoot you through this fucking window!" Jefthrow yelled. "Get out, you white motherfucker!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Vladimir said. He wanted to make sure Jefthrow heard him over the wind that had seemingly gotten louder. If Jefthrow did shoot out the windows, even though he would miss him, the females would be revealed too soon.

He unlocked the door, reaching for the handle.

"Wait!" Jefthrow shouted. "Not so fast, Captain. Throw Torin out, first!"

"Shit!" Vladimir mumbled. "Okay!" he said. "I'm doing it. I'm opening the door, and tossing him out. Stay calm!" He opened the door, snow immediately blowing into the car, and swung his right leg out.

"I said, Torin, first!" Jefthrow yelled.

"I'm getting him!" Vladimir said. "Torin, come here!"

The gun leapt from the seat and landed in Vladimir's right hand. Vladimir whispered: "When I throw you out into the snow, you know what to do. And don't hesitate!"

"I understand, sir," the weapon whispered back stoically.

"I'm throwing him out!" Vladimir shouted, and tossed the gun a few feet beyond the curb. It struck the snow covering the pavement and disappeared into the drift.

"Good," Jefthrow said. "Now, get the fuck out! If you're carrying anything else, bring it out with you. I'm watching, so you won't be fast enough to try using it! You know my fucking aim, nigga!"

"Nothing else!" Vladimir shouted. The wind was really gusting now, even the Camarro was rocking steadily. It felt like a hurricane was coming. He grabbed the edge of the back seat, and pulled himself from the car. He knew the horrible weather would work in his favor. But not for long. Not once Jefthrow decided to check inside the car.

Vladimir stood upright on the curb, with one hand held up in the air. The other hand, he used to close the door. It clunked shut, a faint sound beneath the surging wind.

"Move away from the car!" Jefthrow said. "Slowly. Keep your fucking hands up Mr. pretty fucking boy!"

Vladimir did as he was told. He climbed up on the small hill of ice and snow that had formed along the edge of the sidewalk. "Where do I stand!" he asked him, yelling it.

Jefthrow jerked the shotgun to the left. "Just climb down and come here," he said. "I want you facing me, Captain Cerati!"

The sarcastic sneer was clear in his tone, they had been fast enemies. Watching the Realmian women go crazy over his chiseled face and pale eyes had irked Jefthrow to no end. He'd spent many a late night drinking beer and contemplating Vladimir's bloody demise.

Vladimir made his way over to the man in the yellow parka. "Watch that gun!" he said, coming to a stop in front of him. They weren't close to the same height and Vladimir had to look straight up. "You wouldn't want to hit a Blood Leaker commander by mistake, now would you?" he asked him. "The penalties for even holding a weapon on one are extremely severe!"

Jefthrow laughed. "I know the penalty," he said. "Do you think I give a fuck at this point? I'm gonna get that fucking formula or die trying! Call me the Valonian Fifty Cent, nigga! And who the fuck are you giving orders to?" he said, "don't get carried away nigga, you're still a filthy Glint in my eyes."

"Why didn't you go to Dr. Yarakki for the cure?" Vladimir shouted (having no idea what he was talking about or why he was mentioning Alphius Sixteen money), and still raising his hands. As cold as it was, and he was only wearing his undershirt, the weather didn't bother him at all.

Of course, that didn't stop him from shivering, and making his teeth chatter. "What made you think going against the Council was a good idea?" Vladimir yelled. "Did you think they wouldn't figure it out?"

Jefthrow was about to respond, when his eyes suddenly narrowed. "Where the fuck are your clothes?" he said. "Why are you in this dimension, during a goddamn blizzard, only wearing an undershirt?" The man slowly swiveled his head to view the Camarro. "What's going on?" he said, "what the hell were you doing in there?"

Jefthrow quickly turned back to him. "Answer me!" he screamed, causing Vladimir to jump.

Vladimir feigned laughter, still shivering, with both hands still up in the air. "I'm just getting over an illness," he said, turning to look at the car, as well. "I had Torin make—"

As fast as Vladimir was, and there were few faster on all of Valon, at least not in the military, he didn't expect the man to strike him. That was why the butt of the rifle did so much damage, it hit him in the right temple just as he'd turned back to Jefthrow. He felt something pop, like a tiny balloon, and then felt the hot liquid flowing down the right side of his face.

Vladimir crashed to the snow on his knees, clutching his injured head. The pain was outlandish, much worse than the pain he'd felt when he once got bitten by a Sifter. His body's chemistry was designed to counteract poisons from numerous organisms, but was totally useless against brute force. That was where his agility and reflexes would have normally come in.

But, he had underestimated just how desperate Jefthrow was. They all had. And, Vladimir couldn't afford to let it happen again.

What Vladimir hadn't explained to the two human females, for obvious reasons, was the fact that he had been sent to eradicate them. After taking out the last two human grade Sifters Jefthrow had created that he unwittingly let into Alphius Eight, his strict orders were to eliminate the evil child growing inside of Lashon Nelson—Jefthrow's child. And then, both Dawn and Lashon.

The Council would want to see their heads as proof that he'd accomplished that part of his mission. The orders had come straight from Queen Priscilla.

The hybrid creature would become historic in some ways if allowed to live. Never before had Yarakki tried using female D.N.A. to create one of his monstrosities.

While some of the Elders simply wanted the future queen murdered, the majority of them wanted her replaced. They feared what might happen if they tried to kill her and failed. Plus, there were new rumors of Nacirema Wolf's half-sister still being alive. Supposedly, she was dwelling on Alphius Sixteen as well, under the name: Brenda Goddess.

This news had troubled the Council. What if she learned of their scheme, perhaps through some Inherent Slave, and decided to contest the kingdom?

But, others on the Council had expressed more prudent concerns about the experiment. They couldn't put their faith in an Earth scientist, and had named it: THE AUDACITY OF SLAVES.

They did so out of malice, Vladimir had always thought (since he knew many of them privately referred to Yarakki's failed test subjects as slaves, though he didn't fully understand the term), and in light of the evil they believed Dr. Yarakki was about to release on their dimension if he thought his foolish plan would actually work.

They thought that he, an earthling, and from Alphius Sixteen of all places, should know something of failed plans like none before him. Millions on Valon, and across an entire universe of dimensions, millions of worlds, believed that females of any species or race, were much too volatile to govern.

Even the great Nacirema Wolf, who according to destiny would eventually return to Valon to kiss the Black Diamond and restore its health, ultimately, couldn't be fully trusted.

Where had she been for the past sixteen years? some wondered in the privacy of their homes.

The Black Diamond was the essence of their dimension, an object of infinite power that kept their world thriving and protected from invasion from other dimensions. Its safety was nothing to entrust to just anyone.

Vladimir, a pure soldier at heart, wasn't so sure about any of it. And regardless, he hadn't even considered disobeying an order that came straight from Queen Priscilla. Even if the rumors of what she had done to Nacirema Wolf's parents were true (beheading them both a few hours after Nacirema Wolf was born), espionage and intrigue had never been in his job description.

If the Scavengers ever learned of her existence, they might revolt against Priscilla, or they might not. They were still fiercely loyal to the legend of Nacirema Wolf. But, who could confidently say how they would react if she actually showed up? And then, to tell them that Brenda Wolf, a sister they didn't know existed, was the true queen?

Not good. He'd always considered them insane, and much too unpredictable to keep in Mount Chrysler.

Vladimir staggered to his feet, still holding his head.

"Now, you're assaulting members of the Royal Guard?" he barked. Wind shoved him backwards on the ice, making him pin wheel his arms. It wasn't acting, but it suited him just fine.

"Shut the fuck up, nigga!" Jefthrow said. "Before I shoot your sneaky Glint ass. What were you doing in my car? Where's your uniform? You didn't arrive dressed like this!" He glanced at the Camarro again. "What were you doing in there nigga?" he said. "Answer me, motherfucker!"

Vladimir stumbled in a semi circle until he was facing the man with the shotgun. He really was injured, but not as much as he was pretending to be. Hopefully, it was good enough to fool him. Jefthrow had hit him viciously, and in the perfect place to drop him to his knees. But, that was only because Jefthrow knew he wouldn't expect it. Vladimir would use that same trick against him, assuming he got the chance.

Now, Vladimir concentrated on looking very hurt, dazed and barely able to stand. Please be there, he thought. He waited until his body was completely facing Jefthrow and stopped turning. He was breathing heavily.

"You've crossed the line!" he said. "I wasn't sent here for you. I came for the child!" He made a show of grunting in pain, staggering around, and clutching his bleeding head. He threw in a deep shudder for good measure.

"Let me kill it when the females come out," Vladimir said, "and I'll consider catching amnesia about all of this! No one has to know. I'll even get the cure out of Dr. Clark, or Dr. Yarakki, for you. Obviously, they refused to help you. But, I have damaging information on Clark that will guarantee his assistance!"

"Why should I trust you?" Jefthrow said, raising the shotgun to Vladimir's chest. "You were sent here to kill me, I'm no dummy. And even if you weren't, you're a Blood Leaker. We both know the number one rule: Leave No Witnesses, only bring back heads! It's against your training and you'd never go against direct Council orders, motherfucker!"

"You're wrong!" Vladimir said. He stumbled backwards, as if suddenly dizzy, felt something hard beneath his boots, and finally dropped to his knees in the snow.

Thank you, he thought with a mental sigh. Right on time!

He reached out with his left hand to grab what he'd felt beneath his foot. He knew Jefthrow wouldn't be able to see what he was doing. He had fallen to the ground sideways, so that his body blocked the man's view. "Listen to me!" Vladimir said. "I was in the future. You're going to die if you continue on this path, I swear. Torin saw it on his receiver, you as a full Rizorbeak, beaten to death! Killed by Roan or Broshaine!"

"Lies!" Jefthrow said. "Torin saw it, huh? Your neuro-weapon?" He laughed shrilly. "What do you take me for?" he yelled. "It'll take more than that to trick me nigga!"

"It's the truth!" Vladimir said. He was gripping the thing beneath the snow tightly now. Just a few more seconds and he could make his move. Just one more distraction, he thought.

"Ask him if you don't believe me!" he shouted. "You know he can't lie! Queen Priscilla saw to it that every Royal Historian dwelling in Mount Chrysler got a truth-chip. It's against his very molecular make-up!"

This got Jefthrow's attention. The man lowered the shotgun a little. "Even if I ask him and you're telling the truth," he said, "how can I really trust you not to attack me, anyway? It wouldn't be the first time you or your sister disobeyed orders!"

Vladimir was still kneeling in the snow, his black undershirt seemed glued to his body it was so wet. In a few minutes, it would begin to freeze on him. "I give you my word as Blood Leaker Captain," Vladimir said, "my personal word breaks all previous oaths and bonds, you know this, Jefthrow!"

Vladimir coughed harshly. "Work with me," he said. "And I'll help make you fully human again. This plan of yours won't work. The tall female, Dawn, doesn't even know where the formula is and can't decipher it anyway!"

Vladimir paused, as if out of breath, but was really only preparing himself. He took a chance, and turned his head to look up at him. He did his best to make his face look hopeful.

"Okay," Jefthrow said. He raised the shotgun to Vladimir's head. He jerked it upwards. "Get up!" he yelled. "Quick. I'll call your fucking bluff. We'll see what Torin has to say!" He stepped back on the ice as Vladimir began to rise. "If Torin confirms what you've told me, maybe we can work something out," he said, glancing over to his left, where he saw the weapon land after Vladimir had thrown it from the Camarro. He tilted his right wrist and peered at his watch. "We have about fifteen minutes," he said. "More than enough time to finish this shit. Go on, start walking. You know where you threw him. Go get him. But, I'm still watching your white ass."

Vladimir was standing now. His left hand dangled by his leg, as if injured. He had turned around as soon as Jefthrow ordered him to and what he carried had stayed concealed. Now, he clutched it to his chest. And it was as he raised his head, to start walking across the frozen ground, that Vladimir saw what was rushing at them through the storm. And was shocked with utter disbelief. Of all the things that could have happened at that moment, no way had he predicted this!

The moaning wind and his shouting conversation with Jefthrow, had drowned out what he would have normally heard, or Torin would have already warned him of could he speak. The stunned surprise that swept through Vladimir, threatened to make him stumble for real. He could barely believe what his eyes were showing him. "How is this possible?" he whispered.

The human Sifters, the ones he didn't get the chance to destroy in the last dimension, had followed them! Which was unheard of, but they had somehow done it anyway.

