

The Gazebo

First in _a Series of Doors_

A. C. Zito

AC ZITO

The sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If coverless, the publisher may have reported about it, and neither the author nor the publisher may have received currency for it.

The book may have historical events but nonetheless, it is a fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or products of the author's fabrication.

Copyright © by A.C. Zito

All rights reserved.

For more information address AC Zito at:

www.aczito.com

1st edition 2017

Editing: Melanie

Grunwald; L.A. Beane;

Grammerly

Printed in the United States of America

_The Gazebo_

by A. C. Zito

_1st in_

_A Series of Doors_

In memory of Madeline Paige Scalf

_"When your life falls low, your steps fall weak, your desire lacks_ _charisma, look towards the light where love is always found;_

_because love can always be found."_

Part I:

Before The Gazebo

Chapter 1

The Trip

"Ron!

Ronald!

Wake up, Ronald!

It's time to leave!"

"I'm sleeping, and I'll be down in a little."

"No! Get up _NOW ya dweeb!_ Mom says it's time to go, or

we'll be off schedule!"

Sherry slams the door with a _shwack_! Ronald looks around his

room; everything he sees he knows he'll miss: his record player, his

magazines under his bed, even his poster of his sweet 1953 Ferrari

250 Europa. Why they were leaving on this stupid Europe trip, he

didn't know. Ron was content with staying in beautiful Dunedin,

Florida, a home where Ron would never want to leave. Dunedin had

everything for him: it had a good group of friends that are there for

him even through his roughest patches, and that's all he needed.

They were there for him when he got turned down by Maxine when

prom was around the corner; they were there for him when he found

out his parents were in their mid-life crisis mode; they were even

there for him when Principal McGibbon caught him spray-painting

_"Pig King"_ on that crappy leather seat he likes to refer to as his

throne. Ron's heard his famous reference over and over again, and

he wasn't finished hearing it.

" _You won't fool me with your silly words, Mr. Lampson!_

_Leave me and pig farm out of your graffiti ideas_." However much

McGibbon thought he was in power at Dunedin High, he was wrong.

McGibbon didn't even own a falcon like Ron did! And it's a known

fact that falcons are cooler than pigs. Ron would know. _His_ pigs

weren't the mascot of the school. _Freddie_ was! None of his pigs

didn't even share the mascot's name like Freddie did. Dudley,

Pooders, and Nancy were possibly some adorable pigs that

McGibbon brought to school from time to time, but Freddie came—

no candle could be put anywhere close to _this flame!_ Freddie is

Ronald's heart and soul. _But,_ sadly enough, it just so happened that

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Freddie wasn't allowed in Europe. Even though Freddie _IS fam'_!

Jackson, Ron's _home dawg_ , promised him that Freddie will stay

safe and secure with him, and Ron hopes he's right. Why does he

hope so? Well, Freddie's a free soul and if Jack keeps him cooped

up in his cage for too long, Freddie will surely find a way to break

out! Freddie's not like other birds. He's got a heart and a soul that

no other flap of a bird could compete with. Freddie flies like the wind

is one with him and Freddie can capture prey like _it ain't nothin'_.

Without Freddie, Ron feels like he can't go on with life. Without that

bird, Ron wouldn't have made an 82 on the chemistry exam, or he

wouldn't have gotten Carla's digits. Now you might ask how Freddie

helped him get an 82 on his chemistry exam or helped with _digit_

_scoring;_ well, to start off with the first one, the night before the exam Freddie went flying, but he never came back. Ron got his whole

family to help search for him which turned into _the_ whole

neighborhood searching, which became the whole city of Dunedin

looking for the mascot of Dunedin High. Freddie wasn't found until

four in the morning in a state that left Ronald petrified. Freddie was

lying on the ground near an old willow tree on the outskirts of town.

He was in _a sight for sore eyes_ that left Ron frozen in horror.

Freddie had seemed to have been in a fight with a cottonmouth the

whole time, and by the war-scene displayed, Freddie won. The sight

of the dead snake was gruesome, but Freddie, on the other hand,

was a scary sight to behold as well. Freddie had bite marks from the

neck down and everyone could see the poor thing shaking as Ron

tried to clean the dirt from his wounds. No one could comprehend

that Freddie was still alive. But he was. And Ron knew deep in his

heart that he would be alright. But he was still, however, scared for

the little guy. The town's vet brought Freddie home with her, and

Freddie went into a week-long coma. The town was in prayer-mode,

and Mrs. Simons even pushed the exam to the next week as she

said, _Ronald's poor Freddie_. Freddie finally came out of it that

Saturday and the whole town had a huge celebration to Freddie

waking up. It was a spectacular weekend, and everyone named it

_Freddie's Resurrection._ Every year, Freddie now gets a weekend to

himself and he begins it by flying around the neighborhood while the

huge neighborhood block party occurs.

Ronald can't take how much he's going to miss Freddie

while they are gone away on this trip. His parents keep saying:

"Two weeks isn't _THAT_ long without Freddie!"

9

"But Mom, Freddie's a free soul! He'll love Europe!" Ron

replies.

"Freddie's not going with us; shut up about this Ron!" Dad

would always say back.

Ronald can just picture how glorious it would be to see Freddie

flying around the Eiffel Tower or how spectacular of a sight to

behold to see Freddie perched atop Big Ben.

"If Freddie can't go then I won't go," is always Ron's

response, but they never listen.

Ron finally gets out of bed and starts stretching.

"So long _ya_ party room!"

Downstairs Mom has lain out on the table scrambled eggs with

ketchup squirted perfectly on top of them along with his favorite

bacon: turkey bacon with brown sugar fried perfectly on top. An

orange tops off the meal in the symbolism of how their time will be

ending soon of our life here in Florida. Sherry's already scarfed

down her remnants of the last bits of her meal and starts tossing her

orange around in her hands.

"I'm saving my orange for the car-ride; you should do the

same, Ronald!"

"You can have my orange, Sheryl."

"Don't be calling me Sheryl, Ronald!"

"Well don't be calling me Ronald, Sheryl!"

"Ron... why do you have to be such a _sour puss_ about this

_good ol' family adventure?!"_

" _GOOD OL' FAMILY ADVENTURE?_ Ron says loudly with

his touch of sarcasm; _"Good ol' family adventure?"_ Ron whispers

this time; "This is _NOT_ a good _ol'_ family adventure! How can this be us?"

"Just because that bird isn't with us doesn't mean you still

can't have a fun time! Lighten up, _bro!_ This is _gonna_ be _SO_

much fun!"

"Your sister's right, honey. We have so much planned in

these two weeks that they will just fly by, and you're going to wish it

didn't go by so fast!"

"Listen to your mother, Ron! This is exciting times for us!"

"But Dad! Freddie can still go with us! Freddie would be a

great companion on our trip across Europe! Can't you just see him

10

flying gloriously around the Eiffel Tower or the spectacular view of him sitting atop Big Ben?"

Whenever this part of the conversation hits the roof,

Ronald's parents end it by giving him the silent treatment. Instead

of more arguing, this was what he was met with once again. Ron

can't take it. Everything in the world couldn't matter to him besides

this one thought going through his head; this one and only thought:

getting Freddie to go on this trip. Ron doesn't want to give up on

this one wish of his, but he's starting to realize now that the

seconds are nearing, it won't happen. As he realizes this

hopefulness of his is slowly dying, Freddie lands on the window sill

which is centered in the center of the back wall of the kitchen. How

glorious he lands on that perch! The sun shines on this falcon like it

has been sent from the heavens to make Ronald's day. Freddie

motions at Ron like he wants some _Ron-lovin'_. How Freddie has no

idea. He just has a look back on his face like it's just about to be

another day in the life of Freddie the Falcon. But it's not. Freddie

has no idea that Ron will be leaving him, and Freddie will have to

deal with Jackson Brywart for the next two weeks. If Ron had to

trust anyone it would be his main man Jack, though! Jack has

watched Freddie before, but it was only for three days when the

family went to see Grandpops and Granny MJ in South Carolina.

Two weeks is about four times longer which means a million times

more stressful. To think if Freddie came upon another coincidence

with another snake, and it didn't turn out so pretty, Ron wouldn't be

able to live with himself! Ron looks at his meal that he has barely

touched and decides, "Can I _actually_ get Freddie into Europe?" He

thinks of a plan but realizes it's too risky. Or is it? But, more

importantly, would it work? Ron looks over at Freddie with somber

eyes.

"I guess you'll never meet your real parents then Freddie."

"Shut up Ronald, Freddie's real parents aren't in Europe!"

Ron's dad then gives him a _pissed-off_ expression that Ron even

tried to say such an outrageous statement.

"Freddie is an orphan and was shipped over here from

Europe so it must be true!"

Freddie starts flapping his wings in excitement on hearing Ron

talking directly to him.

"Freddie, don't you want to meet your parents?" Ron says

nodding his head at Freddie.

11

Simultaneously as Ron's shaking his head, Freddie starts shaking his head too.

"See! He can't wait to see his parents!" Ron's parents roll

their eyes and look at each other shaking their heads.

"No Ron!"

"Just no." Ron looks down at his eggs which are the only

food left of his last cuisine in good _ol'_ Florida, the sunshine state. He doesn't listen to his sister about saving the orange, and he can tell

she is pissed about it by the way she is looking at his leftover peel.

"Everyone ready to go? Everything packed?"

Ron and Sherry look at each other and then look back up at their

dad as if it was a rhetorical question.

"Finish those eggs, Ron!" Ron scarfs them down while, half-

way through, realizing they need more salt so he sprinkles a tiny bit

on his remnants.

"Into the cage Freddie!" Sherry says this expecting Freddie

to listen to her, but Freddie doesn't move an inch upon this

statement.

"He never listens to me!" Sherry whines.

"Of course he's not going to listen to you Sherry. Ron!" Dad

shouts! "Get that bird into the cage so we can drop it off at Jack's.

Ron whistles at Freddie and points at the cage. Freddie has a look

of disgust at the sight of the cage but flies down from the window sill

and walks into it anyways.

Ron whispers,

"Thank you Freddie" and picks up the cage along with his

hefty blue suitcase with its green stripes.

"Everyone ready? To the car!" Dad shouts this triumphantly

and starts marching into the living room and out the front door with a

bag in each hand. Mom follows him, shaking her head because of

Dad's marching as if she is a clone of him. As all of this is

happening, Ronald looks around the kitchen one last time before his

sidekick who has his back no matter what; the only living life in the

world who matters to him; and the bird who will forever have his

back no matter what, will soon depart ways with him! Freddie is the

light of an existence Ron calls his so-called life, and he can't believe

this separation of his other half is about to occur. Ronald looks down

at Freddie, and Freddie looks back up at Ron.

12

"Time to go, buddy."

13

Chapter 2

The Three Doors

"Everyone in the car?!"

"Ronald's not in the car!"

"Ronald... Ron! _GET_ in _this CAR_!" "But my

suitcase won't fit."

Dad opens his car door and gets out of the driver's seat, keeping

the door open, as he walks around to the trunk where Ron is

standing against his suitcase barely tilted sideways. It is hanging out

so isn't meant to hold so much luggage in the first place.

"On the count of three, I want you to move out of the way of

your luggage."

Dad backs up a few steps and holds up his hand in ready for the

countdown.

The first finger goes up:

" _ONE!"_ The second finger shows itself; _"TWO!"_

The third finger is up in the air, and Mr. Lampson leaps onto the

luggage just in time for Ron to move out of the way. The suitcase

slips right into place like it was meant to be there since the

beginning of time, and Ron and his father close it shut. Everyone

starts cheering and even Freddie starts shaking around in the cage

with excitement. Ron slaps his Dad on the back and says, "I knew

you had it in you to save the day!"

Mr. Lampson looks down, in return, and replies, _"Ain't nothin' but a_

_chicken wang!"_ Everyone starts bursting out laughing.

In the car, Mom starts going over the itinerary: "Once we

get on the plane it will be smooth sailing on over to Atlanta, Georgia

where we will switch flights and make our way across our beautiful

Atlantic Ocean and land in..." Sherry starts the anticipation

drumbeat. "Wait for it," Mom says this like it's not already known

where the trip begins:

" _LONDON, ENGLAND!"_

Everyone besides Ron starts cheering, and then Sherry starts the

London chant:

" _LONDON, LON-DON, LONDON, LON-DON,_ LONDON!

_WOOOOOOH!"_

14

Mom and Dad start clapping at the successful chant, and then Dad turns on the radio like the rest of the itinerary didn't even matter.

Ronald was, of course, not the least bit surprised because every

time Mom brings up the plan for the trip it never gets past London,

England. She will never say what they are doing in London, and

she acts like they aren't going to any other city besides London.

This is because, for some odd reason, Mrs. Lampson has a strange

obsession with London. Whenever someone brought up some

random city that could be from anywhere in the range of Austin,

Texas to Hong Kong, China, she would always have to say the

word London and try to make it go into the conversation, but it

would never work. The people amidst the conversation would either

ignore the comment or nod their head at her and go right back to

the topic of discussion leaving Mrs. Lampson still dreaming about

her favorite city in the world. What she liked about London,

England; no one had any idea. The rest of the family made the

conclusion that it was just because she liked talking in her crappy,

British accent that was nowhere near remotely accurate to an

accent that sounds like a British person. She had no idea of this,

and no one had any plans of telling her about this. Until the day she

dies, the whole family will forever believe that she thinks she was

born with the best British accent in the world, and her New Jersey

accent never existed.

Dad has the radio playing on 102.1 Country Classics

with Alan Jackson playing " _Pop a Top Again"_ and Dad's voice is

blaring louder than Alan and the whole band. Why he and Mom like

country? Ron will never know. Ron's always been into old-school

hip-hop. Nothing can get better than putting on Outkast, Dr. Dre, or

Ice Cube while driving down the highway. Country has always

made Ronald want to fall asleep, and only ever wake up unless

somehow " _Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang"_ miraculously came on. Ron

realizes this is only a dream of his and his dad will never switch

stations even if he found out country music was bad for his heart

health. His reply only is, _"Ain't_ like they're _gonna_ stop _makin' Honey_ _Nut Cheerios_ anytime soon. Come to think of it, Ron looks over at

Dad's cup holder and sees a bag of cheerios plopped right inside.

_Cheerios_ have a special spot in Mr. Lampson's heart. Not one day

he will live in the remaining days of his basic suburban dad life that

he will not have plucked one of those circular cereal treats into his

15

mouth and say his most used phrase in the history of his commonly-used phrases: " _Mhmm!_ Good eats!" Sometimes he'll switch it up and

combine his two most favorite Austin Power movie quotes of all

time: " _YEAH BABY!"_ and **"** _GET IN MY BELLY!"_

Ronald looks out the window and sees the beautiful

scenery of Florida passing by. He can't help but wonder if Florida

can possibly follow him to Europe. The palm trees uproot and their

coconuts stay plentiful whenever he needs a Piña colada; how the

orange trees could be the ones to show him the breathtakingly

exquisite art in _The Louvre_ while they give him mimosas as they

discuss the symbolic meanings of each painting; Ron can only

dream of Florida as a cut-out cartoon character, and how they can

go for a stroll in Trafalgar Square and sit together on top of the _Eiffel_

_Tower_ , looking down upon Paris's skyline.

They finally arrive at Jack's house which was a good

distance from the airport they were heading to afterward. Jackson

comes out with his _camo_ jacket and pants on and with his timber

classic marlin 336c in his right hand while in his other, it was free

and empty, ready to take Freddie from him. This gun Jackson had

in his hand, however, does not make Freddie happy the least bit.

Freddie begins squirming around in his cage full anxiety as Jack

nears.

" _PUT_ that _GUN_ down! You're making Freddie nervous!"

Sherry says this with her _Sherry-sass_ that she always carries with

her wherever she goes. Sherry starts snapping her fingers every

which way to make her comment known to the world that she

means business.

"Alright! Alright! It's on the ground Sherry no need to get

sassy!" Jack replies with a goofy smile.

Sherry always shows how she does _not_ like being called

sassy! Every time she hears the infamous word directed towards

her she makes the biggest deal out of it. First, she gets _boiling-hot_

red in the face. Her black, curly hair begins to frizzle from the

humidity she creates in the air around her. Her hands tense up and

ball into fists, and she starts to shake in a heated anger as if she

was a phone that received over a thousand messages. Then, finally,

she would relax after all of this is over, and she will flick her hair and

do a little _"Hmmp!"_ like saying ' _WHATEVER!'_ I

16

don't care that you called me sassy even though I do!" Sherry has exactly every symptom pinpointed down to the spot once Jack has

the very nerve to say this _'s'_ word. The whole family couldn't keep

from laughing at her 12 year old spunk she always carried with her.

"So can I take Freddie off of y'alls' hands now?"

"Yeah. Here he is." Ron replies, handing over Freddie with

unease.

"Don't worry man! Freddie's _gonna_ be fine! He was fine for

those three days when y'all went to South Carolina so he'll be fine

now!"

"Yeah, but this is two weeks, dude. I don't know if I can go

that long without seeing him!"

"Hey! I'll send you few selfies of us to show you he's doing

great, and you'll send me some back to show us how much of an

awesome time y'all are having!"

_"Ha!_ Alright, man! Deal! That makes it sound not _half_ that

bad."

"Great! Freddie's in good hands now, Ron, so let's get a

move on it!" Dad said this showing his relief that Ron had finally

accepted the fate of Freddie not going.

As they drove away Ron started to feel sick to his stomach. Ron

began letting a tear build up in his eye as he watched Jackson bring

Freddie inside his huge cabin. The woods that surrounded him

began to make Ronald feel suffocated as he put his hand on the

window and started yelling:

" _FREDDIE! FREDDIE, NOOOOO!"_

_"SHUT UP, RON!"_

Sherry slapped Ronald after saying this while turning Ronald's body

to face hers.

"Ronald, you need to stop making your life all about Freddie!

It's too much! You're like a child! Get your act together, Ronald

Lampson!"

Ronald looked at Sherry stupefied. He couldn't comprehend how

she spoke so much truth to him. Sherry started slapping Ronald

across his face until finally he grabbed both of her hands.

"I don't _NEED_ anyone! Freddie is my companion! I don't _rely_

on him! And he's _DEFINITELY_ not my life. He's only—a big part of

it.

Ronald folded his arms in disagreement from what she said and

looked forward, away from her. Just because he has a bird for a pet

17

that, just so happens, to be his best friend doesn't mean he's

_obsessed_ with this great, magnificent creature with wings. "Alright."

Ron said to himself as started to think about it. Maybe he was a little

obsessed with this two-legged animal sent by the heavens to be his

reason for existence. But Ron couldn't help but _not_ get Freddie's

face out of his head. He kept picturing Freddie doing different poses

like Freddie was Ronald's very own model, and Freddie ruled the

walkway going on inside his head. Every other bird walking down

Ronald's imaginary walkway couldn't compete with how awesome

Freddie was ruling it! After Freddie stole the show, backstage

Freddie had his wings around all the lady-swans who were all

adoring him. The bird-crowd in the distance were all yelling, " _FRED-_

_DIE, FRED-DIE, FRED-DIE!"_

_"I GOT TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!"_ Sherry shouted this

so loudly that there was no way Ronald could go back to the

beautiful fantasy. And it was too perfect of a fantasy that Ronald

knew he would never dream of such perfection ever again.

"There's a gas station up here that we can stop at honey;

don't get your panties in a wad!"

" _SHUT-UP DAD!_ My panties are _NOT_ in a wad!"

Dad ignored this comment while they continued to listen to Sherry

squirm around in her seat while making one of Sherry's _Sherry-_

_noises_ that drove Ron crazier than a _cat's pajamas_.

"How much longer Pops? Sherry's having another one of her

_Sherry-fits_!"

Sherry started slapping Ronald on his shoulder while she kept

making her _Sherry-noises_.

Sherry began squirming in her car-seat faster with every second

that went by until, finally, she blurted out with a terribly, obnoxious

scream!

Mom and Ron covered their ears while Dad sped up faster, yelling

under her screams,

"HOLD ON SWEETY-PIE! WE'LL BE THERE IN TWO

SECONDS TO A LAMB'S PIE!"

Ronald could see the gas station in the distance. He pumped his

fists in the air in celebration that this agony was about to end.

Ronald nudged Sherry and pointed at the gas station. It was a

_Marathon,_ and its sign looked glorious to behold with its gas station

prices listed below. What great prices! $2.72 for Regular; what a

steal! And how perfect the other prices followed it so gracefully.

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Sherry had her hand on the car door, ready to make a run for it.

Once Mr. Lampson made his way up to the front of the store, Sherry

bolted out of the car like a demon was chasing her away from the

flames of Hell. After we heard the lady's bathroom door slam shut,

everyone burst out with laughter.

"Sherry's a hoot!" Dad said this while he still had a mouth full

of laughter; "She gets _THAT_ type of character from _your_ side of the family!"

Dad nodded his head towards Mom which gave her the

sassiest look Ron had ever seen.

"I don't yell like _THAT_ when I need to go tinkle! That was

_INSANE!_ She needs to learn how to control herself!"

Ron was still laughing while Mr. and Mrs. Lampson were

having their conversation.

"I'm going to go walk around and breathe a little! That was

_TOO_ much!"

Ronald got out of the car and started walking away from the

_Marathon_ and towards the woods tucked away behind. In the

distance, Ron saw a white wooden gazebo that was enclosed with

no windows to look out or into. The front door of it had the only

windows, but they were the type that had a foggy look so there was

no way to even get a glimpse inside.

"How strange!" Ron said to himself. He looked around at its

dome structure with its four dark green, wooden panels running

down in four directions. It was an interesting site since Ron had

never seen a gazebo with these looks. It was more of a hut since it

was enclosed, but the strangest part was that it was in the shape of

a gazebo. He looked at the tiles and how they arched into the top to

make a point. The coolest part of this structure was how at the tip of

this gazebo nestled atop a golden globe. It shined from the sunlight,

and it had a radiance about it that made Ron pee a little.

Ron looked around and tried to find out who this could belong

to but all he could think of was that this was a memorial structure,

and something must have occurred upon the spot he was standing.

Ron wondered if he could possibly enter this brilliantly domed

architecture when, all of a sudden, a bird glided straight down from

the sky and landed perfectly upon the gazebo's globe. Ronald was

in awe at the sight of it all. But then Ron thought to himself: "It

couldn't be. Was it? _IT IS!"_ Freddie was the one upon the top of that

gazebo! But how in the world did he already fly away from Jackson

19

and follow the family all the way over to the _Marathon?_ Freddie had a smug look on his face like Ron couldn't be _serious_ to have left him

with that country boy again. Ronald started shaking his head at

Freddie like he did something wrong which Freddie did not like one

bit. Freddie leaped off of the gazebo and started flying around it like

it was his own personal Merry-Go-Round. Freddie started picking up

speed until he was more of a blur than a bird. Ron couldn't believe

it! What in the world was going on with him? He never even knew

Freddie could fly that fast!

"Freddie; are you showing me that you're mad at me for

leaving you with Jack again?! Because I had no choice! I _had to!"_ In

reply to this statement, Freddie then slowed down to a halt in front

of Ronald and started shaking his head at him.

"What?"

Ron said this to Freddie looking down at him.

Freddie flapped his wings up to where they were both eye level to

each other, and then, suddenly, he gushed passed Ronald's face

while barely skimming his left cheek and leaving Ron in utter

disbelief. Freddie flew over to the gazebo and stood right in front of

the door. Freddie glanced back at him like he was saying, "C'mon

Ron! Let's go inside this gazebo!"

Ron walked over to Freddie in a state of confusion. Ron

couldn't get so many questions out of his mind: What's going on?

Why is Freddie acting like this? How did Freddie escape Jack's so

fast? Did Freddie break out of his cage? But most of all, there was

one question on Ronald's mind that he couldn't grasp: Why did

Freddie want him to go into that gazebo so badly? Something was

up about the gazebo, and Ron was getting an urge to enter this

strange structure. But, on the other hand, he didn't know what he'd

expect to find inside it. Ronald was _NOT_ trying to open that door and

find a pile of dead bodies inside or some sort of devil worshipping

going on in there. But neither was likely the case. The gazebo

seemed harmless enough. Ronald then had to think for a second;

he's never seen Freddie this excited before in his entire life! Even

when Freddie was a baby, he would get excited over the simplest of

things: whether it be going for a car ride to the park or simply getting

his fresh worms Ronald had picked out for him, Freddie would

always be overjoyed with gusto and enthusiasm. Freddie knew how

to make Ron's day through Freddie's tiny pleasures in life.

20

Now it was _this_ Freddie was getting excited about? A _gazebo?_

Why, Freddie? Ronald couldn't understand! It was just a gazebo...

Or was it? Was this even a gazebo at all? Why would a gazebo be

built in such a way like this? It didn't make sense. Come to think of

it, nothing was making sense.

Ron felt like sitting down. All of this was too much for him to

comprehend. He looked from the gazebo to Freddie who was still

staring intently at Ron. He then looked back to the gazebo and let

out a big sigh, saying to himself, "I give up. Some things in life I

won't ever understand. And this—this is definitely one of them."

Ronald slowly took his first few steps over to the gazebo, and

once he was half-way there, Freddie immediately jumped up upon

his shoulder as if he was ready as well to find out what could

possibly be inside. Ronald put his hand upon Freddie's left claw and

felt the immensity going forth upon this journey in opening a door.

For this couldn't possibly be a gazebo at all. For this gave forth a

presence of an immense fright that settled deep inside Ronald's

rumbling stomach. This gazebo gave off the sensation that eternity

rested in this gazebo in itself. "But this couldn't be?" thought Ronald.

Could this just be a regular, plain, boring gazebo? Nothing special

about it at all? Once Ronald and Freddie got inside, all there would

be was a room with nothing in it and no possibilities of anything

exciting or adventurous.

But in the back of Ronald's mind this was nowhere near to

being the case at all. Ron looked up at Freddie who was still

perched on his right shoulder and Ron felt a great relief come over

him. Freddie was here with him. Freddie had his back no matter

what and whatever was in that gazebo, he knew he could handle it.

There were three steps up to the door and Ronald took each step

with a great amount of momentum-seizing in his last moments of

being outside where he felt safe.

Ron reached his hand out for the brass knob which had a,

somewhat, vintage look to it. Its swirling patterns made Ron shiver.

When knob to hand finally connected, the door-knob felt cold to the

touch. Ron slowly turned it and, with ease, the door swung inward

unexpectedly. Ron looked inside this profoundly bleak but vivid

room. The floor was wooden with a rich mahogany tint to it while a

pattern swirled inward making Ron feel like if he took a step inside,

he would fall into an abyss with gazebos mocking him throughout

his never-ending plummet. Ron took a step in anyways and did not

21

fall into the floor like he expected to. Freddie glided off his shoulder and landed in the center of the room. Ron was confused yet again.

There was nothing in here! He looked up from the floor and found

his sight land upon three doors at the other end of where he was

standing.

" _What?"_ said Ron aloud, _"Why?"_ Ron didn't understand. Why

were there three doors in here that obviously didn't lead to

anything? Ron ran back outside and made his way to the back side

of the gazebo. There weren't three doors leading out of the gazebo

on the outside wall so Ron had trouble getting his head around why

there would be three doors on the inside? Ron stood looking at the

back side of it feeling perplexed. Nothing made sense. What was

Freddie getting him into? Ron looked away from the gazebo and

tried to clear his mind, but before he could, Ron noticed a river a

little way down the hill from where the gazebo sat. It was barely

visible between the dense thickets of trees. Glancing back at the

gazebo and then glancing back at the river, Ron muttered out:

"I'm sorry, Freddie." He said as he started off on his brisk

walk down toward the river. Once Ron grew closer, he could clearly

see a luscious bed of countless varieties of flowers. They ranged

from daisies to jasmines to even a bit of iris here and there. What

stood out the most plentiful, however, were the poppies. This

scenery stole Ronald's heart to where he had to take two steps

back and plop over onto the hill of a ground. Ron sat there,

transfixed. He took a moment to glance back at the gazebo to see

Freddie perched atop the globe once again. Freddie showed signs

that he noticed that Ron was looking at him, and glided down from

the gazebo, letting a gush of wind rush through Ronald's hair as he

flew above him, landing in the river a little beyond from where Ron

was sat. He made a splash upon his entrance that made Ron burst

out into laughter, feeling the weight of the situation being lifted off

his chest. Ron got up and ran into the river to join his pal, Freddie,

in the fun. The water felt cool, and a great feeling of energy came

forth all through Ron's body from his head to his toes.

"What a wondrous sensation," thought Ron. He looked

down at the water he was standing in like it was the fountain of

youth. So much energy was swirling through his body he felt

unbelievable.

Suddenly, the river began to widen right before his eyes. What was

once a tiny river turned into a heavy stream that filled up with

boulders and large chunks or rocks popping up all around him; one

22

of these boulders grew up right before him and nestled on top of it lay the gazebo rising with it. Ron looked at it with an astounded set

of eyes. He wasn't in Dunedin anymore but what this new, strange

stream seemed to be was nothing sensibly possible to make out.

The flowers and trees that were plopped all along what was once

the river was now replaced with high ridges of rock towering before

him and disappearing from his gaze as it ran along each side and

disappeared into the distance.

" _Freddie! Where—are we!?"_ Ron quickly looked around to

where Freddie could have gone but then, looking up, there he was

again. His talons wrapped around the golden globe placed atop the

gazebo, and he stared down at Ron with an intent gaze fixed upon

him. Ron knew he wanted him to climb up to that gazebo—but—

why? Why was he standing in this stream? Why was the gazebo

with them as well? What _was_ that gazebo!? Was it the gazebo that

brought him here? Was this what lay behind one of those doors?

Ron's curiosity was sparked. Now he wanted to go through another

one of the doors. He wanted to see the world, wanted to be in it! So

Ron began to climb the huge mass of rock that lay before him.

Finding places where he could nuzzle his fingers into, he began to

make his way trekking up the steep incline. Resting his feet on

grooves and curves that stuck out the most, he began to make

leeway and, sure enough, he was already half-way up to the

gazebo. Then, like that, he lost footing. His left foot slipped beneath

him, and rocks crumbled from beneath him. Then, his second foot

lost its security as well. He hung on to the rock grooves with dear

life as he lay dangling there. He couldn't help but notice how close

he was to the top. Looking for another place above him to reach up,

he searched frantically. Then he saw it: a little edge of rock stuck

out at an arm-length away. Releasing his right hand, he began to

quickly reach for it. His hand came inches to it, but, to no avail was

it reachable. Then Ron went for it: thrusting his left hand upwards,

he lunged toward his destination. Barely, he caught hold of the

piece of rock and had his hand nestle onto it. But just as fast as he

caught it, it broke off from the boulder and sent Ron sliding down

catching speed the farther he plummeted to the surface of the water.

Ron looked up while he fell and saw Freddie swoop down from the

gazebo, flying towards Ron with great speed. Before Ron felt

himself hitting the water from the stream, Freddie grabbed ahold of

his shirt with his talons. But—it was too late. Ron's head lunged

23

back and hit it on one of the nearby rocks in the stream. And

everything went black.

24

Part II:

_The Lusitania_

25

Chapter 3

Where am I?

Ron zoned back into reality. "Where am I?" he asked

himself. But, instead, an Irish woman answered with such a thick

accent that it was like she came walking out of a pot of gold from

the end of the magical rainbow's very own. She sat next to him with

half of her butt on the bed; he found himself cuddled up inside with

blankets laid out on top of him, turning him into a cocoon.

"You are on the _Lusitania_ , _ya bollocks."_

"But I was just..." Ron had to think for a second. He looked

around and everything his eyes met was a spread of vintage

furniture. To the right of him was a type of radio that must've been

taken out of the prehistoric technology age.

_How did I get here_ Ron thought to himself as he tried to

remember what he was doing.

He looked around the room and then looked back at the lady sitting

beside him.

"Where am I?" Ron asked this again, and this gave the

woman a serious expression of worry.

"Should I be worried about you, dear? I already told you this

once, but I'll tell you again: We are on a cargo ship, and it is a big

one at that! I just can't wait until we head back to the Americas after

we leave Liverpool again! I daresay, I've always wanted to live

there." She paused for a minute from talking and gave Ron a stern

look.

"Honey, you must have a cold or the measles or—something

or another because you look as white as a ghost! I'll fetch you some

hot tea, and a quick bite at that! Keep yourself comfortable. I'll be

back faster than a lamb's pie!"

Ron watched her as she strutted her way out the door, and

faster than you can say faster, Ron jumped out of the bed he was

laying in and started shaking from head to toe like he had ants

crawling all over him. He slapped himself in the face a few times,

trying to wake himself up from this fantasy. He _HAD_ to be dreaming!

This _couldn't_ be happening! Nothing was working. Ron pinched

himself on the arm, but this didn't work either. Ron tried to get his

26

thoughts together; where did she say they were? The _Lusitania_?

That couldn't be! He was just in that gazebo... The _gazebo?_ That

wasn't a gazebo! That was a miniature house. That was more of a

place you would find witches boiling their potions so they can fly

around on their broomsticks. That was _NOT_ a gazebo. And what

was with the three doors that didn't even lead anywhere? It just

didn't make sense! And Freddie! Where was Freddie? Why was

Freddie acting so weird? Why was Freddie not with Jack? But then

Ronald's brain clicked. Those three doors... Did Ron go inside one

of those three doors? What did those three doors lead to if they

didn't lead out the other side of that... _THING!_

"Breathe, Ron," Ron told himself. He felt like he was about to

have a heart attack. Nothing was adding up. Nothing was making

sense: Freddie, the not-gazebo, the three doors in the not-gazebo.

What did it all mean?

"Am I really on the _Lusitania_?" Ron didn't want to believe it. It

just didn't seem possible. He looked around the room; hanging on

the walls were, what seemed to be, extremely old paintings. One

was of a vase with flowers in it, and the other looked like a painting

Picasso drew of a man's face that was disfigured and full of

differently odd-looking shapes. The painting with the flowers

consisted of tulips, roses, and a hydrangea all put in this one funky

looking purple vase. On the wall to the left was a circular window

with a steel frame surrounding it, held in by bolts going all along the

frame. Ron climbed over the bed and looked outside. All he saw

was a never-ending ocean of blue. How majestic it looked, but on

the other hand, how scared it made him!

"I _AM_ on a ship!" Ron couldn't believe it! That lady was

telling the truth! But how was he on a ship that hadn't been around

for 100 years? He _couldn't_ have gone back through time; could he?

He didn't want to believe it. Time travel wasn't possible! But

showing up on a ship heading to Liverpool when he was just in

Dunedin, Florida wasn't possible either. None of the events that

he'd been experiencing seemed to be possible. Ron slapped

himself in the face again, but, still, he didn't wake up in the car

outside of the _Marathon_.

The Irish woman came back, opening the door with her hands

holding a hot, steamy tea in a fine China mug. To the left of the cup

was a cucumber sandwich that looked as delicious as she was

27

looking while she held the tray. Ron couldn't believe how attractive this woman was. But who was she?

"So what is your name?" asked Ron while taking the tray.

"My name is Claire Bosworth. I am your nurse for the time

being—well until you have your health back!" She added, smiling

down at him as she blushed. "My—

nurse? But I'm not sick?"

"Well when they found you, you were pretty torn up! It's

amazing you're still alive Sergeant Reynolds!"

" _SERGEANT REYNOLDS?"_

Ronald was stupefied. He was not a sergeant! And who was

this Reynolds guy! His last name was Lampson! He was Ronald

Lampson! Not this— _Reynolds_ guy!

"I don't understand, Ms. Bosworth." Claire Bosworth laughed

shyly at this remark and gently rested her hand on Ron's arm.

"Oh don't call me _that,_ Sergeant! Just call me by my first

name, _Claire."_ Claire said this with a hint of flirtation with her words.

Ron couldn't believe it! Was she flirting with him? He was so used

to being the one that had to do the flirting; this change of events left

him speechless.

"I'll be right back, Marcus! _Oh!_ You don't _mind_ if I call you _Marcus,_ do you? I mean it _IS_ what it says on your identification tags!" Claire said this while gently moving her hand away from his

arm and slowly moving down Ronald's chest where his _dog tags_

_were!?_ Ron felt speechless.

_How did those dog tags get there?_ Claire blushed before

she got her hand all the way down to his waist and then quickly took

it away.

"Don't you go anywhere! I'll be back in a second!" Claire

winked at Ron after saying this and giggled all the way out the door

while repeatedly looking back to see Ron laying there, his mouth

hanging loosely down upon his chest.

After she closed the door Ron sat there with his mouth

gaping open, feeling overwhelmed. All of this was too much to

handle that Ron's brain couldn't help but feel tangled. Where did

those dog tags come from? Ron looked back down at his chest

where Claire's hand moved down through and saw nothing but

loads and loads of chest hair.

"I did _NOT_ have that much chest hair last time I looked down

there!" Come to think of it, Ron didn't remember it being _RED_ either!

28

His smooth caramel skin had disappeared and was replaced with a

white man's chest.

"Where did my small amount of black chest hair go!?" Ron

looked at his arms; his arms were covered in red hair too! Ron got

up and ran to the mirror. Ron wasn't Ron. Ron was far older and

seemed to be in his early thirties. All of those young years he had

ahead of him were gone. Instead, what replaced those years were

a fairly groomed, red beard and a pair of green eyes where his

original brown eyes should have been.

"Ron where are you?" Ron said this to himself in the mirror,

full of shock from the dilemma he had undergone.

"Where am I? You're not Ron Lampson!" Ron noticed even

his voice was no longer his own voice! He started running his hands

over his new body.

"My arms are _HUGE!"_ Ron started flexing in the mirror.

"What happened to me? Why am I in this body? Where did

my old body go?"

Ron stopped flexing and sat on the bed to where he was facing out

toward the blue water churning and making waves of patterns

throughout its serene landscape. He wanted to understand this, but

he couldn't.

"I need to find Freddie." He said this to himself as he started

to stand up from the bed.

Ron went over to the closet in front of the bed and opened it. Inside

were all old military uniforms you would find in a World War I movie.

"What do I put on?" He asked himself, picking out one of the

uniforms displayed in the closet. He then quickly put it back like it

was contagious.

"This sucks! I don't want to wear any of this! Where are _MY_

clothes!?"

Ron was starting to sulk when, suddenly, Claire came back into the

room. She looked over at the uneaten food and gave Ron a

disappointed look and put her hands on her hips.

"Are you not hungry?!" Claire's face went red; she went over

to the food on the table, snatched it, storming out as Ron watched in

total confusion.

"Well! There go my chances with her." Ron looked at the

clothes he was presented with and saw the only comfortable-looking

clothes he could wear would have to be one of the white t-shirts

tucked away in the right part of the closet. All of the old, worn-out

29

military uniforms took up most of the closet, but it didn't match Ron's taste at all! He grabbed one of the t-shirts and put it on. It fit nice

and snug, holding tightly to his skin but in a weirdly comfortable

way. Ron started to wonder where his Gator's jersey he previously

had on could have gone. Was it still with _his_ body? Wherever that

is... Ron's head started to hurt thinking about this.

"This is crazy! I _must_ be in a dream!" But it wasn't. It couldn't

be. This was too _real!_

Ron went through the drawers below the hole-in-the-wall

closet. _Reynolds's closet._ Not his closet. His closet was back home

in Dunedin, Florida. But was he Reynolds? He was in Reynolds'

body... he was just sleeping in Reynolds's bed... this wasn't making

sense. However,

"Was this Reynolds guy inside _my body?"_ Ron thought to

himself. Somehow, this seemed like it could be the only solution.

Ronald couldn't get the thought of some soldier in _his_ body running

around Dunedin not knowing what was going on or where he was.

His parents were probably trying to talk to this Reynolds guy,

thinking he was him, but, instead, he was going ballistic like Ron felt

like going. Ron then started giving this Reynolds guy the benefit of

the doubt, and, maybe, he was staying calm.

"That's what I need to do!" He realized. All he needed to do was to

stay calm and roll with the punches. At this statement, Ron looked

at the military uniforms in the closet and realized he was going to

have to deal with more than just punches.

"I'm going to get shot at?" Ron didn't have to answer this

question because he knew right away that he was in for a long,

bumpy ride. He put his face into both of his hands and started to feel

weighed down with stress and unease. Instead of throwing up,

however, like he felt like doing, Ron grabbed the shorts in one of the

drawers he opened, put them on, grabbed a pair of shoes, and ran

out the door while slipping on the dress shoes he realized he

snatched accidentally.

Outside, Ron was confronted with a vent right in front of him.

He looked back at the door and saw that the room-number he was

residing in was B50. It was copper-plated and was slanted to make

it look more official. Walking towards the left-end of where he was

standing, he took another right which led up a long, narrow hallway.

Looking around, he found no one in sight.

"Now this is strange," Ron said out loud.

30

"What can be, _ya strange, young laddie?"_ An older

gentlemen said this to Ron as a door slammed in a column down a

hall. Ron looked over to see a gentleman wearing a top-hat along

with a suit and tie. He must've been in his sixties' and on the

wealthier side by the way he presented himself. He had a stern look

to him, but by the way he was looking at Ron, he was a little taken

aback.

"What in _the?_ Why _now, my_ son! Must you be in your

britches on your way to supper looking like the wrong side of bed

rolled over on top of you?! _"_ The man laughed at the statement he

made.

"Get proper decency in you _BOY!"_ The man whacked the

cane he was holding against his neighbor's door and it made such a

commotion that the woman inside the room yelled,

" _GOOD HEAVENS! What in the starlight's daisy is the_

_ruckus being a-brewed outside me door!?"_

_"_ This young lad me good lady! He thinks he can go around

prancing like the war made him crazier than a dog on a hot

summer's day! This dog has his tail out and everything! Showing it

off until me _ol'_ eyes can't take it much longer!"

_"Albert is that you?"_

_"Yes, it's me, Rosy, me pie!"_

_"Well don't just stand there! Bonk him upside the top of his_

_head with that wooden stick of yours!"_ At this statement, Albert

started making his way toward Ron, swinging his cane like a bat,

and acting like he was about to use it to hit a home run! Quickly,

Ron backpedaled until he ran into the wall behind him. He jumped

into the closest room which just so happened to be occupied. The

man inside the room did not look pleased at all to see him.

" _REYNOLDS!" WHAT IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU_

_GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO!"_

The man inside the room looked about the same age as his new self

yet he could tell that he had more age on him by the few white

whiskers in this man's, black as coal, beard. The man shoved Ron

out of the way, and he hit the floor with a _thud!_ He opened the door

to see the older gentleman about to make his first thud of a knock.

"Oh, it's you, Dr. O'Malley! Please excuse Reynolds. He has

had a wee bit too much to drink if I dare say so myself." The man

who opened the door looked down upon Ron and gave him a stern

31

look. Dr. O'Malley seemed rather pleased, however, upon hearing

this and bellowed out a deep, hearty laugh.

"Oh _ha-ha!_ What a _hoot!"_ O'Malley stroked his rather grayish

beard upon saying this.

"Be careful with that brandy, young lad! It'll do you _in!_ I would

know! I've had my fair share of experiences!" O'Malley wagged his

finger at Ron who was still on the floor, and started to walk away until

it seemed he had more to say.

"And young man!" looking at the man who was still holding

the door open for him.

"Try and keep him in check for the rest of the night! We've

got a good, hefty trip ahead of us, and I would hate to see those

Germans come out of the blue while he's in a state like this! We

need as many soldiers as we can get!" O'Malley pointed his finger at

Ron upon saying this which made Ron go red in the face.

Ron felt embarrassed upon O'Malley's words and

started to get up.

But before Ron was half-way getting up the strange man

who knew his new name walked right by him and pushed him back

down on the floor saying:

"You can stay down there, Ron." He took a minute to let this

sink in.

_"WHAT!?_ He said stupefied.

"How? Who?" Ron was speechless. How did this man know

his name? Who was this man wearing one of the same military

uniforms that were hanging in the room he woke up in?

He thought this over for a minute while he slid his butt

around on the floor to where he was facing this strange, wondrous

man. This man that went from calling him Reynolds in front of the

O'Malley character to calling him _Ron_ now that they were alone. But

before Ron could say anything else, the man sat down on the bed

and let out a sigh.

"You will be calling me Sergeant Augustine when you are on

duty, but when off duty..."

"Like right now?" He interrupted him.

"No," Augustine said with authority.

"Right now you are on duty. But when you are off-duty... call

me Gus. Just Gus, Ronald."

"Okay... but still... how do you know my name is Ron?"

"Because that's your name: Ronald Lampson."

32

"But... I thought my name was Mark Reynolds?"

"No it's not! It's _Marcus_ Reynolds." Gus snickered at this

correction he made. "And you are only him for the time being, as

long as you do your job right!"

"My _job!?"_ Ron looked at Gus confused.

"To keep the inevitable from being inevitable!" Gus said this

with a spark in his eyes while looking down at him.

Ron looked at Gus blankly for a second.

"I don't understand." Ron got up from the ground after saying

this.

"So what do you understand so far, now that you have been

here?" Gus asked intently, looking at Ron with a stern countenance.

"Ha! I don't understand anything! What's going on here,

Gus!? Why am I being put into this situation where I don't want to

be! Is this Hell? Did I die? What did I do wrong to deserve this?" At

once Ron said this, Gus set his head down in his hand in a state of

stress.

Gus sighed again.

"I don't know Ron. I don't want you here either. You don't

even own a gun back home like the others did. _Jack_ would've been

a better fit here than _you!"_ Gus stood up after saying this and put

both of his hands on the top back of his head like he needed to

breathe after just doing a mile-long sprint.

"Wait... how do you know Jack? How do you even know my

name? What others? What's going on?" Ron put both of his hands

on each cheek and started to moan in frustration.

"You were picked so I just have to go along with it." Gus

wasn't even talking to Ron anymore. He looked like he was more or

less talking to the floor than anything else.

After a moment of silence, Gus sat down on the floor and

looked at Ron straight in the eyes. After a deep breath he said:

"It's time for you to meet the other."

33

Chapter 4

The Other

Gus stood up so Ron did so as well. He then followed Gus

quickly out the room and into the hallway. Ron glanced back to see

that his room number was B48.

"How coincidental," Ron thought with a smirk. His new

neighbor seemed to be his new boss! Ron started to think about

his other boss back home at the Pizzeria in Dunedin. What a great

boss, Mr. Flumerhymer! He knew how to make the perfect meat-

lover pizza! This quickly had Ron's mouth water for the sausages

and bacon.

This _Gus-guy_ wasn't ever going to make Ron a delicious

pizza—all this guy probably wanted was for Ron to make a pile of

dead bodies for him. Ron shuddered at the thought of this. One

thing Ron never wanted or planned on doing was killing anybody.

The act felt too horrendous to even think about.

After Ron was finished putting a sarcastic spin on

everything, to help get his mind off how he might have to kill

somebody, he went back to where everything needed to be

questioned in his mind. Ron wondered:

_Where is Gus leading him?_

_Who is this Gus-guy?_

Should Ron _really_ be hanging out with him and following him

around?

_Who is this other person he's taking me too?_

"Who picked me? And for what?" Ron asked.

"Don't get those panties in a wad, Ron!" Gus snickered at

this. Instead of making any sense of this, Ron only got more

confused.

"You're starting to sound like my dad." Ron said this with

irritation in his voice.

" _No, I am not your father. Your father is back home frozen in_

_time while you help fight to erase this oil spill that tainted our planet._

_We are being helped by these great people from Alphasia so their_

_world might be rid of its taint as well."_

_"_ But why would they want to help _this_ planet?" Ron replied,

confused, trying to keep up with him.

34

"Because! Well—I don't know. I didn't ask why—I would only

think because help is needed from others so they seek help from us,

and it will not only benefit them, but it will benefit us as well! It is

quite a substantially great deal!"

"Well, no it does not sound like that! It doesn't work that

way!" Ron replied angrily. He was beginning to feel extremely

frustrated with Gus and how he dodged his question.

"They have superior knowledge over us, and we will gain

much!"

"I feel they mean to harm us. It doesn't seem right. Why

would they go to a planet that is of our knowledge when there,

obviously, is other planets with superior knowledge like

themselves?" Ron questioned his own statement. Once it left his lips

for it did not seem like that aliens were out there, let alone wanted to

help us and, in return, they helped them—

"No, I think not. I believe we were paired with two tainted

planets that must be terminated from the horror it has seen on such

a large velocity, and we will terminate our extreme horrors like this

World War." Gus seemed consistent with trying to press down on

Ron, but Ron brutally kept forcing it back:

"But if we were teamed up together then that wouldn't make

them more superior—we deserve to be equal to them. Just because

you believe since they have greater knowledge than us, doesn't

mean they deserve to rule us from below. We are on the same team

so we work together!"

"No!" Gus screamed out; "We are below them! Just like how

animals have us to rule them!" Ron's semi-vegetarian eyes

screamed out in controversy. He didn't see it as that. He thought

humans deserved to know better than to actually be eating harmless

animals that didn't deserve the cruelty.

"Animals are here living on this earth just like how we are,

and you aren't _ruling_ over them! You are living with what should be

friendship but has to—"

" _GET OUT OF HERE—VEGITARIAWN!"_ Gus yelled out,

interrupting him right in the middle of his speech.

By this time, they finally made it to the top of the stairs. Ron,

however, didn't want to go any further. Ron started making his way

backward down the stairs, but, before he could go any further, Gus

saw what he was doing. He snatched him by the collar of his shirt

and dragged him out of the staircase. Gus now not only had him by

35

the collar behind the back of his neck, but also by the back part of his pants and belt buckle. With a firm grip, he threw him against the

ground onto his stomach.

"What are you doing!?" Gus, whispered, crouched down to

where his lips barely met his ear; "This world we live in is tainted.

We have to make it untainted once again." Ron lay there looking

stunned at Gus with a look of fear swallowed inside his newly green

eyes.

"I don't _want_ to fight in your war, Gus, and you can't make

me!" Ron stood up as fast as he was thrown down once he said this.

"Oh, you're not in Dunedin anymore, little _panty-wader."_ Gus

held up his fists and got in a fighting position, ready to knock out

Ron with a single hit. At seeing this, Ron flipped over onto his butt,

looking down at his new body. He realized then that maybe he could

take on this hot-head.

"Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna do _somethin'!"_

Ron got up and got into a fighting position as well.

"Gus, you can't hurt me! I just traveled through time to fight a

guy like you!" After Ron said this he plunged at Gus with all his

might and brought Gus straight to the ground! This didn't seem to

impact Gus one bit, for as soon as he hit the ground, he took a

swing at him that got him right in the corner of his jaw. He took the

impact and went wailing at Gus. Ron punched Gus time after time

across the face until he had enough. He shoved Ron out of the way

and onto the ground, got up, and kicked him square in the head. He

rolled over from the force of the impact and felt repeated kick after

kick in the back. Ron rolled over onto his belly and pushed himself

up to where he flew through the glass door. But he didn't

understand. He didn't get up that fast to have collided with the glass

door. But then he felt the reason why being held on tightly to his

shirt. It was him. Ron felt the grasp release as he went shattering

through a glass door. Glass went everywhere, and, before he knew

it, Gus made his way away from the broken door that he was stuck

in and walked over to him, who was now sprawled over on the

ground trying to get out a small piece of shattered glass stuck in his

back. After Ron took it out, he looked up to see Gus' bloody face

looking down at him.

"You don't belong here." Gus arched his right arm back and

knocked Ron out cold.

Ron felt his head. He was extremely dizzy.

36

——————————————————————————————

"Where—am I?" Then he noticed. He was back! Back by the

river near the gazebo once again!

"So it all was a dream." He said to himself thankfully; "But

where's Freddie?" He quickly realized. Then he saw him. Freddie

was by the river rolling around in the poppies—yelling his name?

How? That couldn't be possible. But it wasn't quite his name. What

was Freddie saying? Ron started walking through the river to get a

closer look when suddenly, it changed to the scene where he saw

Freddie's last minutes of when he got caught in a fight with that

cottonmouth... It was horrific. Freddie was squirming all over the

ground again, like before.

"What happened to you, Freddie?" Ron said to him

despairingly, crouching down over the terrible sight.

"RONALD! RONALD! RONALDS! RENALDS! REYNOLDS!"

Ron moved back upon hearing Reynolds come out of Freddie's

beak. He stumbled backward and fell into the river with a splash!

"Reynolds! _Reynolds!_ Wake up Reynolds!" Ron opened his

eyes to see a blonde haired man with a hairless face in the same

military uniform he and Gus had worn.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Ron groaned after the man said this.

"I... I... I'm Reynolds?" Ron opened his eyes and looked at

the man.

"I'm Reynolds, right?" The man looked away upon hearing

this and then looked back at Ron dead in his eyes and said:

"No. You're Ronald."

Ronald sat up straight up upon hearing this.

" _What!?"_ Ron did not expect to hear these words. First, it was

this meat-head, Gus, who knew his real name, and now it was this

stranger. Who else knew his real identity? Did he know Jack too?

What didn't they know about him? These people. Did they know his

mom? His dad? Even his sister, Shelly? Ron wouldn't even be

surprised if they knew what he had for breakfast this morning. Or

yesterday morning, for that matter. Ron couldn't even tell anymore

when he left Dunedin and ended up here. It felt just like it was this

morning when he ate that orange just to make Shelly mad. Now he'd

gone through time, been flirted on by a nurse, made the nurse mad

without even trying, made a doctor mad at him for not wearing the

_right clothes,_ and fought with a man who told him he had to

37

save the world but didn't even believe him that he could do it! What was going _on!?_

Ron looked at this new man in the eyes and said:

"Can you at least tell me what's going on!?" Ron waited for

an answer, but instead of getting one, the man stood up from

crouching beside Ron and walked over to Gus who was sitting in an

armchair nursing the bruises Ron gave him. Ron looked down and

realized he had been moved to an armchair as well. Looking to the

right of him, Ron saw where he shattered through the glass door

and saw how the pieces were still laying there with no one in any

hurry to clean it up.

"Did you not tell him the scoop?" The blonde haired man

asked Gus.

"That we're here to save the world? Well _obviously!_ Look

how he took it!" Gus pointed to the shards of glass still lying on the

ground. The blonde haired man looked back over at Ron like

something was wrong with him.

"Don't tell me you didn't walk through the door expecting this

to be a— _cakewalk_ did you?"

"Ron! We are running out of time, and if we don't complete

our mission soon then the world will end!" Ron looked at the blonde

haired man with complete disgust.

"I didn't walk through _any_ door, planning on going on _any_

mission, expecting that I was going to save _any world!_ My name is

Ronald Lampson, I'm from Dunedin, Florida, and I just so _happened_

to wander upon a gazebo that my falcon just so _happened_ to perch

upon!" Ron had to take a breather after saying this and then looked

back up at the two who were looking at him in amazement.

The blonde haired man crouched down to where he was level

with Ron.

"My name is Evan Patrick Galowitz, I'm from New Logan

City, Australia, and I too had a bird that led me here as well. The

year was 2121." Ron slowly got up from the armchair upon hearing

this.

"What in the world did you just say?!" Ron rubbed his eyes in

disbelief.

"That hawk's name was Ernie! He wasn't a regular hawk—I

found him when he was a baby. He grew fast and strong, he did!

What a great hawk! Everyone in New Logan City adored him!" Ron

38

was taken aback by this. How strange! They both found birds when they were a baby and...

"Wait—did you say 2121!? I walked into that gazebo in the

summer of 2020! That's 101 years ahead of my time!" Ron looked at

Evan, stunned. "Wow! That's amazing!" Gus looked at both of them

and started shaking his head.

"Both of you are too far ahead of me. My eagle brought me

here in the year 1919." Ron looked at the two men in amazement.

They all found a bird in a different time period but, somehow, they

were all connected.

"Our birds... What are they?" Ron asked both of them.

"Well—they aren't actually birds. We've been with our two

this whole time and they've told us all about you—but—your

falcon—something went wrong when both of you got here. Your

falcon was supposed to give you the run-down once he took on

human form, but, hearing your story, something went wrong. You

weren't all there when you made it through the door. We don't know

where he is Ron. We're sorry."

Ron dropped back down in the armchair. He couldn't believe

it! Something happened to Freddie? And he couldn't do anything to

help him. Freddie was out there. But where? Did someone have

Freddie? Was he alright? Who took him? Was he even still alive?

Ron dropped his head into his hands and tried to think about all this

new information that was stacking up.

"I don't even know what this _new_ Freddie looks like—" Ron

said to the two.

"But he knows what _you_ look like Ron. He obviously took

care of you when both of you made it through the door. He watched

out after you and your unconscious self. And look at the great job he

did! He got you onto the _Lusitania!_ And this is where our first

mission is; we have orders to carry out, and it's _our_ job to carry them out!" After hearing Evan say this, Ron looked from Evan to Gus and

then back to Evan.

"Okay. So what's the plan?"

39

Chapter 5

The Plan

Evan led the way out of the war-zone and they made their

way to the front deck where there was a perfect view of a body of

land in the distance.

"What's that out there?" Ron asked Gus and Evan.

"That's Ireland," Gus said with a little disappointment in his

voice.

"Wait—really?! It looks so majestic and quite glorious from

here, Gustavo! What's wrong with Ireland? You didn't sound too

happy telling me that?" Evan replied, trying to intrigue Ron's blank

countenance.

"Yes. It does look majestic. But tomorrow, we'll be heading

there." Gus said this with sadness in his voice.

"Wait. I don't understand. Why?" Ron asked, coming

miraculously out of his expressionless trance. Evan looked at Ron

with somber eyes.

"Because. Do you not know?"

"Know what?" Ron asked with curiosity. Evan sighed from

hearing this.

"Because tomorrow's the day." Evan walked over to the side

of the ship and gazed upon Ireland.

"Wait... what happens tomorrow?" Ron asked. Gus turned to

Ron slowly and mumbled something under his breath while looking

down at the ground. He then turned his head back up slowly and

looked Ron straight in the eyes.

"Look around Ron; this is the _Lusitania_. This is a ghost ship.

Dead people are walking all around us if we don't help them." Gus

turned away shamefully. Evan turned back around and patted Gus

on the back.

"There are Germans on this ship, Ron. They plan on making

sure no one gets off this vessel alive tomorrow. We can't have that.

That's why _you_ are on duty 24/7! History is changing before us, and

we need to know how to stop it. The _Lusitania was_ supposed to sink

today, but for some reason, something—happened—we don't know

what. We are afraid that the _Lusitania_ has a worse fate because of

this change in the history books."

40

"All the innocent lives, Ron! This ship is full of innocent

people! Look around! No one on this ship deserves to die." Evan

and Gus both looked at each other and then motioned Ron to the

edge of the ship.

"Look down at that water, Ron. What do you see?"

"I see our beautiful ocean, that's what I see, but why is it not

moving?" Ron asked in a slightly monotone voice.

"Well, the ship had a malfunction. They plan on starting it

back on track soon. But what I see right now—what I see. I see

darkness in that water. Because I know somewhere down there is a

submarine that didn't do their job like they were supposed to do

today. They were supposed to shoot a torpedo right _there!"_ Gus

pointed to a spot down beneath the waters.

"But they didn't. We don't know why... Something

happened."

"Like how something happened to Freddie? Do you think

those two events may be connected?" Ron asked with all

seriousness. Gus or Evan didn't answer him, however. Both kept

silent after this question was asked.

"We don't know. We both came into this time period two

days ago. But we were all spread out in different places. I showed

up in the part of the ship on the C Deck which is the Shelter Deck. I

was in the pantry right next to the third class smoking room. The trip

to this time period was fast and painless, but strangely enough, all

of my clothes were singed to smithereens. The clothes I'm wearing

now were in that pantry—just—waiting for me... I put on our military

uniforms Gus and I have on here and walked out of that room like

nothing was the matter with being in there." Evan snickered at this.

"Well that's nice you got that lucky," Gus replied, angrily.

"I showed up right in the middle of the deck—right there!" He

pointed over to the middle of the deck.

"It was humiliating! People were walking by me, and it made

the biggest commotion. I ran straight to the cargo hatch over yonder

and retrieved my clothes. Don't tell me how I knew they would be in

there. I was only trying to find coverage for my naked self!" Evan

burst out into laughter from hearing this.

"That flawts!" Evan giggled some more after he finished

saying, but by the look on Gus' face, he obviously didn't think it was

funny one bit.

_"Flawts?"_ Ron asked, curiously.

41

"The word came into usage in the early twenty-first century."

Ron nodded, forgetting he was dealing with someone from the

future.

"So have you witnessed World War III since you are from the

future?" Gus shook his head at this.

"But Freddie makes it seem like it _will_ happen." Ron nodded

solemnly at this. It sadly made sense.

"Unless we can do anything about it..." Gus had to add:

"So... where is O'Malley?" Ron looked at both of them

expecting an answer right away but, instead, they both looked away

contemptuously. Evan finally looked at Ron after a few seconds of

silence and said:

"Well, what else would he be doing? Looking for the

Germans on the ship!" Gus then looked at Ron and nodded in

agreement.

"Where is he looking? Is he somewhere on the ship, close

by? The Germans who are on the ship _must_ have him!" Ron started

walking back and forth like he had to go to the bathroom.

"That's what we think too!" Gus said, sorrowfully. But then

Gus looked over at Evan and Evan looked back at Gus.

"But we think he is looking for the wrong Germans," Evan

said. Ron gave Evan a confused look.

"Wrong Germans?" Ron looked back and forth at the two

waiting for them to say something back.

"Yes. Wrong Germans. Freddie is looking on the ship when

we believe he should be looking in the ocean."

"The _ocean!?_ How is he looking for him in the ocean?"

Before Ron could finish Gus quickly covered Ron's mouth.

" _Shhh_ ..." Gus looked around and Evan ran straight to the

side of the ship.

"Did you both hear that?" Evan asked looking back at Ron

and Gus. Gus nodded his head. Evan nodded his head back at him.

"C'mon," Gus whispered to them, and he started creeping

over towards the other side of the ship. Evan raced over from the

side he was standing on to the other side of the ship where Evan

was now looking over. Ron looked around in a state of confusion.

No one but a few people were walking around on the deck. And

none of them seemed to notice the two's sudden excitement. Ron

walked over to where they were looking over and decided to feed

his curiosity and slip a glance. Down in the water was a long, black

object that seemed to be surfacing to the top of the water. Ron

craned his head down further to see if he could get a better view,

but there was no need for as fast as they ran to see it, the object

was becoming more and more clear. It was a submarine.

42

"They're back!" Evan said with excitement. Gus looked over

at Ron and gave him a nasty look.

"Why don't you go change into something nicer for our

comrades who have returned from their expedition? They might've

even found Freddie and, trust me you don't want to look sloppy for

this guy! _He_ takes things seriously, unlike _some_ people!" Gus nodded his head at Ron. Ron looked over at Evan to see if he had

any input, but he was still gazing upon the beauty that was

revealing itself beneath the depths of the water.

"How did you all even hear that thing coming out?" Ron

asked. Neither of them noticed him anymore because they were

both too focused on the submarine. Ron couldn't take these two

anymore so he decided to do what Gus told him to do and go back

to his room and _maybe_ change. Ron left the Boat Deck and made

his way down the stairs to the Promenade Deck where his room

was. Once he entered, O'Malley came out of his hallway.

"It's you, _laddie_!" O'Malley looked cheerful and didn't mind

one bit, this time, that Ron wasn't wearing the proper clothes.

"Still don't understand proper decency I see!" Ron was

wrong.

"Why hello Dr. O'Malley! Did you eat your supper yet?" Ron

asked with a fake smile. Dr. O'Malley bellowed out a hearty chuckle

at this.

"No, I'm looking for some company to do so first! Would you

care to join me?" Dr. O'Malley asked. Ron was not expecting this;

however, he was looking for some time away from the two on the

Boat Deck and realized that this offer was too good to stand up.

"Why yes, however, I would need to slip into some proper

clothing first. Would you mind waiting for a second or two while I do

so?" Dr. O'Malley gave a look of complete happiness at the sound

of this.

"Take your time, Sergeant! I'm only getting older!" Ron

laughed at this and went to his room to see what military uniform he

would choose. After Ron was dressed, he came out, and O'Malley

stood outside the door with a huge smile on his face.

43

"So! Are you ready for a real authentic _Lusitania_ cuisine, ol'

chap?!" O'Malley said this as he swished his cloak around and

started making his way down the hall.

"I am! Where would you prefer to eat?" Ron said while not

knowing where he would even go to eat on this ship.

"As long as it's not with those British imposters, I'm fine!"

O'Malley turned around to Ron and winked at him. Ron stopped and

stood there stunned for a minute at what he heard.

" _What?"_ Ron stuck a finger in both of his ears and started

backing away from O'Malley.

"Come back to me! Of course, they are British imposters!

Look what one of them did to your face! What British comrade would

do that to another British comrade?! British comrades stay loyal to

each other and keep each from getting in fights! Not _starting_ fights!

That Gus is one conniving son of a banshee, and the little amigo has

evil written all over his face! They are up to _no good!_ They shouldn't be trusted!" Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. Of course

they could be trusted! They were his only two friends he had in this

new life he was living. Or so he thought, as he began to ponder this

new stream of words.

"But they know me so well, Doctor! What you are telling me

_can't_ be true! It just can't! Or can it? Nothing is making sense

anymore, Doc! I'm so confused!" Ron started to feel like he was

having a heat-stroke.

"Now _how_ would they know so much about you? Because

they are, obviously the enemy!"

"But the Gus-guy?! He knew my name was Reynolds right

away when I accidentally wandered into his room."

"Yes. He did. And he knew my name, too. But I have never

met that man before. Not a day in my life has gone by when I've

ever seen his face. Those fellows are up to no good! I saw the way

he pushed you through that door! There was only evil in his eyes

when he did that! If it was me I'd say they are planning to blow this

ship up in one way or another! I don't know how! I don't know what!

But they are up to _no_ good!" Ron started walking again but, while

doing so, he was shaking all over uncontrollably. He felt sick to his

stomach, and his head was throbbing like he had the biggest

migraine.

"I don't feel good, Doctor. Do you have anything you can

give me?"

44

"The only thing you need is a nice bowl of soup at this

restaurant we are coming up upon here in a few. That'll clear your

head!" Dr. O'Malley winked at Ron as they finally made it to the

stairs. Ron and Dr. O'Malley walked down the first set of steps, and

Dr. O'Malley stopped at the C Deck.

"This the Shelter Deck." O'Malley winked at Ron.

"This deck is home to my favorite dining saloon of this ship if

you are really feeling like going extravagant on this fine night."

Instead of walking onto this deck, O'Malley kept walking down the

stairs.

"We aren't eating there?" Ron questioned O'Malley thinking

that tonight was perfect out of all nights to be eating extravagantly.

"No. That's not my type of people." After saying this,

O'Malley plugged his nose like the deck smelled of skunk and

garbage mixed together.

"Now _this_ is my deck!" said O'Malley as they made it to the

deck below the Shelter Deck.

"What deck is this?" asked Ron.

"Oh, this?" O'Malley smiled at Ron.

"This is the Saloon Deck!" O'Malley said, smiling, and, while

saying this, he started doing a little dance where he was standing.

Ron laughed at this but what caught his attention was the smell

coming from the room beyond them. Ron started walking towards it

and saw that it looked like it was a first classroom. Before Ron

could open the door, however, O'Malley stopped dancing, ran over

to Ron, and slapped his hand before he could open the door.

"Oh _no!_ Not in there! What a bunch of prudes! This way, me

_laddie_!" O'Malley waved his hand at Ron and started leading the

way towards the opposite direction. Ron followed him with a slight

bit of disappointment, however, with a new feeling of trust towards

this new-found companion.

"So where exactly _are_ we going?" Ron asked with a new

sudden pep in his step.

"Oh—you'll see, my companion! A place where only the best

food in all of _Lusitania_ is found!" O'Malley started skipping so Ron

decided to start skipping with him.

"I feel silly doing this, Doc!" He would walk again but then

see O'Malley still skipping and start skipping, as well, again. Ron

began laughing at himself and then looked over at O'Malley and

started laughing at this old fart who was looking like a fool in front of

45

all the proper, decently dressed passengers who gave Ron and

O'Malley the craziest of looks.

"What in the _world_ are you two doing?!" One fellow, who was

with his lady, walked by them and said this with an expression of

anger glued to his face. O'Malley stopped skipping so Ron stopped

skipping as well.

"You didn't have to stop _foodledooping_ because I stopped

_foodledooping_!" O'Malley said.

"What's _foodledooping_?" Ron replied back.

"Oh... you don't know? You do it all the time!"

"I do?" Ron asked.

"Oh, sure! You did it when you and Jack would go in your

backyard and gain element powers! It seemed like you were always,

fire and Jack was always water. I, of course, was always wind

because it made so much sense. It seemed just like yesterday, but it

was back when you were both. I miss that..." O'Malley kept adding

on: "You did it when your bike frequently turned into a rocket ship,

and I became your astronaut that was fixing a crack in the Moon or

on Mars. Sometimes it was Venus and Pluto, but they didn't crack

as much as the Moon or Mars did. You were even doing it when we

both became soldiers fighting the intergalactic space _Martians_!"

O'Malley looked over at Ron and gave him a side-smile. Ron started

blinking rapidly at O'Malley and for a second... just for a second...

Ron saw resemblances of Freddie in Doctor O'Malley.

"Fr-f-Freddie!?" Ron backed against the wall nearest to him in

the hallway and then plunged onto Freddie with the greatest hug of

friendship that he could bring out in his changed-self.

"This can't be happening..."

"Oh it's happening, Ron!" Freddie ended the hug and kept

walking down the hallway with more of pep in his step than Ron has

never seen in an older gentleman. It captured the excitement in his

eyes as it brought Ron to follow him on this new journey that he

couldn't wait to experience. For Ron felt that since he was with

Freddie again and, even though Freddie wasn't a falcon anymore,

Ron couldn't be any happier.

46

Chapter 6

The Imposters

Ron followed O'Malley (which he told Ron to call him from

now on) all the way up until he stopped at an area that broke off into

where a group of rooms were cuddled together. O'Malley held out

his hand to make Ron stop walking.

"What's wrong...?"

" _Shhh_!" He replied back. Ron covered his mouth like he did

something wrong. O'Malley took a right into another hallway that

had more rooms in it. He slowly crept through the side-hallway until

he stopped at the last door on the right. He put his ear up to the

door and listened intently to whatever was going on inside. Then, he

knocked three times on the door and opened it.

"Marcus is with me. Let's get to work." Ron looked inside the

room, not knowing what to expect, but inside, to his surprise, were

Gus and Evan. Ron looked at them with a state of confusion.

"What? The submarine? What?" Ron felt more confused

than ever before. Ron tried to comprehend this, but his mind felt lost

in understanding what was occurring. Ron looked over at O'Malley,

but he was too busy smiling at Evan and Gus.

"Freddie... I... I don't understand." Ron put his hands on his

knees and tried to breathe for a second.

"Marcus—don't call me that name—I'm O'Malley now." Ron

nodded his head, accepting this. For it was true. He wasn't Freddie.

Freddie's a bird. He would never be able to think of the two as the

same.

"Ron... that submarine... was the one that is going to

torpedo this ship tomorrow." Evan said this while sitting down in an

armchair. Gus was standing up in a state of distress while he held

an unpacked, wooden tobacco pipe with an intricate design. From

where Ron was standing, it seemed to have a boat carved into it.

"O'Malley. I don't know how this is going to work." Gus said

this looking at Freddie with a serious look. Freddie just shook his

head at this and said:

47

"It _will_ work." After Freddie said this he looked over at Ron and looked for words. But it looked like nothing came to mind so he

looked over at Evan expecting him to say something.

"Ron... Gus and I are undercover. That's why we made you

leave on the deck earlier." Ron still didn't understand. Nothing was

making sense. Why did Freddie say they were imposters? _Are they_

_still imposters? Or are they undercover? As imposters? What?_ Ron

felt like he had to sit down. Gus then went over to Ron and put his

hands on his shoulders; Ron wanted to slap them off but then he felt

like he shouldn't. But he did anyway.

"Get your hands off me, Gus! I _don't_ like you!"

"Ron... I'm sorry about earlier. I felt the need to knock some

sense into you. You weren't ready yet. But now... Now I understand

that you are ready."

"But what... what is going on? Nothing is making sense to

me." Ron felt like chaos was going on inside his brain. So many

emotions were flying through his mind, but the only clear one was

the thought of how badly he wanted to punch Gus straight in the

jaw. Ron couldn't get the thought of how he was ready to knock out

Gus in vengeance. Ron wanted that revenge.

"I know you want to hurt me, in return, but it's time to move

past your emotions and look at the bigger picture: we can stop the

Germans from sinking this ship." Gus went over to the bed in the

room and sat down on it. He put his nose in between the lower part

of his face like he was thinking seriously about something. Ron then

looked over at Freddie and looked at him like he did still not

understand anything.

"Ron... we can do it. Just trust us."

"What are we, Freddie? Are we on their side?" Freddie

shook his head at this question and said:

"Ron... we are trying to make the inevitable from happening.

If this is so we have to work with them then that's what we're going

to have to do. The thing is... is that you are about to play a big part

in this _move_ we are about to make." Ron didn't feel like trusting

Freddie anymore. He didn't know _who_ to trust anymore. It felt like he

was being lied to by every person who spoke even a single word to

him. Ron turned around from everyone in the room, opened the

door, and walked out. He slammed the door behind him and took off

in a run. Ron wanted to go home. He didn't want to be on this ship

anymore! Ron didn't want his _pet falcon_ anymore. He never even

48

had a falcon. His friend... his companion... his partner in life... was an old man that only lies to him? It can't be... That wasn't Freddie...

that was someone else. Ron liked the Freddie that didn't talk, only

flew. Flew like an angel in the sky that could touch the far heights of

the clouds that couldn't ever be reachable. Touch the stars that

sparkled in the sky while they shined down upon his face. _That_ was

the Freddie that was Ron's best friend! But then again— what was

he doing? Leaving his best friend like that. Friends didn't leave

other friends. Ron was still standing there after he closed the door.

He actually never did start running like he thought he did. He still

stood there, deep in contemplation. But, instead of leaving like Ron

had the strong intent to do, he turned back around, opened back up

the door, and said:

"Alright, I'm ready. What do I have to do?" They all looked at

Ron with eyes that expected he would return.