Not far behind them, filling up the entire block for as far as he could see, were what seemed a million stone scorpions! Unless Jefthrow had injured him more than he knew, and he was simply seeing shit, he also saw Goddess Kia's altered sand dogs following the scorpions!

What was worse, by far, was that he also saw Broshaine Bly limping towards them through the blizzard. She was completely unaware of the hideous creatures streaking down the block behind her and getting closer with every second.

The scorpions were somehow shooting out acid webbing Vladimir realized, and their eyes were a multitude of burning green orbs. Incredibly, the human Sifters seemed to actually be leading the scorpion army, their bodies were fully healed, and the dozens of blades covering their thick, dark hides, were shining with red flame. Since when, he wondered, did human Sifters cooperate with level B's?

Since never, Vladimir thought, and didn't need Torin to tell him that the blood curdling shrieks he could now hear coming from the army of Sifters, were filled with hate, and were all aimed directly at him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

In the blue Camarro, Dawn was doing her best not to panic. Lashon was screaming, she started screaming a few minutes after Vladimir left the car. "What is it?" Dawn had shouted. "It's your stomach again, isn't it?"

But, she knew the answer to that. It was the pregnancy that she also knew shouldn't have been possible. Lashon was going into labor, and what was really nuts, Dawn had thought crazily, was that she was already naked! She had laughed at the thought, as if she herself were going nuts, and tried not to remember how Lashon had gotten with child. Or just what kind of a child, according to the incredibly handsome white soldier (whom Dawn now knew was actually called a Glint, which was clearly just alien-speak for white), she was about to have.

Dawn had watched Jeff lead Vladimir across the snow, holding the shotgun on him. When Vladimir threw Torin out the car, she already knew what was going to happen, too.

"Melt into the snow!" Vladimir told the weapon in a harsh whisper. It was just after Jeff first hit the window. "As soon as you hit the snow, heat up," he said, "then, wait until the time comes. Wherever we end up, you crawl over to me as fast as you can. I'm counting on you, Torin!"

Dawn tried to picture the gun crawling and had shivered. Perhaps five minutes later, she watched Vladimir fall to the ground after Jeff hit him with his rifle. Dawn watched him get back up and stagger around. It was a good performance, but she knew he was only acting. He may have been hurt, but not nearly as much he appeared to be. And she was glad because despite her affinity for females, she'd fuck him in a heartbeat.

Lashon started screaming while Vladimir was trying to stand up again. When Dawn turned to her, she saw her shaking on the car seat. Flopping her arms and legs like an epileptic. Dawn quickly slid across the seat and tried to grab her arms.

"Lashon!" she said. "Calm down!" She tried to pin Lashon's arms down, but the woman was incredibly strong. Or is it that shit inside of her? Dawn thought. Making her act crazy like this?

"Fight it!" she said, hoping to God Jeff couldn't hear her. Trying to ignore the fact that she was still naked, except for Captain Vladimir's black shirt. Now that Torin was no longer providing his artificial warmth, the cold was returning quickly.

"It hurts!" Lashon yelled back at her. "It's ripping my fucking pussy apart!"

Dawn's entire body felt numb. Even as she struggled to stop Lashon's convulsions, it felt like someone else was grabbing the woman's shoulders. Her arms felt too long and didn't seem to be attached to her own body. Dawn knew it was only shock that she was feeling. But, that didn't stop the feeling from nearly overwhelming her.

"No!" Dawn shouted to herself. "Keep it together! Or Lashon's dead!"

And she knew the woman was probably dead anyway, they both were. If the creature growing inside of her came out...but she pushed that thought aside. Dawn glanced at the floor of the Camarro, where the Sony video camera was still resting. "I'll use it!" she said in a panicked voice. "As soon as the shit starts coming out!"

"Fuck!" Lashon screamed. "MOTHER FUCK!"

Then she wailed long and loud, shoved Dawn off of her, clutched her belly and rolled from the car's cushioned seat to the floor.

She landed face up, thudding into the carpet with her wide hips wedged between the seat Dawn was sitting on, and the lower half of the driver's seat. Dawn nearing true panic now, noticed how flat her stomach was and nicely muscled. Especially now that Lashon was straining those muscles as she screamed.

And then, she stopped suddenly.

"It's coming the fuck out!" she shouted. "I can feel it crawling inside me! Do something, Dawn! DO SOMETHING!"

"Like what?" Dawn yelled back. But, she had already decided what to do, hadn't she? What had to be done. The video camera, the one that could see through walls and open up spaces in time. A time-splitter, was what the talking gun had called it. Dawn would use it to open one, again.

Like before, she didn't care where they wound up. She wouldn't just sit there as something she couldn't even imagine, crawled from between Lashon's legs. Or maybe, it wouldn't crawl? Maybe, it would rip and slash its way from her body, not giving a fuck how much bigger it was than the hole it was coming out of?

Dawn gasped, as she thought she saw something! Down below Lashon's waist, at her crotch, where silky black hair now grew stunningly long and wild. It looked like a black Persian cat was trapped between her thick thighs when she had been perfectly clean-shaven before! And something was poking its hand out, it seemed! No, Dawn thought frantically. Not a hand...no, not a hand, it's a fucking claw!

Like a bird's talon, except it was a blood red. And the image of a giant rooster flashed in her mind, like the one she'd seen in The Food Of The Gods. She was about to scream, even as Lashon screamed, but she suddenly heard another sound that froze her blood in her veins and stopped the sound dead in her throat.

Lashon's voice faded out as Dawn listened to the noise coming from outside the Camarro. She was still watching the talon poking from Lashon's hairy pussy wave sluggishly at the air, like the world's strangest dildo, as she desperately considered her options. It was still dark inside the car, but that illusion was fading as well and there was more than enough light to see with.

Dawn glanced at the camera, considered reaching for it, but decided she had to look first. She just had to see what was making that hideous, unearthly, sound.

She turned to look out the window, sliding across to where Vladimir had been sitting. The window was foggy, perhaps from all the expelling of hot air they had both just done, and she had to wipe it off. When Dawn pressed her face up against the glass and peered outside, "Holy, fucking shit!" was all she could manage to whisper.

She didn't even hear the dreadful ripping sound behind her, or the blood splashing all over the backseat of the Camarro, or Lashon yelling: "It's out Dawn! The shit came out! Help me!"

The 'me' was shrill and drawn out as if yelled from the throat of a man leaping from a plane. But, Dawn's eyes were locked on the scene unfolding beyond the window.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Three separate things happened simultaneously: First, Vladimir noticed Broshaine. Then, Jefthrow saw that Torin was no longer lying on the mound of snow Vladimir threw him on—and knew he had been tricked! Finally, Broshaine saw Vladimir, the weapon in his right hand and the way he was holding it, and thought she understood.

It could only mean he and Jefthrow were about to murder Lashon, the child and Dawn. At least, one of them was going to do it. Roan, with his superior abilities, would definitely know which one. But of course, Roan was currently on the verge of death and he couldn't help her, could he? Broshaine didn't waste any more time thinking. She ran straight at Vladimir, just as Jefthrow leveled his shotgun at the captain's curved back.

"You trying to bullshit me!" Jefthrow said, stopping in his tracks. "Where the fuck did Torin go!"

He raised the gun and that was when he finally noticed Broshaine. The blue fox was streaking across the ice in his direction faster than anything he'd ever seen. Even faster than he could fly when he became a Rizorbeak!

Jefthrow didn't know what was more surprising: seeing Broshaine at all. Or the fact that she was apparently about to slam into him. He immediately stumbled backwards, expecting a powerful blow that would probably break whatever part of him she struck. And if she decided to power up, she would simply blast a hole straight through his body. The fox didn't hit him though. Instead, she crashed into the man hobbling before him! Struck him in the chest and drove him backwards.

When Vladimir hit the ice he yelled out in surprise, immediately reaching for his chest. Jefthrow, still stunned, leapt to one side to avoid a collision and tumbled to a stop in the surrounding snow. But then, he suddenly glanced up into the sky. He'd heard a horrible screeching sound and quickly understood what it was: the unbearable sound of many alien lungs and voice boxes shrieking in unison!

The man in the yellow parka immediately dropped his shotgun and clutched at his ears. He flopped to his knees in the snow (just as he had done a full week earlier at nearly this same exact spot), yelling out his own alien song. But, this was a song of pain instead of hatred and murderous fury. He wouldn't remember the object around his neck for another twenty minutes. And by then, it would be far too late.

**********

As soon as Broshaine struck him, Vladimir went with the impact, trying to lessen the blow. He still flew far and smacked the ground with tremendous force. He was dazed and in great pain, but not too much to thank the gods Broshaine hadn't transformed before striking him. Had she wanted, he'd only be a mound of smoldering ashes right now.

That could only mean that she didn't want to kill him. Or at least, not yet, and he would be wise to make use of that possibility. The fox had swerved in the air after her attack and was now standing in front of him again. Vladimir could see she was favoring her back leg, the right one. Her neon blue coat was burnt black in places and her left shoulder was leaning funny. Her eyes were slanted, her fur bristling in the wind. Already beginning to glow as she powered up.

"Broshaine!" he shouted. "Stop, don't fire, look be—"

Vladimir got no further, because a violent noise erupted in the air over the howling wind, drowning out the sound of the sleet striking the ice all around him. A noise that he knew all too well.

The Sifters far behind the fox, but coming on strong, were finally singing the death wail. In his dimension, it was prophesized that the death wail would be the last sound anyone heard before Armageddon came. In modern times, the Sifters were trained to annihilate anything alive they encountered after singing it.

"Torin!" Vladimir said, watching as Broshaine keeled over in the snow. "Can you block out that vile sound?" he yelled.

The weapon didn't respond, but the noise immediately shut off. It was as if someone had suddenly slapped a cosmic mute button as thick silence enveloped them.

Vladimir, still watching the blue fox, hadn't forgotten about Jefthrow standing behind him, or his shotgun. He had heard Benn Bratticus's screams and thought: That's right, he's truly of their blood! The death wail would affect him even more than it would me!

Now, Vladimir turned to look for him, and saw him bent over on the ice. "Captain!" Torin yelled, apparently able to speak, again. Crawling consisted of changing his physical makeup, and it drained him of some of his lesser abilities, like talking. "The child, sir!" he said. "It's coming forth inside the vehicle, the two human females are in grave danger!"

"Shit!" Vladimir said. He turned to Broshaine. She too, was being affected by the noise he could no longer hear. Her blue tail was wrapped twice around her ears as she trembled on the snow. "What's it doing?" Vladimir said. "Did it—"

"Sir!" Torin interrupted him. "Roan is here! He's up there, by that white truck and in the path of the Sifters. If they find him, they'll attack and eat him alive without hesitation!"

"How long do we have?" he asked. "Give me an estimate Torin."

"Five or six minutes, sir," he said.

"What's his status?" Vladimir said, standing up on shaky legs. "Is he conscious? Can you contact him mentally?"

"No," Torin replied. "And, he's fading fast. He's—"

Another sound came, cutting Torin off. This one was all human and filled with pain, and what Vladimir thought was blatant terror. He knew that one of the females was screaming. Possibly Dawn but more likely, it was Lashon. He thought the sounds were just about right for a woman giving birth. Or for one that was getting eaten alive by their own child after giving birth to it. And neither Vladimir or Torin saw or sensed the puffy, bubblegum-pink cloud that emerged from the storm.

Neither of them, even with their incredible sense of smell, noticed the aroma of cinnamon drifting on the wind. Or heard the music playing as it appeared, Mr. Softee ice-cream truck music. Summertime, the smell of freshly cut grass, iced-tea and Derek Jeter playing baseball on television in an empty living room, music. The pink cloud was apparently unaffected by the fierce winds, it didn't move an inch in either direction regardless of which way they blew. Not one tendril fluttered.

A giant cross was shinning in the middle of the cloud like a neon sign, glowing a bright electric red. (Had a human seen the cross, they would have immediately thought of a first-aid kit.) It was high above the El Especialito lunch truck, hovering like a flying saucer, bright multi-colored lights suddenly flashed from the cloud in a dozen different directions as it slowly lowered itself towards the snow covered ground.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Dawn saw the army of creatures speeding down the block towards them (the legion of glowing eyes, like the ones she'd seen on the Rizorbeak's head while down in her basement), and she nearly fainted. Even though she was sitting in a blue Camarro with a monster of her own being birthed into the world less than five feet from her. And she could suddenly hear Lashon shouting something. It seemed she was saying that the monster was born, that it had actually come out.