"No... you aren't ready," Gus said this with a look of hatred

towards Ron. Ron looked over at Freddie expecting him to back him

up, but he kept his gaze fixed down towards the ground.

"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here, Ron. Maybe Gus

is right. This doesn't seem like a place where you belong." After

Freddie said this, Evan grabbed for something underneath the bed

and started pulling out, what seemed to be guns— He handed one

to Gus and one to Freddie. Evan then pulled out one for himself.

"Stay here, Ron. You don't want to be killed." Evan said this

with a look of intent in his eyes. Gus pushed Ron out of the way and

they started making their way into the main hallway.

"Wait... what? Give me one of those! I'm ready!" They

closed the door on Ron's face. At this, he looked around the room

and then glared at the bed. He ran over to it and reached his hand

down under it looking for something to grab.

"Bingo." Ron pulled out the gun that he realized he was

supposed to have, and, as quickly as possible, Ron ran out the door

and made his way into the main hallway.

49

Chapter 7

Ron's Mission

Once Ron got to the main hallway, he looked left and right to

see where they went. They were nowhere to be found. It didn't

seem possible! How did they disappear so fast?

"Where _are_ they?" Ron asked himself. He lost them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Ron heard gunshots being fired from the

right. He quickly took off down the hallway towards the gunfire. Ron

made it to a set of stairs leading into what seemed to be a rather

largish room. He made it up the stairs, but before he did, he heard

screaming from a woman. It then turned into multiple screams.

"What is going _on?!"_ Ron thought to himself. He ducked

behind the wall next to the entrance. Ron looked over to see Gus

walking around tables and everyone else lying on the ground with

their hands on their heads. Ron quickly looked away.

"Oh no..." Something didn't seem right about what was

going on in there. Trying to think of what to do, nothing was coming

up. He felt absolutely terrified to the spot. Ron then quickly realized

that here was his chance. He wanted revenge. Should he shoot

Gus? He had to. Gus was, in no doubt, evil. Evan, therefore, had to

be evil too. But was Freddie evil too? Freddie seemed to be on their

side. But why? It didn't make sense... But then Freddie left with

them holding a gun in his hands too. Ron looked back over and

stood up from being crouched against the wall. He walked into the

middle of the entrance and only saw Gus in the dining room. A man

on the ground looked up to see Ron and yelled:

"KILL HIM! HE'S A MADMAN!" Ron looked at the man

stunned. Gus quickly turned around and looked over to see Ron

frozen in place with the gun pointed at him. Gus began laughing

hysterically at the scene displayed in front of him. Gus took a shot at

Ron, but before Ron was hit, he ducked back behind the wall, barely

dodging it.

"Come out, COME out, COME OUT, RON!" Gus sounded

like a madman. The man on the ground was right. Ron felt a surge

of anger come over him. This lunatic needed to be handled. Ron

realized what he had to do. Ron peeked out to see Gus come face

to face with him. Gus grabbed Ron's jaw and started laughing wildly.

Gus then started speaking in German so fast that Ron could barely

50

keep up with the words that left his mouth. Gus grasped Ron's

cheeks more tightly on his grip.

"No one kills Hans Klein Schulze!" Gus punched Ron straight

in the gut, and Ron dropped his gun from the impact. Gus looked

down at the gun smiled at it.

"You wouldn't even know how to use that." Gus slowly

looked up from it, and Ron saw the evil beaming out of his eyes. He

looked like a maniac that just escaped from prison.

Gus cocked his free arm back and punched Ron square in 
the face. Ron hit the floor. Gus spit on Ron's face and started

laughing like a maniac again.

"Why are you like this Gus?" Gus started laughing at this

question.

"My name's not even..." Before Gus could finish, BAM! Gus

fell to the ground with a _thud_. Ron gazed up to see why he wasn't

knocked out again by this man. Looking up, his gaze met the man

who yelled to Ron about Gus.

"You know... You should really learn to use that gun,

soldier." The man that threw the chair that knocked Gus out with on

the ground and picked up Ron's gun, examining it in the process.

"Everyone! The lunatic has ceased his reign of chaos! You

can all get up now!" Half of the people in the room were already

standing up, but now hearing this from the man, the rest of the

people in the room began standing as well, chattering amongst

themselves in frightened, restless tones.

"Get that chair I threw and tie him up will you." The man

handed Ron the gun and then took his tie off for Ron to tie Gus'

hands with. The man then left Ron to his work while he went back to

the table he was sitting at and started hugging the woman who

seemed to be his significant other. Ron looked down at what he had

in his hands and then looked around upon the gathering of people

who seemed to be conversing about the whole stream of events that

just occurred. More and more people started to walk up to the man

who saved the day and shake his hand. Ron felt the urge to do the

same, but he then suddenly realized that he had a job to do. He

looked down at Gus who was still knocked out, and it made Ron

remember that he still had spit clinging to his face. He quickly wiped

it off and rubbed his hand on his uniform. This made Ron have a

strong urge to spit on Gus's face, but he then thought of how

unprofessional it was, and how he wasn't even the one to knock him

51

out. Ron started to feel overwhelmed with embarrassment. First, this guy came and saved him from being killed, but then he told Ron off

on how to do his job.

"Hey! How do you know that man with the gun who's still

standing? Isn't he on that maniac's side? It was like he didn't want

to stop him."

"Harold... Stop making redundant assumptions." The man

then turned away from Harold and turned towards Ron.

"Hurry up and tie that bastard, boy!" The man looked at Ron

like he was being an idiot.

"Someone go tell the commander William Turner what just

happened! This man needs to be taken to our brig!" Everyone in the

dining room cheered at this statement, and the man then looked at

a fellow man sitting at his table.

"Why don't you go do it, Richard?" Richard looked stunned

that the man asked him, but, instead of arguing, he said:

"Well alright, Frank, I've got it!" Richard ran through the

room, passed Ron and the passed-out body of Gus, and went down

the hallway running like he had never run a day in his life. Ron

watched him gallop down the hallway instead of more or less run.

After Richard turned a corner, Ron looked down at Gus, took the

chair Frank used to hit him with, picked up Gus' heavy body, and sat

him down in the chair while, at the same time trying to keep him

from leaning over and falling back onto the ground. Ron then took

the tie that he placed down on the ground along with the gun and

took Gus' hands in between the intricate wooden designs on the

back part of the chair. He looked at the chair surprised. How was it

not broken? He brushed it off and then tied repeated square knots

since that was the only knot he remembered from the two months

he was in Boy Scouts. Ron remembered how Jack tried to make

him join, however, Ron could never truly get into it. Thinking back on

it, he wishes he stuck with it. After Ron was finished, he stood up

and looked down upon his handy work. Ron tried pulling Gus' hands

away from each other. They were tied down to perfection! Ron

smiled at this. He walked around Gus' tied up body and felt

accomplished. Now his work here was done. Ron walked over to the

man who saved him and tapped him on the shoulder. Frank turned

around from the conversation he seemed to be having with his wife

and looked at Ron up and down. Frank was a tall man with a nicely

trimmed beard. Frank also had slicked back hair, and it looked like

52

he was in the dining room for everyone to gaze upon his

exquisiteness.

"My name is Sergeant Reynolds, sir. I would just like to

thank you for saving my life. It was extremely brave and noble."

Frank smiled at this.

"Well, young Reynolds! It seems like you did a very

outstanding job yourself. You didn't get killed and that is, for one in

my books, an _excellent_ accomplishment! Now, is that German good

and tied up?" Ronald nodded at this.

"Well, good! Here! I want you to sit at our table with us! Take

Richard's place! I'm sure that he's gotten good and lost and we

most likely won't be seeing him until the end of supper! Isn't that

right Meredith?" Meredith blushed at this.

"Oh, my Richard is always getting lost somehow or another!"

Everyone standing around the table started to laugh at this.

"Please! Everyone! Sit down! If you haven't had dinner yet,

have dinner! If you've had dinner, have dessert!" Everyone all

around the room started laughing at what Frank commanded them

to do, and, all at once, everyone started taking their seats once

again like everything was back to normal.

"Ron. Before you sit down, can you drag that man over here

to our table? I believe when he wakes up he should be here to join

us in the feast for this feast will be no ordinary feast! It'll be to

commemorate the capturing of this man! I always would love to be

able to speak a few words to him when he comes out of it, and I

would love to be the first to congratulate him on his amazing take-

over of the _Lusitania_." At this, Frank raised his glass of wine and

yelled:

"Everyone! To the _Lusitania_! For it will never fault, go

backward, or switch directions! For it will forever be on the path that

it is destined to go! To the _Lusitania_!" Everyone else said it with

him:

"TO THE _LUSITANIA_!" Frank sat down at this and smiled

one huge congratulatory grin like he had just brought world-peace.

Ron started walking towards Gus still tied to the chair where he left

him. Everyone in the room started clapping. The men at Frank's

table started chanting:

"FRANK! FRANK! FRANK!" Soon enough the whole dining

room was chanting his name. Everyone started cheering after the

chant was over. Frank stood up and started waving his hands to

53

everybody. Everyone started cheering even louder at this. Ron kept walking towards Gus. Frank gave him an order, and Ron knew he

needed to answer his wishes. Ron got to the man he tied to the

chair and noticed how the chair was a bit broken at the part where

he was tied. Ron didn't understand. He didn't remember it being

broken like that before. Was Gus awake already? Ron shook Gus'

shoulders a little bit. No. He was still gone it seemed like. Or was

he?

"Ron," Gus whispered still keeping his eyes closed. Ron

looked at him stunned.

"What is it, Gus?" Ron whispered back.

"Don't trust, Frank... he's an imposter." Ron took a step back

after hearing this.

"That's not true! He wasn't speaking German earlier and

spitting in my face like you were."

"I only did that so I could find out who the undercover

Germans were in the room. It's him. I know it to be true. His whole

table is. They are _not_ who they say they are." Ron stood there

staring at Gus for a minute. He couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed

the back of Gus' chair and started dragging it towards Frank's table.

"Stop it, Ron! He's going to kill us." Ron stopped dragging

the chair for a second, but then felt the sensation of Gus spitting on

Ron's face like the spit was still there. How it clung to his face. Ron

hated this man. Ron couldn't help but heat up just thinking about

how who he was dragging was not his friend. Nor will he ever will

be. Then Gus said something that he never thought he would hear

Gus say.

"Stop dragging me or you'll never see Freddie again." Ron

stopped for a second.

"That's right; now untie me."

"No. I'd rather die than untie you." Ron kept dragging Gus

until he finally made it back to Frank's table. Ron turned Gus to

where he was facing the table. Everyone was laughing at what

seemed like something Meredith said, but they all immediately

stopped in mid-laugh when Gus interrupted it by saying:

"Hello, Hans." Frank looked at Gus and replied back:

"Hello... old friend." Ron looked back and forth from each of

them not knowing what to do, when suddenly, Frank pulled out the

gun he had from behind the table. Frank pointed it straight at Gus,

but before he could shoot it Gus slithered his hands out of Ron's

54

crappy knot-work, broke the already splintered chair's back part, and used the broken part of the chair to smack away the gun in

Frank's hand. The gun went flying and slid underneath a table

close by. Gus then picked up the circular table and threw it towards

Frank. Frank tried to run away but to no avail. Gus quickly lunged

onto the flying table and was able to land on it. Frank tripped and

felt himself fall down from the weight of the table.

"Ron!" Gus yelled at him as he was lying on the table, trying

to hold Frank down.

"Help!" Ron looked over and just in the nick of time, Richard

was back, and he had a fist heading right towards Ron's face.

Immediately, Ron caught it, grabbed the underside of Richard's arm

and swung him onto his back. While Richard was mid-way through

the air, Ron arched his fist back and landed his fist right on

Richard's gut. Richard's wind got knocked out, and it was over for

him. Ron looked behind him and two other men from the table were

coming towards him. Before they could do anything, Ron grabbed

each of the men's outside shoulders and did a front-flip right over

the two. Ron let go of both of them, switched his hands to where

they were on the opposite shoulders as before, and he flung both of

his knees into each of their back. He, then, clashed their heads into

each other, and they sank to the ground. They curled over onto their

backs in agony. Ron quickly ran to Gus, flung him off of the table as

well as the table off of Frank, picked him up, and pulled Frank up by

his collar.

"Who—are—you? Are you this Hans that Gus said you

were? You're not Frank, are you." Frank looked at Ron stupefied.

"Who... are... _you!?"_ Ron flung him on the ground and

stepped over Frank's shivering body.

"I'm Sergeant Marcus Reynolds and I'm bringing _you_ down

to the brig.

"No," Gus replied as he stood to the side of him.

"Let's go." After Ron heard this, he started running out of the

dining room with Gus. They made their way down the stairs out of

the dining room, into the hallway, and picked up to a full sprint.

"You found it," Gus said.

"Found what?" Ron said back.

"You found the reason why you are here."

"What _is_ the reason for why I'm here?" Ron asked.

55

"You are here to end this terrible war we are facing at the

moment." Ron stopped running upon hearing this.

"Why _am_ I here?" Ron looked at Gus while they were still in

the dining room.

"You're here for a reason. This destiny we have been called

upon is bigger than us. It's bigger than anything you've ever

imagined. You are here for a purpose—a purpose that only you

know. I don't know it, Freddie doesn't know it, but it's about time that

I finally brought it out of you." Ron started running again, and Gus

followed Ron behind him.

"Where are we going?" Ron said looking at him. "To

where Freddie and Evan are."

"Which is...?" Ron said back to this.

"Go to where the submarine we were looking at was. It will

still be there." Ron and Gus made their way through the hallway, up

the two flights of stairs, and out onto the main deck. There it was;

the submarine they were looking at came up from the depths of the

sea settled at the base of the water, floating like one of Freddie's toy

ducks he always liked to bring into the tub whenever he got smelly

and needed a bath. That was years ago when Freddie still liked

baths—but to Ron, it felt like a second ago he was trying his

darnedest to scrub that little bird down to perfection.

"Do we just jump onto it?" After saying this, Ron flung

himself off the ship's rails and landed onto the submarine with a

thud. It was an extremely large drop, and Ron was surprised he

even thought it was alright to be jumping down from off the ship. But

somehow, he _actually_ landed on it! After patting himself down, he

had no broken bones or actually hurt anything.

"I do it more secretly," Gus said to this and he took both of

his hands, holding them firmly to the rail, gently tossing himself

over while still holding on flipping his hands around. He then let go

while staying as close to the ship as possible. He gently slid down

the ship with a nice tap onto the submarine.

"Oh," Ron said to this.

"That was more secretly." Gus just shrugged his shoulders

and opened up the top of the submarine, climbing down inside it.

56

Chapter 8

The Submarine

Ron looked down into the opening of the top of the

submarine. It gave him the feeling that an eerie presence lurked

inside this vessel of steel. What was he to find? Evan and Freddie

already dead inside and Gus trying to fight off the Germans as best

he could? That type of thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere—

but he still thought of it as a possibility. There might not be any

Germans in here at all. What if Gus, Evan, and Freddie were the

Germans? He felt like he barely knew them. He just beat up some

random dudes that he had no idea about. They could have been on

the good side, the right side, all along, and he just went ahead and

went 'ham' on them. What has he become? He shook this feeling

off. It wasn't Ronald Lampson that fought those men. It was

Sergeant Marcus Reynolds, whoever that was. But then again—

were they the same person? Was he still just the same old Ron he

was before? He still thought and acted like how Ron would think

and act... for the most part. Or did his personality change along

with his body and voice transformation? The old Ron would have

never fought those men. The old Ron was a pacifist. The old Ron

didn't believe in war but believed in peace. So what did he believe

in now? What side was he on _now?_ And who could Gus actually be?

He talked in German earlier, and he has a bit of a German accent.

But what if he was Australian like Evan or American like himself?

Gus poked his head out of the submarine's entrance. "Well?

My American friend, I would like you to meet some

people." Gus now spoke with a thicker German accent than ever

before. He had a smile on his face and looked happier to see Ron

than he ever has. It was strange because Ron had never seen Gus

happy at all.

"What a turn of events. Gus is treating me better." Ron

thought to himself. He shrugged his shoulders and started climbing

the ladder down into the submarine.

"Welcome to my submarine, American!" Ron was greeted

once he had his feet on the floor to a German soldier wearing a

military uniform. It seemed dirty and oily most likely because of the

living conditions in this small, cramped vessel.

57

"Do you like?! Top of the line! Has much power! Tour, my

friend?" The German man didn't even wait for Ron to reply. He took

off down the tiny corridor, ducking his head for every stilt in the

ceiling that could easily wipe his head clean off. Ron followed

closely behind, looking around at the bleak walls that surrounded

him.

"I've heard a lot about you, my friend! Your name, Marcus,

yes?" The German man looked over his shoulder and smiled at Ron

showing off his missing tooth along with his grimy teeth.

"Yes. Marcus. But I also go by Mark." The man seemed

happy to hear this.

" _Awwh!_ Mark! Yes, yes! I will call you this! My name is

Walter Schwieger. Call me Walter, yes?" Ron nodded his head.

"Alright, Walter. So where is my group of friends?" Schwieger

looked back at Ron with curiosity.

"Group of friends? Hans brought you here alone, yes? He

wanted to make sure you were off that _ugly_ ship before we _blast_ it to pieces, yes! Dirty, British ship! A piece of poop, that's what it is! But

alas! No more! Bye-bye, _Lusitania_! Ah! What a terrible name!"

Walter nodded his head at this. Ron took a step back for a second.

"So this _is_ the submarine," he thought. The same submarine

known to kill so many innocent people! They never deserved the

fate they were given. Ron couldn't believe it. He was standing

inside a murderous mechanism that brought sadness, despair, and

death to so many people. Ron felt sick. He felt trapped, and he felt

betrayed.

This was not where he wanted to be. Why did Gus bring him here?

Where were Evan and Freddie? Did he kill them? Was Gus

actually an imposter the entire time?

"So how do you know Hans?" Walter asked.

"And is it true? You are American?" Ron didn't answer for a

minute. He was still stunned that Schwieger told him about him

torpedoing the _Lusitania_.

" _Uhhh_ ... I... We..." Schwieger looked at Ron confused.

"You are an American from the ship, yes? The one that put

holes in all of the lifeboats?" Ron looked at Schwieger, stunned.

Holes? In the lifeboats? That meant no one would be able to

survive—

"Where's Hans?" Ron asked. Walter gave him a quizzical

look.

"We are on the way to see him now? Aren't we?" Schweiger

gave Ron a long stare until, finally he yelled at him:

58

"Stop it!" Ron did not like being in this cramped space. His

claustrophobia was kicking in exponentially. Why was Walter being

like this all of a sudden? He was so friendly before, but he just

turned so defensive in such a short amount of time.

"So let's bomb this ship," Ron said trying to gain his trust

back.

"Are you sure you don't want to get back on it first?"

Schweiger was looking angry now.

"You know, I never really trusted you Americans, and I

definitely do not trust you right now one little bit. Hans never told me

you would be so curious. I thought you would be happy to be off that

cursed ship once you entered here, but you seem to not like my

vessel."

"Where did you get that impression? It's a mighty fine

submarine! The best one I've ever seen! German submarines are,

by far, the best in all of the oceans!"

"Better than America's?" Ron didn't answer this. Walter

stood there waiting. Before he could utter out his decision:

"OFF! GET OUT OF HERE!" Ron started backing away but

then he stopped.

"Well, I'm American. Of course I'm going to say my

submarines are better."

"But they aren't! They don't hold a candle to our submarines.

Ours is top of the line. Superb in every way. They have speed; they

have quality; they have dynamic ingenuity. What do American

submarines have that could even possibly _compare_ with our 20th-

century technology." Schweiger looked at Ron with pride in his

country. Ron looked around and replied:

"You're right. I guess you all _do_ have all of that. But you're

missing one thing." Ronald flicked his finger on the wall of the

submarine.

"Gusto. Men with pride in their country holding it all together

to make the finest of vessels compatible." Schweiger became

enraged from the statement.

"Oh, you'll see! You'll see, little American boy! I'll show you

that Germans are overall better than Americans! Get back on that

ship! You aren't welcome here anymore!" Ron looked at him like he

messed up.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Let me stay!" Ron started to plead with

Walter, but he wasn't having it.

59

"No! Get off! I'll just tell Hans that you wanted to go back on

the ship like it sounds like you do!" Schweiger began shoving Ron

back from which they came. Ron didn't know what to do. He couldn't

fight like he wanted to. But it was too late _._ Ron was already climbing up the ladder in defeat. He had lost. But where were Freddie and

Evan? Were they anywhere near? Or was Gus. Or Hans? He

thought Frank was Hans? It was all so confusing. Or was Frank only

mad that Gus called him Hans because Gus was Hans? Or was

Hans really Frank and Gus were pretending to be Hans? That

sounded right—that had to be it!

Ron wanted to go back to the dining room and find out. But

he didn't need to—once he got out onto the top of the submarine,

Frank jumped down onto it.

"What are you doing on _my_ submarine?" Frank looked angry.

He began beating on the top of the submarine, speaking in German.

The submarine started sinking.

"IT'S HANS! IT'S HANS!" The water started to reach Ron

and Frank's/Hans's feet as the submarine sunk deeper and deeper

into the depths of the sea.

"I don't understand!" Frank said, looking up at Richard, and

the two other men standing atop upon the deck of the ship. They

didn't look happy at all. From the submarine sinking and the sight of

Ron, everyone seemed very displeased. Frank started cursing as

his nice dress shoes became soaked from the water slowly covered

every inch of his body.

"Get a rope for me down here." Frank looked up at the men,

and they all disappeared once he said this. Frank looked over at

Ron who was sinking with him.

"What's _this_ all about!?" Frank said, repulsed by the stream

of events that were occurring. He pointed his whole hand down

towards the submarine.

_"We're supposed to be on that submarine, but instead they_

_start leaving without us!?_ Frank started banging his foot on the

submarine and splashed Ron in the process.

"The man you had me tie up said _his_ name was Hans to

Schweiger." Ron shrugged his shoulders at Frank. Frank looked at

Ron flabbergasted.

" _WHAT! I'M HANS, YOU—IGNORANT AMERICAN!"_ Hans

tackled him off of the submarine and into the ocean. Ron tried to

keep from breathing in the water, but Hans had his head plunged

60

under to where he could barely make out a gurgle. Hans was

drowning him, and Ron didn't know what to do. He started

swimming downward to get away from Hans' grasp, but Hans clung

to his hair and kept him from getting away. But it was too late, Ron

slipped from his fingers and swam as far away from Hans as he

could until he couldn't take it anymore and had to go back up for air.

Ron plunged up and took a gulp of water after barely making it to

the surface. He gagged at the seawater he accidentally swallowed

and started breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen. Ron looked

over and saw Hans swimming over to him as fast as he could.

"No, Frank!" Swimming away from him as fast as he could,

he kept his eyes fixed on the man that wanted to kill him.

"I'm Hans! Not _that_ man!" Hans started speaking angrily in

German after he said this.

"Alright, Alright! You're Hans!" He didn't know what to do.

Hans wanted to kill him, and he couldn't get away from him. Ron

took one last deep breath and plunged down into the water. Ron

started swimming towards Hans underwater with a mission in his

mind. He got to the bottom of Hans' kicking feet and pulled harder

than he's ever pulled in his life. Hans kicked him furiously, but Ron

was able to hold on tight to his grasp. Hans kept squirming around,

fighting for his life, but it seemed like no use. He had the sorry bag

of potatoes beat. Hans took an underwater swing at him but didn't

get his fist anywhere near his designated target. Ron plunged

farther and farther into the depths of the ocean.

"It's him or me." He kept this thought running through his

mind the farther and farther he went. All of a sudden, Hans gave up.

Ron looked up from the depths he was pulling Hans into and saw a

stream of bubbles come forth from the dark form of Hans's mouth.

Then, all at once, the bubbles stopped. Hans was no more. He

started climbing up Hans' dead body and stopped for a second at

his face. Ron couldn't believe it. He killed a man. Ron felt terrible but

the extreme lack of oxygen was more important so he pushed off

the body and started kicking with all his might towards the surface.

He took one last kick off of Hans' head for an extra boost before he

started making the long journey back up. Ron didn't know if he could

hold it for much longer. He felt himself wanting to open his mouth or

breathe in through his nose, but he knew if he did, he would end up

like Hans. Ron saw the surface closing in on him and started

swimming up more and more furiously. At last! He broke through the

61

surface! Ron took in the fresh air. It felt tremendous. He floated on his back letting himself catch his breath. Up in the sky, he pondered

his eyes upon the stars in the night. It looked glorious. He did it. He

had survived. Ron floated there for a minute when suddenly, he

heard a voice—

"Hans! Hans! Is that you, Hans?" He looked over at the ship.

On the deck were three figures in the darkness of the night. Ron

started fist bumping the air, and the men started cheering.

"HANS! HANS! HANS!" They all started chanting. He swam

towards them while thinking about the time when they were chanting

Frank in the dining room. Now the tables had turned. Hans couldn't

get a break from other people using his name. First it was Gus, and

now Ron. They started yelling down to him again:

"I knew you would kill that dirty American! What a piece of

trash! He is _no_ Hans Klein Shulze!" The other men started cheering.

Ron made it to where the submarine once was; it was completely

gone. No trace of its existence was found. "We found you a rope!"

The same man replied as their heads returned once again. They

passed down a long rope that seemed to be tied to the rail of the

ship. He took it and started climbing.

"We'll pull you up!" Ron didn't like hearing this. If they

realized that he wasn't Hans before he made it to the top he would

have no chance, and they would quickly drop him with a snap of

their fingers. Ron started shaking his head at them and started

moving his right hand back and forth like he was saying, "No I'm

good. I'll just climb." After Ron did this he started climbing up the

rope again, trying his hardest not to fall.

"What? You don't want us to pull you up? Why?"

"Boris _—he probably doesn't want YOU to pull him up. You'd_

_let him fall you shlampe."_

_"Verpiss dich!"_ Boris replied, giving the other German a push

against him, making the man slam into the railing behind him. Ron

ignored their arguing and kept climbing.

"I don't understand why he's being like this." One of the men

said to the other two.

"Oh just let him climb up. It's less work for us anyways."

"But it's more work for him, and Hans never likes work!

That's why he is der Chef."

62

"Why are you making a big deal out of this, Boris? It's

obvious that he's just mad because the submarine left us, and

you're mad because you had to leave and go act like you were

getting someone to take that traitor away."

"Yeah... you're right. We should have killed him right on the

spot.

"Yeah! I was ready to knock him out, but Hans stood up first.

Speaking of; how are you doing down there!?" Ron gave up a

thumbs up, but then suddenly he started to slip. Ron quickly caught

himself before he almost started to make the long trek back down

from which he came.

"Alright, that settled it for me! I'm pulling you up!" Boris

started pulling up the rope, but Ron quickly jerked it down and out of

his hands.

"Ow! That hurt, Hans!" Ron looked up to see Boris looking

down at the rope burn Ron gave him, and he could hear him

spurting out German words under his breath. Boris then looked

away from his hands and down at Ron yelling spurts of German at

him. Then, suddenly, Ron looked up and locked eyes with Boris.

Boris had a look of surprise from seeing Ron's face, and he quickly

started yelling German at his comrades, pointing down at Ron. Ron

quickly realized it was over. He was a quarter of the way there, and

he had to move fast. Boris began untying the rope and yelling at

Ron. He still only spoke in German and began spitting at him as

well, trying to get some of the saliva in his eyes so he would be

blinded and fall. One of the other men started shaking the rope

while Boris was trying to untie it but with no luck.

"STUPID AMERICAN! YOU KILLED HANS! HOW DARE

YOU!" Boris was mad, and his untying of the rope wasn't

progressing near to at all like how he wanted it to.

"Try to kick his hands off the rope, Wenzel!" Ron started to

get close to the top so Wenzel stuck one of his feet out, ready to

scrape Ron's hands away. Once Ron got close enough, Wenzel

started kicking his foot furiously. There was now luck for him,

however. It was more like Wenzel was having a spasm instead

trying to scrape away Ron's hands from the rope. Suddenly, Boris

had the rope untied and it started to slip away. Ron started to panic.

He tried catching his hand on the edge of the ship, but, instead, his

hands were having no luck in grasping it. His fingers started to slip

off so Ron took one last chance. While Wenzel was laughing at Ron

63

failing, he started to pull his leg out from the side of the ship. Ron quickly swung over from his last bit of finger grasp and barely

caught Wenzel's shoe before he had time to pull it over back onto

the ship.

" _Get... get off me!"_ Wenzel shook his foot violently trying to

get Ron to slip off, but Ron wasn't going anywhere. He may have

been getting kicked in the face, countless times, but he still had a

firm grip on the dress shoe. Ron started making his way up the leg

and before anyone saw it coming, Ron flung himself onto his ankle.

Wenzel didn't know what to do. He was in a state of terror. Ron

wasn't giving up without a fight. Wenzel started beating his fists,

wildly, at Ron's head and pushing him down with all of his might, but

instead of Ron losing this fight, he kept on moving forward. Steadily,

Ron made it to the bottom part of his thigh and at this point, Ron

was able to grab onto the metal railing of the ship and still have a

grasp on Wenzel's thigh. Once Ron put the other hand on the rail,

Wenzel started to panic. He took his leg, sticking over the edge, out

of the rail of the ship and fell onto the ship's deck with a thud! Ron

quickly jumped back onto the ship's deck, and Boris ran at him. Ron

whaled at him with his fists until Boris decided he could take it on

and tackled Ron to the ground. Boris wailed at Ron time and time

again until Ron couldn't take it anymore. Ron kneed Boris in the gut,

and he rolled over in agony. Ron pushed Boris off of him and ran

away from the other German who was still standing.

"Wait!" Ron screamed at the man chasing him. Ron held out

his hands hoping that the German would stop, but he had no

intention of doing so. Ron swung at him once he got close enough

to him but this missed him entirely for what came next was so

sudden, Ron didn't see it coming. The German ducked under the

swing and gave Ron an uppercut straight to the jaw. Ron was flung

back and started to fall straight over the other side of the ship. Ron

tried grabbing the railing but had no luck. Ron saw his death flash

before his eyes once he realized the metal railing was out of his

possibility of a grasp, but Ron barely got a handful of the side of the

ship, to his luck, and slammed onto the side of the _Lusitania_. Ron

felt his fingers slipping from his miraculous hold that seemed

impossible. He flung his other hand onto the side, flipping from his

stomach facing the ocean to his back. Suddenly, the German came

upon Ron barely hanging and started laughing.

64

"You're not winning this time, American scum." The German

started laughing with a slight demonic tone. The German took one

of Ron's fingers and slowly pried it off the ship. He then pried off the

second finger and Ron started to slowly slip. As fast as Ron could

muster, he took his other hand and grabbed ahold of the German's

arm before it could pry off the next finger. The German just laughed

at this, and, like lightning, he switched his grasp so he held onto

Ron instead of Ron holding onto him. The German laughed at this

maneuver like it was too simple for him to have even tried, and, just

like that, he said:

"Goodbye." He dropped Ron.

65

Chapter 9

What's Next?

Ron splashed into the water. Once again, he was back in the

waters where he killed Hans. It was an eerie feeling being back

where a man tried to drown him, and, instead, he turned it around

onto the other foot.

"But now what?" Ron thought to himself. Was there any way

he could get back aboard the ship or was he to lay stranded out in

the waters and die. He wouldn't. He couldn't die out here. He looked

over and saw the body of land in the distance. It was Ireland, and if

he had to, he could swim to it. Ron felt the need to get back on the

ship, however. He couldn't let all those innocent people die on that

ship. Ron felt the power to stop it so he had no choice but to look for

a way back on. He started examining the entirety of the ship. It

looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Was it really to have a fate so

devastating? Ron remembered in his history class learning about

the torpedo that hit it and how so many people were killed that didn't

deserve to die.

"War is a cruel thing." Ron thought. But now he was in it. He

was taking a part in it, and it felt terrible, to say the least. Was he

really meant to be here? He suddenly thought:

"Can anyone see me swimming around? What I if just

started yelling ' _man overboard?'_ Would anyone throw me a life

preserver?" Ron didn't want to do this, however. Those Germans

were still onboard, and they would kill anyone who would be willing

to save him. But he needed to be saved. Suddenly, out of nowhere,

a submarine surfaced onto the water. The hatch opened and out

popped Gus' head, as he whispered:

_"Ron. Ron, is that you?"_ Ron never looked happier to see

Gus. Gus smiled back at him when he noticed it _was_ Ron!

"Yes! It's me!" Ron then heard voices behind him from on the

ship:

"Walter?! Walter, is that you? Kill him, Walter! It is an

American!" Gus looked up and saw the three figures looming on the

deck of the ship. Gus held up his thumb at them and then made his

hand into the shape of a gun:

_"Picheew!"_ Gus started laughing at this and then said:

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"C'mon Ron! Get in!" Ron looked back at the three figures,

and they started backing away in shock because of Gus just did.

"Don't mind them. Say! I thought there were four of them?"

Ron looked back at Gus and frowned..

"I had to. It was me or him." Gus gave him a serious look

back and then nodded his head.

"As long as you're alive, that's what matters." Ron nodded

his head back at him and started to climb onto the submarine.

"So—if you hadn't realized, Schweiger kicked me out." Gus

snickered at this and said:

"Of course he did. I should've known you two weren't going

to get along."

"But I tried my hardest to be nice to him. He was just so

cocky about this submarine that I felt this strange desire that I _had_ to tell him off."

"Ron. It doesn't matter. Evan wasn't getting close to being on

his good side either. They ended up getting into a fight and one

thing led to another and..." Gus just looked at Ron who was now

fully on top of the submarine.

"Well... whatever you did to one of those up there, that's

what Evan did to Schweiger." Gus disappeared back into the

submarine, and Ron followed in behind him.

"What did Evan do to make Schweiger mad?" Ron asked.

Gus snickered at this and said:

"Evan wanted to steer the submarine, but Schweiger

wouldn't let him." Ron started to laugh but then stopped and

frowned.

_"So—he killed him?"_ Gus stopped going down the ladder

when he heard this and Ron stepped on Gus' fingers. Gus yelled:

"Yeow!" And fell down onto the floor of the submarine with a

thud!

"My bad! I didn't know you were stopping!" Gus looked up at

Ron, nursing his stepped-on hand and said:

"You _killed_ one of them!?" Which one of them did you kill!?"

Gus looked horrified at Ron. Ron stepped back from Gus upon

hearing his reaction and said:

"Well... yeah. He was trying to drown me so I got to him

first." Ron felt terrible having to tell someone he had to kill someone.

It was a weight he didn't like having on his shoulders.

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"What did Evan do to Schweiger then?" Gus looked away

from Ron for a second and then looked back at him.

"He only knocked him out. Ron, who did you kill?" Ron felt

like sitting down. He hated being interrogated by Gus. And he was

only making him feel worse about what he did.

"I killed—I killed Hans.

By the way, what made you choose to be him out of all the other

Germans?" Gus didn't answer him.

"Gus. I didn't want to. Why are you making me feel torn up

inside like this? I hate it!" Gus rolled back over onto his back and still

ignored Ron. Finally, after a few minutes of Ron staring down at his

vegetable of a body, Gus got off of his back and put his hands

towards the corner of his mouth covering his mouth like he was

about to yell out into a large crowd. He had his hands in what

seemed to be a praying position. However, there was a gap in his

mouth so it looked more like he was only thinking.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I don't mean to act like this. It's just—I

never—I never really put the thought of how we are going to have to

_kill_ people on this mission." Ron looked down at the ground after

hearing this.

"I don't _want_ to kill people. I believe every life is precious and

every life deserves the chance to be on this Earth as much as _we_

deserve to be on this Earth." Gus got up from sitting and patted Ron

on the back.

"That's the right mindset. But we _are_ going to be killing more

people. Hans wasn't your last." Ron didn't like thinking this way, but

he knew it was the truth.

"So can we go see Evan and Freddie now? And aren't there

more Germans in the submarine?" Gus nodded his head.

"Yes. They..." Before Gus could say anything else, a man

came from behind Ron, and Ron's neck tightened up with a string

roped around it. Gus looked in shock at the sight unfolding before

his eyes and before he could do anything, another German came

from behind him as well and started gagging him with a rope. Ron

blacked out only to be awakened in what seemed to be the control

room of the U-Boat.

"Welcome back, Reynolds. It didn't take you long to find your

way back on my submarine after I kicked you off." Ron looked up at

Schweiger with hatred. The sheer sight of the man was revolting.

68

"Sir, I learned from _that_ man that we still have men aboard the _Lusitania_."

"How many, Günter?"

"I believe three. It was four until...?" Günter gave Ron a cold

stare that showed how much he despised him. Ron looked away

upon seeing this hateful face.

"Great! Another person to make me feel bad for what I've

done." Ron thought to himself, feeling everyone's eyes pressing

down into the back of his neck. Ron hated this! He just wanted to go

back in time and reverse what he had done. But he couldn't. Could

he go through the gazebo again and change his actions? It already

seemed like history was being changed right before his eyes. If the

_Lusitania_ didn't sink, it would be one big impact on the world's

events but what would be next? America not joining the war at all?