Her paralysis broke as the shrill words penetrated her brain. Yes, she was saying that! Dawn turned from the window, Lashon's screams filling her mind, and stared at the woman lying naked on the floor of the car. Then she glanced around the car's interior and stopped cold. Blood was dripping down the seats and from the ceiling! It was splattered on the window above Lashon's head as well. The woman herself, was drenched in it. But, that wasn't what Dawn was staring at.

The alien infant had finally come out. It stood there seeming to glower at her. After taking a startled gasp, Dawn's breathing had stopped and for a few terrifying seconds, she didn't think she would ever breathe again. But then, she coughed out air and started hacking harshly into both hands.

The stench! she thought. She had never smelled such a disgusting odor before! In her surprise, she had swallowed her own spit again, and it once more went down the wrong tube at the back of her throat. She went into a wild coughing fit.

"Holy God!" she said, finally catching her breath, but unable to move a muscle, she was so shocked.

What Dawn was staring at was the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life! A thousand times uglier than Jeff had looked when he first used the sand crystal, she thought. Even worse than he looked when he finally changed into the flying thing. The Rizorbeak, the gun had called it.

It had the head of a lobster, somehow mixed with an everyday bat. It was drenched in bloody slime, its eyes were lobster eyes, black and shiny. They were hanging from the end of bobbing, fleshy stalks. Its mouth was a slash of razor blade teeth, partly open with a long, red tongue hanging from it. The tongue was forked like a cartoon snake's tongue, and slime dripped from it in long threads. It dropped to the blue vinyl seat beneath it and sizzled like acid.

Suddenly, the creature hopped in place!

"Hungry!" the thing croaked. "Feed me, Nacirema!"

Dawn watched in horror as the thing swiveled its eyestalks toward Lashon. She could see that the woman was now awake and was gaping at her newborn child in something close to disgust. "Feed me BRENDA!" the thing screamed again. "Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!" It was now staring intently at Lashon, both of its strange eyes were thrust straight at her as it hopped.

Dawn crazily thought of Mr. Krab on the Sponge Bob Squarepants cartoon. Its bat-like physique was covered in coarse, red fur and its feet were also blood red talons. Only much larger than the ones on the ends of its furry red wrists.

Dawn saw that it also had a tail, it extended from the base of its ridged back and curved in the air. Like a possum's tail. Except, this tail had rows and rows of thorns covering it like needles. And its very tip was a long jagged spike. Like the tail of a horse-shoe crab, she thought, and felt it actually resembled a cartoon more than a real, living creature.

"I know you!" it grunted at Lashon, chuckling like a demented thing. "But, you're not Nacirema," it said, "she's a half-vanilla bitch, and you're a sweet, chocolate-covered darkie." The creature giggled. "Still, your spongy cunt smells very familiar," it said, "sooo fucking familiar! I worship black honeys with fat-asses! And yo shit is huge, mommy SO FEED ME SOME FAT BLACK ASS!"

Dawn held back a scream, and glanced to the floor of the Camarro. The video camera was still there. Only now, it was glowing on its own, again. Pulsating, really. Like a star thrusting its pale light beyond the clouds blanketing a dark sky.

The creature didn't appear to have noticed the glowing purple light as of yet. Purple? Dawn thought distractedly. Not pink, or blue? Or even green?

"I know you, too!" the creature yelled, again. Dawn jumped, badly startled, and moved back against the window behind her. It was surreal hearing such a deep voice coming from such an ugly, but incredibly small creature.

"I've seen your face in my dreams," it said in its rasping voice. A voice Dawn knew no human child could have ever produced with their newly formed lungs and voice box. It was pointing its rigid eyestalks directly at her now. "I've smelled your blood," it said. "Tasted it like a rare vintage wine." The thing paused, its voice softening a little as it turned back to gaze at Lashon. "But, I really know you," it said, "don't I? Don't I? Yes, I do...and you're not only my mother..."

In that brief span of time, before the creature finished its sentence, Dawn's mind again returned to much earlier that day. (Or was it actually later that day that it would happen?) Back to the moment she ignored the advice of the mysterious voice in her mind. It had told her to go back in the center. To avoid getting in the Camarro with the strange man in the dirty yellow parka. The black man that had so closely resembled Denzel Washington, and still did.

The one that had turned out to be all kinds of insane, to say the least! But, she hadn't listened, had she? No. And all that had come after, could easily be attributed to that extremely poor decision. Dawn understood that very well.

Finish what you start! she thought, staring hard at the revolting lobster thing that was drooling and staring right back at her, realizing with a cold dread that she was probably about to die. But, if this nightmare had any point to it beyond the craziness she'd been seeing and hearing, any moral she could take with her if she wasn't killed, that was probably it.

I should have finished what I fucking started! she thought. The only thing holding me back, that can truly stop me, is me! Time is leaving me behind! I have no excuses, NONE of us do!

These thoughts came to Dawn and left, as she watched the bright red abomination's tail slowly rise in the air until it touched the roof of the car. The creature itself, was only a few feet tall. The size of a normal human infant, if one could somehow walk at birth. But its tail was easily five times that length and was now giving off a rhythmic red light.

And for just a second, another image flashed through Dawn's mind: A huge, white, see-through scorpion hanging by its tail from a Christmas tree, and the scorpion was glowing as it wiggled side to side. And she heard music, Mr. Softee music! And then, the strange image, and the music were both gone. Dawn watched in a state of terror as the creature slowly drew its tail back, like a scorpion directly above Lashon, as if to strike her with it.

Dawn couldn't turn her head (as if the creature were somehow preventing it), so she got to witness the thing scream: "You're my first fucking meal, bitch! FEED ME BRENDA!" and suddenly jab out at Lashon's head with its jagged, harpoon-like tail!

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

"They're here!" Torin shouted. "Behind us!"

Vladimir turned from the sound of the woman's screams and gazed down the street. His weapon was right. The Sifters had reached the lunch truck and were now on the verge of passing it. "Can you slow them up?" he yelled.

"Not for long!" Torin said. "But, I can possibly create a loop in time, by rearranging the energy signature—"

"Just do it!" Vladimir shouted. "We need all the time we can get!"

He raised him and a massive beam of red light leapt from Torin's muzzle, sped towards the approaching beasts, and washed over them. (For a brief moment, the words: BLACK SEXY'S MACHINE were lit up on Torin's handle in hot pink letters.) And then, they all suddenly stopped moving!

The scorpions, the sand dogs, and the human Sifters. But, the entire horde of creatures trembled violently, as if straining against whatever force had made them stop so abruptly.

"What about Roan?" Torin yelled. "He'll never survive that many, not even were he at full strength!"

"We must leave him!" Vladimir said, his heart already heavy with a deep sense of regret. "The females are more important!" He looked at the Camarro. "The child is born and must die," he said. "That was our main mission—you know that Torin!"

"Yes," Torin agreed. "But, what if—"

"No!" Vladimir said, as a sudden gust of air blew ice into his face.

"I know we must destroy the hybrid," Torin said. "And that we must follow Council orders." He paused. "But, it's Roan, sir! "

Vladimir shrugged off Torin's words, even though they stung. "Until we find out what's really going on," he said. "Princess Nacirema Wolf is my only concern. I'm no longer certain of who to trust back on Valon. It seems the ideological divide existing in Mount Chrysler, has grown ever wider." He grimaced. "But, Roan knew the risks when he volunteered to chase Jefthrow!"

"But, sir!" Torin argued. "Assuming war comes to pass on Valon and we must really choose sides, he is too valuable to lose. He is loyal to you even above Priscilla, Marlana or Kia! Perhaps Broshaine could—"

"No!" Vladimir shouted again, glancing at Broshaine. She was still crouched in the snow, her blue fur blowing about wildly. Her tail still wrapped around her head.

Vladimir grimaced. The way she was acting the Sifters were apparently still screeching and Broshaine couldn't help them even if he was crazy enough to waste time seeing if she could.

"There's no time!" Vladimir said. "Once that thing kills the females, it'll leave. Or even worse, it'll figure out how to use the camera. And then how will we find it?" he asked him. "The number of dimensions it could hide in are endless. Use your logic, Torin; even Michelle would tell us to leave him, and finish the current mission!"

Torin finally, begrudgingly, admitted the sense in his captain's reasoning. "You are right," he said. "I know you are. Let's go, then. But, I'll miss him, and Lord Dominoe will be incredibly upset. There will be hell to pay for someone!"

The wind suddenly rose, as if in agreement with Torin's words. Vladimir sighed, glancing down the snow covered sidewalk one last time. The strong wind that he could barely feel, was blowing snowflakes around in swirling patterns. "Me too," Vladimir said. "I'll miss him as well, Torin."

Vladimir saw that the Sifters that had reached the El Especialito lunch truck, were already beginning to reanimate, so he immediately started running across the snow towards the blue Camarro. He could only hope that he wasn't too late.

CHAPTER FORTY

Roan Blood Leaker was dreaming, he had to be. The last thing he clearly recalled happening was being thrown down by the Rizorbeak from a great height. He also recalled that he was extremely weak and hadn't been able to prevent it.

They were in some kind of hall or chamber at the time, the ground far below was littered with weird debris. And huge, jagged black rocks poking up like misshapen stalagmites in places.

Roan had known he was going to hit some of those jagged rocks and that he wasn't strong enough to survive the impact once he did.

But then, something Roan didn't see had struck him violently as he plummeted, knocking him senseless, and he had immediately blacked out.

The next thing Roan knew, he was laying on a cold hard surface. A cold and extremely wet surface, he realized. When his eyes briefly fluttered open, he saw a solid black object filling his view, and one involuntarily sniff revealed many things: that he was back at the center for one, and for another, that the object he was staring at was a rubber tire. He knew that tires (whose highly toxic odor always assaulted his nose) were used on automobiles in most of the Alphius worlds. Some of those dimensions hadn't advanced to that level of technology yet, though most had.

But, the sniff also told Roan that Jefthrow and Broshaine were nearby and that the Foxonian was injured. And there was something else, another scent that rudely invaded Roan's senses amid an array of familiar putrid odors.

Sifters was the first word that immediately came to him. But, why? Roan wondered, Why are Sifters here?

When the loud wailing cries suddenly came from out of the storm, Roan was startled. The death wails! And then he knew for sure this was no dream. The completely unexpected sound drilled into his brain before he could adjust his hearing, causing his entire body to jump and twitch! His already broken form seemed to convulse and the sound was so mind-numbingly loud, Roan could barely hear his own thoughts.

But then, the sound had completely disappeared! Or perhaps it had somehow only lessened in volume? But, Roan could no longer hear it, which was all that really mattered in the end. His violent trembling had stopped as soon as the wails had. And the frightening pain, thankfully, was also gone.

Roan's eyes fluttered again, but didn't open.

He sensed that the Sifters were still coming towards him, death wail or no, and were coming fast! From directly behind him in fact, what seemed like a whole battalion of them!

Yes! Stone scorpions, he thought (Roan could tell because of the distinctive sound their claws made on the ice), and two of the human-like species were with them! Roan hadn't heard talk of those since...his head jerked up from the ground about an inch or so. He snuffled out snowflakes, trying to clear his nostrils before he suffocated, and then let his head drop again.

Since Vladimir Cerati was sent to destroy the ones on Alphius Eight! he thought. Dark confusion filled his mind at this memory, since it most likely meant that Captain Cerati had failed. A thought that gave Roan much more reason for concern than smelling the Sifters somewhere behind him, did.

And then, his body was racked with tremors again as he suddenly located the pack of sand dogs as well! The ones that had murdered Dawn Laurelton in another dimension and were now, somehow, coming straight down the block towards him!

But, what he obviously couldn't see, or sense, was the huge glowing cloud hovering right above the white truck. And he had no idea that the pink cloud was now lowering itself towards the ground, towards him. And when the multi-colored lights suddenly flashed from the cloud in a dozen different directions, briefly lighting up the dark snowy sky...Roan's mind seemed to slip off, as if he had fallen asleep.

But, this wasn't sleep. It was more like the crossroads between waking and sleep. His limbs felt loose and weightless, even the memory of the terrible aches and pains dissolved in a sensation of liquid warmth. His tongue slithered from between his jaws and danced in the air like a snake charmer's cobra.

Roan's newly opened eyes felt heavy, so he closed them again. The mental movie began to flicker behind his lids, and time ceased to exist. The screeching Sifters surging towards him, aching to taste his hot steaming guts, he was sure, also ceased to exist.

A pink gaseous substance drifted down from the swirling snow above, settling all around him. But, Roan never felt it.

He heard the death wails again though, coming from the creatures from his world, and knew they would reach him in a few minutes and eat him alive. But he couldn't have cared less. The images in his mind were so clear and so lifelike, Roan could suddenly feel the warm fragrant ground beneath him, the suns caressing his black coat, the cool wind ruffling through his fur making it ripple like waves of wheat.

The foul rubber odor had vanished, and now all he smelled was flowers. Exotic perfumes he may have recognized. He heard a soft music beginning to play, like echoing flutes somewhere off in the distance. And Roan suddenly felt a deep sense of relaxation totally fill him up. He felt it in his very bones.

Amazingly, Roan could smell that he was somehow back on his home world, back on Valon! How he'd gotten there was beyond his knowing, but it was totally painless as the memories he'd lost (and some, he didn't recall ever having) were slowly siphoned back into him: Roan recalled that he and Broshaine had set out a week ago to hunt down Goddess Kia's sand dogs before they could kill Dawn Laurelton.

Next, they would stop Jefthrow from getting the cure for his awful, self-inflicted condition. "He simply can't be allowed to live another day!" Lord Dominoe had told Roan. "He is the single greatest threat to Princess Nacirema Wolf. Eradicate him Roan! We'll have to check on Nacirema's sister later, but stop Benn Bratticus!"

Bratticus's future deeds (which had eventually been discovered by Torin) were too blasphemous to even consider, so Roan automatically blocked out that part of the transmission. But, the rest of the data continued into his brain.

The Scavbeast had no way of knowing this, but the sexy voice broadcasting directly into his mind, resembled Keshia Knight Pulliam's, a beautiful African-American actress from Alphius Sixteen: "The cure Jefthrow sought was inside of the piece of paper Dawn's father stole from Fox-Tech Labs And Solutions ten years ago, along with the Valonian lab rat Yarakki had been experimenting on."

It was a soft, pleasant voice that soothed him. As if the person attached to the voice lacked the capacity for hatred and anger. It was a reasonable, motherly voice.

"Yes, he and Dr. Laurelton had made quite a few historic discoveries during their time spent together," the voice continued. "They had been given all sorts of commendations and awards from dignitaries representing other dimensions, their inventions had changed countless lives. But, unfortunately, Yarakki had never suspected that the same kind faced Bryant Laurelton, who had often shown him photos of his attractive family (digital snapshots of them picnicking and frolicking at the beach beneath bright, sunny skies), had only been pretending, and would eventually steal two of his most important experiments."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Seemingly, a thousand complex ideas and vivid images had flitted through Roan's mind in a mere twenty seconds or so...the voice had long been replaced by an even softer one. And then, something exceedingly strange happened, Roan suddenly felt colder than he'd ever felt before.

The frozen ground beneath him was the hot sands of Valon compared to how cold he suddenly felt! Roan thought he knew what it meant too: Yarakki, the double (perhaps triple) agent, had inserted a transmitter beneath his fur that caused a chemical reaction to occur in him when in the presence of a hybrid. It was even worse in the presence of a new hybrid.

Roan was shuddering on the ice hard enough to rattle his teeth. It had never been this bad, this violent and filled with raw emotion! It was a pure sense of evil and hate that he'd never experienced before. And fervently wished he could stop experiencing. But, it was saner that he tried to stop the wind from howling or the snow from falling. It could only mean that he was sensing the child. The hybrid Yarakki planned on using to create the doppelganger of Princess Nacirema Wolf.

That was the experiment which the Council had banned along with all of his other new inventions. Devices that could alter time and even change past events. Such instruments were far too dangerous to exist, many on the Council had felt, but not all of them shared this belief.

No, Roan thought, not by a long shot.

"I must get up!" he said weakly. And the pink cloud finished covering his mangled form, as if merely waiting for him to speak. For a second, its bright image was captured on the edge of the lunch truck's silver headlight. But, he didn't notice that or the brilliant rays settling into his fur like a thousand pink fireflies floating into the wet curls of his coat. At one point, he looked covered with some alien species of tick and his body was vibrating. The glowing ticks didn't move, but they were humming like honey bees. Only, it really seemed to be words they were repeating. And then, they all seemed to sink into Roan's fur as one and finally disappeared. His body jerked twice and he exhaled loudly, as if a huge weight had been placed upon him.

The Scavbeast lay still for a moment, the wind making his fur flap. Not only did he hear the screeching Sifters, suddenly right on top of him now, he could even feel them running on the snow covered pavement. The sound thundered in his ears, extremely close, and he knew that they had finally found him!

But, as much as he wanted, Roan couldn't stay and fight them. There was something more important he had to do first. He leapt to his feet, his entire body feeling rejuvenated. He knew who had done it too. Unless Roan missed his guess, it was the same person who told Broshaine to come there. The same one that saved the Rizorbeak from certain death.

"Evian," he said. "But, what foolish game are you playing now?"

And the first Sifters rushed at the Scavbeast, ripping and slashing, spitting acid webs and shooting green lasers, but he was gone in a blink, and they only attacked an empty space where he had once stood. The rest of them kept on going past the lunch truck, desperately searching for the sacred item hidden deep inside Broshaine.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Roan appeared right outside the Camarro's back door, but on the street side. The Sifters had completely missed him and it felt as if his reflexes were back and better than ever! If it really was Evian that had healed him, using one of Kia's clouds, she had clearly given him a little something extra.

He had never felt this good before! This strong and vital, or filled with the sense of reckless abandon that had plagued him as a youth. It was as if the clock had been turned backwards. And not by using a sand crystal, either!

Roan watched as the Sifters raced and flew across the ice. Followed closely by the pack of barking, yelping sand dogs. He could sense that they were back in time, so nothing had happened as of yet. If he could destroy the dogs and Jefthrow right now, the future would definitely change.

So in essence, they could still win! The Scavbeast knew that none of this was supposed to happen, unless someone had changed the events of the past. Someone who obviously had her own ideas about Princess Nacirema Wolf, and whether she should rule Valon, or not.

Roan, not realizing he was both right about that and wrong, suddenly detected frantic noise and glanced up; he was surprised to see Vladimir Cerati running towards the car! He was actually holding Torin and didn't appear to see him yet. If it was Evian behind all of this, as he'd thought, why would she endanger her own sibling? That notion was still bothering the Scavbeast. Making him wonder if they were doing the right thing.

It wasn't the first time he had questioned this mission, or the wisdom of keeping Nacirema Wolf's existence on Alphius Sixteen, a secret. Roan felt certain that the current political structure on Valon was only in place because so few knew it.

But, Roan had specific orders to follow (given to him by the brown-skinned half Realmian Valonian Elder: Lord Dominoe Black) and he could remember the night clearly. They were standing atop the highest tower in Dominoe's castle, gazing across the vast ocean of moonlit sand, watching the gargantuan night creatures emerge from the depths to feed and mate.

Roan had watched in horror as a fifty-foot shark suddenly rose from the sand's surface to start its nightly trek in search of food. Its twenty-foot fin wobbled side to side, it roared terribly in the dark, shaking off rivers of red sand, and he could feel its giant footsteps rocking the foundations of the entire castle.

"Roan!" Dominoe had said, "No matter what else happens, you must protect the young black girl, Dawn. Until we determine which one the legend specifically spoke of, neither can be harmed. The other one, Naomi, I will handle personally," he told him. "We have now received conclusive proof that the princess lives. Nacirema Wolf is on Alphius Sixteen, fully grown, my God is she! and engaging in activities I don't fully understand."

He exhaled. "Acting and modeling?" he said, "but no matter, it means the Black Diamond still has a chance and we must first protect Dawn Laurelton!"

Roan could recall the sound of the Elder's voice as he spoke those words that night. The sense of despair, mixed with a wild hope, that he clearly couldn't hide had he chosen to.

The princess lived? Nacirema Wolf? A name spoken of in legends that dated back further than Roan could remember. But, could so unexpected a blessing possibly be true?

He'd thought of Mount Chrysler that night. Of the massive towers and parapets where dark flags blew, gleaming a pale white beneath the four Valonian moons. Roan was gazing at it from across that same dark ocean of sand. At what appeared to him as a brightly glowing bubble from so far away.

They both were on that particular night, he and Dominoe, and were both undoubtedly thinking of the same thing, thinking of the prettiest eyes in the galaxy, attached to the prettiest girl to ever live in the neighboring dimension—one of the loveliest to ever live in any dimension! If only in dream and legend.

But, they were thinking of the unforgettable, illustrious, Nacirema Wolf: The Once And Future Queen. She whose slightest warm kiss, it was foretold in the Histories Of The Future, would bring eternal life to the Black Diamond.

That concept alone, Roan felt, should have brought the entire dimension together. But alas, the Scavbeast had thought that night, could it truly be?

Should he even dare to dream of such a thing? Nacirema Wolf, as per the prophecy, was the product of the only successful mating of an Elder Realmian and Glint to ever occur on Valon (according to Torin, the previous attempts had resulted in offspring so grotesque and dangerous, they were immediately hunted down and killed).

How such an unlikely, and utterly forbidden, pairing had transpired was still unclear, even Torin couldn't explain it. But Nacirema's birth had represented the harmony that could be attained had both races dwelling in the dimension sought it. Which of course, Roan knew hadn't been the case, at all.

Mikela Crystal Emid, Nacirema Wolf's true mother, had known treachery was afoot long before she knew she was pregnant. Many thought Mikela had died that day, the day they had come to kill her, along with her daughter, but Roan now knew that she hadn't. Mikela had simply exiled herself to another dimension where she would eventually become Queen, and would watch Nacirema Wolf develop. And develop, she had.

According to Broshaine, Nacirema Wolf's measurements were now an astounding: 36 DD, 24, 52. Not bad for sixteen years old, Roan had mused.

Mikela had already arranged for Nacirema Wolf's safe transport to Alphius Sixteen, months earlier and even had a place for her to live until her Awakening Day arrived.

And though, Mikela had eventually faded from the memories of the Valonians, her daughter Nacirema's memory, had grown more vibrant with the passage of time. On every shining white pillar, and column, and stone structure that made up the current kingdom, Nacirema Wolf's glowing face was there. Captured at every stage of her life and always utterly breathtaking. That her ethereal beauty had fired imaginations, Roan didn't doubt.

Amazingly, Roan felt, they had never questioned where the first image of Nacirema Wolf had come from, since she didn't actually exist. According to legend, she was kidnapped as an infant, never to be seen or heard from again.

So, how could anyone possibly know how she looked now? Or all throughout her life, for that matter?

But, how many still went to sleep each night dreaming of her? he wondered. Of getting to stand in her holy presence? Millions, certainly, Roan guessed.

And could he truly blame them? Her very name was the definition of Sweet, and Kind, and Good. Unruly children got all of their images of her taken away as a punishment, and would cry for days.

The ruling Realmians couldn't stop it. Oh, they tried, but had little success turning the Valonians against Nacirema Wolf's memory. Even in her absence, Nacirema Wolf had somehow become cherished.

But right now, in this dimension, Roan had direct orders to follow. Ignoring the fact that Vladimir had just fallen head first into the side of the Camarro, he squinted his eyes against the driving snow and frigid winds, placed his paws on the car before him and rose his body up a little. Enough to peer through the window and see the entire nightmarish scene in one glance.

And, Roan immediately realized what he had to do.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Lashon yelled as the creature slashed out with its tail and at that very instant, the window above her head smashed inward and something black flashed through the opening! Dawn was so shocked, she couldn't think, let alone react to it. The monster-infant's tail was stopped in mid-air perhaps an inch from impaling Lashon's glistening forehead!

It was lodged in a long black thing that had stretched through the broken window and blocked the blow just in time. For a moment, all was silent except for the surging wind, and the tinkling of glass. Dawn who felt as cold as an ice sculpture, could hear sleet striking the roof of the Camarro. She was staring at the alien child, unable to look away.

The grotesque thing had the spookiest expression on its gruesome face. A sulky child's look, that was horrifying on the visage of the lobster-bat. How Dawn could tell was beyond her, but she could. It was looking sulkily from Roan, who's head and front paws were now through the window, back at her. Then it turned to Lashon. "I'm still hungry bitch!" it roared. "Feed me MOTHERFUCKER!"

Unless Dawn was only hallucinating, she thought its voice was much louder and stronger. And incredibly, it had apparently grown in size. But, she had no idea when it could have possibly happened since she'd been watching it the whole time!