World War II not even happening. Ron wanted to end this war and

end it now. But how? He looked over at everyone else who was tied

up with him: Gus, Evan, and...? Freddie? Where was Freddie? Ron

nudged Gus and whispered:

"Where's O'Malley?" Gus looked at Ron with somber eyes

and looked over at Evan. Evan noticed that both of them were

looking at him, and mouthed:

"What?" Gus mouthed back O'Malley and looked over at

Ron. He looked back at him.

"He's smarter than us, that's what! He knows how to not get

caught." Ron was confused by this answer. This didn't mean

anything to him. It didn't tell him the location of his pet falcon-turned

to an old man.

"So where is he?" Ron whispered to Evan. Evan shrugged

his shoulders.

"He's always disappearing. I don't know where he runs off to.

One second he's right next to me while we're talking to Schweiger,

and the next second he's gone. He's strange. But at the same time,

he's amazing! He makes me feel like there's no way we _aren't_ going

to get out of this sticky situation we've put ourselves into." After

Evan went on this spiel to Ron, Ron realized something. He realized

a way out of the sticky situation. Ron started to get up, but once he

started doing this, Schweiger yelled:

"SIT BACK DOWN!" Walter looked furiously at Ron. After he

tried to sit back down, Walter went up to Ron and grabbed him by

the collar tugging him towards his face.

69

"Why did you kill one of my men? We could be on the same

side, America and Germany. I just _don't_ see that happening

anymore due to _your_ actions!" Schweiger let go of Ron and started

walking away.

"How could we _ever_ have been on the same side when

you're about to do something so devastating that it just doesn't

make sense! Torpedo the _Lusitania_! _Torpedo the Lusitania!?_ That's like asking America to join the war on the other side! There are over

a hundred Americans aboard that ship, and you still think we could

join sides!? Why don't you torpedo a ship full of Mexican civilians

and see if Mexico would still want to join sides with you!" Ron took

a breather for a second after getting caught up in his speech—but

right about when Schweiger was about to say something, Ron cut

him off:

"JUST... just think about what you are about to do before

you go through with it. All of the innocent lives. All of the people that

have families across the water that—that, _that_ ship is taking a

voyage from! PLEASE... just please..." Ron let this plead sink in

before saying in a whisper just barely loud enough for everyone to

hear:

"Don't do it." Ron looked down at the ground and then

looked back up at Walter who was actually contemplating what he

just said. Ron smiled at this but as Schweiger saw this, he frowned.

"Do you think I care? Do you think I care that there are

women and children aboard that ship? I... I was sent on a _mission!_

A mission that I have to carry _out!_ So stop _trying_ to persuade me to do something that I know I'm going to do anyway! I have my gun

aimed at that piece of crap of a ship, and I'm going to blow it to

pieces! And you! You get to watch me!"

"But... but sir we still have men aboard that ship." One of

Schweiger's men stated with fear that wallowed beneath his eyelids.

Walter looked over at the man who dared to confront him while he

was ranting. He smacked him across his face with the backside of

his hand.

"They missed their ticket! Now... now it's time we finish what

we came here to do. We have a ship to blast to pieces!" The man

looked at Schweiger horrified. Schweiger had turned into a monster

right before his eyes.

"Walter! You've gone insane!" One of his men said.

70

"That man we have tied up is right! We can't sink that ship!

It's inhumane!"

"You are disobeying my orders if you don't follow my

commands, Schneider!"

"I _refuse_ to follow your commands! You are unfit to run your

position with the mindset you have at the moment! We even have

our own men onboard that ship, and you still deem fit to go ahead

and kill them when we could just as easily go and pick them up and

come back with little to no seconds at all!? How _dare_ you, Captain!"

"Schneider! We have wasted enough time as it is! If there is

any time to fire, it is now!" Schneider couldn't stand this arrogance.

Before anyone knew it, Schneider punched Walter square, head-on

in the face. Walter was knocked back a couple of steps, but he

stayed standing. He looked at Schneider with a side smile, flung his

right arm back, and _slammed_ Schneider in the side of the face.

Schneider walked to the right, sideways for a few steps and landed

on the side of his butt. He quickly got up, shook off the hit, and held

up his fists, ready to fight.

"Schneider, you don't want to try me!"

"I don't?! I think _you're_ the one who doesn't want to try _me,_

_Captain!"_

"Put those fists down Schneider, and that's an order!" "You

aren't in charge of me anymore. I'm on their side now!"

Schneider pointed at Ron, Gus, and Evan all standing up now from

this huge turn of events. Schneider went over and started untying

Ron's hands when Walter yelled out:

"DON'T YOU DARE DO THAT, SCHNEIDER! I swear."

Walter whispered the last two words, barely opening his mouth.

Schneider looked at him with a smug look and then started to untie

Ron anyway. And Walter didn't take this well at all. He started

screaming uncontrollably and storming towards Ron and Schneider.

Schneider quickly untied Ron, and Ron moved out of the way as

fast as he could. Schneider was not as lucky. Walter tackled

Schneider into the wall behind him and started wailing at his

stomach. Schneider couldn't take it. It was too much brutality

coming from his ex-Captain that he started yelling:

"STOP! STOP!" Walter finally stopped the torment, and

Schneider slid to the ground, rolling himself up in a fetal position.

When everyone in the room thought Walter was done, he wasn't. He

started kicking Schneider in the gut repeatedly. At about this time,

71

Ron was finished untying Gus, and Gus immediately ran over to

Walter and wailed him across the face. Walter hit the wall from the

impact, but as soon as he felt the blood on his lip, he looked at Gus

with insanity overflowing from the surface of his eyelids. Gus saw

this and started backing away. He knew Schweiger had a mission

now, and it was to kill him. Gus readied his footing in preparation for

what was about to come but what came shocked everyone in the

room; another one of Schweiger's men came out of nowhere and

kicked Walter right in the groin. The man looked over at Gus and

gave him a thumbs up, and Gus gave one back in return. Schweiger

fell to the ground, and soldiers spread out all around began hooting

and hollering from the sudden take-down of their Captain. The man

who kicked him in the groin went up to Gus and said:

"It was about time someone did that to him!" The man said

this, using his thumb to point back to Walter. He breathed heavily

while he stood in front of Gus in a slightly slouched position.

"What a piece of work _he_ was for a captain!" said Schneider

to the man.

"Yeah. He was the worst captain I've ever had in the history

of my military experience!"

"Exactly! We have our own men on that ship, and he wanted

to kill them? That's called being a traitor! You just don't do that! No

one kills our men! Speaking of which!" The man looked over at Ron

who was standing next to him and punched him straight in the face.

"Don't be killing my own men, you... you... American!" The

man spat on Ron. Schneider got in between them and pushed his

hands against each of their chests.

"Hey, hey, hey! No one's killing anyone!"

"He killed one of our men, Schneider! He deserved it!" The

man starting pointing at Ron after saying this.

"No, Kraus. You deserve this, however." Schneider punched

Kraus in the face. Kraus took the punch and looked over at Schneider

with disgust.

"I didn't deserve that, but that American deserved what he

had coming to him. Now you deserve what you have coming to

you!" Schneider started backing away upon hearing what Kraus

said, but it was too late. Kraus plunged at Schneider with all of his

might and brought him down to the floor.

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"Get off him, Kraus!" One of the other Germans aboard the

U-Boat said, but the man standing next to him didn't take too kindly

to his crewmate's words:

"No! Kraus; give it to him for what he had coming!" The one

backing up Schneider hit the man in the gut to back up Kraus and

this turned the whole crew into a fistfight of mayhem. The ones

backing up Schneider fought the ones backing up Kraus, and the

ones backing up Kraus fought the one's backing up Schneider. It

was German against German. Then, all of a sudden, Freddie came

out of the tunnel, entering the control room breathless:

"Alright! I did it!" O'Malley looked around at the chaos

occurring and then looked at Ron, Evan, and Gus in shock.

"What the!" O'Malley said to this turmoil. All three of

Freddie's men looked from him to the chaotic Germans and finally,

Evan stated:

"I think this is our cue!" The team ran together out of the

mayhem before they possibly could end up being a part of it.

"We need to get out of here before Schweiger gets up and

takes back control!"

"What happened to Captain Walter Schweiger?" Freddie

asked.

"He turned into a maniac and tried to torpedo the ship while

they still had men on it."

"WHAT!?" Freddie said to Gus' answer.

"I thought we had more time, but it seems not fellas! We're

going to have to get off this submarine and fast!" The group ran

through the tunnel and all the way back to the ladder to the hatch.

"Aren't we underwater?" Ron asked.

"No. I was able to resurface us when Kraus decided to hit

you. That's when I realized that there was more than one crazy

person on this submarine beside Walter."

"Yeah! There's a whole heap of them," Gus replied. O'Malley

opened the hatch, and they smelled in the sweet salt, air.

"I've been in this death countdown of a _U-Boat_ for too long!"

Evan said to the air drifting inside the submarine.

"Me too, _brotha'_!" replied Freddie as he started climbing out.

They all climbed out and jumped into the water. Ron was the last to

get out but before he could close the hatch, Kraus came out of

nowhere and slammed it back open.

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"Where do you think you're going, American!" Kraus grabbed

Ron's foot and pulled it towards him. Ron fell but before he hit his

head on the submarine, he caught himself with his hands. Ron tried

to pull himself away from Kraus' grasp, but he was having no luck.

Ron was sliding back into the submarine. Quickly, Ron grabbed

onto the hatch of the submarine, but instead of it helping him, Ron

ended up closing the hatch upon the beautiful daylight. No! He

thought to himself mercilessly. That _couldn't_ be his last bit of

daylight to ever take in! He _couldn't_ die in this submarine. Ron kept

holding onto the hatch while Kraus kept tugging at his legs. Before

Ron knew it, his fingers started slipping off the metal wheel. Ron

held on for one more second until he had no more strength. Ron's

fingers slipped off the hatch, and he fell. Ron's head slammed

against the ground of the submarine, and he was out.

74

Chapter 10

Kraus' Clutches

This couldn't be happening. How many times had he been

knocked out? He couldn't remember— _three!_ That's how many! He

kept waking up, and he was in a totally different place than he was

before. But when Ron woke up this time and looked around, he was

in a familiar place that brought back such wonderful memories. It

was the control room again. So he was in the same place for once.

Except when he looked to his left, they weren't there; Gus and Evan

got away—and he didn't. Why was he the one to get left behind? He

always was, and it seemed like it would never end. He remembered

back to when he was with his class on a field trip. He was in fifth

grade, and they went to the zoo. It was amazing, and he was lucky

enough to see his favorite animals: sea turtles. But he got left

behind due to his perseverance in staying in the aquarium when

everyone else was deciding it was time to leave. It didn't end there;

three years later, his friends got a group together to play laser tag

but didn't have room on the team for him to join.

And now it seemed like this reoccurring situation he was always

placed in would never end. And Ron already saw his family going

to Europe without him. His _family._ Ron looked around; his family

wouldn't expect him to be in this situation right now! He only saw

them wondering where he was. Well, that would be a good

question for them to ask because where he was... he didn't know

how to explain. He was in a submarine, that was for sure, but

where was this submarine? Probably already back at the bottom of

the ocean ready to blast the _Lusitania_ to pieces. Ron looked around

at the control room: everything seemed cluttered and broken.

"There must've been a fight in here." Ron looked over at his

captives. It was all of Kraus' gang. Half of the other crew was

nowhere to be found. But Schweiger wasn't in there either. Where

was he? Ron looked around at the crew; they were at their controls.

Kraus was standing there looking down at him with a smile on his

face.

"Hello, my American friend. I'm glad you decided to stay on

this ship, unlike your other friends. It's a shame they had to leave so

soon. They're going to miss the party."

75

"The party!?" Ron asked, looking up at Kraus. He felt a

headache spurt from the bump he had on his head after falling to

the ground.

"Oh yes, the party. We have so much to celebrate that it is

about time we had a party. It's a shame, however, that you aren't

invited." Kraus said this to himself after practically giggling out the

remark.

"But it sounds like such a great party; you couldn't possibly

make me miss out on it!" Kraus looked away from Ron and started

walking towards one of the men looking at a graph displayed in front

of him.

"I guess you could join the party. But you would have to

bring something to be allowed _into_ the party."

"Oh, and what's that?" Ron asked, amused. Kraus walked

around the room for a second, going in circles until he finally

stepped back in front of Ron again.

"I want you to bring _this_." Kraus held up a white piece of

cloth tied onto a tiny stick that he took out of his pocket. Kraus

started laughing hysterically until one of the men sitting down at the

controls interrupted him by saying:

"We're here, sir." Kraus looked over at the man who said this

and then looked back over at Ron, smiling.

"Oh. Are we?" Kraus snapped his fingers and two of the men

sitting at the controls ran over to Ron, grabbed both of his arms and

dragged him out into the tunnel away from Kraus.

"Bye, bye American!" Kraus laughed at this, feeling giddy

from the new power he had taken on.

The two men led Ron through the tunnel and back to the

hatch.

"What are you both doing with me?" The two men didn't

reply to Ron. One of the men walked up the ladder and opened the

hatch. Sunlight shined into the submarine like it has never been

there before.

"How long was I out!?" Ron thought to himself. Or has he

already experienced a full night in this Hell he's been put into? It

seemed like it was just a minute ago when Freddie asked him if he

wanted to go have dinner, but instead, he got a plate of Gus' fist

along with Kraus' as dessert. The man who opened the hatch held

down his hands and spoke some German to the man who was

76

holding Ron in place. Ron tried to wiggle away from the man's

grasp, but his grip on his arms held firm.

"Where did the rest of your crew go?" The man didn't answer

Ron but smiled at him. Ron didn't like this silence. Did they kill

them? They wouldn't have. Would they? The man holding Ron in

place picked him up by the waist. Ron squirmed around trying to

break free, but it was no use. Ron's tried at the rope tied around his

wrist as well and tried to slip through it, but it was too tight. The man

passed Ron to the other man outside of the submarine. This one

grabbed Ron by the bottom of his armpits and thrust him out of the

whole of the submarine and with a splash, Ron hit the water.

Water came into his mouth, and Ron quickly strained his neck while

he was in... the sand? Ron stood up. He was standing neck-deep

on the coast of Ireland. But why? Why did they bring him here? Ron

looked over at the submarine and saw it disappear back into the

depths of the ocean.

_"What's going on!?"_ Ron asked himself. It didn't make sense

why they would bring him here. This didn't seem right. Ron saw in

the distance, the Lusitania. It seemed so small at how far away it

was. Ron couldn't swim all the way back there. Was that why they

brought him here? Ron looked at the coast of Ireland and how

scenic it looked. It was a sight worth taking in, but Ron knew he

didn't have time. He had to untie the rope around his wrist. He ran to

the shore, splashing the water around him furiously, and began

looking for a sharp rock. Ron saw pebbles, seashells, and sand

everywhere he looked, but he couldn't find what would do the trick.

Ron, suddenly, heard voices in the distance. They sounded like

someone yelling at someone else.

"HEY! HELLO!" Ron yelled out. There was silence for a

second. Then someone blurted out: "AMERICAN!?" IS THAT

YOU!?" Ron smiled upon hearing this. It had to be the rest of the

Germans. Did Kraus drop them off just recently? How long have

they been here? Ron couldn't get over the thought of how long he

was unconscious. It seemed like he had been under for almost the

entire experience he's been partaking in. Ron shook this out of his

mind and started running towards the voices. As he left the sandy

ridges of the shore and passed the steep rocky cliffs he had to climb

over, all he could see was the beautiful green landscape of Ireland.

It's luscious scenery left Ron breathless. He had finally made it to

his Europe trip his parents had been planning for weeks on end.

77

However, this _wasn't_ in the brochures he had been given whenever his mother would get fed up with his bantering on about what plans

have been made. Ron ran up the steep hill and made it to the top.

There, in the distance, were the crew members that fought for

Schneider when he had last seen them. It sadly seemed that they

lost, of course, due to their current location, and Kraus' group's

location.

"Hey! American! You made it!" Ron jogged over to finally see

the group more clearly. In it were Schneider, three other men, and...

_Walter?_

"What's _he_ doing with you all!?" Ron pointed to Walter who

looked irritated to see him.

"Relax, American. He is one of us. He got exiled like us so

he is a part of us."

"Exiled? What do you mean _exiled!?"_ Ron asked curiously.

"Well... exiled, kicked off the submarine..."

"More or less thrown off!" chimed in one of the other German

men who got kicked off as well.

"Yes, yes. Thrown off is the best way to put it." Schneider

looked around at Ron's hands tied behind his back and said:

"Would you like Ludvig to cut you free? He found a rock on

the shore that saved us from our inability to use our hands. He calls

it his _Kleinen Helden_ which is "Little Hero" in German." The other

two men began to snicker at the mention of _Kleinen Helden,_ and

Ludvig held the jagged rock up proudly like it was a prize he won at

the fair. Walter stayed quiet while the rest of the group giggled from

the little hero that Ludvig held preciously.

"Now use _Kleinen Helden!?_ Ludvig asked excitedly. Ron

turned around and replied with a: "Go at it!" Ludvig cut Ron loose,

and Ron felt at his wrists, feeling the blood return to his fingers.

"Now! We return onward and upward!" Schneider said with a

thrill in his voice.

"Where exactly are we headed? The ship needs us! Kraus

will torpedo it." Ron sounded anxious. He did not like the direction

the group was walking. It was in the opposite direction that _he_

wanted to be heading.

"Relax, American. You seem tense! Ludvig will give you

massage." Ludvig's eyes beamed up upon hearing the sound of his

name and the word _massage_ put into the same sentence. Ludvig

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strutted over to where he was behind Ron and started to try and

attempt to give him a massage.

" _GET OFF ME!"_ Ron pushed Ludvig's hands off his neck

which flooded Ludvig's eyes with a stream of melancholy.

"I want to head back to the _ship!_ And if you five have no

intention to save the people on that vessel than I believe it is time I

depart and thank you all for the hospitality and generosity." Ron

looked over at Ludvig.

"And thank you... _Ludvig—_ for freeing me, but I apologize for

the lack of desire to have a message at the moment." Ludvig perked

up upon hearing this and went in for a hug as his way of accepting

Ron's apology.

"American... American! Oh, let him _go, Ludvig_!" Ludvig

quickly lets him go and looked down at the ground like he was a

puppy being punished.

"You see! We _are_ going to save the Lusitania! We just aren't

going to swim _those_ many miles to get back to it, however! By that

time it would be too late, and we would have to just turn back

around and head back _here!_ Instead of doing that, we have a plan!"

"Well, Alright! So... what's the plan?

"The plan?! Well... we're going to find a boat hopefully..."

Ron looked at Schneider stunned.

" _Hopefully?"_ Ron took a step back from the group who

started walking back towards the direction they were heading.

"WELL IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT, _AMERICAN_ ,

YOU THINK OF ANOTHER ONE!" Schweiger practically screamed

this at Ron. He seemed furious. Ron could understand why,

however. He was the captain of that submarine, and he lost it to a

group of rebels who overthrew him while the rest of the group that

was on his side didn't want him either. Walter didn't even have a

team _off_ the vessel either! Schneider was the leader of this small

handful and a better leader at that. Schweiger was more of the

outcast now.

As they all walked towards the direction of where Schneider

led them, Walter kept himself separated from the rest of the group.

He seemed like he was sulking in his failure. Ron couldn't take this.

He wanted to befriend the sad form of a human being. But then, on

the other hand, Ron felt repulsed by how pitiful he looked that he

just _had_ to look away and think nothing more about it. But then he

would look back at him like he was a magnet. A magnet full of pity

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but at the same time, curiosity. _What will happen to him? Will his_ _German brothers accept him back if he ever gets home? Or is he a_

_failure to the Germans because he has lost control of his mission,_

_and the one job he was supposed to complete: destroying the_

_Lusitania_. Walter caught Ron staring at him and gave him a look of

disgust.

"I know I'm beautiful but that doesn't mean you're getting

any." Ron couldn't help but smile at this remark. He looked forward

and saw Schneider turn around and smile at Schweiger's remark as

well.

"You may think Walter was doing a _dreadfully_ terrible job as

captain, but he is actually very well-known back in Germany."

"He's a captain among captains!" Ludvig chimed in. "By the

way, American, what _is_ your name!? I don't believe we've met." Ron

looked over at Ludvig who moved back in his steps to where he was

side by side Ron. Ron was speechless for a second for he wasn't

ready for such genuine hospitality from him.

"Well, howdy-do!" Ron replied.

"You can call me Reynolds if you would like. But this is only

my last name. If you feel more comfortable calling me Marcus,

please do!" The German looked overjoyed and started shaking

Ron's hand with so much force that he thought it was going to fall

off.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you, Reynolds! I've never met

an American before! I would have to say that you are my first

encounter with one! What a wondrous culture America has! I've

never even dreamed that I would cross the waters to be in your

country."

"Well if the _Lusitania_ does not fall then there is a strong

chance that you will have the possibility to be in the presence of

more than many Americans like myself after leaving Liverpool once

it makes it!" The man's eyes beamed with happiness upon hearing

these words.

"So... what is your name? If I may ask; it's Ludvig, right?"

Ron asked, not knowing if he remembered. He felt that he had met

so many Germans in all of his earlier encounters here that some

weren't being glued down into his head well enough. He tried to

remember any of three men onboard the ship that tossed him down

the rope and not one of their names was he recollecting.

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"I'm sure you wouldn't be able to pronounce my last name so

I will just give you my first. I am Ludvig. I was in charge of the food

on the submarine. Oh, how I love working with food! My favorite part

of the day is after finishing a meal and watching everyone _devour_

my art!" Schweiger laughed at Ludvig after hearing this.

" _Art!?_ You have to be joking! My mother would be repulsed

to find out what rubbish I've been gnawing on made by _your_ filthy

hands!" Ludvig threw up his hands and started shaking them around

in Walter's face.

" _FILTHY!?_ Filthy is not the definition of my hands! My hands!

My hands are the _opposite_ of the definition of filthy!" Walter started chuckling from Ludvig's sensitive pride for his hands.

_"Oh get those crummy hands out me face!"_ Walter smiled at

Ludvig and added in:

_"You know I was just goofin' around ya oaf!_ You've got some

_delectable_ cuisines, you do!" Walter made sure to emphasize his

sarcasm which Ludvig didn't notice at all. The rest of the group

could hear it loudly and clearly and tried their best to hide their

snickering.

"Thank you, Captain!" Ludvig went in for a hug which

Schweiger did not like one bit. He tried to get Ludvig off him, but

Ludvig held on tight.

"Alright now, Ludvig." Ludvig didn't let go.

"LUDVIG! Get _off_ me!" Ludvig lets go of his bear hug, but

you could still tell in his eyes that he wanted to go back in for

seconds.

"Gentlemen, look what is in the distance!" One of the last two

men that Ron hadn't been introduced to said this. In the distance

indeed was a sight worth beholding. Ron met his gaze upon a group

of men riding their horses towards them in the distance. They

seemed to be a group of four men with one younger lad in the back

of the group. They held up the guns they had at their sides to where

they were pointing at... only Ron? Ron didn't understand. Why were

they singling him out over the rest of the group with whom he was

standing? It didn't make any sense! The rest of the group noticed

this as well and started backing away from Ron like he was

contagious.

"YOU! AMERICAN! WE SEE YOU!" The one leading the

group yelled this at Ron as they neared him.

"How did he know I was an American?" Ron thought to

himself. He was the same skin tone color as the Germans he was

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with, and he was in a military uniform like them as well...but wait...

Ron noticed that there _was_ a difference in their uniforms and his

uniform. Their uniform was a navy color that showed that they were

part of the navy, being dark blue and everything. But Ron's... Ron's

uniform was more of a light olive. It was definitely easy to tell that

Ron didn't belong with this group. He stood out like a sore thumb.

Ron looked at his newfound friends with terror in his eyes. What

was about to happen to him? Were they about to take him away

from his fellow stranded men? Ron felt lost for words looking from

Walter's eyes to Ludvig's and then suddenly, Ron's eyes were

locked with Schneider's. Schneider had the "It's going to be okay"

look in his eyes. Ron nodded his head at Schneider, and Schneider

nodded his head back. Ron didn't know what it was, but he felt safe

around Schneider. It was like this German was always giving off this

protective aroma towards Ron so he knew he would always be

alright. He knew that wherever Schneider was, Ron would be okay.

Wherever Schneider was, Ron would never have to worry. Ron was

safe, and it was because he had someone named Schneider on his

side who was defending his back no matter what. And just like that,

the man leading the group, riding towards them on their horses,

yelled out:

"WE'RE HERE TO SAVE YOU!" And the man whipped out

his rifle and quickly shot Schneider right in the side of his head while

he still faced Ron. And Ron's newfound hero's head was gone.

Blood spurted all across Ronald's face. Ron was in a state of shock.

This didn't just happen. He was just putting Schneider on a pedestal

in his mind and now he was dead? This couldn't be happening! Ron

looked over at the man who shot Schneider, and he trotted up upon

the group with a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Take my hand, American! I've saved you!" The man looked

over at the rest of the Germans who all shared the look of complete

shock on their faces along with Ron's.

"Run along you Germans!" The man pointed to his gun and

smiled at them.

"I've got this here gun, and I'm not afraid to use it!" The man

looked back at his gun proudly and then looked down at Ron while

holding out his hand.

"Take my hand! I'm here to bring you to safety!" Ron didn't

take his hand. Instead, he looked down at Schneider with sorrow.

He then looked back up at the man with disgust.

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"What... why... Why did you do that!?" Ron looked at the

man with his disgust turning into anger. The man looked back at

Ron with confusion from hearing this.

"What do you mean? They have you captive! I'm here to

save you!" The man looked smug with this answer he gave back to

Ron, and then he held his head up high like he was proud of what

he just said. Ron started shaking his head at the ground at this and

yelled out:

"NO! NO, NO, NO! YOU—MURDERER! YOU KILLED MY

FRIEND! HOW— HOW _DARE_ YOU?!" Ron felt himself losing it. He

began to tear up and then, out of nowhere, punch the man's leg

while, at the same time, sob uncontrollably on it. The man looked

down at Ron, in a state of shock. His face turned into mourning. He

moved Ron's head away from his leg and slowly put both of his

hands on each of Ron's cheeks.

"I'm so terribly sorry, young lad." The man then began to get

down from the horse and went over to Schneider's dead body lying

on the ground. He knelt down next to Schneider, put his gun on the

ground and whispered where Schneider's ear would have been:

"Forgive me." Schweiger quickly got a hold of the man's gun

and yelled out: "HE SAYS HE DOESN'T!" He shot the man in the

back. Before Walter could turn around and shoot one of the other

three men, the youngest of the three shot Schweiger right in the

middle of his chest. After Walter was shot, he stood frozen to the

spot. But then, suddenly, he began to fall to the ground. His gun

went off into the air as he landed with a thud on the hard, barely

grassy ground. Ludvig started to slowly walk over to Boris after

taking in the occurrence of what just befell, but before he could take

another step, the man who shot Schweiger yelled:

"DON'T MOVE!" He aimed his gun at Ludvig. The young

man quickly got down from his horse and ran over to the man who

shot Schneider.

"Father... Father, no. Father, no! You can't be dead!" The

young man began to sob against his Father's chest.

"No, no, NO!" He screamed this last _no_ up into the sky. Ron

looked down in horror at the whole sequence of events that just

occurred. Three men were killed before him, and he was feeling

responsible. What if he was able to say something differently before

that man killed Schneider. What could he have done so Boris

wouldn't have stolen his gun and shot him? What could he have

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possibly have done so the son's father wouldn't have shot Walter?

Ron looked and thought:

"Nothing." He didn't think he could've done anything out of

the normal then he would've done. Everything happened so quickly

and the deaths happened so fast. Ron started to put his hand on the

son's shoulder but, before he could, the son quickly grabbed his

hand and snapped:

_"Don't!"_ The young man got up and stood to where he was

facing Ron.

_"You've done enough as it is. My father only wanted to help_

_you and now he's dead."_ Ron looked at the young man in horror. He

did only want to help him. But killing Schneider wasn't helping him.

The young man acted like his father did him a favor killing

Schneider. But it wasn't. He killed a man he was truly feeling he was

about to have a connection with. A man he truly felt that he would

be able to laugh, joke, and share secrets with.

Ron looked away from the young man. Now that ability was

over. Ron and Schneider will never become best friends. Ron went

over to Schneider's body and knelt down beside it. The young man

looked at Ron in disgust and started to pick up his father's body.

"Can you help me Aengus?" One of the men on the horses

dismounted and walked over to the son, helping him pick up his

father's body. Together they picked him up and carried him over to

his horse where they laid him gently on it. The horse neighed a bit

upon feeling the presence of its dead owner on its back, but the son

shushed it. After the two were done placing him on the horse,

together they tied him down so he wouldn't fall off. After they were

done, the son walked up to Ron who was still kneeling upon the

ground in front of Schneider.

"What are you all doing out here? Why _did_ all of this death

happen before my eyes? We are far from the war going on at the

moment, but you all stand before me like it is happening here, right

now." Ron looked up at the man who just proclaimed such a brilliant

statement and stood up.

After Ron stood up, he stared at the young man standing

before him for a second and then said:

"Yes, there is a war going on. And how it may seem to have

come before you, I cannot say. We were all looking for a way of

transportation back to the war. We were just exiled upon your

doorstep by a man planning to destroy a passenger ship carrying

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civilians who aren't meant to be a part of this war. But they are. They are about to be, and we—" Ron motioned to himself and the

remaining three Germans;

"Need to stop it from happening. This was our leader." Ron

motioned to Schneider.

"And he did not deserve this untimely death. Your father did

not deserve his death as well, but who you killed—" Ron motioned

to Walter.

"Did deserve what you had to do?" The young man looked

away from Ron as he contemplated the words that were just spoken

to him. He then looked up from his train of thought and looked at

Ron with an understanding.

"I am truly sorry about your friend. Can you help me put his

body on my father's horse?" Ron nodded at this, and, together, they

picked Schneider up and carried him to the horse where his father

was laid. They set him down, the son untied his father, and then

they picked Schneider back up while laying him beside his killer.

Together, they tied the two to where they wouldn't fall from the

horse. After they were done with this, the young man turned to Ron

and said:

"My name is Daniel. These two here are Aengus, who

helped me with my father, and Bartley, who is still on his horse."

Ron shook his hands with all three of them.

"My name is Marcus and this is Ludvig and..." Ron looked at

the other two men realizing he didn't actually know their names.

Ludvig spoke up upon realizing this and said:

"And this is Heinrich and Günter." They nodded their heads

at the Irish men who seemed taken aback with accepting these

three Germans.

"So we will head back to my father's house now. Marcus,

you can ride on my horse with..." Daniel looked at Ludvig not

remembering his name.

"It is Ludvig," Ludvig said. He didn't seem to mind that Daniel

couldn't remember his name. Daniel looked at him and nodded his

head at this.

"And you two can pick either Bartley or Aengus to ride with."

Ron looked at Daniel, wondering what he was going to do, but

before he could ask, Daniel thrust himself onto the horse with the

two bodies.

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"What are you doing Daniel?" Daniel looked at Aengus who

asked this and said:

"Heyaah!" and took off. Aengus looked back at Ron stunned.

"That boy is not in the right state of mind at the moment."

Ronald wanted to nod in agreement but instead he looked down at

the ground and then looked over at the three Germans that were left

of the five with whom he'd been. Ron then looked down at the dead

body of Walter and, while staring at it, he said:

"Ludvig, you will ride with me and you two decide whether

you want to ride with Bartley or Aengus". Günter did not seem happy

about this and asked:

"What about our captain?" After hearing this, Bartley started

to laugh and said:

"The buzzards will take care of him!" Günter did not like

hearing this at all and gave him a disgusted look.

"He was my captain. And I can't leave him here like this!"

Günter looked over at Heinrich and Ludvig but both kept silent and

frowned at Günter's request.

"He's not _my_ captain. Schneider did a better job at being a

captain than he did." Günter looked away upon hearing this from

Ludvig, then looked over at Heinrich to see what he had to say.

Heinrich shook his head at Günter and said:

"Why are you siding with him? Why didn't you side with

Klaus when everything went south in that submarine?" Günter didn't

answer. He only kept silent until finally he replied:

"Looking back now, I made the wrong decision. One thing

I'm sure of is that I'm _not_ going!" Heinrich looked at Günter with an

infuriated face.

"Why are you being like this!?" Instead of answering, Günter

started to walk away from the group.

"I will find my own way back to that submarine. I don't need

_you,_ or that _American,_ or anyone to tell me who to trust or how to go about my way! _I don't trust them!"_ Günter spit out, pointing at

Aengus and Bartley. Neither of them said anything upon hearing

this, but, instead, kept blank faces towards Günter.

"And I don't think you should trust them either. So are you

going to go with _them_ , or are you going to go with me? Are you

going to go and get brutally tortured by those— _those— carrot tops_ ,

_or_ do you want to go with me and make it out of this drunken

86

country alive!?" Heinrich punched Günter in the side of his face upon him finishing his sentence. Günter felt his cheek and looked at

Heinrich in astonishment, but Heinrich was already getting on

Bartley's horse yelling:

_"Heeyah!"_ And they took off. Aengus took off after him,

Ludvig on the horse with him, keeping his eyes glued to Günter as

they rode away. Ron stayed and stared at Günter for a minute until

finally, he asked:

"What do you expect to happen? _What!?_ Do you think they

are going to rob us!? Beat us up!? Leave us face down in a gutter!?

They want to _help_ us!" After Ron said this, Günter blurted out:

"NO! They want to help _you."_ And at that, Günter started

walking away in the opposite direction. Ron stood there,

speechless. Was he right? They weren't only there to help him,

were they? They didn't think twice about killing Schneider. Were

Ludvig and Heinrich now in danger? But instead of contemplating

on this thought, Ron hopped on Daniel's horse and yelled:

"Heeyah!" Off on his way to catch up with the rest of them.

87

Chapter 11

The Irish Home

Upon catching up with the rest of the group, Ron slowed

down so they were at an even pace together. Ron couldn't believe

he was on a horse! He had only been on one once in his life when

he went with Jack to visit his dad on his farm in the farther part of

central Florida. Jack's dad grew the best watermelon around and

had plenty more acres of land where he and Jack were able to go

on adventures and explore the rich forests that were laid with hidden

trails at every curve. If it wasn't for Jack's father teaching him to

ride, he wouldn't have a single clue as to how to control how fast he

was going or how to stop. He would still be on his way past the

house where Daniel lived with his family. It was located on a smaller

farm than Jack's dad's was, and Ron couldn't help but notice that

there were potatoes that were being grown everywhere the eye

could follow. The white flowers that were spread down in line after

line of green made it hard not to marvel at the spectacle. It was a

beautiful sight to behold, although it put Ron in a melancholy mood

thinking about how Daniel's father wouldn't be able to harvest it

anymore.

They finally made it to where Daniel had already gotten off

and had the two bodies off the horse. He looked up to see everyone

ride towards him and gave a remorseful look upon seeing them all.

"Bartley, Aengus, will you put Pepper, Acorn, Tooter, and

Magic away for me?" They both nodded their heads as Ron, Ludvig,

and Heinrich got off the horses and let the two take the horses off to

a barn about a hundred yards away from the hill they were on. The

barn was red with its paint peeling off to give it a more rustic look.

They were located on top of a bright green hill towards the back of

the house which, Ron assumed, was where Daniel's family lived.

Daniel picked his father up and started carrying him towards his

house. The house was small, white, and mostly bricked. It was

simple yet elegant.

"You three can follow Aengus and Bartley to the barn where

they will show you where the shovels are," Daniel said this as he

walked away. Ron looked over at Ludvig and Heinrich bobbing his

head towards Schneider while asking:

"Are we supposed to bury Schneider here?" Ludvig gave

Ron a stern look and replied:

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"Well he obviously doesn't want to bury his father next to this

_German!"_ Ludvig then began walking, leading the way for the three.

"What about a grave marker for him? He needs a wooden

cross," Heinrich stated.

"I'm sure the barn will have everything we need," Ron replied

back.

"Are you sure we are even welcome here?" Heinrich stated

more than asked.

"Maybe Günter was right," He added.

"We _are_ welcome here. Why would they have brought us if

we weren't?" Ron replied to this, irritated to think he would even ask

the question.

"Maybe they brought us here only because they wanted to

bring you back here," Ludvig said this with a flare in his voice. But

Ron didn't want to hear this. This was exactly the same statement

that Günter stated before he left him. It couldn't be true, however.

Daniel seemed like a nice enough guy. Besides his father dying and

him killing Schweiger, there was no reason to be thought of that they

_weren't_ allowed here as welcomed visitors to their home. Ron

understood why the two felt so suspicious, but it was nothing to be

worrying over.

"You two _must_ stop overthinking this. We are far enough

away from the war that there shouldn't be any feelings of doubt

about anything." The two kept silent from hearing this for they were

already near enough to the barn to where Aengus and Bartley could

possibly hear them. As they made their way to the entrance, Bartley

came out of it with three shovels and a scowl that showed he didn't

approve of the person to whom he was handing these tools.

"We have some work to do. You three can start by digging

the two graves." Bartley handed each of them a shovel and then

walked back into the barn. The three of them looked at each other

confused.

"What are _they_ going to be doing then? Picking potatoes?"