The creature howled, jerked its tail from Roan's tongue, and raised it back above its own deformed head like a scorpion.

"Feed me!" it screamed. The tail seemed to flex, as if preparing to lash out at Lashon, again.

"No!" Roan bellowed at the thing, his black tongue sliding back into his mouth like an eel. Dawn looked at him with wonder.

A talking dog! she thought. Where the hell had he come from? And then, she realized something...that this was the creature she'd seen down in the basement of her building. Dawn was sure of it, the one that had spoken to her telepathically!

Roan, Dawn thought suddenly. Evian's mother had called him Roan back in Evian's chamber, and she wondered where the other one was. The neon blue fox that had also seemed to speak to her back in the chamber.

In the next instant, the world seemed to explode in noise, and those thoughts flew from her mind. It was an abrasive whining, wailing sound that made Dawn cringe. It was even worse than the earlier one, and because the sound was coming from outside the Camarro, the rest of them turned to look out the window near her. Lashon was staring in that direction from her back, her body still wedged between the car seats, her bloody, dark thighs still spread.

Even the alien baby jerked its ugly head up towards the window, its sinister lobster eyes bobbing heavily above its gleaming teeth. It was drooling what appeared to be acid, as she saw its eyes suddenly, unexpectedly, swivel to her and stop! Dawn immediately felt a strange sensation in her temples, like a headache was forming.

Then she heard the screeching, wailing sounds again. Coming from outside in the storm. And, then footsteps were approaching the Camarro at what seemed a dead run. Like it was someone running for their very life, wearing heavy work boots. Dawn turned to the right just as something slammed into her side of the car, making it sway violently!

"Shit!" she said and ducked. She stayed that way for an unknowable time, time actually seeming to stand still, and then the world returned to her in a rush. Her heart was pounding as the door handle above her head began to rattle! Dawn thought she heard a voice shout something beyond the door, but it was too noisy to tell for sure.

Then she turned to view the monster. No, Dawn jerked her head towards it! She would think back to that moment, trying to remember the eerie sense that had come over her. The feeling that it was crucial she turn around and look at the lobster thing.

And when she did, she actually felt the alien child probe her mind! Time seemed to stand still again as the monster carefully picked through her memories, looking for something. Reaching and groping. It felt like the talons on its hands and feet were crawling and scampering through her thoughts!

Dawn felt a sudden pulling sensation in her mind, as if a portion of her brain had been shredded and stripped away like beef jerky! She screamed and clutched her head. In that same instant, the creature squealed with delight and turned its bobbing stalk eyes around to look at the floor of the Camarro.

There was a second when all Dawn heard was the crazy wailing sounds and then: "The camera!" Roan shouted. "Dawn! It's going for the time-splitter to open a breach! You can't let it escape to another dimension! Especially not Planet Zombia—"

Dawn finally realized what the creature had been searching for: The fucking camera!

She heard the strange dog talking. It somehow knew her name and was the same voice that had spoken to her in her mind when the monster was chasing them down the hall. Just like before, his deep voice was clearly filled with a stark and panicky terror that only frightened her even more.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Vladimir heard the Sifters behind him finally reaching the center. Coming down the same street Dawn had taken about an hour or so earlier. But, he didn't know that, and didn't turn to look—there was no time. He had Torin raised before him as he ran, aiming him while doing his best not to stumble on the ice.

Torin was already locked onto the child in the Camarro. He only needed Vladimir to get him a little closer. They both figured that the creature would be very fast, and that there might not be many real opportunities to kill it, so they couldn't take chances. They crossed the ground quickly and had just reached the curb when Vladimir was violently struck from behind!

"Oof!" he grunted, flying forward. Vladimir tripped over his own feet and his motion carried him head first into the side of the Camarro! He smacked it hard, just managing to reach up and grab the door handle, but his hand slipped off. He yelled "Dawn, you must stop the child!" and crumpled to the snow without another sound.

Torin fell from his hand, striking the ice along the sidewalk, and discharging a laser shot that hit the El Especialito truck. A front tire exploded as the gun slid out of sight beneath the snow covered vehicle.

Behind him, Broshaine rose from the snow, knowing her collarbone, which had already been fractured, was badly broken now. Just a little something to go along with her injured back leg. Without her full phasemic energy, Broshaine had to rely on her own physical strength which was sorely depleted. Thus, her previous limp was even more pronounced as she slowly started towards the car.

She was now squinting against the wind and flying sleet, her lashes protected her eyes from the snow, but only to a point. Luckily, Broshaine could sense that Vladimir was still unconscious, and she desperately had to reach Torin before he came to.

But before she could get six yards, the Sifters suddenly swept around the lunch truck and came at her in a steady flood! These were the same ones that had been singing the death wail not long ago—but had stopped singing it for whatever reason.

The human Sifters were in the lead. Their arms were raised and they were clearly growing in size as they rushed down the block! From where, Broshaine didn't have the slightest notion. But, she now knew a very horrible thing; that Roan Blood Leaker was dead.

She felt his life force disappear just a few minutes earlier. His expiring essence had come from a spot not far from where the white lunch truck stood, exactly where she had left him before going to attack Vladimir. One second it had been there, and the next it was gone. And, considering the collection of monsters rushing towards her, it was pretty obvious what had happened to him. Bitter grief had smothered her thoughts, but she was blocking it as best she could. There was still a mission to complete, and a princess to save.

Perhaps, it was for the best that Roan was already dead? Because she could see that the stone spiders were now stone scorpions, and they were galloping wildly across the snow in her direction. Scorpions were even deadlier than bats. And right behind them were the sand dogs! She didn't doubt they were the same ones that murdered the alternate Earth's Dawn. Or that this was going to be a battle to end all battles!

Unfortunately, Broshaine was utterly alone and could barely even stand. What kind of battle could she possibly participate in like this? It was shaping up to be the worse mission of her entire career!

And when all of the Sifters focused on Broshaine and let loose a maniacal scream, the lasers started firing from the human Sifters as well as the stone scorpions! Broshaine jumped backwards and the beams struck the frozen ground before her with multiple loud explosions, kicking up ice and the concrete beneath it. Five smoking craters the size of manhole covers, were left behind as one of the Sifters suddenly dove at Broshaine, causing her to duck and dodge frantically in the snow!

Feeling overwhelmed, her injured collarbone seemingly on fire, she turned and fled down the sidewalk. Jumping over Jefthrow's motionless body, she reached the end of the area that made up Center forty-five's front yard, and quickly spun around to face them again. The flying Sifter had already stopped chasing her and was now hovering high above in the storm.

All Broshaine had left was her speed, even at this reduced level, and the knowledge that she was much too late to deal with the hybrid child. She had also picked up its life force, and knew it had recently arrived in the world. It would kill Dawn and its mother, take the camera, and then escape into wherever the time-splitter took it. Broshaine would definitely have to follow it...but only after she took care of the very dangerous Torin.

And the child, of course! If it lived, the infant would grow at an alarming rate. In a few short months, it would be fully grown. Without the proper guidance, its strength would continually increase unchecked, until it transformed into a much larger, much stronger, version of whatever it currently was.

Broshaine could see it in her mind (something she guessed the Scavengers would probably approve of), but couldn't make any sense of the image. Its features didn't coincide with any of the sand creatures she'd come across on Valon.

But, Broshaine was only concerned with the army of sand demons racing towards her right now. She could see that Kia's personal dogs were coming too, and coming on hard! Feeling a sense of deep confusion, Broshaine made out the biggest one, a Scavbeast named Kledder, as he quickly closed the distance. He was running much faster than Roan Blood Leaker, his younger brother, ever had. That he was somehow involved in this drama, sent a chill down her spine.

Broshaine knew they were after altered sand dogs, it had been in the snooper reports, but she hadn't known they'd been chasing him all of this time. Black Kledder, she thought. No wonder he was able to stay one step ahead of them the whole week! Who better to anticipate Roan's moves than his own fucking brother?

But, why the fuck is he here? she thought, trying to control her breathing, already preparing to do battle with her commander's traitorous, yet deadly, older sibling.

"You'll learn not to interfere!" Kledder yelled over the howling wind, closing in on her. Even though he could have just as easily thought the words at her. His coat was the same color as Roan's, only he was closer to an Earth Doberman Pinscher in physique than a Rottweiler.

And unlike Roan's gruff voice, Kledder's was closer to Jeff's as a Rizorbeak. "You should have stayed back on Valon!" he said, suddenly taking the lead and frantically running at her. "Your lousy choices have betrayed you!" he screamed.

"Here goes nothing, again!" Broshaine said and was hissing as she raced through the swirling snow at Kledder, at the sand dogs, the Sifters and the stone scorpions heading her way.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Benn Bratticus didn't remember to put on the headphones until the sound of the death wail ruptured something inside his head. The alien within him had reacted to the sound and he had become nearly paralyzed with pain. Before Bratticus noticed his shotgun on the ground, he saw Broshaine frantically dashing across the snow. But where she was headed, he couldn't have said, and couldn't have cared less about it at the moment.

Bratticus collapsed to his knees, cracking them on a sheet of ice he hadn't noticed. And everything was immediately forgotten, even his quest to find the formula Bryant Laurelton had created. At the moment, even the possibility of becoming fully human again, was a tiny thing in light of the sharp spikes of pain biting at the tissue of his brain.

"No!" Bratticus yelled. "Stop fucking up my goddamn head!"

He tumbled backwards, striking the base of his skull on the ice and jarring his senses. Dizziness flooded his mind, along with a sense of defeatism that was normally unlike him. But, there was nothing he could do to stop the feeling. His carefully laid plan, one he had worked on for months, had just failed miserably. And all because of her: fucking Nacirema Wolf!

The entire planet of Valon was now a fucking Nacirema Wolf wonderland! She was supposedly a native, only Nacirema Wolf had no idea that Valon, or the strange aliens who dwelled there, even existed! As she lay her pretty fucking head down to sleep each night, he knew that an entire planet of people were conspiring and counter-conspiring in her name. It was lunacy, as far as he was concerned.

They had all kinds of weird Nacirema Wolf holidays, and even some kooky religion they called Nacirema Wolfism. The fools actually prayed to marble statues of her (statues that had huge butts and breasts), and wore creepy Nacirema Wolf masks for days at a time. All during the night Bratticus would hear spooky chants of: Nacirema Wolf! Nacirema Wolf! echoing throughout the halls of Mount Chrysler.

He wasn't even sure how much of it he believed.

That Nacirema Wolf was the rightful Queen of Valon? And not Queen Priscilla? Perhaps so, he'd thought. And perhaps, they were all simply suffering from some kind of mass dementia!

But everything had gone wrong! What was supposed to have been a quiet, simple operation (albeit one that wasn't authorized by the Council), had turned into a fucking circus! The Council's obsession with Nacirema Wolf had suddenly dwarfed all other concerns.

Time travel was forbidden by the Council unless they ordered it done themselves. Which was why Bratticus had stolen Yarakki's camera, the time-splitter, in the first place.

He was done waiting around for the Realmians to stop with their fucking spy games. He needed the antidote to stop the chemical Laurelton had slipped into his food or drink, from bringing about the final transformation, and the asinine Realmians refused to surrender it.

Their jealousy of the Sagittarius knew no bounds, and they were incensed at the idea of aliens dictating who ruled their dimension. So, they'd decided to ignore the prophecies, the coronation of Queen Priscilla, and the Histories Of The Future, and put their own agent on the throne.

Bratticus had been enlisted to assist them in their efforts, and he didn't know exactly when he decided he no longer wanted his new abilities, the abilities Goddess Kia had given him, but he was done with them. He was finished going through change after endless change.

What was worse, was the fact that he was also plagued by the most horrendous nightmares. Nearly every night, he would journey in his dreams to a frightening place. A world of red skies and a black mountainous landscape where he saw no trees—only oddly shaped creatures with glowing green eyes, crawling down the mountain towards him. What Bratticus was feeling now, as he knelt in the snow, definitely reminded him of those dreams.

Of how he'd felt each time he awoke from one of them, panting, and staring at utter darkness, a harsh scream trembling on his lips. His heart feeling like it would pound his insides apart. Bratticus was tired of the nightmares and constant pain due to the transformations, and only wanted his normal life back.

So, he'd decided to take matters into his own hands. He would do what the Council ordered him to do, but after that, he would use the time-splitter to go back to the day he first met Dr. Laurelton. This time, he would kill him long before he ever got the chance to administer Kia's vile potion.