The two men then walked out of the barn with spading forks and

bags over their shoulders, and Aengus replied:

"Actually yes, German." Heinrich stepped back from Aengus

coming nose to nose with him.

"Just start digging over yonder where your German friend is,"

Bartley added. Aengus and Bartley then walked away from the

89

barn and towards the farm which was beyond the little white house that Daniel brought his father.

"Walk with us gentlemen," Aengus commanded in a friendly

tone of voice. The three guests complied. Aengus was a stocky

man with a great big, red beard to go along with his matted down

red hair on the top of his head.

"So what are the plans for you three? Your submarine is

gone. Your ship is gone. For the time being, you will be stuck here in

Ireland. I suggest you talk to our new boss, Daniel, and see if he will

give you a job working for him on his farm until you all make enough

money to get off of this island." Ron thought about the words that

Aengus proposed and then asked:

"How long would we work here until it was possible for us to

have enough money to get us on our feet and leave?" Aengus

thought about the question for a second and then finally said: "Oh,

I'd say maybe a week or two of hard labor. Once all of the potatoes

have been harvested and put in the cellar then I believe your time

would be done here, and you all could head on your way." Ludvig

started shaking his head at this.

"No, I would like to leave right after we bury Schneider.

There's no point in all three of us staying here. A ship might sink if

we don't leave as soon as possible!" Heinrich nodded his head at

what Ludvig had to say, but Ron cut in by adding:

"We don't know where to go or how to get back! I have three

companions that can take care of the Kraus that are still back on the

ship. We aren't alone!"

"But do you know who _is_ alone!? Günter. We need to find

him. He might be getting himself into some trouble being out there

all alone. Wherever he is, we need to be there to have his back."

Ludvig had a point there, but Ron could only think about Günter's

last words to him before he rode off without him.

"He decided not to take us up on our offer to come with us.

He also called us carrot tops. Your companion had one Hell of a

mouth to a couple of fellows that just wanted to help him out!"

Bartley had a good point there too, Ron bantered to himself.

"How about we just stay until tomorrow and then we will be

on our way," Ron said to Aengus and Bartley. Aengus shrugged his

shoulders.

90

"If that's what you want to do then go ahead. We won't stop

you. It wouldn't be the smartest choice, however. Do any of you

have any money? If not then it might come as a problem to leave.

The nearest town is roughly ten miles from here, and there you will

find a harbor that will have boats for you all. The problem will be

buying or renting one." Ron looked at his two companions, hoping

they would pull out money from their pockets but both looked at Ron

hoping that he would do the same. Ron started to check but all he

felt was a pocket knife in his left and a pocket watch in his other.

Ron pulled out the golden pocket watch with its intricate design and

asked:

"Do you think I could trade this?" Ron handed it to Aengus

who opened it.

"It doesn't even work. It is a nice pocket watch, though.

Bartley, do you think you could fix it?" Aengus handed it to Bartley

who looked at it carefully.

"I don't even see where I would unscrew it. What a strange

pocket watch you have here!" Bartley tried twisting it open but to no

prevail.

"Here you are. May I ask where you got it?" Bartley

questioned. Ron was lost for words. He didn't _know_ where he got it!

It just happened to be in the pocket of this Marcus Reynolds he was

pretending to be. Ron quickly thought of a lie which he decided on

saying:

"My grandfather passed it down to my father who passed it

down to me." Bartley nodded his head at this.

"Yes. That would make sense. It _does_ look old. I didn't even

know pocket watches were around that long ago!" Ronald nodded

his head at this while he looked at it. It _did_ happen to look old. It was old in their eyes, but to Ron it was archaic.

"I didn't even realize it was in my pocket. It must've stopped

working when I was in the ocean." Heinrich nodded his head at him

and then looked over at Bartley and Aengus, saying: "Can you give

us some privacy?" Aengus and Bartley looked at Heinrich confused

and then looked at each other, lost for words. Bartley put Ron's

pocket watch around his neck and said: "Now don't lose this. I enjoy

gazing upon its beauty." Bartley backed away from Ron and looked

over at Aengus expecting him to say something. Aengus took a

while to open his mouth but when he did, he finally looked back at

Heinrich and said:

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"Well, I don't see why not." Aengus motioned his head at

Bartley towards the potato fields in the distance, and the two started

walking towards them. After they were a good bit of distance away

Heinrich looked back at Ron and put his hands on his shoulders.

"You know that pocket watch of yours would still be working

if Klaus didn't exile us. We need to find a way back on that

submarine." Ludvig nodded his head at this and then said:

"You can bury Schneider, but we don't have time for it. We

need to start heading to the nearest town."

"Neither of you even knows where it is!" Ron exclaimed,

taking Heinrich's hands off of him. Heinrich shook his head at this.

"Maybe we don't, but now that they've brought us here, we

have to be closer to one. Günter is lost out there because he was

ignorant enough to not come with us, and now we have to find him.

We don't leave our own men behind." After Heinrich said this, he ran

into the barn and Ludvig ran in after him. Ron felt perplexed. What

was going on? Schneider needed to be buried, and they went into

the barn? Ron ran inside while he was trying to figure out the new

situation that was occurring only to find their shovels tossed to the

side of the barn, and Ludvig and Heinrich each getting on a horse.

"Get a horse, Marcus!" Ludvig exclaimed. Ron was in shock.

They were about to leave? No, this couldn't be happening!

"I'm not leaving! Are both of you crazy! They'll kill us!" Ron

whispered back. After he said this, they both held up a gun they

had suddenly retrieved. Ron didn't know what to do. Was he really

about to take a horse along with them? This was stealing! Ron felt

how wrong the situation was and didn't like how he was being

tempted. Ron looked over at two guns hanging on the wall and

quickly grabbed one, pointing it back and forth from Ludvig and

Heinrich.

"I won't let either of you steal these horses _or_ those guns!"

Ron exclaimed. "It isn't right! Now each of you! Come to your

senses and come help me bury Schneider!" Heinrich began to laugh

at Ron.

"Put the gun down, American!" Ludvig and Heinrich at the

same time pulled their guns out to where they both had them

pointed at Ron. Ron flinched but shot neither of them. He knew he

couldn't kill both of them, and if he shot one of them, the other one

would shoot him in self-defense. Ron lowered his gun in realization

that he had been defeated, and he dropped it on the ground. They

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both laughed at him and quickly trotted out of the barn, leaving dust fogging Ron's vision as he ran out trying to catch one last glimpse of

them as they rode away into the distance.

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Chapter 12 
Left Alone

Ron couldn't believe it. He didn't _want_ to believe it! He

thought they had chosen the good side! But no—he had been left by

them and now... _now—_ now there was just him and Schneider's

body unburied. He began to think of what he could possibly do. He

felt so frustrated. So much had happened to him that he felt he was

going to have a mental breakdown. But he knew he didn't have time

for that. Ron knew he had to think fast. He couldn't let those thieves

get away with stealing those horses and guns. They had to be

stopped. Ron quickly started running over to the little white house.

Ron made it to the front porch, and there was Daniel's father laid

out on a blanket with a silk cloth over him with white flowers ready

to be stitched in it. Ron glanced at him but only saw him killing

Schneider. Ron quickly looked away and shuddered. He then

looked back up to see the front door open. Ron found his way inside

to encounter Daniel in his living room with two other women. One

was sitting down on a couch that was facing away from the porch,

and the other was standing to the left of Daniel. The one on the

couch seemed to be Daniel's mother looking the part by her age,

and the other might've been Daniel's significant other, his sibling, or

his cousin; Ron wasn't fully sure.

What he was sure of, however, was how breathtakingly

beautiful she came across, besides the somber look she portrayed.

Ron noticed how there was a melancholy atmosphere lingering in

the room, but Ron knew he didn't have time to approach it in the

right way. Ron interrupted Daniel talking to the two by saying:

"Daniel, the two men I was with, they stole two of your horses

along with two of your guns." Daniel looked at Ron, horrified to

hear this. But then his face changed to an intense seriousness.

"Bartley. Aengus. Where are they?"

Ron quickly replied with:

"Out in the fields." Daniel started making his way out of the

room, and Ron took a step out of the way in his readiness to follow

him. As Daniel made his way down the steps of the porch he

glanced back at Ron and said:

"We don't have time to go out in the field and get them. This

retrieval mission will just have to be us two." Ron nodded his head

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at Daniel, and he quickly began to sprint back towards the barn.

Ron tried keeping up only to realize that he wasn't as fast as this

Irishman.

Once Ron finally made it to the barn after Daniel had made it

seconds before him, Ron was confronted with Daniel standing in

front of the last two horses, gazing upon their magnificence. Daniel

started to chuckle.

"Those buffoons left the fastest horses for us!" Ron gave a

side-smile upon hearing this and began to think:

"This might actually be a cakewalk!" Daniel then picked up

the last two guns, and Ron received the exact same gun he used to

try to stop Heinrich and Ludvig. Daniel gave Ron that same side-

smile he just had on like he already knew that he just tried to stop

them with it. Daniel then asked:

"So which of these _fine_ steeds suits your fancy?" Daniel

walked over to the first one.

"We've got _Acorn_ here!" Daniel began to stroke Acorn gently

and rhythmically along its side.

"She's a real beaut! I love how smooth she rides. Being on

her is liking being on top of an acorn falling from a tree." Ron felt like

he could understand how that would feel... maybe... and began to

smile and nod at this.

"And _this!_ This here!" Daniel smiled big and wide at the last

horse.

"This here is Magic!" Daniel nodded his head at Magic and

Magic nodded back.

"See that! That's magic right there!" Daniel looked over and

smiled back at Ron.

"So which one of these glorious creatures would you like to

take a gander at?" Ron slowly walked over to Magic and let her

smell his hand. Magic neighed at Ron, which gave Ron the biggest

smile, and he began to stroke her from the bottom of her forehead

to the muzzle. Daniel laughed at this and said:

"I knew it! I knew you would pick him!" Ron felt perplexed.

He thought Magic was a girl. Daniel began to pat him on the back,

and he shook this thought out of his mind.

"Of course you were going to ride him! You rode him here!"

After Daniel said this he went over to Acorn and jumped on her.

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_"Heyaah!"_ Daniel took off. Ron shared one last brief bit of a moment with Magic until he jumped on and went off to go try to

catch up with Daniel.

They rode at a nice brisk pace. Ron sure didn't know where

he was going, but Daniel sure seemed like he knew what he was

doing.

"How far is the town they might've ended up at!?" Ron tried

yelling over at Daniel. Daniel glanced over at Ron and gave him a

smug look like it wasn't Ron's need to know, but then he went

ahead and said:

"Town? They won't make it to no town!" Daniel did another:

_"Heyaah!"_ Acorn began to leave Magic and Ron in the dust

until Ron did a:

_"Heyaah!"_ In response to Daniel's and sped up to where he

was ahead of Acorn. Something felt right being with Daniel and not

Heinrich and Ludvig. Ron only felt disgusted with the two thieves

and disgusted with himself for how he lost his cool. They almost

killed him. They _could've_ killed him. But he could've killed _them._ But he didn't. Why didn't he?

"I should've shot at least one of them." Ron thought to

himself. But then the other one would've shot _him._ He was

outnumbered two to one. There was no need to dwell on it. Plus,

now it was two to two. _Now,_ it was a fair match. _Now,_ he had a chance against them. _Now,_ he had Daniel. And it seemed like

Daniel had a plan. Daniel was smart enough to know he didn't have

time to get Bartley and Aengus. Or could they have? Well, there

were only two horses so would they have been dead weight? They

_were_ a bit on the larger side so maybe they _would_ have slowed them down. Plus, Ron was feeling good about how he and Daniel

were making good time. They _must've_ been getting closer to the

thieves. Ron looked over at Daniel riding along beside him and

yelled over:

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WHEN WE FIND THEM!?"

Daniel looked over at Ron and covered Acorn's ears while saying:

"Stop yelling so loud! Acorn's ears are sensitive!" Daniel

uncovered Acorn's ears after he said this and began to have Acorn

speed up. Ron began to try and speed up as well, but he couldn't

keep up with this wickedly fast Irishman.

Suddenly, Ron's eyes narrowed upon two specks in the

distance.

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"It's them!" Ron said to himself. He began to start the

sentence aloud but before he could do so Daniel took off like the

wind! Ron couldn't believe it! He was having trouble keeping up with

Daniel when he was going at a normal pace, but now... now Daniel

turned into a speed demon and was flailing through the air. Ron

looked down at Magic who seemed to have actually slowed down

once Acorn decided to go full-out with everything that horse had in it.

Magic began to even go from a gallop to more of a trot.

_"C'mon Magic!_ What are you doing to me!?" Magic neighed

in response to Ron. Ron wanted to go crazy! There they were in the

distance, and he couldn't get to them. Daniel needed him, but Ron

wasn't going to be able to get there in time. Ron tried to think of

what would make Magic fly but nothing was coming to his mind. But

then, suddenly, Ron had an idea. Ron knelt down next to Magic's

ear as Magic began to slowly come to a stop, and one would have

never would have believed what Ron said. Closer and closer Ron

got to Magic's ear and before Magic had time to flinch, Ron burst

out:

_"HEYAAH!"_ And Magic took off! Faster and faster Magic

went. Soon enough, Magic had even caught up with Acorn and

before Daniel had time to even glance over at Ron, he had already

passed him. Magic was on a mission. Magic was going to be

Pegasus. Ron already felt like he was flying from being on this

wonderful horse. All Magic really needed was two glorious wings,

and he would be all set. Then Magic could go anywhere! Up into the

depths of the great, beautiful sky, Ron could see Magic bringing

him, passing all of the spectacular planets in the solar system, and

beyond any stars and galaxies that stood in their way. Ron saw it all

flashing before his eyes. He felt like he was dreaming. He felt like he

had been dreaming this whole time, and maybe he actually _was_

about to wake up in the car at the _Marathon_ gas station.

But when Ron opened his eyes from this fantasy, he didn't.

He was still on Magic. The only problem was that Magic flew by

Heinrich and Ludvig in the blink of an eye.

_"WOOAH!"_ But Magic wasn't stopping.

"Magic, STOP!" Magic ignored Ron. Ron didn't know what to

do! Magic was out of control! The only way he saw Magic stopping

was from collapsing out of exhaustion. Ron began to look at the

ground around him, trying to think of a way of maybe jumping off of

this crazy, out of control horse that didn't seem to have a finish line

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set in his eyes. Ron thought long and hard about jumping, but he knew he would only hurt himself. But was it worth it? Could he

possibly get even more severely injured if he stayed on this horse

and rode out the final outcome of him finally stopping? But no.

Magic wasn't stopping anytime soon and Heinrich and Ludvig were

still back there doing in God's name what. Ron couldn't think

anymore. He had to jump. Magic was acting like a train heading

straight for the edge of the cliff, and Ron was _not_ trying to see where the bottom of the cliff ended. Ron jumped. But Magic, in turn,

suddenly steered sideways to where he was able to catch Ron in

mid-air so Ron ended up back on Magic. Ron was stunned. How did

Magic do that?

"I was tilted at an angle to where I should have landed on

the ground and would have begun my log roll," Ron thought to

himself. He was, however, not logging or rolling. He was still on

Magic. Magic steered himself so he was back in the direction he

was heading. But where was Magic heading? Ron couldn't

comprehend the outrageous event that just occurred. It wasn't like

Magic had a mind of his own and knew what he was doing. Or did

_he?_ Magic was only a horse.

Ron felt speechless riding on such a benevolent creature like

this beast. Ron felt intrigued to find out all of the surprises Magic

had in store for him. He felt... curious. Ron found it hard to find

words but when he did, he asked:

"So where are you taking me?" Ron didn't expect a

response, and, likewise, he didn't get one. It was a horse! What was

there to expect!? This wasn't some mythical creature like a

leprechaun or a centaur. He was just your average farm horse that

wasn't tamed well enough to listen to the rider on his back that

wasn't even his owner. There was nothing special about him. As

Ron thought this, a town emerged in the distance. Ron made out

the glimpses of buildings standing taller than the ones around it, and

Ron was most intrigued by the presence of a church standing out

over all other architectures. It looked magnificent in the sunlight, and

it brought the town together to make this group of buildings known

to everywhere around this was a town like no other. Ron really

began to actually feel the time travel at work when he gazed upon

this scene that was like no other. The architecture stood out to

where it gave Ron a vision of simplicity. He _actually_ traveled back in time. There were no other buildings around this small collection of

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antique exquisiteness. Ron and Magic neared the town, and Ron

began to focus his eyes on the people taking their evening strolls

through the historic scenery. The men were either dressed in

clothes that gave the idea that they were hard workers only recently

working away in the fields. Their dirt, Ron noticed, was sketched

around each of their clothes like it had fallen onto their shoulders

with all intent as to stay there. Ron noticed other men walking

around seemingly more of high stature that had office jobs (lawyers,

bankers, doctors, etc). They had suits on that beamed with their

brilliance and top-hats or bowler hats showing they had much

prestige. Both of these men gave Ron the strangest of looks when

Magic began to slow down and change into a trot straight into the

town. Women who also presented themselves of high prestige

walked with their top hatted men and showed off their frilly dresses

and silly hats. They fanned themselves in the direction of hopefully

having Ron notice them for many were blushing and taking in the

new sight of a different man that wasn't a normal view to be seen in

this town. Ron began to try to get off now that Magic had made the

switch into a trot, but instead of agreeing with this, Magic gave Ron

a harsh neigh as a sign that they weren't at their final destination

just yet. Ron was taken aback by this, but instead of going against

Magic's will, he stayed on. They trotted forward into the downtown

area of the little area passing stores that offered the town a wide

variety to choose from. Ron noticed a barbershop by the way the

red, blue, and white stripes pinned in a vertical direction in its

cylinder glass case. Ron noticed the butcher shop right next door

with meats hanging behind the glass window, and the smell of

delicious pork and mutton drifting into Ronald's nostrils. Ron left his

gaze upon these two stores and found his gaze upon a firm called

O'Connor and O'Connor and right next door was the Mc'Dover's

Pub. Ron looked down at Magic and said:

"Please tell me you are stopping at that bar!" But Magic

trotted right on past it. Ron sighed and began to ponder his eyes to

the magnificent church that towered over this small town in a _big_

way. This eye-dropping church shot up straight into the sky and had

the biggest white point Ron had ever seen. It arched higher than

ever and had a white cross placed at the very top of it. Ron was

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impressed with the structure. It really made this town a sight to behold.

Magic finally came to stop right in front of the church. Ron

looked down at Magic and gave him a quizzical look.

"What? Do you want me to go inside there!?" Magic, of

course, didn't answer. Ron jumped off of Magic and went ahead and

tied him up to the horse post the church had in front of it. Ron

looked around at the church and thought to himself:

"I don't want to go in there..." Ron looked at the rest of the

downtown that was behind him, and people walking around stared

at Ron as they kept walking. One man decided to satisfy his

curiosity and came up to Ron.

"Where _ya_ from!?" The man asked. Ron looked at him with a

state of unease for the man didn't seem very welcoming towards

Ron. The man had more of a, "Why are you in my town and

shouldn't you be leaving" type of voice. Ron replied by saying:

"I'm here visiting a friend. Do you know Daniel? He's got a

farm." The man changed his look from being stern to being

surprised.

"Oh, you know Daniel! And his father, Liam?" Ron looked

down upon hearing the last words the man spoke.

"Oh, I don't know Liam as well. I only know Daniel a bit." The

man gave Ron a curious look.

"I don't understand _how_ you could know either of them. They

both never leave their farm unless they come to town." Then the

man gave an expression on his face like he understood why Ron

was here.

"Oh you aren't really here for Daniel; you're really here for

his sister, Darcey." The man winked at Ron.

"You look like the perfect husband for that sweet gal. My

name is Riley MacAwley. It is a pleasure to meet you me good

fellow! I also own a farm west of Liam's, but we aren't rivals. I grow

Spring Barley. Liam is and always will be the potato man!" Riley

smiled at this, and Ron did a bit of smile back. This statement,

however, made him extremely uncomfortable for Riley was wrong

about this. Liam _was_ the potato man, but now Daniel would have to

take over that title.

Ron looked at the man with sadness. He had no idea what

he was about to say, but he had to say it. But before he could, the

man looked down at Ron's clothes and muttered:

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"You're a soldier!? I don't understand. Why are you here?"

Ron looked Riley up and down and replied:

"I am here to stop Germans coming this way." Ron looked

over at the ocean that was beyond the little town he was standing

in.

"They've come to finish the job they meant to start. A cargo

ship with innocent civilians is about to be torpedoed by the German.

They stole two horses and are armed." Riley looked at Ron and

gave a frightened gasp.

"What! I don't understand! This doesn't make any sense!"

Riley looked away from Ron and down towards the ground.

"This can't be happening," Riley whispered to himself.

"You _have_ to do something! My wife is on that ship you

speak of! You _are_ talking about the Lusitania are you not!? She has

been gone for so long visiting her sister in the Americas, and she is

almost home, only to be killed?! No! I won't have it! I want my wife

back! I want her back _home!"_ Riley began to walk in circles in a

desperate state of terror. He then suddenly stopped. He looked

back at Ron like a light bulb went off in his head.

"Wait! SEAN! Sean Allen has a boat! He uses it to go fishing!

We _must_ head his way!" Riley began to sprint over to his horse until

Ron yelled:

"WAIT!" Riley froze in his tracks and looked over at Ron in

desperation.

"NO! You wait! I'm off to save my love!" Riley went off

running again. Ron didn't know what to do. Heinrich and Ludvig

were heading straight towards this town, and Daniel couldn't take

them alone. Daniel needed him. Riley, on the other hand, was ready

and willing to go off towards a ship that might get blown to pieces

any second. Ron knew he didn't have time to think, and he had to

make a decision. Ron looked behind him to see Magic. He looked at

Magic for answers but the horse showed no expressions in helping

him. He just looked like some plain, old horse. A plain, old horse

that went at a super high speed right passed Ron's betrayers while

only to be confronted with Riley who was now on a mission—a

mission to save his wife. Ron looked away from Magic, moved the

strap around his chest that was attached to his gun resting behind

him on his back, and began to run. Ron ran.

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Chapter 13

Ron Runs

Ron ran. He ran and ran. He ran past the post office, past

the bookstore, and the general store. Ron ran past a man with a top

hat and a mustache, and another man with a top hat and a

mustache. This second man's mustache was different, however.

This mustache was a _handlebar_ mustache. This man also had a

monocle to complement his appearance of high prestige. Ron ran

and ran until he finally made it to the destination _he_ wanted to find

himself. It was where _his_ gazebo would have brought him if he had

any say in it. The place seemed to be where he wouldn't want to find

himself anywhere _but!_

Ron stood in front of the door with nothing but relief spread

across his face. There was nowhere else he would rather be. He

was home. Ron looked up at the sign that spelled out McDover's

Pub before he opened up the rustic wooden door and stepped

inside. Ron stepped through only to be encountered with barely

anyone in the pub. Besides the bartender and a man sitting at one

of the tables drunk as can be, there was pretty much no one in

there. It made sense, being that it was the middle of the day. Most

people were either at work or on their lunch break around this time.

Besides, this town drunk obviously didn't seem to have a job. Ron

shook off this terrible stereotyping and realized his judging from a

cover of a book to a cover of a homeless man wasn't right. This

man did show to look homeless by his raggedy clothes and

untended beard; however, he could have been a foreign traveler

like how he was. In country, like most likely him. But not like traveler

of time. No, he was the only traveler of time who took up space in

the room. He could have possibly just lost his job so that was why

he was here, and his clothes were just what he preferred. The man

could have also just been left by his wife or maybe one of his

children died in the war so that was why he found himself in a pub

drinking during the day. Ron realized he was only thinking of

negative reasons of why this man was here so he started to try to

think of a positive reason. Maybe he was celebrating. Maybe this

man was one of the O'Connor lawyers, and he won a case! But Ron

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knew this couldn't possibly be true. It didn't seem likely, but there was always that off-chance.

The man, suddenly, looked up from his cold beer and

noticed Ron staring at him.

"What?" Ron shook off his stare and realized how rude he

must've looked doing that. The man looked over at the bartender

and asked: "I don't like him, Aiden. I don't want him in my bar. Get

him out of my bar." The bartender jumped over the bar and landed

on the other side with a graceful plump.

"Alright. _C'mon_ , let's go." The bartender started pointing at

the door. Ron didn't want to leave, however. He felt like he

belonged in this bar. But he didn't understand why. He wasn't

thirsty. He didn't want a sip of alcohol. But here he was inside this

bar. But why? Why was he here? _This_ pub out of all pubs. It didn't

make any sense. Ron looked back at the man drinking his beer. The

man wasn't looking back. No, instead, he was too focused on

drinking his cold beer. But when he put his beer down and looked

back up to watch Aiden begin to push Ron out the door. The man's

eyes began to widen.

_"Wait!"_ Aiden looked back at the man who had Ron half-way

through the door.

"Aiden, welcome this man back in here and get him a beer."

Aiden stepped out of the way for Ron and motioned his hands as a

way of welcoming him back in. Ron looked at him, confused.

"I thought you wanted me out?" Ron said, walking back

inside. The man stood up and replied with:

"Well you were starting to smell up the place with that look

you were giving me." Ron looked at the man with curiosity but then

smiled at the statement.

"How could I not? That beer you're sippin' on looks like it

came out of a rusty, old barrel!" Ron took a step back. Why did he

say that? That was beyond rude! Ron waited to hear a reply, but the

man stayed silent. Finally, after a long pause, the man burst out

laughing and held out his hand.

"My name's Jack. Jack McDover." Ron smiled and took his

hand, shaking it.

"Well, I'm fine, glad to meet you! I'm Marcus, Marcus

Reynolds." Jack smiled at this and replied:

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"Well sit down, Marcus. Take a seat, take a seat." Ron sat in

the chair next to Jack's and, by this time, Aidan had already brought

his beer.

"Thank you." Aidan nodded his head and went back behind

the bar. Ron looked back at Jack and asked:

"So what really made you want me to come back in here?"

Jack bobbed his head down toward the pocket watch resting on

Ron's chest.

"That pocket watch. It caught my eye. How much for it?" Ron

was taken aback. He didn't expect him to ask about what was

hanging around his neck. He had forgotten it was even put around

there. Ron shook his head in discontent.

"It's not for sale." Ron took a swig of his beer and added:

"This was passed down to me by my father, and his father. I

plan to pass it down to my son." Ron felt the beer swaying with his

mind once he said this.

Jack nodded at his decree, however, and went into his worn-

out jacket bringing out a shimmering object that glimmered through

the cracks of his clasped hand.

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way about yours. I feel the

same way about mine." Ron looked stunned to see the same pocket

watch slip out of his hand and onto the table. It had the same

rounded curves that swayed into a brilliant shine as his abnormally

did.

"Where did you get _that!?"_ Jack smiled at him.

"I guess it was passed down from my grandfather like yours

was passed down by your grandfather." Jack leaned in close. Ron

could smell the mix of tobacco and alcohol on his breath.

"Funny thing is; I don't know where it came from. And

another funny thing." Jack leaned back into his chair, picked up the

pocket watch while he examined it with more depth, and then

dropped his pocket watch onto the table.

"I feel as though yours doesn't work like mine doesn't." Ron

felt astounded at the words spilling out of his mouth. What was

going on? What are these pocket watches they both possessed?

"You don't really own this pub? Do you?" Ron responded.

Jack stared back at him, but then suddenly got up.

"They're here." Ron looked up at Jack, confused.

"Who's here?" Jack didn't respond to Ron. Instead, he

pushed his chair out and began to walk outside. Ron felt

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dumbfounded. Who was this man? Ron quickly took another long

swig before running out after him. Ron was confronted with Jack

standing outside, staring at two men who were on horseback

holding up their guns. All of the civilians were stopped in their

tracks, fixed on the two men. It was Ludvig and Heinrich.

"WHAT ARE YOU BOTH DOING!?" Ron yelled at them.

Heinrich looked over and yelled back:

"HOW DID YOU PASS US!?" Ludvig replied with:

"Like it matters." He quickly pointed his gun at Ron. Ron

jumped out of the way before hearing Heinrich shoot. Ron landed

on the ground, checking to see if he had been shot:

"No bullet holes," Ron said to himself after doing his body

check, looking over, Ron gazed upon Jack lying on the ground. Ron

quickly ran over to see Jack muttering to himself.

"Jack. Jack, it's going to be okay." Ron looked down at

where Jack was holding his hand over his chest where blood was

seeping out. Ron looked back at Jack's face.

_"T-take. T-take it."_ Jack, with his other hand, pulled out his

pocket watch from his jacket and put it in Ron's hands. Ron was lost

for words.

"Wait. No. No, I can't! It's yours, Jack! No! Jack, no!" Blood

filled Jack's mouth, and he died in front of him. Ron couldn't believe

it. This wasn't right. None of this was right. Too many people had

died, and Ron couldn't take it anymore. Ron closed Jack's eyelids,

pocketed his pocket watch, and while staying in his crouched

position, pulled his gun from behind his back, and quickly ducked

behind a wooden sink filled with murky water. More shots came

from Ludvig and Heinrich.

"Come out, come out! We won't bite!" Ron heard the two

jump down from the horses and start walking towards him.

"I could really use Daniel right about now." Ron thought to

himself. But when Ron looked down the street hoping to see him

riding in, he was nowhere to be found. Ron began to feel worried.

Did those two kill Daniel? It would make sense as to why he wasn't

here at the moment taking action in this horrific event brewing. Ron

felt anger rise throughout his body. Daniel didn't deserve this. This

whole town didn't deserve this. This! This—wasn't right.

Ron jumped from out of his hiding place and shot! He didn't

know what he was shooting at, but he shot. And once he shot, both

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of the men went down. Ron didn't understand. How did both men fall—

until Ron heard:

"TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!" Ron looked up to see where

the voice came from, and his eyes locked onto Daniel up on top of a

roof. He was on the other side of the street, and he held his thumb

up once he saw that Ron had finally noticed him.

"HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS GONNA SHOOT THAT

ONE!?" Ron pointed at either Ludvig or Heinrich. Come to think of

it, _he_ didn't know which one he shot. Ron looked back up at the

rooftop to see Daniel shrug his shoulders.

"I GOT LUCKY," Daniel yelled down to Ron. Daniel then

noticed citizens standing around in shock at the event that took

place. A woman with a child quickly picked up her little one,

covering his innocent eyes, and ran past the two bodies laying out

in the middle of the street. Ron felt sickened to see this. He needed

to move the two bodies to a better location. Ron looked up at Daniel

to see that he saw this scene unfold out before his eyes as well.

"PEOPLE OF KINSALE! THE MATTER OF THESE TWO

GERMANS HAS BEEN TAKEN CARE OF! GO BACK TO

WHATEVER YOU WERE DOING!" Once Daniel announced this to

the street, everyone began to murmur and talk amongst themselves.

One man yelled out:

"ARE WE UNDER ATTACK!? WHO IS HE!?" The man

pointed at Ron.

"IT'S OKAY PATRICK. EVERYTHING IS UNDER

CONTROL. HE IS WITH ME." Daniel replied.

"NO! IT'S NOT OKAY! JACK IS LYING DEAD OVER

THERE!" Once Patrick said this, Aidan ran out of the pub.

"NO! No, no, NO!" Aidan got down on his knees in front of

Jack.

"Wake up, Mr. McDover. Mr. McDover please wake up!" Ron

didn't know what to do. He wanted to put his hand on Aidan's

shoulder, but Ron saw that was bad. Ron went over to Aidan,

anyways, and knelt down next to him. Ron brought out the pocket

watch and shakily slipped it into Aidan's trembling hands.

"He gave this to me. I think you should have it." Aidan looked

at Ron with somber eyes. He stared at him for some time until,

finally, he looked down at the watch and shook his head, confused.

"I've never seen him with a pocket watch before. I've never

even seen a pocket watch before... until _you_ came along. And you

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had one just like his." Aidan took the pocket watch to his chest and then quickly put it up to Ron's which was still around his neck.

"The funny thing is: they _do_ both look alike. It's just...

yours... yours is a bit different from Jack's. Yours has a different

intricate design displayed on it." Ron noticed what Aidan was talking

about. There _was_ a slight difference to the pocket watches. Ron's

had waves sketched into his making more of a whirlpool on the front

part of the pocket watch. It gleamed with intricacy and in the center

had a pointed dot to the intricate whirlpool of lines leading up to it.

Jack's, on the other hand, had wave patterns that were sketched in

a way to where they were just lines that curved from the top-right

side and did a curve down to the bottom-left side. The curves

followed out back across to another side of the pocket watch where

they were cut back off again but at the bottom-right side. The wavy

patterns _were_ identical to each other along with the shape of the

pocket watch and how there was a plain back-side to both of them,

but being that both had different intricate patterns made them more

of a set of sister pocket watches then actually being the same. They

came from the same maker, but they were both different in art.

"Where do you think they come from?" Ron asked Aidan.

"Don't ask me. I'm not the one that had it in my pocket.

"Where did you get yours?" Aidan looked at Ron curiously. Ron

stared back at Aidan. He didn't want to lie to him being that his close

friend just died right there, but, on the other hand, he didn't want to

tell him the truth. Saying that it suddenly appeared in your pocket

when you switched bodies didn't sound right either. Aidan would

think of him as a crazy person.

"I found it." Aidan nodded.

"Well, I'm guessing that Jack found his as well." Aidan stood

up.

"I need to bury him. He would want me to do that for him."

"Does he have a family?" Aidan shook his head.

"He's gone through many wives, but he hasn't had one able

to stay in Kinsale. They all would rather leave, and Jack would

always rather stay." Ron nodded his head at this and said:

"Well, I guess I need to do something with those two over

there," Ron said this to Ludvig and Heinrich laying out on the road

still. Aidan shook his head.

"You seem like the type of man that doesn't have time to be

burying bodies." At this Aidan gave Ron back Jack's pocket watch.

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"Hold on to it for me. He gave it to you, not me." Ron looked

at the pocket watch Aidan gave him. It _did_ look like it belonged with

the one Ron already had. Ron slipped it on over his neck so that it

fell right next to the other one.

By this time, Daniel had gotten down from the roof and was

over next to his two horses, and the bodies that were laid with them.

Daniel noticed Aidan and Ron standing over next to Jack on the

ground and walked over to them.

"I'm sorry about Jack," Daniel said to Aidan. Aidan nodded

his head at this and replied:

"He was a good man. Maybe sometimes he didn't know

when too many drinks were too many drinks, but still... he was

always able to bring in a crowd and make them laugh." Daniel

smiled at this and chuckled.

"Oh yes. He had some great jokes and stories behind that

belt of his." Aidan laughed thinking about all of the memories they

had and then looked over at Ron saying:

_"If only you could have heard him as drunk as he was, and_

_how he could gather a crowd in this pub. He brought out a good_

_time."_ Daniel smiled and replied:

"No. He brought out a _great_ time." They all stayed silent for a

second while people of the town began to gather around the body of

Jack McDover. They lined up for Aidan, hugging him along with

saying "sorry for your loss, Aidan" and "he was a good man" and

brought up memories along with ways Jack made this town so

special. Women came up talking about how Jack was always so

friendly and how he always knew how to get into a woman's heart.

Smiles were passed along, along with cries and grief. Aidan finally

announced that Jack's funeral will be Sunday. Ron began to look

over at Daniel who saw Ron's face and mouthed:

"Not yet." Ron understood this. Daniel wasn't ready to have

the whole town know that his father was dead too. Ron nodded, and

then Daniel did a quick head point as a way of saying:

"Let's go ahead and go." Ron and Daniel said their goodbyes

to Aidan, and Ron added in:

"It was nice to meet you." They were off.

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Chapter 14

Time to Head Back

"So what do you want to do with them?" Ron asked Daniel.

"The ocean is right there. We can borrow someone's boat."

Ron nodded his head at this. Ron and Daniel picked up Heinrich

first and put him on the horse he was riding. They put Ludvig on the

same horse and then tied them both up.

"Now. Where exactly are we going to find a boat?" Daniel

looked at Ron and shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll find one." Daniel went ahead and brought the horse

Ludvig was riding over to a horse post across from McDover's Pub.

This horse post was one of the four displayed for a restaurant called

Patty's Pasties. Daniel looked up at the sign and then looked back

at Ron.

"I would always come here with my father to bring a huge

supply of our potatoes. This place is where we make our money."

Daniel looked back at the restaurant and smiled at it.

"I'm going to miss taking that trip with him." After Daniel tied

the horse to the post, Daniel went back over to Ron, and, together,

they started heading down to the dock on the other side of the town.

Once they got to the docks Ron noticed someone he didn't think he

was going to be seeing again.

Riley was arguing with a man when Daniel and Ron came

upon him.

"My wife! My wife, Fergus, of all people _you_ would

understand!" Fergus shook his head at Riley.

"I don't even know what you're asking me to do, my riled up

friend, Riley. Bring my boat to the _Lusitania_!? How would you even

know where that _is?"_ Riley looked over at Ron once he said this.

"Well, it's nice of you to finally come join me." Riley then

looked over at Daniel.

"How's the farm looking?" Daniel shrugged his shoulders at

this.

"It will be a good harvest season I suppose. Your farm?"

Riley shrugged his shoulders as well.

"It will bring the money in I'm hoping." Daniel nodded his

head at this.

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"So what's this I hear about your wife?" Daniel asked. Riley

blurted out:

"She's on the _Lusitania_ heading home, but she isn't safe!

_Germans,_ Daniel! Germans!" Ron replied:

"Do you mean these Germans?" Ron pointed to Ludvig and

Heinrich on the horse. Riley was speechless.

"Where did they come from?" Fergus asked.

"They were exiled along with me from a submarine we were

all on. This submarine has plans to torpedo the _Lusitania_ unless we

stop it." After Ron said this he began to think about how late he

might be. It seemed like hours ago when they were dropped off onto

the shores not far from where they were and now they have

probably done what Ron has been dreading on what they planned

to do in the first place.

"Am I too late? Has the _Lusitania_ already gone down?" Ron

thought to himself. Ron began to worry, but then he remembered

Freddie, Evan, and Gus. What were they up to? Had they possibly

already put an end to the submarine? Then it clicked for Ron.

Freddie was doing something to the _Lusitania_ while it became

heated in the control room. Freddie already stopped the _Lusitania_

from getting torpedoed. Ron began to feel relieved. But then, on the

other hand, what if Freddie didn't do anything? What if, whatever he

was doing didn't work? What if the _Lusitania_ is still in danger? He

couldn't get the thought out of his head. Ron looked back at Riley

and said:

"We need to save your wife." Riley looked at Ron like he was

crazy and replied:

"I KNOW! THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO THIS

WHOLE TIME!" Riley showed his frustration as he stomped around

the area in discontent. Ron ignored his yelling and began to untie

Heinrich and Ludvig. Looking back at the two, while Daniel helped

him untie, he asked:

"Fergus, will you let us use your boat so we can dump these

bodies?" Fergus gave Ron a stern look at this question and then

replied:

"No, I think not! Bury them like you would any other person."

Daniel shook his head at this.

"We don't have time. There are many others who only

deserve the fate of a burial but these two, however, do not. Their

captain isn't even being given the luxury of being disposed of. He is

still rotting

110

out on the outer reaches of my farm." Fergus showed a

countenance of being disturbed to be hearing this, but, after many

minutes of organizing his thoughts, he finally sighed out:

"As long as you don't get any blood on my deck." Ron

nodded his head at this.

Once Ron and Daniel had Heinrich and Ludvig untied they

then started carrying Ludvig first onto the boat. The boat was small

in size compared to the other fishing boats that were presented in

the harbor. It showed innovations that the other boats couldn't hold

a candle to; with its state of the art framework that kept it from

blending in with anything else that floated in the water alongside it.

"Be careful! Don't trip!" Fergus exclaimed as Daniel and Ron

carried Ludvig onboard.

"C'mon, help me out here." As Fergus stepped over to

Heinrich, Riley looked at him like he was crazy.

"I'm not touching him!" Riley snapped.

"Well, then I won't help you save your wife," Fergus muttered.

Riley's face suddenly changed once he said this, and he ran right

over to help Fergus pick Heinrich up. As they began to pick him up,

Fergus muttered under his breath:

"Like she even needs saving." Riley dropped the body upon

hearing this, and yelled:

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?" Fergus dropped

the legs of Heinrich once Riley dropped the head and yelled back:

"Because _why in the world_ WOULD _THEY_ KILL HUNDREDS

OF INNOCENT PEOPLE ON A CARGO SHIP!?" Riley pointed

down at Heinrich and replied:

"BECAUSE THEY ARE GERMANS!" Fergus gave Riley a

repulsed look back upon hearing this and then turned away putting

his hands atop his head.

"But... they are humans just like us. They feel the same way

_we_ feel. They converse in the same manner of which _we_ talk. They are no different from us then we are to them. When does it make it

right to not put them in the same shoes that we are placed in?"

Fergus looked back at Riley in desperation. Riley shook his head at

this.

"We are on one side. They are on the other." Riley stood up

straighter and planted his feet to his statement. Fergus pointed

down at Heinrich and snapped:

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"NO. We are ALL on the same side." At this, Fergus picked

up Heinrich by himself and carried him onto his ship. By this time,

Ron and Daniel were already off the boat and intently listening to

the heated conversation. Riley and Fergus just spurted back and

forth. Ron went over to Riley and said to him:

"Don't worry. We'll make sure your wife is alright. There is

always that possibility that the Lusitania will be fine once we get to

it, and there is no need to worry." Riley nodded his head upon

hearing this and replied:

"God, I hope you're right." All three of the men walked onto

the boat after Fergus stepped on with Heinrich, and they began their

journey out to sea. Fergus had recently bought the newest

motorboat on the market and had the whole town envying over his

advanced technology. As the motor began to do its magic, Fergus

bragged about how new it was and how no one in a hundred miles

of this Irish town was as this advanced as he was. He even said:

"Don't even ask how much it was! You wouldn't believe me if

I told you!" Riley didn't mind asking, and he did it anyway even

though Fergus told them not to. Fergus' only reply was:

"TOO MUCH! That's how much!" Fergus had a smug look

for how much pride he had with his boat. Riley, Ron, and Daniel

only shook their heads.

Once they made it to an appropriate location to dump the

bodies, Fergus turned the motor off. All four of them stood in silence

while they stared out into the ocean.

"You know. We're giving them too nice of a service." Ron

looked at Daniel after he said this, and he replied back:

"No. We gave Walter Schweiger too nice of a funeral when

we left him out there to rot." Riley looked at Ron with curiosity and

asked:

"Who's Walter Schweiger?" Ron stayed silent upon hearing

this and then looked over at Daniel to see if he was going to state

who he was. Daniel, on the other hand, kept looking out into the

ocean's scenery until he finally replied:

"He was the German that killed my father." Everyone stayed

silent upon hearing this for Fergus and Riley were unaware of the

death of Liam. Finally, after a long silence, Fergus replied back:

"I'm sorry to hear of this unfortunate news, Daniel." Daniel

nodded his head and didn't reply back. They stared at the ocean

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minute after minute until finally, Daniel turned around to look at Heinrich and Ludvig.

"Let's us be rid of these bodies once and for all." Ron turned

around and went over to the head of Heinrich once Daniel said this.

Together, they both picked him up and tossed him into the waters

with a splash. Fergus and Riley quickly got out of the way before

they were hit with the body.

"Hey now! Where was the warning before you almost hit me

and Fergus with that body!?" Daniel and Ronald shrugged their

shoulders at Riley's state of distress, and Daniel replied:

_"I thought 'bout it—but then I didn't."_ Ron smiled at Daniel as

the statement left his mouth and then helped him pick up Ludvig

and throw him overboard as well.

"Now that this is over with," Riley replied to the last splash,

rubbing his hands together like he did anything to help; "Can we go

save my wife?" Ron nodded his head at Riley, and they began their

search for the _Lusitania_.

"So where do you think it could be?" Fergus asked Ron.

"West. In the vicinity of somewhere to the west of us." So

Fergus headed west in hopes that a huge ship would be spotted in

the distance. They sailed away into the day until night came upon

them.

"I need to head back now. My motor might die soon."

"But my _wife!?"_

"I'm sorry, Riley, but this ship is nowhere to be found."

Fergus was right. They searched every inch of where the ship

might've been, but, needless to say, it was nowhere in sight.

"Liverpool," Ron whispered. He then said it louder:

"Liverpool! Your wife made it to Liverpool!" Ron became

overjoyed.

"So the ship _didn't_ sink?" Ron shook his head at Riley's

question.

"No. It made it." Everyone looked at Ron quizzically.

"How can you be so sure?" Ron gazed upon the waters in

front of them. In all the pictures of the history books he read and

every website he has skimmed through, this was the spot where the

ship was to have sunk. He was sure of it. And looking around, no

debris, no scraps of metal, no lifeboats. Not even one dead body.

The _Lusitania_ wasn't hit. It couldn't have been. Ron felt sure of it.

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"Your wife's coming home, Riley. She's coming home."

Riley's face changed. He went from a lack of certainty to one of trust

in his fellow man. One of hope in what Ron was telling him was true.

For it had to be. He _had_ to be with his wife once, nestled up

together next to a warm fire back on their farm. She _had_ to come

home to their little spring barley farm. She had to. Riley gazed into

Ron's eyes and nodded his head at him.

"Alright. Alright, Marcus, I believe you." Riley's face went

from happiness to pure joy. He threw his hands up into the air and

yelled:

"YEEHAW! I'M GETTING MY WIFE BACK!" His small pudgy

body began to jump up and down in sheer excitement, shaking the

boat in the process. Everyone laughed together for Riley's sudden

outburst of happiness and cheered along with him. It was a time of

happiness for the whole boat. Riley grabbed Fergus' shoulders and

began to shake him with enthusiasm. He then looked at Fergus and

told him:

"I'm getting my wife back!" Fergus grabbed Riley's

shoulders, and while letting out a hearty chuckle, he replied back:

"Why yes you are, my friend; you are!" And with that,

they turned the boat around and began to head for home. But

as they rode back Ron began to wonder to himself:

"Where exactly is my home?"

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Chapter 15

Where's Home?

As they rode home, they came upon it. It couldn't be. It

wasn't—it was. They were lifeboats. Everyone began to scan their

eyes through the scene in disbelief.

"No. no, no, NO!" Riley's eyes shifted into a state of horror.

"This can't be happening." Riley turned to the other men

from every which way and said:

"Tell me you don't see this! Tell me I'm dreaming!" Riley then

began to stare at Ron in anger.

"YOU SAID—" Riley's anger turned into fury. Ron turned to

Riley and looked down at him in shock.

"I— I thought..." Riley cut Ron off.

"YOU thought WRONG! Look at this. What is this? Tell me

this isn't what I think it is!" Ron began to shake his head in disbelief.

"I— I don't _know_ what this is. I don't know what I'm seeing!"

Ron brought his hands to his head in frustration. Riley stepped

upon the edge of the boat and almost fell in before Fergus caught

him.

"Riley! Get down from there! You'll fall in!"

"Get _off_ me Fergus!" Riley turned away from Fergus while he

maintained his balance on the edge of the boat!"

" _GAEL! GAEL! OH, GAEL MY SWEET GAEL!"_ Riley looked

back at the rest of the men in desperation. All of them gazed upon

him in horror. Gael wasn't answering. But then! Out of nowhere!

_"Riley!? Riley is that you!?"_ Riley looked up into the heavens

and raised his hands.

"Oh thank God!" Riley then jumped into the water with a

splash! Everyone on the boat looked at each other in amazement.

"Thank God is right! By God, she's still _alive!"_ Fergus

exclaimed. Riley swam over to Gael's voice, and then suddenly she

jumped into the water with him. They both embraced each other

with much affection. The scene was breathtaking. All of the people

on all the lifeboats began to clap in happiness. Some people even

started _hootin' and hollerin'!_ It was a glorious scene to behold.

"I've missed you so much!" Riley said to Gael.

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"I thought I lost you!" Gael began to cry from hearing this.

"Oh, Riley. It was so horrific. One side of the ship just blew

up

out of nowhere. It felt like an earthquake. _I don't know what_

_happened!? It might have been the engine or something?"_ Riley

began to shake his head at Gael and with somber eyes replied:

"No, Gael. No. It was a German submarine boat. They

torpedoed the ship." Gael looked at Riley in horror.

_"What!? I don't understand—"_ Gael looked away from Riley

and let go of her grasp with him. People from the lifeboat heard

what Riley said as well and distressed voices were heard all around:

"It can't be!"

"No! It's inhumane!"

_"My wife. My children!"_

"This can't be happening!"

Voices all around became louder and louder. Heated

discussions began to spurt up from out of nowhere. Debates began

on if the Germans really did it or if it was an engine malfunction that

went terribly wrong. Gael looked back at Riley while she clutched

the side of the lifeboat she had jumped off of.

"Where did you even come from!?" Riley nodded his head

towards the motorboat with Ron, Daniel, and Fergus still on it.

"Is that Fergus? And Daniel, Liam's boy?"

"Yes, and the man who told me about the _Lusitania_ getting

hit. That's why I came to save you!" Gael looked at Riley in disbelief.

"But... how did he know!?" Riley looked at her for a second

before replying:

"He... he was _on_ the submarine." Riley looked down at the

water he was swimming in and then looked over at the boat Ron

was in, in disgust.

"And he didn't stop it from happening." Gael gave Riley a

stern look and then asked:

"Is... is he a German?" Riley looked back and replied:

"I—I don't know. He might be." Riley started to contemplate

for a minute before adding:

"No. No, he can't be. He was with Daniel, and they killed two

of them." Gael began to shake her head.

"Wait, no. No, this isn't making any sense. Why were they

with Germans in the first place?" Riley stared at Gael in disbelief.

"I. I don't know. But still. They killed the Germans."

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"Honey, have you put the thought that maybe... maybe that

man who told you about the _Lusitania_ sinking might actually be a

part of it? What if he is here to finish off the job and kill— _kill the rest_ _of us!_ " Riley looked at his wife with concern and then replied:

"I never thought of it. But there's only one way to really find

out." And Riley began to swim back towards the boat that Ron was

still on.

"Wait!" Riley stopped swimming and turned around.

"I don't want to be in the same boat as him." Gael cried out,

afraid to keep swimming with her husband. Riley nodded to the men

standing patiently in the boat, unaware of what was going on.

"I'll tell them that you want to stay and comfort others who

lost their loved ones."

Gael replied, "Wait!" Again, turned back around.

" _What?"_ He mouthed back. Gael swam over to Riley and

kissed him. She quickly ended the kiss and said:

"Be safe. I love you." Riley nodded his head and replied:

"I love you too." She began to swim back over to the boat.

Once he reached the boat everyone on it looked at him quizzically.

"Why did Gael not come?" Fergus asked.

"I have plenty of room for her on my boat." Riley shook his

head and replied:

"She wanted to stay with the people in her lifeboat." Daniel

knelt down close to Riley who was still in the water and asked:

"Did something happen between you two? Is everything

alright?" Riley nodded his head at this.

"Everything's fine between us. She's just a little shaken up

about what happened. I don't blame her. I would be too!" Ron gave

Riley a side smile and replied:

"Well, I'm glad everything is alright." Riley's face changed

once Ron said this and Riley looked away from Ron's face.

"Yes, yes everything's fine— now will you all help me back

into the boat?" Fergus and Daniel picked Riley up and after a bit of

struggling from Riley's belly getting stuck on the underside of the

boat finally had him back in it. Once Riley was back on his feet he

turned to Fergus and asked:

"Is there, by any chance, a possibility that you might have a

towel to spare?" Fergus nodded.

"I'll see what I can find." Fergus turned to a box he had with

his fishing gear inside and started scrummaging through it. While he

117

was doing this, Riley turned to look at Ron but then quickly turned away and decided to look at Daniel as if he was about to say

something, opening his mouth in the process. He then quickly

closed it and looked down towards the ground.

"Is everything alright Riley?" Daniel asked. Riley looked back

up and nodded.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Everything is fine." Riley then took

another glance at Ron and then quickly looked away. Daniel noticed

this and blurted out:

"Well, obviously everything is _not_ okay! Speak up man!" Riley

then slowly lifted his gazed back towards Ron and replied:

"I don't want to be in the same boat as you." Riley was now

pointing a finger at Ron with an evil glare on his face. Ron looked at

him like he was crazy.

"I don't understand. What did I do?" Ron changed his face

into one of a state of confusion.

"YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! GERMAN!" Riley blurted out!

"You're one of them! You've been planning this the entire

time!" Riley's stubby legs jumped off the ground while the rest of his

body lunged at Ron. Riley tackled Ron to the ground and began

hitting him with his fists.

"MURDERER! _MUREDER_!" Riley screamed.

"My _wife!_ She almost died because of _you!"_ Ron laid there

helpless, taking the pummeling.

"Riley! I'm not a German! Riley get off of me!" Riley didn't

stop. He kept hitting Ron and hitting Ron until finally Fergus and

Daniel grabbed Riley's arms and pulled him off of him.

"GET _OFF_ OF ME!" Riley struggled to break free while

Fergus persisted, saying:

"Settle down! Riley! Settle down!" Riley kept on tugging to

break free while Ron looked at him in shock! Ron's nose was

bleeding heavily. He began to use his sleeve to try to stop it. Finally,

after much tugging, Riley broke free. He lunged at Ron again until

Daniel was able to catch him in mid-air by the legs. Riley landed on

the deck of the boat with a _thud_. This didn't stop Riley, however. He

began to claw his way towards Ron until Daniel, with enough luck,

flipped him over onto his back and jumped on top of him.

"RILEY!" Daniel smacked Riley. Riley, in turn, spit into

Daniel's face. Daniel smacked him again.

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"Quit it! He killed a German with me today! He's _not_ the enemy! _You're_ acting like the enemy!" Riley kept quiet for a second

after hearing this but then replied:

"But..." Daniel stopped Riley from saying anything else

putting a finger to his lips. Daniel grabbed Riley by his collar and

stood him up. He then put both of his arms around his belly of a

waist, picking him up, and throwing into the water. Riley hit the

water with a splash and came back up to the surface and yelling:

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?" Daniel shook his head at him

and replied:

"You know what it was for. Now go get your wife and bring

her back to this boat!" Riley spit out water that got into his mouth

and began to swim back over to the lifeboat his wife was on. Fergus

and Daniel looked down upon Ron lying on the ground with his nose

clogged up by his sleeve.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Fergus said to Ron. Ron

shrugged his shoulders and began to try and stand up. Fergus and

Daniel quickly went over to help him stand. Once Ron was standing,

Fergus let go of his hold on Ron and went back over to the tackle

box he was looking through so he could get a towel. Fergus pulled

one out and said:

"I knew I had one in here!" He gave it to Ron who switched

out his sleeve with it, letting a few droplets of blood fall to the

ground in mid-swap.

"Do both of you think that was a little uncalled for?" Ron

asked. They both nodded. By this time, after taking his time getting

over to his wife, Riley finally made it to her.

"So I think I should just stay in the lifeboat with you, sweetie."

Gael looked down at Riley in confusion.

"Why!? What happened!?" She asked. Riley looked back at

the boat Ron, Daniel, and Fergus were on and then looked back up

at her.

"I—I messed up." Gael looked down at Riley in confusion.

"And how is that?" Riley took a deep breath and plunged

himself down into the water. He then came back up and looking her

straight in the face:

"Well... I tackled him to the ground and went a little crazy on

him, my dear. I lost my temper! But I—"

"But _what!?"_ Gael asked, looking at Riley concerned. Riley

took a minute before answering:

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"I _probably_ shouldn't have done that. I got a wee bit carried away, and he _is_ a good fellow." Gael gave Riley a disgusted face

before replying:

" _Probably!?"_ Riley then put his hands up and out of the

water before saying:

"Alright, alright! I _shouldn't_ have done that. But—I—did—"

Gael rested her thumb and her pointer finger against the top of her

nose in frustration.

"I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO _HURT_ HIM! I JUST WANTED

YOU TO FIND OUT IF HE WAS TO BE _TRUSTED!"_ Gael yelled this

at her husband so that all of the lifeboats all around could hear her.

Ron heard this especially well above all others, and it gave him the

biggest side-smile you could've gotten from a man who just got

pummeled for something he was not. Riley's face, on the other

hand, took on a look of great dismay. This, of course, was because

he knew he would on the couch tonight.

"I'll just..." Gael didn't let Riley finish his sentence.

" _Yes. You should."_ Gael then quickly looked away from

Riley, crossing her arms, putting a disapproving face on, and letting

out a:

" _Huh!"_ To top it all off. Let's just say... Riley swam back.

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Chapter 16

To the Couch

Once Riley got back to Fergus' boat all three of the men on it

looked down at Riley, and Daniel blurted out:

"Where is she!? What happened?" Riley let out a groan and

then looked towards Ron:

"I'm dearly sorry my dear man for lashing out. The only

reason I have to blame is that I love her so dearly." By this time

Ron's nose had already stopped bleeding, and the towel was

thrown into the corner of the boat. Ron knelt down closer to the fat

man's dripping wet body and replied back:

"I don't blame you. It's hard to trust a guy you barely know."

Ron put his hand out to Riley, and then Fergus did the same.

Together, they helped Riley back into the boat. Looking to Fergus,

Riley asked:

"So did you ever find that towel my good man?" Fergus

grunted at Riley disdainfully and walked over to the towel in the

corner. He threw it at him which Riley graciously accepted.

"Then again, thanks but no thanks." Riley dropped the towel

on the ground with a disgusted look on his face. Fergus began to

give out a hardy chuckle, making his red beard vibrate upon his

rosy-cheeked face.

_"SO!"_ Fergus yelled out.

"ARE WE ALL JUST GOING TO STAY IN THIS ONE SPOT

OR ARE WE GOING TO GET MOVING!?" All of the lifeboats began

rowing again. Once Fergus saw that they were all in action he

started up his engine and slowly kept up along with their turtle-like

pace. After many minutes of strutting along with them, Ron could tell

that Fergus was getting anxious. When he couldn't take it anymore

he took off to the front of the lifeboats and zoomed it way beyond

passed them.

" _What are you doing!?"_ Riley asked in desperation; "My

wife's still back there!" Fergus looked back at Riley with irritation and

turned back around.

"Thank you," Riley replied to Fergus' change of direction.

Fergus grunted at his thank you and began circling around the

group of lifeboats like a shark that just found its prey. After making

five rotations around the lifeboats, Riley blurted out:

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"I'm getting dizzy!" Fergus grunted at this as well and began

to slow down but still kept on with his circling. At this point people on

the lifeboats began to yell out:

"CAN YOU PLEASE STOP DOING THAT, SIR!" and "IS

THERE REALLY A NEED FOR THAT!?" "IS THAT _NECESSARY!?"_

Fergus grunted at them and after one more circle around the

lifeboats finally stopped.

After many more minutes of slow-paced paddling from the

lifeboats and an endless amount of grunts from Fergus, they had all

finally made it back to the docks.

"A payment for my contributions would be nice. There's my

funeral fee along with my search and rescue fee." After Fergus kept

up his serious face about the fees, Ron and Riley looked upon

Fergus with a loss for words. Daniel finally ended it by saying:

"Oh come here _ya old hoot_!" And Fergus' face quickly

changed to one of "Ah _bloody 'oots_! Tricked _ya_ all, I did!" Daniel and Fergus put in a solid hug which was ended shortly after two quick

pats on the back.

"We wouldn't ever be able to repay you for what you just did

for us and all of these people." Daniel motioned towards all of the

lifeboats dockings.

"I'd do it again and again if it meant steering these fine,

dandy people in the right direction!" Fergus did actually help

everyone in the lifeboats. They were heading towards a spot to dock

that was miles from the closest town.

"You would've thought your wife would've known where her

own town was," Fergus said speaking to Riley. Riley shrugged his

shoulders and replied:

"She doesn't get out much." Fergus nodded at this and

began helping Daniel, Ron, and Riley off of his boat.

"Thanks a heap my friend!" Fergus gave a nod to Ron's

gratitude.

Once everyone was off the boat, Daniel yelled out:

"EVERYONE! WELCOME TO KINSALE!" No one replied to

Daniel's announcement. Instead, people began to walk up towards

the town. One man went up to Daniel and asked:

"What are we supposed to do now? Is there anywhere for us

to sleep?" Daniel nodded at this and replied:

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"We have an inn." Daniel started leading the man to the inn

when, instead, he decided to look back at all of the people and

yelled out:

"ANYONE WHO NEEDS A PLACE TO SLEEP, FOLLOW

ME!" After Daniel said this mostly everyone began to follow Daniel.

Ron looked around and then noticed Riley head over to his wife. At

first, when he got over to her she only stood there in silence, staring

at him. But suddenly, a slap came from her hand right into the side

of Riley's face. Riley took the slap and put a hand to his cheek,

feeling a red burn begin to throb in return of the impact. It didn't take

her long to go in for such a touching hug that Ron couldn't help but

smile at it. Ron gazed upon the beautiful reunion in joy watching her

shower him with kisses. He then looked back at all of the people

following Daniel and started frowning.

"Do I need to follow him as well?" Ron said to himself. He

looked back at the ocean he just left and realized...

"I don't have a home anymore." Where was home? Back on

the _Lusitania_ where that nurse felt up his chest? Back home in

Dunedin, Florida? Or was it in the car in the Marathon parking lot?

Ron shook himself free of worry from trying to decide in coming up

with an idea. He _couldn't_ be in a dream at the moment. In a dream,

you don't kill two people and feel it take a hold of your soul. Ron

began to look at his hands.

"Do I even have a soul anymore?" Ron thought to himself.

Or was this someone else' soul as well?

"Or did I lose my soul when I drowned Hans?" Ron looked

away from his hands and towards Riley and Gael still hugging. But

as soon as he began gazing upon them, they unraveled their grasp

on each other and began walking back towards town hand in hand.

Town—Ron knew he had to head back towards town. Where else

would home be but for the moment?

As he started walking Fergus made him stop by yelling out:

_"Hey there laddie_ , Wait up for the conductor you left behind!"

He had just finished wiping down his antique-looking motor. It was

'one of a kind' to Ron but still didn't have the audacity to hold a

candle to the motorboats Ron had been on with Jack back in

Dunedin. The fish they caught together; it made Ron ask Fergus

once they started walking back to town together:

"So what type of fish do you catch on that boat of yours?"

Fergus took a deep breath before answering:

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"Mackerel and pollack. I do more inshore angling as you can

see by the size of my boat here. I only do it for the enjoyment. I

don't do it to make money like the other boats shown here are used

for." Ron nodded at this and then asked:

"So then how do you make your money?" Fergus looked at

Ron and smiled.

"Funny thing is—I own the inn that everyone is about to be

staying at." Fergus gave out a hearty laugh at this, and Ron smiled

back at him.

"So you're about to make a _lot_ of money!" Fergus shook his

head at this.

"No, no, I couldn't do that. Tonight I'm taking in refugees that

have just been hit with a serious blow from the war at the moment

so no money will be made tonight. Even though I might need it due

to the hole I've put myself into by buying that hunk o' metal back

there!" Fergus pointed his thumb back to it while keeping his strides

forward.

" _At the moment."_ Ron thought to himself. It was still hard for

him to wrap around his head that this war was going on right now for

him. Not a hundred years ago—Ron looked back at Fergus and

replied:

"You're a good man Fergus." Fergus shook his head at this

as well.

"No. The good men are the ones who are down in those

trenches day in and day out. They are the _real_ good men."

At this note, they came upon the town. It was just as he left

it. Until, suddenly, Ron noticed it. It was Magic. He wasn't over at

the church anymore. He was tied to the post where all the other

horses were left. Ron couldn't even remember Daniel bringing back

the horse that brought Heinrich and Ludvig down to the boat. Ron

ran up to Magic and the other two horses in front of Patty's Pasties

and began to look Magic right in his left eye.

"How did you?" he was cut off by:

"MARCUS! Over here!" Ron looked behind him to see Daniel

motioning him over. Ron ran over to hear Daniel's command to him

saying:

"I'm going to need your help in getting everyone settled.

Start by gathering everyone's names with this." Daniel held out a

piece of parchment for him along with a quill. Ron began to look at

the objects with much fascination. The parchment felt so thick in his

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hands and was like no ordinary piece of paper that he had ever

come across. The quill was no doubt a real feather from a bird!

Ron couldn't help himself without proclaiming:

"WOW! It's so..." he cut him off short again.

"It's just a piece of parchment and a quill, Marcus. No need

to fondle the damn things!" Ron nodded his head at this.

"Yes. It is only that—" Daniel stopped him short, giving him a

peculiar look:

"Well, why did you get up all and excited and what not about

it then? This is not a time for that. We've got work to be _abrewin'!"_

Ron shook his head at this.

"It's just that I love to write. That's all." Daniel nodded his

head while still giving him a peculiar look.

"Well then—I picked the right man for the job." Daniel turned

away from him while yelling out:

"NOW EVERYONE IN AN ORDERLY LINE. WE WANT TO

GET THIS DONE QUICK AND EASY." Everyone began to form a

line little by little along with a few:

"Hey! I was before you!" and "No you weren't!" which Daniel

would settle out by sending the two to the back.

After the line was as straight as a cucumber Ron began to

look around to see where he would start. He looked at the line

forming outside of the inn and decided he would have to start at the

beginning of it. Ron got inside after a few people yelled at him:

"NOT IN FRONT OF ME YOU DON'T!" And Daniel would

have to come to Ron's reassurance:

"He's only taking names." They would look back at Ron

while saying:

"Well I'm Madame..." only to be cut short by Ron:

"I haven't _gotten_ to you yet." In reply, Ron would get a:

"Well _hmmph!"_ Ron rolled his eyes and finally got to the

front.

"So what is your..." Fergus cut him short.

"There's no need for that my good man!" Fergus handed the

next person in line a key and said to them:

"How many?"

"Two; my daughter and me," said the woman. Fergus

nodded his head at this and replied:

"Up the stairs to your left." It went on like this until Fergus ran

out of keys. At that point, Fergus began directing people to go up to

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a certain room and knock on the door. He gave these people extra pillows and finished by saying:

"I'm sorry, but we are just all out of rooms. The person

currently residing in where you are staying won't mind." They would

nod at Fergus while some would protest:

"Are you sure you don't have an extra key lying around? I

might have a few dollars to spare—" Fergus would only reply by

shaking his and adding:

"No, I'm sorry. And especially no to that money of yours!

Even if I could use an extra shilling or two, I'm not taking any tonight

out of all nights. They all nodded their heads and whispered out a:

"Thank you." They left his front desk in defeat.

This lasted until two men who were made to go to the back

of the line were all who were left. At this point, Daniel was inside

as well and came up to Ron asking:

"So did you get everyone's names?" Ron gave Daniel a

blank look and handed him back the quill and parchment. Daniel

looked down at it, looked back up at Ron, and then looked down at

it again.

"I don't understand..." Daniel was interrupted by Fergus:

"I'm sorry fellows. I'm all out of room. I can't squeeze you in

anywhere. We are booked to the fullest capacity." The two men

looked at each other in shock. They both looked about Ron's age

before he changed into a completely different man. They were in

their late teens and they looked out of place. It also made Ron think

for a second about Evan and Gus. Where were _they?_ They weren't

on any of the lifeboats. They weren't standing in line all this time.

Neither was Freddie. Or—Dr. O'Malley—whatever his new name is.

Ron looked at the two men in sorrow. Not for them, but for his three

friends. They didn't make it. Ron felt like he abandoned them and

now they were all gone. Lost to the _Lusitania's_ clutches. Ron began

to feel extremely sick. He bent over, almost about to throw up until

Daniel caught him as he hunched over onto his knees:

"Hey! What's the matter!?" Ron shook his head and let out:

"I need some air." Daniel nodded his head at this and

brought him outside. By this hour it was fully dark and the moon was

outshining its radiance. The stars were everywhere in the sky and

left barely enough room for the moon to squeeze into the picture of

such exquisite candescence. At this view, along with the fresh air

the outside brought, Ron immediately felt better. Besides the

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thought of Freddie, Gus, and Evan creeping in the back of his mind, he felt relieved—relieved with all of his cares drifting away. He

looked over at Daniel and smiled.

"Thank you for bringing me out here." Daniel nodded his

head at this.

"I was just worried about you, you know. What happened in

there?" Ron's face changed to one of sadness.

"My friends; none of them were on any of those lifeboats."

Daniel let silence fill the air until he finally replied:

"I'm sorry to hear that." Daniel stepped towards Ron and

asked:

"What were they like?" Ron took a minute before shrugging

his shoulders and replying:

"One of them could fly so high he would bring my heart with

him. He soared. Soared like a bird. Like a falcon." Daniel looked

over at Ron with a smile.

"Well sounds like one special friend." Ron nodded at this.

"Yeah. He was." At that note, the two men stepped outside.

"Now what Johnny? The guy said there were no other hotels

or inns or anywhere else in this whole crummy town we're stuck in."

Johnny shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll find somewhere. And it's _not_ a crummy town! I like the

feel of it." Johnny spit on the ground.

"Feel my..." the rude gentleman was interrupted by Daniel

saying:

"Excuse me. Are you two looking for a place to stay?"

Johnny replied:

"Yes. Do you know anywhere we could possibly find

shelter?" Daniel shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps. I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind if you two stayed just

one night. I have two extra horses that need someone to ride them

back to our farm." Ron added in:

"You have three." Daniel looked at Ron quizzically.

"No—I have two; Marcus, I'm sure my mother would

welcome you into our home just as much as I am right now." Ron

thought about Daniel's proposal. He didn't know where else he

would go. He was alone now in a time that wasn't his own, and he

wasn't going to turn down hospitality.

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"Thank you for your generosity, but I can't give up hope. I

believe my friends are still out there. I have to go find them." Daniel

looked at Ron with sympathy and replied:

"Marcus—they weren't on any of the lifeboats. Why would

you believe that they are still out there?" Ron looked down at the

ground after hearing this reply.

"Because I can't give up hope." Ron looked back up. Daniel

sighed at this. He looked towards Johnny and his friend and then he

looked at his horses.

"How about this. We'll come back to town tomorrow and see

if any new refugees have come to town. I'm sure you're right. I'm

sure they're still out there. But nighttime isn't the _right_ time to be looking for them. Wherever they are they're fine. You have to

believe me. So come on. Hop on Magic will _ya_."

" _Magic!?"_ Johnny's friend asked.

"That's my _Pa's_ horse. You can choose among Pepper,

Acorn, or Tooter." Johnny's friend began to laugh once he said the

last name.

"Well, I feel obliged to take Tooter! Will he be _tootin'_ the

whole way home?"

" _She—_ will not. That's Acorn who does that."

"Well, I'll be taking Pepper then," Johnny spoke up.

"Then it's settled. Let's head out!" As Daniel, Johnny, and

Johnny's companion began to head over to the horses, Ronald

stayed behind. He wasn't sure. Was he really meant to go with

Daniel back to his home? In the back of his mind, there was a voice

telling him no. Something urged him to stay behind and not go with

him. He was on a mission. But, then again, he failed that mission. It

was over. The _Lusitania_ got hit and there was nothing he could do

about it. Ron took a step back. He looked down at his feet and

wondered:

"What am I doing?" There was nothing for him in this town.

He looked up to see the three men already on the horses.

" _C'mon_ Marcus! What are you waiting for?" It was Johnny's

companion who said this. And he was right. What _was_ he waiting

for? So he walked over to Magic, untied him from the post, and

hopped on. And so they went.

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Chapter 17

Back to Daniel's

As they left, Ron looked back, in the back of his mind

expecting O'Malley to pop up and yell out:

"MARCUS! DON'T LEAVE! THE _LUSITANIA_ NEVER GOT

HIT! IT'S A HOAX!" But it wasn't a hoax. O'Malley was gone. So

were Evan and Gus. The _Lusitania_ sank, and history was going

along right on schedule. But then Ron thought about it for a

second—was it really going along schedule? Faint whispers came

back to the front of his mind about the _Lusitania_ not sinking the day

before like it was supposed to. Evan's voice could be heard in his

mind again, and there those words were. History _was_ being

changed. Ron looked at his tightly grasped hands upon Magic's

mane and thought:

"Well, I'm here for _one_. I wasn't here the first time when the

_Lusitania_ sank. Or _was_ I?" This Marcus fellow he was in the body of must really exist—in the back of his mind he began to think of how

Marcus was still there, but Ron had taken control of his body. Ron

wasn't Marcus. He couldn't be. Marcus Reynolds was Marcus

Reynolds.

Ron shook off the feeling of having someone else in the

brain he was in. It felt weird—something about it didn't seem right

about it one bit—. He felt—not human. Was it possible that O'Malley

had him evolved so he had a hold of more than one body? It was

what only made sense at the moment. Every other possibility

seemed too _far-fetched_. But it wasn't like he chose to live in Marcus'

body. O'Malley put him there—or the gazebo did—either way he

couldn't dwell on it any longer.

Ron looked around at the men with whom he was riding.

They were having a conversation, and he had no idea what about.

Ron tuned in:

"So Johnny, where are you and Bradley from exactly?"

"California. It's a state in America."

"I know about California! It's one of your more known states

in America. Marcus, aren't you from America?" Ron, not thinking

twice, replied:

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"Yes. I'm from Florida. I don't know if it's as well-known as

the state California." Ron picked up his pace and rode a little past

them.

"What's wrong with him?" Bradley asked.

"He lost some friends on the _Lusitania_. You remember; both

of you were standing right there when we were talking about it—"

"Yeah, but everyone lost at least one person on the _Lusitania_

today. He wasn't— the only one." Bradley trailed off. Ron heard

them whispering about him but ignored it. He wanted to be alone.

He didn't want to have to talk to anyone at the moment. Not now.

Not when his friends were just killed. But still... In the back of his

mind, he kept listening—

"Why does _he_ get to mope and feel sorry for himself!? And

we get the benefit of it! Look at us! Hooray for us!"

" _Shut it Bradley._ Your criticizing isn't changing anything."

"Well, it should! I want him to hear me! I want him to soak in

what I'm saying! He deserves to hear it." Bradley replied to Johnny,

but Ronald knew he was obviously talking towards him.

"Well, I don't think he _is_ hearing you. I would like to think he's

probably somewhere else in his mind. Like thinking about the good

memories he had with who he lost."