Bratticus tried to stand, he planted one hand on the ice and shoved his body upwards. Surprisingly, despite the wind, he actually managed to do it. The wailing noise was still there, and was still draining what energy he had left, but something had suddenly occurred to him. Something that nearly took his breath away. He removed his left hand from his ear and grabbed the headphones around his neck. The ones Yarakki had given him after showing him the letter.

He had forgotten that they were specifically designed to dampen the sound of a Sifter's death wail! "Don't forget them," Yarakki had said, "don't get so engrossed in your role that you lose sight of your true mission. Without these headphones to block it out, you'll die."

"I forgot," Bratticus said, grinning, "how the fuck did I do that?"

As soon as he removed the headphones and put them on, a deep silence came. It was so sudden and relieving, Jefthrow swooned in his tracks. The wind was rushing past him, rocking him, but he couldn't hear it. Smiling, he thought that perhaps it really wasn't too late.

He no longer had the sand crystal, but maybe he could still kidnap the black human bitches and force Bryant Laurelton to give him the formula? And when he turned to look in the direction the death wail had come from, imagining himself accomplishing that goal, Bratticus finally saw the living horrors rushing at him through the blizzard.

He could no longer hear them screaming, not the incredible amount of stone scorpions stampeding towards him, or the two human Sifters with their glowing red eyes and flaming razor blade skins, resembling giant crickets from hell.

But he could certainly feel the lasers that sliced through his abdomen and both of his arms, and then his throat, decapitating him, and permanently solving all of the problems he'd ever had with being a hybrid. The head that flopped to the snow and rolled, still wearing the headphones, came to a stop with the dark, dead eyes peering up into the stormy sky.

Snow and sleet fell in them, and the smile on the head's face would remind the cop who eventually found it, of Denzel Washington in Remember The Titans.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Broshaine sped across the snow towards the oncoming creatures as fast as she could, got maybe ten feet, and leapt. She crashed into one of the human Sifters, grabbing it with her front paws, and knocking it backwards. But these Sifters could fly, so it simply spun from Broshaine's grasp and swerved behind her as she kept going down, falling towards the icy sidewalk.

It blasted her in the back, even before she touched the ground! Her spine was pulverized, the entire upper half of her body seeming to bend backwards from the force of the beam!

Broshaine yelped with pain, black liquid gushing from her mouth, her blue fur smoking in the area struck by the Sifter's laser. She hit the snow hard and bounced, her bones rattling like a bag of dry bones.

The human Sifter soared high into the snowy sky, squealed, then turned and dove towards Broshaine's prone form like a red tailed hawk zeroing in on a squirrel!

The stone scorpions shrieked as fifty of them raced up, shot their webbing at her, and immediately fell back. A massive net billowed forth, glistening with glowing green beads of moisture. The moisture was the acid that flowed in their veins and the net would slice Broshaine into dozens of furry blue pieces once it settled on her.

The first human Sifter let loose a shocking cry as it dove; the human part of it had suddenly gotten an idea. It would blast the meddlesome blue fox one last time. Even though the acid net released by the scorpions would certainly finish her, it had suddenly received an image: the Foxonian engulfed in flame as the webbing finally floated down upon her.

The acid webbing was lethal, but was entirely too slow. The feeling behind the image seemed to be: Don't Take Chances, and it was the first time the Sifter had ever experienced such emotion. It prepared to shoot, the deadly laser light already filling its eye sockets, blinding it momentarily, and that was all the time Roan Blood Leaker needed.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

The tired and angry Scavbeast watched the Sifter come, fast as a bullet, and saw its demonic eyes begin to glow. He knew exactly what that meant. His fearsome jaws, that were already spread wide like the jaws of a bear trap, expelled his black tongue harder than he'd ever done before.

It sped through the falling snow and struck the human Sifter dead in the chest, puncturing the armored hide, and continuing from its humped back! Its screams of agony were dreadful, but Roan didn't stop to admire them. He twitched a muscle in his mouth and his tongue retracted, only now, it had formed a hook that plunged into the Sifters body and jerked it down towards him!

It reached Roan in seconds, desperately trying to raise its clawed hands to tear at the tongue protruding from its chest, and suddenly felt its body swing sharply to the left! The human part of what served as its mind, understood immediately.

"No!" it shrieked, actually talking for the first time since its creation.

Roan jerked his head violently to the right.

The Sifter screamed something that may have been a word, and was swept into the path of the falling acid net! Roan yanked his tongue inward, and the Sifter landed on top of Broshaine just as the net lowered.

Even from his distance, Roan heard the dry sizzle as the net ate into the Sifter's misshapen hide. It thrashed and howled, chunks of the monster immediately falling off to hiss in the snow. A foul odor began to emanate from its smoking skin.

Another shriek made Roan turn to the left and look up. The other human Sifter was hovering in the air and it was staring down at him. He was watching me the whole time! Roan thought, and knew he still had to get to Broshaine. The scorpions had also watched everything, and were now advancing again. Preparing to shoot another net, he was sure.

Only, it would be much bigger this time. Instead of the fifty or so that created the first one, now at least five hundred of them scampered forward!

"Broshaine!" he thought and said. But, there was no answer, mentally or verbally. "It's up to me!" he said. "Yet, I'm forgetting something."

What is it? he thought, what's wrong with this picture?

Roan's tongue returned to his panting jaws. He stared at the stone scorpions, then glanced up to view the human Sifter. Which should he attack first? There was no way he could reach Broshaine in time if they both went for her.

There were way more of the scorpions, but the Sifter was much more powerful as a whole, and was apparently much smarter. It was probably the human element in its makeup.

But Roan decided he would fight the flying Sifter, and only hoped he could reach Broshaine before the webbing sliced through the dead one lying on top of her.

It was at that moment, as Roan steadied himself to leap, that the snide chuckle came from behind him. Freezing him, and it was a sound he knew well. He swung his head around, startled, and came face to face with what he'd forgotten in his anger and fear.

The sand dogs. Goddess Kia's sand dogs!

"So, we meet again, brother!" the owner of the voice said. Standing in the street was a massive black dog that really wasn't a dog. Flanked to either side of it, were more of the dog-like creatures, exactly fourteen of them. All of their eyes were on Roan and were shining with an eerie light. Not glowing, as the Sifters eyes were, but shining. Like new nickels in the sun. Only there was no sun.

"Kledder!" Roan said. "So this is what you've come to, huh? Who are you working for this time?"

Kledder laughed. "Probably the same person you are!" he said. "You know the politics on Valon change with the direction of the wind!" The creature turned to view the human Sifter still floating high in the air. "Our minds are linked," he said. "They all obey me, even the scorpions. See how they've stopped?"

"Evian?" Roan said, glancing at the Sifters. His brother was right, they had stopped walking. Only a few feet from the human Sifter still lying atop Broshaine. "Did she give you the orders?" Roan said, turning back to Kledder. "Was it Vladimir's sister engaging in this treason?"

Kledder laughed, derisively. His eyes glinted as he began to howl, and the other sand dogs followed suit. "Evian is old news!" he said, as the others kept howling. "Her ideologies are deemed ancient by most of the Council. She seeks to save the princess, when no one on Valon even knows she exists. None but a few of us from the inner circle!"

"What of it?" Roan said. "She may be misguided, but she is still a Valonian. If she feels that concealing the existence of Nacirema Wolf is wrong, she has a right to that opinion. In fact, she may be correct about it. Nacirema Wolf has been whispered of in fairytales forever," he said. "The tale of the black Earth girl, a descendant of Glint royalty, who would one day return to rule Valon. The people have a right to know she's real!"

Roan's fur bristled as he strode backwards a few feet on the ice. "Why are you here?" he asked his brother. "To kill the child?"

Kledder didn't respond at first. But the other Scavbeasts stopped howling, and turned to stare at him. Awaiting his instructions, Roan knew.

Then, the Scavbeast was laughing, again. "We were supposed to assist Jefthrow," he said. "Or should I say, Bratticus." Kledder sniggered. "The buffoon was going to scare Laurelton into telling him the secret of the formula," he said, "when all he really had to do, was use the time-splitter to travel back in time and murder him."

"What formula?" Roan said, realizing just how misguided Jefthrow was in his thinking.

"The one that's currently inside of your partner's stomach!" he said. "How she's come to have it is a mystery. But the truth is, Dr. Laurelton has been dead for years! And the two of you bumbling fools have nearly ruined everything!"

Laurelton, dead? Roan was stunned. But then, he remembered that the memory had been given to him as he was recuperating. Along with many other things he hadn't known about the conspiracy. Like the fact that Nacirema Wolf was also a clone; it was Brenda Wolf that was truly important.

"We've ruined nothing!" Roan snarled. "My orders were to destroy the child at all costs. It appears we actually have the same mission!"

The sleet was coming down even harder now, making it difficult to see. Roan wasn't nearly as weak as he was upon waking in the snow, but his energy was sapped from going against the hybrid child. The Realmians weren't interested in its fighting abilities, not for their plan, but the little thing was still a fierce combatant.

His brother was also a fierce fighter, agile and merciless once the battle began. Plus, he had the benefits of a lengthy career as a Blood Leaker. It would take all Roan had left to even put up a fight, not to mention having to deal with his pack of lackeys.

His coming out on top was doubtful, at best. And even trying to outrun them was no good. No creature out ran sand dogs.

"Not quite, brother," Kledder said. "I'm here for you and Broshaine. I have orders to save the infant. But they didn't come from Evian!"

Kledder only stared at Roan after making his statement, his sleek fur not bothered by the wind, waiting for him to figure it out for himself. "My boss isn't concerned with Valon at all," he whispered.

"Dr. Yarakki!" Roan said, and he retreated a few more steps. He would need all the room he could get, maneuvering on the ice would be difficult enough.

Kledder laughed. "Yes!" he bellowed. "We have a winner! A Charlie Sheen from Alphius Sixteen! Too bad you're also the big loser. He wants the little bitch for himself," he snarled. "To fuck, I assume. It seems to be all these wretched humans think about. He finds her attractive, but her youth also appeals to him. Yuck!" he grunted. "He can have her! But he's convinced me that duplicating princess Nacirema Wolf, and replacing her with the hybrid infant, would ultimately be best for everyone. Especially for me!"

"So Destiny can become his slave after he kills Nacirema Wolf?" Roan spat, realizing his brother didn't know all that he knew about the matter, and deciding to keep it that way.

Apparently, Yarakki didn't trust him either, but Kledder clearly hadn't gotten the new orders. Destiny from Alphius Six, a younger duplicate of Nacirema Wolf, was already dead. Anyone and anything, that had any connection whatsoever to the Sagittarius, was to be eliminated. And Destiny had been a part of their plan.

"When you strip off the sugar coating," Roan said, "sixty-two year old Yarakki wants a thirteen year old girl to own and use as he sees fit! In the words of the humans in this dimension, that's pussy!"

"Watch your tongue!" he said, "before I remove it!"

Roan laughed. "Isn't he man enough to handle a grown woman?" he asked. "Is he afraid one won't enjoy his sexual performance? Disgusting! Isn't it enough that Destiny doesn't know who she really is? Must she be subjected to this atrocity as well?"

"Atrocity?" Kledder said. "Let the humans fuck whom they please! There was a time when they knew no age limits at all! Their self-righteous propaganda doesn't work on me!" He lowered his head. "You shouldn't concern yourself with such trivial matters brother," he said. "That is why we stand on opposite sides now! When our Nacirema claims the throne, Yarakki will be the only person she'll answer to. In essence brother, Dr. Yarakki will become the ruling King of Valon!"

Roan growled deep in his throat. "And then you'll become his second in command?" he said. "Is that it? What of the Council? And especially, Queen Priscilla?"

"You insult me, Roan," he said. "I have bigger plans than that! Once Yarakki's Queen Nacirema Wolf is crowned, and has settled in, I will become leader of the Blood Leakers! My second act will be to lead an attack on Earth. Where I will rule."

The Scavbeast paused, its black eyes boring into Roan's. They narrowed. "My very first act, will be to eliminate Queen Priscilla!" he said, "and wipe out the worthless Council. In the new Valon, there won't be a Council! And no ugly, fat, Queen Priscillas, either!"

"This is traitorous talk!" Roan said. "You speak as if I'm already dead. Rather presumptuous, don't you think? Do you actually feel you're qualified to replace me?"