"Well, I don't see what good that would do. That only leads

to the sad thoughts. And how do you know they _were_ good times

spent with them!?"

"Trust me Bradley my good fellow; there's always the good

thoughts of lost loved ones. Those are the ones you hold onto the

tightest. Those are the ones you don't ever let go and let follow you

till your final days are upon ye." Ron smiled at Daniel's wonderful

words of inspiration. But still—he looked ahead without looking back

upon the three.

"Daniel's right Bradley. Your dearly beloved will always

remain deep in your heart for they will always be there for you. Even

at your darkest hours. That's what love is all about. That's what

friendship truly represents. That's what I'd like to think you would

believe if I was in a serious situation. You'd be there for me. Just

like how I'd be there for you. Don't you get? Don't you get it? Yes.

We lost pops and mum. But you still have me. I'm your older

brother, and I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anyone

hurt you. I'm here to protect you..." At this Johnny began to sob

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uncontrollably. He wouldn't stop. Not even when Bradley began

yelling:

"STOP IT! STOP IT, JOHN, STOP IT!" But he didn't stop.

And neither did Bradley when he began to tear up and cry as well.

Ron turned around at this. He couldn't help himself. Their trot home

turned from sad to straight depressing. Just when Ron thought this

melancholy scene had begun, Daniel broke, horrendously wailing:

"WHY! WHY! WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY! WHY FATHER WHY!

I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE DEAD, PLEASE GOD NO!" Ron

looked behind him in horror. This wasn't happening; this couldn't

have been happening; this was happening. Ron quickly looked

away from them. He couldn't bear it. His stomach began to feel

queasy with unease. His palms began to sweat while at the same

time shiver with clamminess. His eyes drooped down, and he let it

out. He let out his sorrow with an uncontrollable hold that couldn't be

contained over it any longer. It burst through his veins like piercings

being brought down upon his skin. The agony was too great to be

endured. He felt ashamed. Ashamed of how he had acted.

Ashamed that his agony was nowhere near close to going away

and how he let it wash over him while they kept it pinned up. Their

losses were far greater than his. He didn't lose a father like Daniel

did. He didn't lose a mother like Bradley and Johnny did.

"I haven't been here long enough to understand them and

what they're going through. I haven't been around here to see what

they have seen." Ron felt clueless beyond belief. He was in no state

to judge them for he _wasn't_ them. Ron slowed his pace to where he

was trotting along with them again.

"I feel ashamed of my behavior. I shouldn't have acted that

way. I apologize to each and every one of you three gentlemen."

They all looked at Ron in forgiveness—all of them except Bradley.

"We don't need your worthless apology. It doesn't mean

anything!"

"Brad, stop it—"

"No. He needs to hear this. Just because you think you lost

someone doesn't mean we lost someone as well. We spit on your

apology—"

"He doesn't mean that. I'm sorry he's treating you like this."

"Why did you get to be alone!? It's not fair! I want to be

alone!" At this Bradley rode off into the distance.

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"Bradley! What are you doing?! You don't even know where

you're going!" But it was too late. Bradley was gone—gone to

where they couldn't see him in the darkness that overtook them.

"Don't worry. He's heading in the right direction. The farm's

coming up soon anyway." Daniel sounded rough upon saying this.

Upon hearing this, Ron noticed that he didn't sound like himself

anymore. He sounded like a more saddened version of himself. Ron

felt terrible. If he hadn't made Daniel's father get off the horse, he

would have never died—but he did. And it wasn't like he could change

the past.

The three of them trotted along until they finally came upon

Bradley. He was off of the horse with his hands over his head and

his head between his knees, sitting down.

"Get up Bradley." Bradley looked up at Johnny who had said

this and then looked over at Ron.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. I'm _so_ sorry. _I'm a terrible person._ I've been acting terrible and it's not right. I'm sorry." Bradley said this

while he sobbed. Ron lowered his head down towards his hands

and then looked back up.

"It's alright. I could never know how you felt when—it

happened." Bradley nodded his head at this, got up, and wiped his

nose on his sleeve. He then went over to Ron on his horse and

held out his hand. Ronald took it and shook it.

"Well now that that's settled; let's get a move on it. I'm sure

Mother has dinner waiting when we get back." Ron sighed in relief

upon hearing Daniel's voice. It sounded more or less back to

normal. Bradley got back on Tooter and they began trotting along

once again.

It only took less than a minute to finally get back to Daniel's

farm. Once they arrived they headed straight over to the barn. It was

wide open and Aengus and Bartley were inside. They were both

lying down on the ground. They quickly got up once they saw Daniel

lead the rest of the men inside. Daniel flung himself off of Acorn and

went straight in for a hug with Aengus. After their hug was over then

Daniel went to Bartley and gave him a hug as well.

"What happened!?" Aengus finally spurted out as Daniel and

Bartley's hug ended.

"The two Germans; they stole each of your guns and each

of your horses." Upon saying this, Daniel walked over to Bradley

and Johnny and took the guns they were carrying. He then went

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over to Ron who gave him a gun. Daniel took all four of the rifles and hung them up on a wall in the barn.

Once all four of the horses were in there stalls, fed, and

properly taken care of then they all headed outside and shut the

barn door.

"This is Bradley and this is Johnny. They were on a cargo

ship that was taken down not far outside of Kinsale." Bartley and

Aengus shook hands with Johnny and Bradley. After they

introduced themselves to each other, Bartley looked back towards

Daniel and asked:

"Are they the only two survivors?" Daniel shook his head at

this.

"No. The rest are staying at Fergus' Inn." Bartley nodded his

head at this and then bobbed his towards Johnny, Ron, and

Bradley.

"Where will they all be staying?"

"With me."

"At least one of them can stay at our place." Daniel looked

over at Ron.

"Marcus?" Ron nodded his head and followed Bartley and

Aengus away from the barn and towards the outskirts of the farm.

Towards the edge of it, away from Daniel's house, away from the

barn, Aengus and Bartley led Ron to a cottage that was closer to

Kinsale.

Once they arrived, Ron noticed the shingles atop the house

were covered with moss, and the shape was more closely similar to

a little bungalow.

"Welcome home, Marcus. This is where your Murphy

brothers have resided since 1902." Ron gazed upon it with interest.

"It's a finely built structure you both have here. Looks

homey." Bartley laughed at this while Aengus put on a big smile.

"Let's show you where you'll be sleeping," Aengus said to

Ron. Ron nodded his head and let them lead the way into the

cottage.

The cottage smelled of mildew once he entered, and, even

though it was dark, he could tell that it was cluttered. The smell grew

stronger each step he took inside, but he knew to keep his mouth

shut. Ron knew it was better to sleep in a funky house than to be

sleeping outside without any shelter. But then again, Ron began to

think of how the barn smelled a _great_ deal better.

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Before Ron started to reverse back-peddle out the door and

come up with an excuse of why he had to leave, Bartley sparked a

match and lit a candle. The whole room lit up. Ron was amazed by

what he saw. On the wall was a painting. It was... Ron looked down

at the pocket watches around his neck and held them up to the

painting. How? How was it that they were exactly alike?

"Do you want anything to eat? We've got soup!" Bartley and

Aengus were rummaging through the kitchen.

"This— this painting." Bartley came back into the room.

"Yes, do you like it? Jack McDover gave it to us. He owns

the pub back in the town." Ron dropped the pocket watches. It

couldn't be. The pocket watches were exactly the same.

"So soup?" Bartley asked. He looked at Ron quizzically;

"Everything alright, me laddie?" Ron shook his head still looking at

the painting stunned.

"No, no everything is _not_ alright!"

"What!? You don't like soup?" Ron shook his head again

looking down towards the ground and rubbing his hands all over his

face.

"No, I just don't understand. Did Jack paint this painting for

you two?"

"I don't know if he did or not. Jack doesn't seem like the

painting type."

"He's more like the _drinking_ type!" Aengus added while he

was still in the kitchen; " _I'm making sooouup..."_ Aengus added in

while singing it. Bartley looked over at Aengus and laughed at him.

"Make me some! I like soup!" Bartley looked back at Ron

while still chuckling and noticed the pocket watches around his

neck; "Hey! The..." Bartley went over to Ron and took his pocket

watches. Ron let him take them off his neck while he still kept his

gaze fixed upon the painting. Bartley took the pocket watches over

to the painting, opened up the one Jack gave Ron, and slightly

slanted the other one.

"BY JOVI! THEY'RE EXACTLY THE SAME!" Bartley

exclaimed; "AENGUS! Aengus get _in_ here!"

" _But I'm making soup!"_ Aengus squealed back.

"Forget the soup, me boy! Get _in_ here!"

" _Forget the soup!?"_

_"_ Aengus just— _get in here!"_ Aengus came in with the pot of

soup.

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"What!?"

" _Look!"_ Aengus gazed upon the painting and then looked at

the pocket watches that Bartley held up in front of it.

"I—I don't understand, _Bart!_ Where did Jack _get this_

_painting!?_ And why did he give it to us!?"

"And how did he know about my pocket watch!? And where

did he get _his_ pocket watch!?"

"He gave the other one to you!?" Ron looked down at the

ground in sorrow.

"Yes. Before he was killed by one of the Germans." Bartley

and Aengus looked at Ron in astonishment.

" _He's dead!?"_ Ron slowly nodded his head while he kept his

gaze towards the ground. Then he quickly looked up and walked

over to the pocket watches Bartley was still holding up to the

painting.

" _What are these!?"_ Ron took the pocket watches out of his

hand and started moving his hands around them. 
"Do you want to find out? Let's take them to get 'em looked

at, now there's a fine idea!" Bartley shook his head at Aengus in

despair.

"Kinsale doesn't have a fellow that specializes in pocket

watches." Aengus gave him a ridiculous look back.

"What!? What about..." Bartley cut him off:

"He won't look at these!"

"It's worth it to try!"

"It's worth it not for you to get your hopes up. We'll just have

to go to another town!"

"Like _where_?!"

"Like—I don't know! Courtmacsherry or Bandon?"

"No! They wouldn't have the right person for the job!"

"Well, where do _you_ want to travel to?"

"I'd rather go to Carrigaline or Crosshaven!"

"I don't _like_ those towns! Let's pick a bigger town to go to

like..." Bartley began to ponder around the room for a moment while

doing a quick spin around to where he was facing Ron and Aengus

once again and yelled out: "COBH! Or—no wait—CORK! Let's head

to Cork!"

"I'd rather just try the man in Kinsale." Aengus and Bartley

quickly turned to Ron at the same time and, likewise, both yelled

out:

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"NO!"

"Cork it is!" Bartley said to Aengus, turning to look at him.

What Ron didn't know, however, was the man in Kinsale

would have worked just fine. The only problem with him was, of

course, Aengus and Bartley. You see, they both had a relationship

with the man's wife, and they _weren't_ about to encounter him once

again. The scenes they both had encountered did not turn out to be

pretty at all in any way possible. Aengus and Bartley both learned

their lesson with messing with the man that fixed pocket watches

and other early modern devices that were around in the early 20th

century.

"So it's settled! We'll head to Cork tomorrow!" Bartley said

looking at Ron expecting an agreement. Ron shrugged his

shoulders.

"I suppose. I'd rather go to Kinsale first and check out the

man there." Aengus and Bartley were not happy to hear this. Bartley

began pacing the room in distress, and Aengus brought his hands

to his face in anguish upon hearing Ron's words.

"No! He's a con-man! He'll take you for all you got! Marcus,

_please_ listen to us! We would know!" Bartley was still pacing the

room while Aengus was telling this to Ron. Bartley began nodding

his head once Aengus said "con-man" and began mouthing:

"Yes! Con-man! Con-man! Yes!" While he still kept his pace

back and forth across the room.

"So Cork?" Aengus asked. Ron felt like he had no other

choice. Aengus and Bartley were standing firm in their decision to

go to Cork. Ron, on the other hand, was not trying to go to Cork.

Where was Cork? Ron had no idea. It sounded far away and one

thing Ron knew was that Kinsale was only a trot away. Better yet,

Ron could walk to Kinsale. Ron began to think more and more about

walking to Kinsale and the more and more he thought about it the

more he realized it was the better choice. Ron then decided in his

mind that he would walk back to Kinsale in the morning to get the

pocket watches checked out.

Ron looked up from the ground after his decision was made

and looked at Aengus and the Bartley.

"It's agreed. Tomorrow we will go to Cork." Bartley stopped

pacing and through his hands, turned to Aengus, began chanting:

"CORK! CORK! CORK!" Aengus chimed in as well:

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"CORK! CORK! CORK!" They stopped for a second while

still looking at each other, smiling big wide smiles, until they yelled

out together for one last time:

" _CORK!!!!"_

Ron wouldn't chant with them. Even when they began

jumping up and down and both grabbed an arm of his so he was

jumping up and down with them. But one thing he couldn't help

himself from doing was smiling. Aengus and Bartley made Ron

smile so wide that laughter sprang out from between his teeth. He

was tingling with joy from top to bottom from the happiness they

released into him.

And then, suddenly, they stopped. They both stood in a

crouched position with huge grins spread across their faces while

they glared at him. And Ron knew why they were glaring at him.

Ron knew why they were staring at him in anticipation—so Ron

gave them what they wanted. Ron threw his left fist into the air and

yelled it out:

" _CORK!"_ Aengus and Bartley cheered one last time before

they went back into the kitchen together.

"Where's the soup!?" Aengus yelled out:

"OH YES SIR!" And went back into the room where they had

their celebration to get the pot.

The soup was delicious. Ron didn't even realize how much

he was starving when he gulped it down. It was the perfect meal

after everything that had just happened. Ron couldn't believe it! _A_

_lot_ has happened! Some of those things, however, he wanted

cleaned out of his mind. Some of those things weren't worth to be

repeated out loud for his mind was at an all-time high for a change,

and he wanted to keep it that way. He had a mystery to solve, and

he couldn't wait to solve it. These pocket watches. These pocket

watches that hung around this neck! What were they!? Where did

they come from!? What will they be used for!?

"They have to be used for something!" Ron thought to

himself as he consumed the delicious soup. The soup had

everything! It contained carrots, beef, celery, onions, a creamy

texture, and, of course, the potatoes! One couldn't forget the

potatoes! Especially if they were grown on the very same farm that

one was on! These potatoes only came thirty feet away from the

ground they stood and that was all Ron needed to know to make his

final thoughts before saying:

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"These potatoes though! Best soup I've ever eaten!" Ron

announced while his mouth still had soup in it. Aengus and Bartley

only nodded because they kept their eyes on their soup the entire

time they swung it down.

Soon enough all three of them were licking their bowls clean.

"Aengus, where did my soup go!? Bartley said while showing

his bowl to Aengus.

"Where did _your_ soup go!? Where did _my_ soup go!" They

both looked at each other in amazement as they checked out each

other's bowls. At the same time, they gave out two big hearty

laughs, and Bartley took Aengus' bowl along with Ron's away from

the table including his as well.

"The couch is over there," Bartley said as he washed the

bowls with a cloth. Ron nodded his head and replied:

"Thank you both for the soup. And, of course, letting me stay

here." Aengus nodded his head at Ron and put one of his hands on

his shoulder.

"Thank _you!"_ Aengus paused a moment and then looked

over at Bartley. Looking back at Ron, he added: "For choosing

Cork!"

_"Hazaah!"_ Bartley added in, and while Aengus slowly arose

from being seated they both began chanting once again:

"CORK! CORK! CORK! CORK!" They did this all the way up

the stairs until Ron heard, second by second, it slowly fading away

until the little cottage was as still as the midnight air. Ron sat in the

chair for a moment until he went back into the room with the

painting. Ron stared at it with curiosity. While he did so he began

fiddling with the pocket watches around his neck. Ron let out a smile

and said aloud:

"Until tomorrow." Ron blew out the candle.

138

Chapter 18

To Cork

Ron woke up early the next morning. He looked around and

gave out a sigh of relief. They weren't awake yet. Ron could hear

them snoring all the way from downstairs. He got up and went into

the kitchen. Ron looked for something that could work for his

breakfast but couldn't find anything. Ron opened drawers, cabinets,

even looked under the table. He couldn't find anything! Then Ron

noticed it: a tiny door tucked away in the corner of the room. Ron

looked at it and smiled.

"Bingo." He opened it to find a bounty of food on shelves.

Ron saw pasta, loaves of bread, fruit, vegetables, and rice. Taking

an apple along with one of the loaves, his stomach growled out in

thanks to the wonderful find. Next to the hidden door, there was

another door but this one led outside. Ron opened this one and

stepped out into the earthy air, taking in how fresh and deep-rooted

it smelled. It was especially different from his city-life the Dunedin

atmosphere had back home. Ron took a bite of the apple, smelled in

the fresh air, and said out loud:

"To Cork!" Ron snickered at his statement, and he was on

his way. He walked onto the path for Kinsale and realized how there

was really no hurry for him to get there at all. The sun wasn't even

out yet, and the walk would take less than two hours. Ron gazed at

the purplish dark blue sky and how it swirled with a wisp of clarity.

Ron felt welcomed to be in its presence. Ron's eyes pondered upon

the green hills of what make up Ireland. He took it all in at once and

smelled it back out with an 'Ahhww' of satisfaction. But before Ron

was finished smelling it all out—she rode up upon him.

Ron quickly glanced behind him when he heard it. Someone

from the farm was on horseback and heading straight towards him.

He couldn't believe it. He was caught. Bartley or Aengus must've

woken up right after Ron did and realized he left, realized that there

was no heading to Cork; realized Ron was heading to Kinsale. Ron

began to walk a little faster. He glanced back again and saw

whoever it was was gaining on him. Ron's fast-walk turned into a

run. Then his run turned into a sprint. And before it was too late—

she was right next to Ron's sprint, galloping along with him. She

gave out a giggle and spoke up over the horse's hooves:

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"Hey! What are you running from!?" Ron looked over and

saw that it was a girl on the horse. His sprint turned back into a run

which turned back into a walk which turned into a stop. Her

galloping slowed down into a trot which eventually turned into a stop

right alongside Ron.

"Who are you?" Ron asked.

"I think I should be asking the same question! What was it

you were running from?" She giggled at Ron which made him blush.

"I—I thought you were Aengus or Bartley." She bellowed into

laughter from hearing this response but then gave Ron a look which

showed that she recognized him.

"Hey! You're the man that took my brother right after he

told..." she looked down at her horse and began to tear up. Ron

knew why.

"Right after he told you and your mother what happened."

She nodded while looking away from Ron. She then looked at him

and gave him a cold glare.

"You brought them here, the Germans. My father wouldn't be

dead if you hadn't brought them here." She expectorated towards

Ron's direction, and it landed right in his eye.

_"Uhhhh!"_ Ron rubbed at the eye she directed her phlegm into

and looked up about to say something back that would be cunning

yet offensive. But it was too late. She rode off without saying

another word.

Ron watched her ride away into the distance. He sighed as

he saw her disappear from his sight.

_What have you done_? Ron said to himself. His walk to

Kinsale changed. His limbs began to droop. His head fell into a

sadness he'd never felt before. He felt so low that the walk slowly

became more and more tedious and a strain on his body. When he

made it to Kinsale it didn't take him two hours like he planned. It

took him four. But when he made it, Ron felt relieved. The most

brutal walk he had ever taken was over. The most dreadful pace he

took to make it to the town had finally ended. But Ron's mood didn't

change. He still felt terrible. He still felt a sting in his heart that

wouldn't go away. It wouldn't. Why wouldn't it?

"WHY WON'T YOU GO _AWAY!?"_ Ron screamed. Everyone

in the town looked over at Ron's grand entrance, and they all gave

him a terrible stare. Ron's head swung back and forth towards the

people staring and let out with a whimper:

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"Heart pain." Ron grasped his chest with one hand and held

up the other saying louder:

"It's going away." They all ended their stare and began their

walk through the town once again. Ron looked for where he was

supposed to go.

"Where _am_ I supposed to go?!" Ron looked at all of the signs

but his mind felt clouded. He felt sick to his stomach but, for some

reason, he couldn't throw up. He walked through town, his steps

were of a drunken __ man, but Ron hadn't a sip of alcohol. Ron didn't

understand what was wrong with him.

"Why do I feel this way?" He thought to himself. Ron couldn't

help but feel helpless. He felt like there was nothing to live for,

nothing to dream about, nothing to hold on true in his heart.

Ron's steps became more and more wobbly. More and more

unpredictable for where each foot would land. And then—he fell.

Ron fell right into a door. He hit it with a thud, feeling the sting of the

impact on his face. Ron grabbed the doorknob and used it to help

himself stand upright. He peered in. But it wasn't. It couldn't be—it

was her again. She was staring right at him. Ron felt her eyes pierce

right through him like a dagger was thrown from her fingers directly

into his heart.

"Not you again." She muttered. She took long strides right

towards him and opened up the door. Ron fell right in but caught his

balance with the doorknob he kept his grip on.

"You've got some _nerve._ Some nerve to stalk me. Stalk me

right into this store. Now I'm trying to have a decent conversation

with Mr. Callahan here, but _you're_ interrupting us. Can't you _see_ that you're interrupting us? Just leave us be— why are you holding the

doorknob in that fashion? Are you drunk? You look drunk to me,

and it is too early to be anywhere near drunk. Drunk as..." she cut

herself off upon almost saying his name.

"Drunk as Jack." Ron finished. Ron stood up upon saying his

name and brushed his clothes off. He was still wearing his military

uniform. She looked at Ron with confusion.

"Who are _you?"_ Ron smiled at this.

"Well, I'm Ron." It came out before he could even catch

himself. The name still lingered in the air with surprise in his

reaction. He actually said his actual name. His _real_ name. His very

own name. But why? Why did he?

_Why did I not say Marcus?_ Ron said to himself.

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"I need to correct myself." He said again to himself. But

before he could, she spoke up:

"Well, I'm not very glad to meet you, _Ron_. _Ronald_. I like

_Ronald_ better. I shall call you _Ronald_. Get rid of the name, _Ron_. Ron isn't as good as a name as Ronald. Anyhow, I am not very glad to

meet you. You know why? I'll tell you why! Because it's people like

_you_ who don't deserve to be in a place like Kinsale. Kinsale is a nice town with nice people and you, _sir_!" She paused for a bit until she

stuck her pointer finger and poked Ron in the chest ending with:

"Are _not_ a nice person!" She stormed out of the store, her perfume

lingering in the air that Ron couldn't help but smell.

"I'm sorry about that me _laddie_. Her father just passed away.

You see, he was shot. It's not a good way to go out being shot and

all. It takes a toll on the whole family, and it just leaves them dry and

breathless. I'd hate to get shot, I would." Callahan paused for a

minute while Ron guessed he thought about what it would be like to

be shot. He then looked back at Ron and gave him a surprised look.

"Oh! Didn't know you were still here, _laddie! What can I do_

_for ya now?"_ Ron looked at the man with curiosity. The man was

old, but he couldn't have been as old as to forget that there was a

man in his store. Instead of pondering upon it any longer Ron shook

it off and asked:

"Could you look at these pocket watches for me?" Ron took

the pocket watches from around his neck and placed them in front of

him. Callahan opened one up and then put it back down on the front

desk. He then opened up the other one and put that one on the front

desk.

"Alright. I did it. You happy!?" Callahan gave Ron a smile

which Ron took in with confusion.

"I don't understand..."

"Son, you told me to look at them so I looked at them. What

more can I do!?" Ron cried out with stupefaction:

" _FIX THEM!"_ Callahan covered his ears in agony and gave

Ron a mean stare.

"My fellow man— _nothing_ is the matter with your _pocket_

_watches!_ They work just fine!" Ron quickly picked one of the pocket

watches up and looked at it. It was ticking away like nothing was of

the matter. Ron then picked up the other one. It was working as fine

as the first one.

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"But—just a minute ago..." Ron stared at both of them, one

in each hand, in disbelief.

"They weren't working before... I don't understand what

happened!" Callahan replied:

"Magic _hands!_ That will be one farthing!" Ron looked at him

in confusion.

"But you..." Callahan cut him off with laughter.

_"Just pulling your string me laddie!_ I can't seem to tell you

_why_ they're working now and _why_ they weren't working before! It will forever remain a mystery! But I'm glad to have looked at the pocket

watches you have there; they are seemingly breathtaking! Antiques

might I ask?" Ron, still gazing upon the pocket watches in

amazement, nodded his head. He looked up and asked:

"Can you tell me where they came from?" Callahan took one

of them out of his hand and began to analyze it.

"Must've been—from Spain! It's gold from Spain that's I'm

sure of." Ron nodded his head and replied:

"Thank you."

"It's been a pleasure! Have a good day—Ron—isn't it?" Ron

nodded his head and walked out of the store. He put the pocket

watches back around his neck once he got outside and began

examining them once again.

"Strange," Ron said out loud. He dropped the pocket

watches back to where they rested against his chest once again and

looked up. Looking around the town of Kinsale, he took it all in. It

was a beautiful town with beautiful people. They crossed the streets

going about their day-to-day lives while some of them trotted

through on their horses. Ron began to think about how different it

was from Dunedin. It was much more compact and closely-knit.

Something Dunedin could never be. Ron looked from person to

person. They all seemed so peaceful. Every face. Even—her. It was

her again. She was across from Ron talking to a man. But Ron

knew that man.

"Who _is_ that man?" Ron muttered to himself. It wasn't

Fergus; it wasn't Riley. Ron was confused. He barely knew _anybody_

from Kinsale. How was it that he recognized _this_ man? But then—

after Ron studied him long and hard—Ron knew. It was him. But—

how?

She was talking to Günter. Ron fixed his eyes on the lone

German with curiosity. The last German. The last of the Germans to

143

still be alive from their group. And here he was. But—how? Where has he been this whole time? And then Ron noticed it: his uniform.

"Where did his uniform go?" Ron said out loud.

"What did you say, son?" A man walking with a suit and top

hat remarked. The woman he had with him looked at him with

curiosity.

"Are you a soldier?" She asked.

"Well obviously." Ron thought to himself. But he didn't say it

out loud. Instead, he glanced at the couple and remarked:

"Nothing... carry on." They both gave Ron hateful glares and

the man said:

"Well, I'll be!"

"Uh—!" The woman added with charisma. They walked in

front of Ron's view. Ron knew it was on purpose so he gave them a

disapproving glance as they walked away. But then, suddenly, when

looked back—they were gone.

"Where did they go?" Ron whispered. He looked every which

way but didn't see the two anywhere. Ron looked more closely into

the store they went into. It was the town's general store where the

people go to get their goods and what not. Ron saw them. They

were inside. He began to walk briskly across the street. A carriage

with two horses carrying it almost ran him over before the horses

neighed loudly to stop from trampling him.

"I'd say, boy! Watch where you're _going!"_ Ron ignored him

and headed to the front door of the store. He quickly opened it and

began looking around fervently.

"Where _are_ they?" Ron muttered. Suddenly, he saw them

disappear into an aisle. Ron ran towards them to see her and

Günter picking a bottle from out of a shelf.

"YOU! It's _you_." They both looked over at Ron.

" _Ronald!"_ Günter looked back at her, handing her the bottle,

and saying:

"Wait here, Darcy."

"DARCY NO! GET OUT OF HERE! HE'S DANGEROUS!"

Günter laughed at this as he walked towards Ron. Darcy didn't

move. She stared as Günter confronted Ron still holding the bottle

in her hands.

"American." Günter sighed as he whispered to him; "I will not

call you _Ronald_ like that nice Irish woman just did."

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" _What are you doing here? Where did you get those_

_clothes?"_ Günter gave out a cold, single laugh.

"I see you haven't changed from your _American_ uniform. Get

with the Irish culture, American! I have! _Look!"_ Günter pointed

behind him at Darcy while he still kept his eyes on Ron.

"She's all mine! And you can find an Irish girl for _your_ self too! I think I'm going to like this town!" Günter put a hand on Ron's shoulder

and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You'll find one! Don't worry!" Out of nowhere, Ron punched

Günter straight in the gut. Günter bent over in agony.

" _RONALD!"_ Darcy screamed out.

"I'm sorry, but he can't be trusted..." Günter kneed Ron right

in the groin. Ron put his hands on Günter's shoulders but before he

could cry out in agony, Günter tackled Ron to the floor. Günter sent

towards Ron pounding after pounding on his gut. Darcy ran over to

the scene that exploded right before her eyes and began slapping

Günter on his back yelling:

"STOP IT! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!" Darcy climbed on

top of Günter's back in desperation. Her screams were mixed in with

her sobs. Ron couldn't breathe. It was one thing that Günter was on

top of him, but Darcy being on top of Günter made it all the harder to

get him off.

"Darcy..." Ron struggled to say from the punches he was

receiving to his face; "Get— off— me!" Darcy didn't listen. She kept

pounding her fists on Günter's back as she sobbed. Ron struggled

out another:

" _DARCY!"_ Darcy fell off of Günter and sobbed on the ground

of the store. Ron quickly grabbed Günter's shoulders and did a

backward roll with him. Ron swung himself over on top of Günter to

where he had the advantage now. Ron switched his hand grasp

from the shoulders to Günter's head. Ron, with all of his might,

brought Günter's head towards his and will a single thrust, brought

it down onto the hard store ground. Günter was instantly knocked

out. Darcy looked at Ron in shock.

" _Did you kill him!?"_ Ron shook his head and wiped the blood

pouring from his face.

"Did he hurt you?"

" _Ronald!_ He hurt _you!"_

"I'm fine." Ron still had blood streaming from his nose.

"I—I don't understand! Why?!"

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"He's the last German to be exiled from the submarine. He's

not to be trusted! I'm sure he took the clothes he's wearing from a

farmer he killed." Darcy got up from being on the ground and took a

step back from him.

"Did—did he kill _my_ father?" Ron shook his head at this and

replied:

"No. Your brother killed the man that killed your father."

"Oh." Darcy wasn't sure if she was happy or sad to hear

this; "Well why did he not come back with you and the other

Germans?" Ron looked down at Günter.

"He—he didn't want to. He said some insulting words before

he took off on his own. Your brother offered his hospitality like he

did for the other two, but he denied it and said some harsh words to

him. Last time I saw him—he was wearing his uniform. I'm afraid to

know what happened to it and where he got what he's wearing

now..." Ron looked back at Darcy. She looked like she was about

to break out in a state of hysteria. But instead, she quickly stepped

over Günter and hugged Ron.

" _Thank you."_ Ron accepted her hug. He couldn't help but

notice how wonderfully she smelled against the sweat and seawater

that still clung to his skin.

Ron noticed the bottle that Darcy dropped and once their

hug ended he walked over to it. Picking it up, he asked:

"Why did he need honey?" Darcy blushed at this.

"He was complimenting me. He was saying that I was as

sweet as honey." Ron smiled at this. He threw the bottle of honey

into the air and then caught it while it was still flying up.

"Sweet as honey, huh?" Ron began to laugh which made

Darcy laugh awkwardly. Stepping over Günter, Ron went to the front

desk of the store. The clerk was hiding under his desk. Ron didn't

blame him. Ron did a little cough to get his attention and the clerk

looked up frightened as can be.

"G—ge—get out. Get out of my store." Ron looked behind at

Darcy and she walked over to the clerk saying:

"It's alright, Sean. He knocked out the German." Looking

then to Ron, Darcy nodded her head.

"I'd like to buy this honey."

"Keep it! Just get him out of here!" Sean pointed at Günter.

Ron nodded his head and replied:

146

"Thank you." He stuck the bottle of honey in Günter's pocket

and then picked him up.

"Where is the jail?" Darcy began heading towards the door.

"Follow me," Darcy replied. Ron followed her outside, and

they began heading through the town. People everywhere stared at

the two of them. Ron wasn't surprised. Who _wouldn't_ stare at

someone carrying a man through a town as simple and eloquent as

Kinsale? The whole while people would be saying:

"Hello, Darcy." "Darcy,

hi!"

"Darcy, how's it going?" Darcy would only reply to them by

either nodding her head or saying:

"Good." Ron could tell she minded this whole situation

extremely. It wasn't an everyday stroll through the town for her

today.

"Here we are." They came upon the town's courthouse; "But

where did—where did all of these people come from?"

"Who _are_ all of these people!?" Darcy was too embarrassed

from looking from townsperson to townsperson's face in a state of

shame that she was leading Ronald to the courthouse with a man

over his shoulders, she hadn't the chance to notice the long line of

people streaming out.

"I—I don't understand... What are all of these people doing

in Kinsale?" Ron looked at her face in sincerity but with a mix of

quizzicality.

"These are the same people..." Ron didn't understand;

"Wait—who you think the two men staying in your home are?"

Darcy shrugged her shoulders with confusion spread across her

face.

"Daniel's friends who are visiting from out of town... But how

did you know about..." Darcy stopped short. Then it hit her; "He

never told us they were coming to stay. They came to our house out

of the blue and without telling anyone before then..." Darcy stopped

short again; "You came out of the blue too. Who are you? Who are

the men staying in our home? Who are _they!?_ Who killed my

father!?" Darcy's expression changed from one of sheer agony.

Ron looked at her lost for words. He hesitated momentarily

before walking off of the wooden walkway, gently resting Günter

upon the side of the street. He then took Darcy's hand

147

leading her off the walkway and sat her down on the side of it while he sat beside her.

148

Chapter 19

The Survivors

"Those people over there—are the survivors of a cargo ship

that was torpedoed by the German. This event took place yesterday

around lunchtime off of Ireland's coast. I was part of a team to stop

it from happening. The other men I was with..." Ron took a deep

breath before saying it; "Well they didn't make it. We were on the

submarine and I, along with two others, were part of the distraction

deploy to keep the other crew members from noticing while the

other member of our team was in charge of discombobulating the

torpedo so it wouldn't be launched." Ron's words fell out of his

mouth miscellaneously without knowing where they were coming

from; "It, however, went south. Members of the crew began to

protest in launching the torpedo while there Germans were still

onboard the ship. Others said to go through with it anyway. Sides

were picked and a fight broke out. While we were making our exit

from the chaos in upheaval, I, however, did not make it. I was exiled

with the losing side of the Germans onto the coast of Ireland, and

we came across your father, brother, Bartley, and Aengus. They

were out for a gallop across the countryside, and your father killed

my newfound German friend. He was trying to save me, but I didn't

need saving. They weren't—bad, Darcy. But your father

automatically thought they were since of the war we are facing. He

realized his mistake as I broke down in anger and resentment. He

got off of his horse and paid his respect for my dearly departed

friend and gave his deepest sorrows. But then..." Ron paused

before having it fall out and splatter everywhere. "The captain of the

submarine, who was also exiled for being a terrible captain." Ron

began mouthing the last two words over and over again to himself

until Darcy grabbed both of his shoulders and brought him to where

he was facing her. A tear broke loose from her eye and rolled down

her cheek.

"Say it. Say it, _Ronald._ Just say it." Ron stared at her with his

mouth open. His eyes became lost in hers. His heart began beating

rapidly until there was no control to it. No control to his reddening

face. No control to his fidgety hands. No control of his lips moving in

closer. She let out a quick sob but pulled herself together and began

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moving her head in closer to his. They were lip to lip. And then—and then—right when Ron thought she would pull away and break down

into an uncontrollable rhythm of sobbing. Right, when he thought

that this moment was the _worst_ moment ever to happen in all of the

moments in the existence of life—they kissed. They kissed so

sweetly that even the salty tears running down from her cheeks to

their lips still remained sweet. It was so wrong and so right. Ron felt

terrible but, at the same time, overcome with joy. For he felt deep

love for this girl. A deep love for a girl who he was just about to tell

how her father died. But why!? Why was this _happening!?_ This

shouldn't be _happening!_ Suddenly, however, she bit down hard on

his lip with such anger, such anger that it hurt Ron to his very soul.

The pain thickened with such resentment and such anger that Ron

couldn't help himself but feel evil. How could such a right moment

ever to exist be the worst moment as well?

She released her harsh bite and then quickly kissed Ron

tenderly before running off in a state of melancholy. Ron sat there

feeling ashamed. He sat there ashamed to have done such a

sinister act. He felt like he had taken advantage of her. He _did_ take

advantage of her. But why did he kiss her? And why did she kiss

him back!? None of it made sense. Ron put his head into his hands

feeling sick—sick of himself. Sick of everything that had happened

ever since he stepped into that Hellish gazebo. That gazebo that

brought him straight into the depths of Hell that he'd never be able to

come out of. Ron began to believe it. He was in Hell. And just when

things couldn't get worse, Ron looked up; where was he? Where

was Günter? He was gone. He looked at the line of people still

waiting to go into the courthouse and some peered over at him

quizzically.

"Where did he go!? Where did the man in front of me who

was passed out go?" Ron blurted this out with such terror he

couldn't hold it in. One man spoke up:

"Good job me fellow man! I saw you smooching on that fair

lady who walked off over yonder. Go after her! Not the drunken

fellow passed out on the ground when it's barely lunchtime." Ron

got up and pleaded with the man:

"Please! Tell me which way the drunken fellow went!" The

man shook his head at Ron and pointed towards the church.

"You're making the wrong choice me feller!" Ron ran towards

the church but as he did so, the old, roundish man snickered and

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looked over at the woman beside him. She looked up at him as well and smiled.