Kledder suddenly turned to gaze at the human Sifter, and his nod was barely perceptible. But Roan caught it. "Who said anything about replacing you?" Kledder asked, looking at Roan again. "I would much rather you serve me. But Broshaine, I'll have stuffed and mounted. Her fur will be a mess once the acid webbing cuts through it, but Yarakki says he can fix that. And he won't even have to remove the paper." Kledder suddenly leapt backwards! "What better place to hide it?" he yelled. "Than in your dead Foxonian mutt!"

Roan felt fury rise in his mind, and fought to control it. "You think you can get past me?" he said. Which was only a rhetorical question, an example of the training instilled in Roan that Kledder lacked, and always had.

He knew his brother had summoned the human Sifter. The sand dogs howling had been a simple diversionary tactic, something Roan had expected. But Kledder's real mistake was in turning to look at the Sifter, even for a moment.

At the very last second, seeing the hybrid's silent shadow suddenly appear on the snow before him, Roan dodged to the left and rolled. He felt the tremendous impact of the Sifter slamming into the ground, heard it shriek, a horrifying sound that rose above the wind, and was back on his feet in a heartbeat. And then, all the world exploded in chaos.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Dawn heard Roan shout that the child was going for the camera. She immediately looked up and watched the monstrous infant hop from the seat down to the Camarro's bloody floor.

It was making a terrible sound. Like a titsy-beetle during mating season, though Dawn couldn't have known that. It stared at the glowing camera for a moment, then bent and picked it up. Its stalk eyes swiveled to Dawn again. Marked her. Then returned to the video camera. Mewling with delight, it turned the device in its clawed hands, found the button and pressed it.

The Camarro's interior was immediately flooded with bright light! The whining noise came and suddenly got louder. Dawn blocked the glare as much as she could, and just managed to see the creature leap upwards toward the car's ceiling, and disappear! Despite the glaring light, she saw a jet black space opening across the roof's slightly concave surface.

"Stop!" Roan roared, and leapt after it. How he managed to fit inside the window was beyond her dazed comprehension, everything was happening too fast. But she watched the talking dog's wide body also get sucked up into the black hole! Much like had happened to her and Lashon back in that chamber, Roan had gone to another dimension.

There was a loud water down the drain sound, and the black space vanished. Dawn stared at the empty area for a moment, blinking her eyes and then glanced at Lashon. But the woman had apparently fainted again. "Lashon!" she yelled. "Wake up! We've got to—"

The door handle rattled again! And then, Dawn heard a voice behind her. "Open the fucking door!" a man's voice bellowed. "If you're alive in there, unlock it!"

Dawn finally recognized the voice. It was Captain Vladimir! She turned around and pulled up the lock. Then she reached for the handle, but the door was jerked open before she could so much as touch it!

It swung wide, and Vladimir was standing there. A gust of freezing cold air and snow swept into the Camarro, making Dawn shiver.

"What's happened?" he yelled. "Torin said the thing was born!" He scanned the car's interior. "Where the hell is it?" he barked.

"Where's Torin?" Dawn shouted back at him. It looked strange not to see the man holding the weapon, even though she had just met him.

"Right here," a voice replied. And they both turned to the window Roan had broken through, Dawn yelping with fear. Snow was falling beyond the jagged glass fragments, but the gun was poised on the window frame, standing on its muzzle.

Dawn thought she could almost see a face, created by the butt of the gun and the curving metal that housed the trigger. And found it creepy.

"The child has gone, sir," Torin said. "Roan has followed him."

"Roan?" Vladimir said. "I thought the Sifters killed him!"

"As did I," Torin said. "But apparently not, he is alive and well. Healed by Evian, I believe."

"My sister?" Vladimir said. "Why would—"

"I think she wants Nacirema," Torin said. "I think she wants the girl to take over Valon. Perhaps, she is tired of our foolish Valonian ways? At any rate, she and Yarakki are behind all of this. Only, on opposite ends of the spectrum."

"My sister never spoke of treason," Vladimir said, indignantly. "Yes, she has expressed concerns over the Council's manipulation of history. As well as Yarakki's manipulation of the future. But, she would never go this far. You're saying she's stolen time-splitters and phase clouds. Those are crimes punishable by death!"

If Torin could shrug, Dawn thought he would have. "I'm only telling you what I've surmised sir," he said. "Bratticus is dead, so Roan and Broshaine's futures have been altered forever. As well as the two females. We no longer have to complete our own directive."

Vladimir knew what Torin was referring to, and was glad that his gun had shown some tact. "I understand," was all he said. "That's good. But, if Evian is taking part in this—"

"Not taking part, sir," Torin said, "running the operation. I intercepted a communication she made to Broshaine back on Valon. She ordered her to save the child. Using simple Glint speak. I'm sure you know what that means?"

Vladimir didn't say: "Yeah, I know. It means my own sister has acted against me!"

Instead, he said: "Why would she want the vile thing saved?"

"So you picked up the image I sent you?" Torin said, hopping from the window and landing on Lashon's sleeping form. He suddenly started humming. The air around him seemed to shiver and tremble like a pond's surface after being struck by a pebble. Light came, as Dawn had come to expect, only this was a black light. If that were even possible.

She didn't know how else to describe it, other than to say that the light was more like shadows filled with light. As if the glow was coming from a black plastic bag.

Lashon stirred a little as Torin began to float back and forth above her naked body. And then, the glowing shadows enveloped the woman, spreading out like the tendrils of some strange sea creature. The blood and bruises disappeared. After a few passes, the gun stopped, and Dawn couldn't believe her eyes. Lashon was now wearing some kind of spandex body suit. It was jet black, and seemed to shimmer like a baking hot road. And there were what appeared to be slippers on her feet.

"It was the first thing I came across after scanning the center," Torin explained. "Yours will be quicker since you're conscious."

Before Dawn could speak, the gun pointed itself at her and shot more of the weird shadow in her direction! She struggled for a moment, panicking as the florescent darkness surrounded her, but then she heard Vladimir. He was still standing outside the car.

Snow and cold air was still blowing into the vehicle, but Dawn felt quite warm and had already chalked it up to Torin's fortuitous arrival.

"Don't fight it!" Vladimir said. "It won't harm you."

Dawn stopped panicking and let the substance cover her from head to toe. A tingling sensation tickled her flesh as the same black suit magically appeared on her body. Looking down at her own feet, Dawn saw the same footwear Lashon was wearing. And she was right, they were slippers. Black slippers.

When it was over, the normal light returned, and Dawn relaxed a little.

"The garment will be warm," Torin said. "It will need to be, because we must go out there, into the storm." The gun seemed to focus on Vladimir, who was now ducking his head into the Camarro. "Roan will return soon, without the child," he said, "it has gone to Planet Zombia and we must be ready."

"Ready for what?" Dawn said. "If Benn Bratticus is dead, and my father is dead, I'm no longer involved in this craziness. I want to go the fuck home!"

Vladimir sighed, glancing behind him. "If only it were that simple," he said. "The child has escaped us. But, it is far from over." He looked at her. "There is a great deal your father didn't tell you, Dawn. He was murdered because he wanted to kill one of your Earth females. A rather famous one." He sighed again. "Do you know of the Tyler Perry movie Diary Of A Fine Black Honey? And the girl who played the role of the evil adversary? The extraordinarily cute one?"

"Brenda Goddess?" Dawn said. "What about her?"

"She is our future queen," he said. "But she has no idea and what she knows of Valon, she's come by in novels and dreams, and doesn't think it's a real place. On her next birthday," he went on, "not the one coming up, but her seventeenth by Earth calculation, she will ascend to her true nature. She will become the Goddess of the Realmians and the Glints," he said, "the most powerful female to ever live. Some on my world's Full Council seriously don't want that to happen, because she would become a living, breathing, Titan."

"And, what does any of this have to do with me?" Dawn said.

"The Council rules now, in theory," Torin said. "But, really it is Queen Priscilla that dictates the law. Since your father sympathized with some on the Council's notion that Nacirema should die, he worked for them in secrecy. They oppose bringing her back to Valon, because it has been told to the citizens that she was sent to your planet during a civil war we had there seventeen years ago, to keep her away from the throne. And now that the war has ended," he said, "some don't wish to relinquish their power to either Nacirema Wolf, or an imposter child whose history they have basically manufactured."

"I can understand that," Vladimir said. "But, it is Brenda who the legend spoke of, and I don't like the idea of killing Nacirema. I never did and had planned on speaking to the Council about it once the infant was destroyed. But, everything has gone awry."

"You spoke of my father?" Dawn said. "What did he do for them?"

Torin suddenly flew across the small space and landed in Vladimir's hand. "Do you recall the small box your father brought home one afternoon?" Torin asked. "He may have called the thing inside the box a lab specimen? Well, it was really a chemical weapon of sorts. A half rat, half hamster creature, genetically designed and bred to kill humans. The nasty part is that they look exactly like normal hamsters on your world."

Vladimir rose up from the car and put Torin in his back holster. "Slide over," he said. Dawn did, and the man got in the car and slammed the door. The storm was still raging out there, but she noticed that Vladimir seemed mostly dry.

"Torin has slowed time," he said, "but not for long. The Sifters will be here in minutes, Roan will return as well. And the first stage of the battle will begin, the battle over Valon!"

Vladimir stared at Dawn. "Your friend is unable to decide for herself," he said, "so you must do it for her. You can leave if you wish, the both of you. But, know that it was your father's experiments that created the hybrid hamsters. We have recently picked up the signal of one of the transmitters your father inserted in them. It appears to be coming from your old house." He suddenly reached out and grasped her hands. His face was pale in the light coming through the windows.

"We were hoping you could take us there," he said. His eyes searched hers, seeming to sparkle. "It would make things easier if you were there, to show us around. It's a rather big house. But, I'll understand if you've had enough..."

Dawn turned from his eyes, and stared at Lashon, who was still sleeping. She thought she was about to wake up earlier, but she hadn't. The woman looked incredible in the skin tight outfit. Her breasts and hips seemed a lot fuller than they had.

"No," Dawn said, and turned back to Vladimir. "I'm sorry, but we have to go. I'm done with time travel and aliens and other fucking dimensions. I want to go the hell home and forget any of this happened!" She stopped and stared at him. "Can you do that?" she asked. "Make us forget all of this crazy assed shit?"

"Yes," Torin replied from Vladimir's back. "We can give you a pill, from your father ironically, that will erase your memory of the entire day. It would truly be like none of this had happened. Your father would still be among the missing person cases that have gone unsolved in your world forever. Most of them," he told her,  
"especially the more attractive children, aren't even dead. But, have been spirited away to other dimensions by time pirates. Anyway, you will only recall waking up this morning," he said, "and take it from there."

Dawn was nodding her head. "Except for one thing," she said. "I want to remember her. Lashon. I want to remember how nice she was to me. I'm going to meet her again and do shit differently this time."

Vladimir sighed, about to speak, and then they all heard the Sifters storm down the block and enter the area in front of Center forty-five. "They're here!" Torin said. "If you're sure about it, I can open the breach right now. It will take you both to your respective homes." He paused. "And you will recall only as much as you wish to. Do you have the capsules, sir?"

"Right here," Vladimir said. He reached into his pant pocket and removed something Dawn couldn't see. He raised his balled up fist to her. "You take this as soon as you get back," he said. "Give her one, too. And you'll return to your proper where and when. In both cases, you will be in bed."

Dawn looked at his hand for a moment, then jumped as explosions came from outside in the storm. She glanced past him, out the window, and saw the blue fox she had wondered about. It was running around the front of the center, dodging the lasers the Sifters were shooting at it!

"We're leaving," Dawn said. She opened her hand and placed it beneath Vladimir's, palm upwards. His fingers parted and what looked like two Tylenol Gels, plopped into her hand.

"Thank you," she said. "And I'm truly sorry about all of this. But, I'm just a nineteen year old girl from Edgemont, who came down to the center to finish applying for welfare. I didn't sign up for all of this...I don't even know what to call it."

Torin said: "It's nearing the time, sir. If she's going, it has to be now."

"Okay then," Vladimir said. "Trigger the breach."

Dawn sighed herself, feeling bad even though she shouldn't have. None of what had happened, and was still happening, was her or Lashon's fault. She just so happened to be the daughter of a lying, conniving father, who got mixed up in shit he ultimately couldn't handle.

So what, his friends (or enemies, she was no longer sure), wanted to murder one of her favorite actresses because they thought she was actually a queen? So what if he had created creatures that would be used against humans on Earth? Should she feel obligated to risk her life any further because of it?

"Open it," Dawn said. "Now, I want out of this before it's too late!"

Suddenly, the smiling images of Nicki Minaj and Blac Chyna came to her! And then, the incredible Charlize Theron. But, she shook the images away, confused and not understanding their significance. And Dawn realized there was really no need to wait for the breach, because the breach had been slowly opening as she considered her situation! Now, she looked up and saw the black void spreading across the roof again.

"Grab onto Lashon!" Vladimir shouted. "You're both going over together!"

Dawn ignored the wind rocking the car, and scrambled across the seat, sliding onto Lashon's stomach. Which wasn't nearly as hard as it had looked. The woman woke up immediately, coughing, her pale eyes wide and staring. "What!" Lashon yelled. "Leave me alone! I'm not your goddamn mother!"

"Lashon!" Dawn said. "Listen to me!"

Lashon turned to her, trembling violently, and tears leaking from her eyes. Then she noticed Vladimir. But, whatever Lashon thought, she didn't say. She looked at Dawn again. "Where is it?" she said, "that...thing that came out of me?"

Then, as if thinking the creature was still somewhere in the car, perhaps right between her legs, she just hadn't seen it, Lashon glanced at her lower body. "These clothes," she whispered. "Where...?"

"There's no time," Vladimir said. "Dawn will explain everything. But, now you have to leave, grab Dawn's hand."

Before she got the chance, wind gusting from above made Lashon look up. She saw the breach and shrieked, cringing back on the floor. "A breach?" she asked. "For us?"

"Yes," Dawn said. "For us." Something slammed to the ground outside. The Camarro shook on its frame. A scream split the air, reminding Dawn of the Godzilla films she'd loved as a child. She didn't want to meet whatever had made that frightful sound. If nothing else she'd witnessed could make up her mind about leaving, that terrible scream certainly did.

"Where are we going?" Lashon asked, glancing out the far window, then looking up into Dawn's face. "Home?"

Lashon said it so innocently, so much like a child, that Dawn began to tear up herself. She sniffled. "Yes," she said, softly. She reached for Lashon's right hand and clutched it. Her fingers felt sticky and unpleasant. But, Dawn only tightened her grip. "We're going home, mommy," she whispered, "this nightmare is over."

"Send them," Vladimir said. "We have a battle to finish. And then, I'll deal with Evian. That sand rat Yarakki, too!"

"And the infant," Torin replied. "Don't forget her."

But, his captain didn't respond, only lowered his head.

Dawn, who was still leaning over Lashon, turned to Vladimir. It wasn't easy from that position, and she wished she hadn't after she saw his cold expression. But, forged ahead anyway.

Dawn felt she owed him at least that much. "I'm sorry," she said. "But, I'm only one person. I apologize on behalf of my asshole father for all the damage he's done, or will do, and wish you good luck."

Vladimir only nodded. He continued to stare at her, his face a pale sculpture of sharp angles. Even as he waved his hand, signaling to Torin to 'send them', he only stared at her. Dawn knew she would never forget the look on the man's face. Especially, if all he had told her turned out to be the truth.

If humans on Earth suddenly started dying mysteriously (the only thing they had in common, being the new pet hamster a mother purchased for her son, or a father for his daughter), Vladimir's face would certainly return to her. Would probably haunt her forever.

"I'm sorry," Dawn repeated, knowing it was inadequate and cowardly, but unable to say anything else. Hell, she wasn't even sure if he'd heard her. When the white light flashed, like a camera's flash bulb, Dawn blinked and fell onto Lashon's chest, grabbing her shoulders. She could smell her perfume, and thought of their first conversation in Center forty-five. If the pills worked, Dawn would forget everything but that.

She hoped it worked. Then Lashon squealed, and Dawn felt them lift from the Camarro's floor! She kept her eyes closed as they rose up and up, and even as they reached where Dawn thought the roof should be, they only kept rising.

Something seemed to be around Dawn's neck, weighing her down. But soon, the light was gone, the wind increased, and their bodies began to drop. Dawn kept her eyes shut, but remembered what Torin had told her, and reached up to Lashon's mouth.

"Swallow this!" she yelled over the wind. "It'll take us home!"

To her relief, Lashon for once, didn't balk or argue. Dawn hadn't considered what she would have done if Lashon refused to take the pill. Thankfully, she allowed Dawn to shove the capsule into her mouth. Then, she put the last capsule in her own mouth, swallowed it, and blessedly knew no more.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Dawn Laurelton awoke in bed on December 9, 2013, listening to snow beat into her window pane. It was a steady, nearly hypnotic sound that made her eyelids heavy. And made her want to go right back to sleep; but she certainly couldn't do that! Instead, Dawn reached for the remote control on her night table, felt it, and snatched it up.

Something heavy rolled towards her on the bed when she leaned over, but got caught in the covers and stopped. Dawn fell back to the bed, sighing, and bouncing a little.

She brought the remote up to her blurry eyes, yawning, and peered at it. She thought she saw the red power button and pressed it with her right thumb. The Sony thirty-six inch flat screen across the room, flicked on. A crystal clear image of Dari Alexander, the beautiful channel five anchorwoman, suddenly appeared. Which mildly surprised Dawn since Dari usually came on ten o'clock at night.

But, she was on now. Probably to discuss the storm gathering steam outside her window, she thought. The networks loved a good storm. It was like a drug to them, and the young Dari Alexander was no exception. She was the prettiest woman Dawn had ever seen do the channel 5 news, and the prettiest female anchor in the whole world, she felt.

Dari was currently staring into the camera as the image of snow falling on a dreary street played to one side of her lovely face. She always wore a slightly innocent look, that softened her already baby soft features. Her complexion was creamy, and incredibly clear. Hypnotic actually, Dawn felt. She yawned again, and pressed the volume button on the remote.

"This storm is expected to last into the evening," Dari was saying in a pleasant voice that always reminded Dawn of a white woman. Especially, when she closed her eyes and listened to her speak.

For no good reason, Dawn glanced up at her wall, the one right above her bed. The one she kept meaning to repaint when she found the time. She had suddenly become tired of the boring shade of green and was thinking of making it dark blue. The divine images of Nicki Minaj, Lorna London and Keshia Knight Pulliam, gazed down at her, seeming to look right at her.

She considered them some of the finest chicks alive.

"If you really don't have to travel," Dari continued, "we suggest you stay home. The roads are expected to be slick and the traffic heavy, all through the afternoon. A humbled Mayor Bloomberg is slated to speak at noon, he's expected to explain what the sanitation department has done in preparation for the blizzard this time. Many are still reeling from the last storm."

Dari kept talking, saying something or other about local school closings. But, Dawn didn't hear her. In fact, she no longer even saw her. Because, she had turned from gazing up at the posters to look at the bright blue light that was suddenly blinking on the bed, instead of returning her tired gaze to the flat screen television.

Her heart was pounding as she stared at the bunched up sheets where the light was coming from. Her mind, though mostly filled with hazy sleep, was still the fastest computer in the world (as all human's minds are, it's in how you use it, was what grandma Verner had always told her), and automatically searched for a plausible explanation. But, she drew a total blank, what the hell could it possibly be?

Then, Dawn recalled the heavy object that had shifted on the bed the second she leaned over to get the remote control. It didn't take long for her to put two and two together, she could add with the best of them. Whatever the object was, the blue light was clearly coming from it.

Dawn briefly tried to imagine what it was, what it could possibly be, and still came up empty. Breathing heavily, Dari talking in the background, or in the foreground really, Dawn reached out and snatched back the covers.

She stared at the object she revealed, nonplussed. "A video camera?" Dawn said. She frowned. Unless, she'd been shoplifting while sleepwalking lately, she didn't own a video camera! And certainly not one that looked this expensive. Dawn clearly saw the white SONY name printed on its smooth silver body.

Was someone in here? she thought. While I was out?

Not unless they had a copy of her keys. Four of them, one for each separate lock. Dawn knew that was impossible, so she dismissed it. But, the video camera was still sitting on her bed, blinking steadily, seeming to beckon to her to touch it.

She muted the TV, again. "Sorry, Dari," she said (the woman was now saying something or other about her favorite singer, Prince; she didn't think it was possible to make a better song than his The Morning Papers, The Ladder, Adore, and Purple Rain), and focused her attention on the strange camera.

It was supposedly a SONY, but Dawn had never seen a camera anything like it before. Not even on the Internet, where she knew people could find damn near anything.

And then, Dawn saw the small white card. Only one edge of it. It had been taped to the camera's strap, which curled away from the SONY and up under the sheets, so she had nearly missed it. But she could easily see it, now.

Dawn leaned over and plucked off the card with the tips of her fingers, not wanting to touch the camera. She didn't know why, but the very sight of it made her skin crawl, made her think of maggots, and other writhing, nameless insects covering a human carcass. It was a disgusting image that Dawn pushed to the back of her mind, and took a deep breath.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, thinking of the extremely strange vision. "That seemed so fucking real!"

Only, she couldn't identify the dead body. "After I get back from the center," she mumbled. "I'm getting some rest. It's probably this foul ass weather!"

With a shaking hand, Dawn raised the card to her face, squinting as she read these words: Beneath your pillow Dawn...two red pills...one for Lashon. Your memory will return completely when you take it. If and when you're ever ready, press the flashing blue button. Princess Nacirema Wolf needs you. No, all of Valon needs you! And I've left you a little gift, as if you need it! As if you needed anything more than what God already gave you. Wake up and focus. But, "the pill did it!" —TORIN

Dawn gently placed the small white card down on her bed, and peered at it hard. The pill did it? Princess Nacirema Wolf needs you? Valon? Her mind was suddenly filled with strange names and images, slight visions she could barely see. What appeared to be a blue fox, and perhaps a Rottweiler, flashed through her mind and vanished just as fast. She blinked her eyes, feeling slightly dazed, and reached up to scratch her forehead but paused the instant her fingers touched her face.

Because where she expected to feel the skin of her forehead, perhaps a little moist from the perspiration she could tell had just formed there, instead Dawn felt a very strange thing. A thing so unexpected, that she leapt from the bed, no longer thinking of expensive cameras, or the cryptic message she had just read written in script on a white card that shouldn't have been inside her apartment in the first place.

Dawn sped barefoot from her bedroom to her bathroom in record time, threw on the light, and rushed over to the sink and the mirror that was hanging just above it, mounted on a beige wall. She gazed into the mirror for a long moment, blinking like a kitten opening its eyes for the very first time, and then, even as the tears fell, she burst out laughing.

Dawn laughed as loudly as she had ever laughed in her entire life. It was a laughter that came from her soul, more than from her lungs and voice box. It came from the fact that her hair had somehow grown overnight, and was now hanging down far past her shoulders! With everything she had been through, this was the one thing she had completely forgotten about, her damaged hair. She supposed there was a message in that somewhere; some lovely poetic verse that rolled off the tongue, and tickled the heart.

But, she was too choked up with laughter to think of it.

And now, that hair was raven black Denise Boutte hair, and was gleaming beautifully in the bathroom fluorescents.

So, Dawn laughed. Even as she tumbled to her side on the cold bathroom tiles, she laughed. And she didn't remember Torin, but she didn't need to remember him to read his cryptic words. They had explained everything, hadn't they?

The pills did it...what pills?

She didn't know, but according to the note, two pills were supposedly under her pillow right now. Dawn couldn't say if that was true or not, because she didn't stop laughing for the next ten minutes and by then, a fierce blizzard had already formed outside her frosty bathroom window. Later on, she would travel down to Center forty-five and finish filling out her public assistance application. But for right now, she could only laugh, and laugh, and laugh...

THE END.

ALL THANKS TO GOD WHO DELIVERS ME FROM EVIL, REPEATEDLY. IF CHANGE IS UPON US; EMBRACE IT, THEN KICK ITS ASS. GOD BLESSED YOU, BLACK HONEY.

4:35 p.m. FEBRUARY 28, 2013

For all the genius African American female authors who have blazed this literary path for us, giving me the inspiration to attempt this elusive art. Thank you beautiful black sisters; I do this series for you. How you wake up every morning, and not only face the world, but conquer it, is beyond my ability to explain. But, I admire you for it. You are special to me, and beautiful inside and out. Never stop achieving. And, thanks to my black honey on the cover. So, so cute and sexy. WOW! Thanks also, to all of you readers (this includes the males) brave enough to try something new and different. We're cut from the same cloth.

Dennis Osondu

Please stay tuned for book three...coming soon!