_"You sent him after the fair dame didn't ya, me sweets_!" The

roundish man gently grabbed the roundish woman under her chin

pinching her cheeks together, and, with his other arm, he put it

around her shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of ruining love when I see it!" She blushed

at this, and he went in for a kiss which she accepted graciously.

Ron ran down the side of the street in a state of frenzy. His

whole world was crumbling into a state of devastation and despair.

"What have I done!? What have I _done!?"_ Ron couldn't get

the thought of kissing Darcy right before he was about to tell her

how her father was killed. It was so wrong. Ron felt like the worst

person in the world.

"Why did I do that!?" Ron repeated over and over to himself.

There was a right time and moment for everything in the world, and

he just found the worst time to make a move on this girl.

Ron ran upon the church and there in front of it was Magic.

In the same spot, he stopped at the other day for Ron. Ron looked

at the horse curiously.

"What _are_ you!?" Ron asked the horse, looking upon it like it

wasn't a horse at all. It was whatever Freddie was. Ron still couldn't

believe how he was dead now. But then again— it couldn't be!

Freddie would have turned back into a falcon and would have flown

off. Freddie must believe Ron's dead if he _was_ still alive, to say the least.

Ron looked at Magic but only saw Freddie in its eyes.

" _Freddie?"_ Ron asked the horse. Magic, however, didn't

reply back. He just stood there, tied to the wooden post. Ron began

to stroke Magic's neck and sighed at him.

"You're definitely something else!" Ron looked away from

him and suddenly realized he was on a mission. He shook himself

out of his delirium and looked around.

"Where could he have gone?" He thought to himself. He

looked at the church and went up to it's big, bulky doors that

lingered over Ron's rigid body. Opening it, he stepped inside

peering around. Inside, Ron felt a gothic aurora from its presence.

He was in the front room that had a baptismal fountain. Ron dipped

his right hand into the water and then did the sign of the cross

remembering back to how once he was baptized. It was a hundred

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years in the future, but it will happen. Ron stepped into the main room of the church where a crucifix loomed over him on the back of

the wall. Ron looked through the pews to see— _her._ And she was

praying. Ron looked at her stunned. He wasn't expecting this. Ron

walked over to her and bowed while doing the sign of the cross

again before he kneeled down with her.

"What are you doing here?" Darcy snapped. "I'm

sorry. I don't know why I kissed you. It was

inappropriate." Darcy stood up once she heard this. " _Inappropriate?_

Inappropriate!" Darcy raised her voice. Ron

then stood up as well.

"I love you." Darcy slapped Ron upon hearing those words

come out of his mouth.

"No. You're not allowed to say that to me. You're supposed

to say my father was shot but no—you didn't. You kissed me. That's

not something you do before you're about to tell someone how their

father was killed."

"I know. I know, I know, I know. It was wrong. But—

sometimes the worst time to do something is the only time to do

something one truly wants to do. And ever since I saw you... I

wanted to kiss you. And that kiss—that kiss was magical. I've fallen

for you." Darcy looked down at the ground and then looked back

up. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Well—I haven't fallen for you. You saw my father get killed.

You were part of the reason he got killed. He shouldn't have ever

gotten down from Magic. Magic should have stopped him from

getting off of him." Darcy then realized what she said and covered

her mouth. Her tears rolled off of her cheek and onto her hand.

"What— _is_ Magic?" Darcy shook her head at Ron's question.

"He's just—special. That's all."

"But—he's not like the other horses, is he?" She shrugged

her shoulders.

"You can say that. But he's still just a horse."

"Then why did you cover your mouth? Is Magic—not _actually_

a horse?"

"Magic's a horse. So what happened to the German? Did

you put him in jail?" Ron looked away from her and down towards

the ground in total shock. He had forgotten all about Günter. Ron

looked back up at Darcy, petrified.

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"He got away," he whispered. Darcy took a step back,

away from him.

"He—he got _away!?_ Well, where did he go?"

"I don't know. He got away while we were kissing."

"No. You _let_ him get away."

"I just don't want to let _you_ get away." Darcy paused from

leaving upon hearing this.

"I—I have feelings for you too... But I'm not going to act on

those feelings." Ron's eyes turned from one of hope to sorrow in an

instant.

"I don't understand—why won't you?" Darcy shook her head

at him with pity.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable being with the man who is

responsible for my father being killed." Ronald looked towards the

ground speechless. He quickly looked back up at her and smiled.

"Well, I'm not giving up. We're meant to be together." Darcy

snapped back:

"I'd rather you leave. Leave Kinsale. You've caused enough

trouble in this town of ours. Not only is my father dead but Jack is

too. My father always told me I was going to someday, marry Jack

McDover. But I guess—I guess that isn't going to happen now." Ron

looked at her in shock.

"All of Jack's wives would have liked you to be with him too!"

Ron covered his mouth.

"Why did I say that?" He thought to himself. Darcy shoved

Ron furiously out of the pew and ran down the aisle and out of the

church.

"I'm an idiot." Ron mouthed to himself. "But I'm not giving

up." Ron ran after her.

"Wait up!"

"No! Leave me alone!" Darcy began to cry once Ron caught

up with her.

"Oh no. I don't want you to cry. I just want to be together!

Because I feel right being with you!"

"I feel right being with you too—but I can't! Why don't you

understand! I can't!" Ron couldn't take it. He moved in towards

Darcy, clasped her face in his hands and kissed her. And she—she

kissed him back. But she broke away from him, still letting tears fall

from her face. She untied Magic and took off. Ron watched her exit

the town of Kinsale and disappears from view.

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"Goodbye, my love." Once she was out of view, then he

remembered.

_"Günter!"_ Ron looked around in desperation but didn't know

where to start searching.

"If I was a German where would I go?" Ronald instantly

looked straight at McDover's.

"No, it can't be that easy." Ron ran over to the pub and

stepped inside. But there he was. He was sitting on a stool kicking

back a cold mug of Irish love. Ron walked up to the bar and sat next

to him. Aidan smiled seeing Ron sit in one of his stools.

"It is good to see you again my friend. Have you come to

give your regards to Jack? He is in the back." Ron nodded his head

at Aidan and turned his head towards Günter. Günter was

preoccupied. His nose was in his mug of beer. He looked drunk.

"Let's not be enemies." Günter slowly turned to see Ron

sitting next to him and tried to get up. In his drunken stupor, it didn't

look like it was going very well so Ron went ahead and grabbed a

hold of his shoulder pushing him back down.

"L-leav-ve me alone!" Günter stuttered.

"Did you know that you are the last German still alive that

was in our exiled party?" Aidan pulled a gun out from under the bar

upon hearing this _._ Günter didn't flinch. Instead, he took another swig of his beer. Ron motioned to Aidan to lower the gun which he did

ever so slowly.

"I kind of _guessed_ that!" Günter spit out. "You killed them all

didn't you." Ron shook his head at this.

"They killed themselves..." Günter cut him off:

"Like Hans _drowning himself? You_ drowned him! You

_drowned_ him!" Ron stared at Günter, his eyes weary with death. He

_has_ killed his fair share of Germans: Hans, Ludvig, and now was he

about to have to kill Günter? Ron knew in his head that he didn't

want to. Ron didn't want to take another life. _Lives_ that could be

very, very old men when he goes back to his own time period.

Aidan slowly began to raise his gun again. Ron quickly

grabbed a hold of it and pushed it back down where it came from.

"I _have_ killed. I killed Hans, and I've killed Ludvig. But..." Ron

couldn't finish for Günter cut him off again:

"Y-you k-killed _LUDVIG!?_ He only wanted to give you a real

German _ma-ma-massage_!" Aidan looked at Ron strangely upon

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hearing this which Ron, in turn, just shook his head as if saying

"Don't ask."

"He killed the owner of this pub. I had no other choice."

Günter tried to get up again, but, not even needing Ronald's hand to

pull him back down; he fell back onto his stool out of drunkenness.

"I would like to go home. Granschütz calls for me."

"Is that where you're from?" Aidan asked. Günter looked at

Aidan with pride and replied:

"Why yes! Granschütz is my home. I would have liked to

have brought that Irish woman back with me, but I see that it didn't

take long for _you,_ American—" Günter stuck his finger into Ron's

chest; "To win her heart! So I must go! Back to Granschütz, I will

go! And who knows! Maybe I will find an Irish beauty on my way

back! I've decided I'm quite into Irish women. They steal my heart!

Something a German lady could never do."

"Go find one then! As long as it's not in this pub!" Aidan

pulled out the gun again. "Now GET OUT YOU _STANGY_

GERMAN!" Aidan cocked the gun back and brought the tip of the

end of the gun right between Günter's eyes. Günter, in a state of

fright, fell backward off the stool and onto the ground with a _BAM,_

knocking over the stool in the process.

"AIDAN! STOP IT!"

"YOU GET OUT TOO! YOU _AMERICAN!"_ Ron was stunned

to hear Aidan wanted him gone. But, in a way, he understood how

Aidan's emotions were sensitive at the moment. Just like how

Darcy's emotions were.

So Ronald stood up, did a goodbye bow to Aidan, and

walked out the door as Günter ran out in front of him after he

drunkenly got up from the ground. Ron walked out of the pub. For a

moment for once, he felt like he was a new man. He has finally

become one with this Marcus Reynolds. And by being Marcus

Reynolds, he said his name was Ron. His name was Ron and that

was why he told his true name to Darcy. And Ron decided it:

"From now on I will call myself by my real name. Not this

Marcus Reynolds." Ron began to think back to how Darcy wouldn't

take it to calling him Ron and how she liked Ronald better. The

more he thought about it, the more she was right.

"Ronald does sound better." He said to himself as he began

walking down the wooden walkway. A huge grin was spread across

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his face, and he never wanted it to go away. He began to think of how unlikely it _would_ go away!

"WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO NOW?" Günter yelled to

Ronald. Ronald, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. Günter

wasn't hurting anybody from what it seemed. Günter wasn't with his

Darcy anymore. For all Ron cared, he wouldn't mind seeing Günter

ever again—unless by the slim chance that Ron was to meet him in

Germany when he went back to his own time. But Ron didn't believe

that would happen. Ron didn't believe he was ever going to leave

this time period. He was staying here forever.

_No more Mom, no more Dad, no little sis; I won't even see_

_my best bud Jack ever again._ But then Ron thought about Darcy.

He had Darcy in his life now.

"She'll be mine. I just have to work at it." Ron couldn't see

himself giving up on her. She was the one for him and there was no

doubt in his mind that this was the truth.

"But how do I win her heart?" Ron felt sick to his stomach

thinking of how many rejections he'd come across by her. It ruined

his self-esteem and made him feel worthless.

"But I'm not worthless." He began repeating this to himself

over and over; "I'm not worthless, I'm not worthless, I'm not

worthless. I've gone back one-hundred years in time to be with this

woman. She's mine, she's all mine, and I can't see myself with any

other. I'll wait until the end of time to be with her. The possibility of

us being together is one in a million, but I'm her one in a million. She

loves me. Deep down she loves me with all of her heart, and our

hearts are inseparable. We belong together, we belong together.

We _have_ to belong together. There's no other way around it." Ron

began to feel sick. If they _were_ to be together,

"Why won't she accept it?" This thought began to eat away

at Ronald's mind—the thought of the two of them not being together

sounded horrendous. It sounded like a thought incapable to possibly

exist. It sounded impossible. Ron erased this thought out his mind

as he exited the town of Kinsale, looking back behind him and

smiling.

"See you later, Kinsale." Ron looked upon the road back to

the potato farm and only saw a hopeful future within its long, windy

road that disappeared into the distance. A distance that Ronald

hoped to find himself in. A distance that longed for his eternal love

for the woman of his dreams. A distance to Darcy.

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Chapter 20

A Distance to Darcy

Ron made it back to Bartley and Aengus' cottage starving.

He peeked in to see if they were there but no one was in sight.

" _HELLO—!"_ No one answered Ron. Entering the cottage,

right away he noticed the painting. But it wasn't the _same!_ Ron

looked at it with astonishment.

"The _pocket watches?"_ The two pocket watches that were

once displayed upon the portrait were no longer there. Instead, what

lay upon the painting was only—

"One single pocket watch," Ronald exclaimed! Ron looked

down to see if the pocket watches were still there, nestled upon his

chest, and they still were right where he left them. But the portrait

was _not_ how he left _it._

He held up a pocket watch in each hand and faced them to

where they were in a straight view of the pocket watch on the wall.

Ron dropped the one that he found in his pocket and clasped the

pocket watch that Jack gave him. The pocket watch was open to

show the Roman numerals on the interface from one to twelve

staring right back at Ron. It was moved to the center of the painting

like _his_ pocket watch was never there in the first place. Ron opened

up the pocket watch, and the two pocket watches were identical.

There was the pocket watch he was holding and _there_ was

the pocket watch in the painting. Ron walked up to the painting and

examined it. It was even the same darkish blue background from

before. Then Ron noticed it: the signature at the bottom-right.

"That wasn't there before," Ron muttered under his breath.

He looked more closely to see what was written.

"It—it _couldn't_ be!" Ron gasped; " _No!"_ There, in white letters, written in cursive, was Freddie.

The door suddenly opened.

"There you _are!_ We've been looking for you!" Ron turned

around to see Bartley. "Where have you been? You missed

breakfast, _ol'_ chap! You're just in time for lunch on the bright side!"

Bartley was covered in sweat and dirt. Ron could tell he had been

working in the field.

"You're—you're not mad?" Bartley looked at him with

surprise.

" _MAD?_ By God boy! Why would I be mad?"

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"Because I left without you." He looked at Ron with confusion

upon hearing this.

"Well, you didn't tell Aengus or me where you were going,

but you're a grown man! You can go wherever you might find your

feet leading you! We can't be in charge of them! You're the only one

_in charge_ of them! So where did you go might I ask!?" Ron stuttered

out:

" _K—Kinsale."_

"Awe! You went to town! You could have taken a horse! It's a

far walk, Kinsale is!" Ron looked at Bartley stupefied.

"I—I don't understand. We were supposed to go to Cork."

Before Bartley could respond, Aengus walked through the door.

" _MARCUS!_ Where have you been!?" Before Ron could

answer this Bartley answered for him:

"He went into town. He also said we were going to Cork with

him. Did you say anything about Cork?" Aengus shook his head and

looked at Ron confused.

"Why would we go to Cork?" Ron looked at both of them

speechless. He didn't understand. Last night they were jumping up

and down for joy for Cork and now they were acting like it never

even happened. Or was it—

"Was this their way of being mad at me for not going to Cork

with them? And did they change the painting to go along with being

mad at me?" But then Ron thought about the signature. _Freddie's_

signature. How could they know about Freddie!? Or was it just

coincidental? Was there just so happen to be a Freddie that

painted this portrait.

Ron looked back at the painting and pointed at it.

"What happened to the other pocket watch?" They both

looked at Ron quizzically.

"Other pocket watch? Are you alright me _laddie_? You're

acting a wee bit strange." Ron couldn't take this. It was too much.

Their denial of Cork, their denial of the other pocket watch. It was

almost as if last night was only a dream. Or all of this was a dream.

Ron felt like he didn't know anything anymore. Nothing was making

sense.

"I—I'm fine. I guess I just didn't get much sleep last night."

Bartley and Aengus both bobbed their heads at this and Aengus

replied:

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"Well let's get some food in you, _oye_ , how does that sound?"

Ron nodded at this and followed the two of them into the kitchen.

Opening the pantry, Bartley rummaged around and explored at what

the three of them could eat.

"Aengus what should we eat?" Aengus went into the pantry

with him.

"Where's the rye?" Ron heard some scrummaging.

"Here it is!"

"Corned beef?"

"That's in the icebox." Ron sat down as he saw Aengus

leave the pantry and use the back door to go outside. Coming back

inside, Aengus came in holding a chunk of corned beef which he

brought over to the gas stove behind where Ron was seated.

Bartley came out of the pantry holding a loaf of rye.

"Did you get the block of swiss too?" Aengus looked over at

Bartley in surprise.

"How could I forget the swiss?" Aengus left the stove

unattended to go back outside which Bartley, in turn, took over.

As Bartley began to cut the corned beef and put slices of it

onto the pan he began to whistle. It was a tune Ron felt like he'd

heard before in an old movie. Now, he was in that _old_ movie! The

scene was right and everything. Down to the very last straw. The

architecture seemed vintage. From its stove to the fireplace that was

nestled below the painting in the room next to them. How they had

an ice box and not a refrigerator made Ron snicker to himself with

happiness. He was truly living in the lives of people from the past.

Upon that note, Aengus came back inside.

"I found the block of swiss!" Bartley cheered and yelled back:

"Well throw it over _ya_ big oaf _you_!" Aengus tossed it, having

it fly over Ronald's head and into Bartley's hands.

"BROTHER! Nice catch!" Bartley dropped the cheese block

and threw his hands into the air. Aengus did the same in return.

Sitting down, Aengus asked:

"So Marcus, what are your plans now you..." Aengus didn't

know how to respond. Knowing what Aengus was asking, he

replied:

"I'm not exactly sure." Ron wasn't _just EXACTLY_ sure. He

had no idea of his future. It felt like it was so unclear, anything could

happen. Freddie was most likely still alive. But why was he hiding

from him? Why was he keeping him in the dark? Were Gus and

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Evan still alive as well? Their names weren't on the new painting hanging on the wall. Ron couldn't take it anymore. He had to say it.

"The painting on the wall. Above the fireplace. Last night it

didn't have just one pocket watch like it is right now. It had _two_

pocket watches. What's going on!? Did you two change the painting

because I didn't go to Cork with you both, and I decided to, instead,

go back to Kinsale?" Aengus, sitting down at the table across from

Ron, looked at him perplexed.

"You must have dreamed that last night. That painting has

always been of one pocket watch. It was given to us by..." Aengus

had to pause for a second while he thought about who gave it to

them; "Bartley! Who gave us that painting!?" Ron turned around to

see Bartley shrug at them. Ron knew who gave it to them. Last night

they told him who gave it to them.

"Jack gave it to you both. You both told me he gave you the

painting with the two pocket watches."

"Marcus! That was a dream! That didn't happen last night!

We never talked about the painting!" Ron didn't want to hear this.

He knew it wasn't true. They forgot about last night. How could they

forget about last night!?

" _Aengus!_ Do you know who gave us that painting? It was—it

was Aidan. It was Aidan alright! He had it hanging up in Jack's pub

for the longest time. We won it! Don't you remember!? We won that

painting fair and square! He thought he had us! Oh, he didn't have

us, we could've won blindfolded. That _ol'_ bugger could've cheated,

but we still would've won!" Aengus, for the longest time, looked at

Bartley like he was crazier than Ron talking about a painting with

more than one pocket watch—but then—then it clicked:

" _AIDAN!_ That slimy bastard! Thought he could trick us he

thought! What a fair match we had at him! That painting is _ours_ and

as many times we go in there for a round of cold ones he will _never_

be able to talk us into giving it back to him!"

"But—Jack?"

"Marcus, we heard about what happened to Jack. It's truly

tragic. Losing Liam was tragic as well. Kinsale has lost two good

men. Tomorrow, we will head to St. Joseph of Cupertino's Church.

A funeral will be held for both of them. Daniel has been putting

everything in order since this morning. He even had Darcy head to

town to set things in order with the church."

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"I saw her there today. I—I kissed her. But it wasn't right. It was wrong. I feel terrible." Ron looked down at the table.

By this time Bartley had all three of their sandwiches made

and placed them all on the table. Aengus stood up and went

outside. Bartley sat down in Aengus' chair and took a bite of the

sandwich in front of him. Ron felt sick. Why weren't they saying

anything? Bartley stood up after he swallowed his mouth full of food

and fetched three glass cups which he laid on the table. Aengus

came back in carrying a cask. Turning a knob on the bottom of it,

dark liquid poured out and splashed into Ron's cup. Ron looked at

the cup curiously and picked it up. Smelling it, he filled his nostrils

with a deep sting. It was liquor.

_They poured me liquor. Why did they pour me liquor?_ Ron

thought to himself. Ron watched as Aengus poured the dark liquid

into the other two glasses.

_"Cheers, me laddie!"_ Aengus and Bartley both held up their

glasses, but Ron hesitated; "To Marcus finding a lady friend." Ron

smiled at this. He _did_ find himself a lady friend. And her name was

Darcy. Ron held up his glass in relief. There was nothing wrong with

him kissing Darcy. He did it out of love. However, the circumstances

might've been, he kissed Darcy, and it felt amazing. Ron clinked his

glasses with theirs and knocked it back. A bitter taste rushed into his

mouth, but he held it down. However bad that tasted, he felt the

effects of it instantly. His face became warm and the smile on his

face just wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried.

_"So how do you feel about her, me laddie?"_ Bartley had a

grin on his face while he said this. Ron didn't have to think about the

question; it poured out of his mouth to a point where all of his

emotions were spread out all across the table.

"She's so hot! What a fox Daniel has for a sister! I want to

grow old with her! I want to make her mine! Will you both help me!?

Please! Both of you need to help me! It's not like I can text her like

back home." Ron realized everything he had said sounded wrong:

hot, fox, and _text!?_

" _Really Ron! TEXT?"_ He looked down at his sandwich which

he hasn't even touched yet and then looked back up to see their

confused faces.

"Did you just call Darcy a _fox?_ And _hot?_ And what's this text thing you're talking about?"

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"They are American terms! They aren't anything _bad!"_

_"_ Well, what do they mean? They sound filthy and repulsive.

It doesn't sound like I would approve of these American ways."

Aengus shook his head at Ron disapprovingly.

"NO! No, no, no! Hot is a new term in America that means

beautiful. And fox—well fox means a lady with a wonderful

personality. And text..." Ron was having trouble coming up with

what text means. Then, all of a sudden, he spurted out: "Text means

to court a date with a nice, young woman! Please help me text her! I

want to text her, and I'm going to need both of your help." They both

looked at each other and smiled at Ron's save. They turned their

heads back to Ron and Bartley replied:

"Well, I wouldn't think she would be ready for any

commitments now that—well now that her father..."

"Our boss," Aengus added.

"Yes. Our boss as well. Well, he isn't with us anymore so I

wouldn't think she would be ready to have you— _text_ her."

"What an odd word, _text._ I don't like it. I believe courting a

woman sounds much more proper and elegant."

"Thank you, brother, but we are dealing with a new word so

we are bound to use it since sooner or later everyone will be using

it." Aengus shrugged his shoulders at this and went back to finishing

the last few bites of his sandwich.

"Give it time. Marcus; she will be yours soon enough, but

she will need time to adjust to this loss in her life." Ron nodded his

head feeling impatience come over him. He wanted to be with her

_now,_ and it just seemed too far away for him to have to wait for her.

But, on the other hand, it was worth it. It was worth it if it meant that

someday he would be with her.

"Then I will wait. If patience is what I need then I'll do it. I'll

wait."

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Chapter 21

Ron Waits

The next day was the funeral. Ron was still wearing the

military uniform—and it smelled.

"Bartley, do you or Aengus have something I can wear?"

"What's wrong with what you have on now?"

"It smells."

"But you are in the military. You're supposed to wear your

uniform." But Ron _wasn't_ in the military. He never signed up to go to

war; he was never drafted.

"Was I drafted in a way?" Ron thought this seemed like a

strange way to be drafted; walking through a door in a gazebo

wasn't getting a letter that he _had_ to go to war. If he did get a letter he could already see himself escaping to Canada—or Mexico—or

anywhere to a point where it wasn't the frontline or in a bunker

where he will get shot at. Ron never dreamed of getting shot at—but

now he has. And it hasn't been his idea of what his trip to Europe

would entail.

"Can I at least take a bath somewhere?" Bartley shrugged

his shoulders at this.

"If you would like that—I don't see the point." Bartley looked

around his bungalow and replied: "We don't have time for you to go

to the creek for a swim. You smell better than I do, and _I_ wasn't

going to go for a swim. Now let's head to town now. It's time to

mourn for the loved ones we lost."

They walked over to the barn where Aengus was waiting for

them. He had an open carriage with Magic and one of the other

horses strapped to it. In the back was Liam's casket. All around the

casket were potatoes. It was the carriage that Liam used to bring

the potatoes into town. Before—before he was shot by Schweiger.

And Ron couldn't get the thought of how he was there. He saw it

happen. He wasn't surprised that Darcy gave him the silent

treatment the rest of yesterday. He would give _himself_ the silent

treatment. He knew he didn't deserve her. But—at the same time he

wanted to be the one to be with her; wanted to be the one to hold

her; wanted to be the one to love her and feel her love back.

But feeling the love back wouldn't come easy. He knew it would take

a miracle for them to truly be together. But where _was_ that miracle?

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Where were her lips against his lips? Her soft cheek that rubbed up against his. Her smile that opened up and called him _Ronald._ How

Ron loved that. How he loved how she called him Ronald.

Ron looked over upon the hill that a wooden cross was

placed. It was Schneider. Aengus had told him how he buried him.

"You and Daniel were dealing with his two friends so I went

ahead and took care of it. I hope you don't mind. I know you wanted

to be there for his funeral. This funeral for Liam and Jack can be his

funeral too. Even though he's already buried, this is his funeral too."

Ron nodded to this when he said it yesterday. It made sense. It was

a better funeral than Schweiger's.

"Good- _mornin'_ to _ya_ Keera," Aengus said to Liam's wife as

she walked over with Daniel and Darcy.

"Good- _mornin'_ Aengus. Bartley. Marcus." Hugs were

exchanged all around. Then Ron got to Darcy. Her eyes were puffy

from her crying. Ron took her hands tenderly and gently squeezed

them.

Keera rode on one of the horses that were still in the barn,

and Darcy rode on the other one. Aengus got on the carriage and

Bartley got in next to him. Then they began the procession into

Kinsale. Aengus and Bartley led it with Keera and Darcy riding

their horses behind them. Ron and Daniel walked behind them.

"You don't mind walking do you?" Ron shook his head at

this; "I didn't think you would. I mean since you _did_ walk all the way to Kinsale yesterday. Darcy told me." Ron looked over at Daniel to

see anger on his.

" _He knows._ Ron. Ron. He knows Ron." Ron looked at Daniel

speechless. His face said it all. And Darcy had told him everything.

" _Stay away from my sister,"_ Daniel whispered with such

passion that Ron felt scared to the very depths of his soul.

" _After the funeral—I think my whole family would think it_

_would be best if you headed back to America. You aren't welcome_

_here anymore. You aren't to look at my sister, you aren't to speak to_

_my sister, you aren't to be around her. That's my sister, and I won't_

_have it. I thought we were friends. Marcus. How could you do this to_

_me? My sister. My sister, Marcus, my sister. You made her feel_

_worse than uncomfortable. You made her feel suicidal. She's been_

_talking about killing herself to me. She's scaring me, Marcus._

_You're—you're scaring me. She's never acted this way before. I'm_

_worried."_ Daniel took a deep breath and his face settled; "I want her

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to be happy. Happiness is all I want from my sister. This—love that you share for each other. It's not right. She knows it isn't right, but I

know how _you_ don't know how it isn't right. Get that through your

head. It isn't right. There is someone else out there for both of you.

What you both have is wrong. She's not supposed to fall in love with

someone the day after her father dies. That's not supposed to

happen. You will never be able to understand how she feels right

now. Her emotions aren't right. Her feelings aren't right. Her love for

you just _isn't_ right. So it's your job to leave. To leave this because it's wrong. And that's exactly what you will do. I'm giving you Magic.

Take Magic and leave our life here. You don't belong here. You

don't have to go back to America. I don't mind if you don't leave

Europe, as long as you leave Ireland. Leave this country. This

country will never be your home. America is your home. I suggest

you head back there." No more words were spoken between each

other the rest of the way to Kinsale. The glare that was left on

Daniel's face left Ron petrified. But what left him even more petrified

was the thought of losing Darcy. He'd been exiled. _Exiled._ Exiled

from Kinsale, exiled from Ireland, exiled from Darcy.

They arrived in Kinsale with everyone in the street and

walkway, all crowded around waiting to start singing.

Everyone opened up so the carriage was able to ride on

through the street to the church. Pulling to the side, Aengus stopped

the horses' slow trot and he and Bartley got off. Darcy and Keera got

off their horses as well and tied them to the post. With Aengus,

Bartley, and Daniel, Ron helped in taking the casket off the carriage

and bringing Liam into the church. Jack's casket was already there

by the altar. Everyone from the street filed in and took their seats in

the pew. Ron sat down between Aengus and Bartley.

"Do they already know I've been exiled?" Ron thought to

himself. Their faces were grim but so were everyone else's in the

church. While the three of them sat in the second pew in the front,

Aidan sat with Daniel, Keera, and Darcy. Suddenly, the organ

started playing in the right-front part of the church. Everyone stood

up. An altar boy entered holding a crucifix with another altar boy

right behind him. Then the priest came in last, and they all bowed to

the altar where the cross was presented. The altar boy brought the

crucifix to a back room and then came back to stand in front of his

seat along with the priest and the other altar boy.

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_"Good mornin' my fellow Kinsale-folk._ We come today too, not only worship the good Lord but to mourn for two of ours that

departed from us too early. This war—this war we face has hurt us

greatly, and it has left us with two faces we will surely miss. Liam

MacCarthy and Jack McDover were two great men. What they

brought to this town will far exceed anything we could ever ask for.

Jack brought us some great beer, and Liam brought us some great

potatoes. Who could beat that?" Everyone laughed; "Some of the

best stories were told in Jack's pub: One time when Jack gave a

round of beer to everyone because of his fifth wife finally moving

out. I sneaked in an extra free one." More laughter all around the

church. "Liam always said how his potatoes will never go out of

season. And he was right there. Not one season did Liam not have

potatoes being grown. Whatever he was doing to those potatoes, it

sure beats me."

"How odd!" Ron thought to himself; "Liam's potatoes were

always in _season?_ That's impossible!" But then Ron thought about

what _wasn't_ strange about any and everything that had been going

on.

"Surely these two men were never fighting about anything or

something. Their fights were so ridiculous I began to join them in a

fight about how Liam wouldn't be surprised if his potatoes flew out

of the ground and into Pat's pasties!" Everyone in the church

laughed at this as well. "Good memories we shared with these two. I

wouldn't take one of them back. They were the most good-hearted

of men you would ever meet, and they brought love and laughter to

this whole town and stories that will be retold over and over again

for lifetimes to come. Now I've been told that Aidan would like to say

a few words." Aidan got up and went to the altar, standing beside it.

"I've been a bartender for Jack for over ten years. Not only

have I been his bartender, but I've become his closest friend. We

told each other everything. He told me that Abigail broke his heart

by running off with that pig, O'Brannon. He told me when Irene

stole all of his money and hit it to Scotland. But never—never did

he tell me about that pocket watch!" Aidan was now pointing at

Ron. Ron looked down at the two pocket watches that were still

lying on his chest. He was speechless. First, he was being exiled

and now this—

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"And _why_ do you have the same pocket watch as he did?!"

Ron didn't know what to say. Aidan was calling Ron out and he had

no idea what to do.

"That pocket watch that belonged to Jack, and it has had me

feeling dryer than a starfish on a beach how both of you could have

the same exact one." Everyone was staring at Ron now. He had

never felt so cornered than he has felt now. Why was Aidan doing

this? Why here and why now? Why not in private? Why couldn't he

just accept that their pocket watches were similar? Suddenly, Ron

stood up. Aengus and Bartley tried to tug him back down, but he

wouldn't budge.

"You're right. These pocket watches around my neck—they

symbolize more than just coincidence. They symbolize the two men

we lost that we will never be able to get back." At this, Ron made his

way out of the pew, stepping over Bartley's feet, and walked over to

Jack's closed casket. Ron took off one of the pocket watches and

placed it upon his casket.

"This belongs to you." Ron kissed the casket and then

walked over to Liam's casket. "And this—this was my great

grandfather's, but something tells me that it belongs with Liam. He

deserves it more than I do." Ron took off the pocket watch— this

mysterious pocket watch that he just so happened to find in his

pocket. Where it came from, Ron didn't know, but what he did know

was that it didn't belong to him anymore. This pocket watch—this

special pocket watch belonged with Darcy's father.

Ron bent down and kissed Liam's casket. And now—now

was his time. He couldn't stay in Kinsale anymore. He had to leave.

And Ron walked down the aisle—past Aidan; past Daniel, Darcy,

and Keera; past everyone else that called Kinsale their home, and

left.

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Chapter 22

Ron Leaves

Walking out of the church was not what Ron wanted to do.

He wanted to stay. Stay with Darcy, stay with Bartley and Aengus,

stay with these people he's grown so close too. Ron was even

going to miss Riley as he saw him sitting with his wife, Gael. Riley

never meant to hurt him. He knew that. He knew he was only

confused.

Most likely the rest of the people of Kinsale who were still

sitting in that church, the rest of those people had no idea who he

was, where he came from, or why Aidan called him out like that. But

Ron knew one thing, that he didn't care anymore; didn't care that he

was exiled; didn't care that Aidan had to do that to him; didn't care

that Darcy didn't love him back. So off Ron went, down the steps of

the church, past the two horses that Darcy and Keera rode in on,

past the carriage that still had potatoes in it, and past only one

horse. Acorn was strapped to the carriage. Magic was gone. But

where was he? Where did this mysterious horse go? This

mysterious horse that left Ronald questioning over and over again

of what he really was. And there she was. Darcy came out of the

church at a full sprint. She was crying. Balls of tears streamed

across her face as she ran into Ronald's arms.

"I'm sorry." Ron was crying now too.

"Come back inside. Everyone wants you to come back

inside!" Ron shook his head at this.

"I can't. Your brother doesn't think I should stay around any

longer. I've over-stayed my welcome. All of the _Lusitania_ survivors

already left. I should have left when they left." They had all left

yesterday; including Bradley and Johnny who were given a ride by

Aengus and Bartley to Cork.

Then Darcy noticed it.

"Where's Magic!?" Ron was dumbfounded. He didn't know

what to say to this. He had no idea _where_ Magic could have gone;

"This isn't good. He hasn't done this..."

"But he _couldn't_ have just gotten out by himself!?" Darcy shook

her head at this.

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"Magic isn't an ordinary horse. Why do you think his name is

Magic? We don't even know where he came from. Father found him

one day when he was delivering potatoes into town. Magic was just

a pony at the time but..." Darcy looked away from Ron.

"But _what!?"_ Ron asked anxiously.

"He—he's the reason we grow potatoes year-round. Ever

since he came we've been growing potatoes year-round, and he's

been..." Darcy stopped short again. Ron was speechless. What _is_

Magic?! And—Magic—was found just like how Freddie was found:

as a baby, somewhere where you just wouldn't find a baby animal in

an ordinary situation. And then—then there was the painting—with

Freddie's signature. But it was given to Bartley and Aengus by

Aidan—when the first painting was given to them by Jack! But they

don't remember that painting. It was almost like that painting never

existed. But it _did_ exist! To Ron, it existed! And if he saw it then it had to be real. He didn't care _what_ Aengus and Bartley thought; it

_wasn't_ a dream!

"Alright—alright I'll go back in there with you—but first—first

we have to find Magic."

So they untied the horse from the post that Darcy rode into

town on, and they were off. Leaving Kinsale, they began their

search for Magic.

"Shouldn't we go back to your father's funeral? What if we

can't find him? He couldn't have just disappeared! Do you think

someone stole him?" Darcy shook his head at this as they left the

town and made their way back towards the potato farm.

"I think I know where he is." Ron didn't understand. How

could she know where a horse could have gone? But then again,

this wasn't an ordinary horse.

They made it back to the farm where Darcy stopped the

horse in front of Bartley and Aengus' bungalow.

"Why are we here?"

"Because he's changing it again."

"Changing what again?" Darcy didn't answer. She just

opened the door. But inside—it happened again.

"I don't understand. What does this mean?"

"What does _this_ mean!? What did the _other_ paintings

mean!?" Darcy looked at Ron and then looked away in despair.

"What does _all_ of this mean!? I'm so confused." Ron shook

his head and looked back at the painting. It wasn't the single pocket

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watch anymore. Nor, was it multiple pocket watches. It was a

painting of a lighthouse now. And Freddie's signature—it—it wasn't

there anymore... But what took its place scared Ronald to death. In

the bottom-right corner read _Goodbye, Magic._ And then it

disappeared. It disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Did—did you see that!?" She asked. Ron nodded his head

at Darcy. He saw it. Oh, he saw it alright. And what he saw left him

beyond speechless.

"How long has Magic been putting up these paintings?"

Darcy shook her head at this in confusion.

"I'm not exactly sure. Bartley and Aengus always brushed off

in making the point that the paintings weren't changing. I'd just

assume that _they_ weren't."

"But they _are! THREE TIMES! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME!"_

Darcy nodded at this in perfect agreement!

"You're right! This is the third time this has happened! It was

the first one with the two pocket watches but then—then I saw that

yesterday..." Ronald cut her off.

"That it switched to _ONE! YES!_ But what does it mean!?

What does all of this possibly mean?" Darcy only shook her head,

sitting down on the couch. Ron began to analyze the painting more.

It was definitely more intricate than before. It brought on the actual

feeling that one was there where the lighthouse was. It had a light

streaming out toward the sea and a feeling of wonder and awe

came from taking in the whole picture.

"It's much more vivid from the others. The others were just

so plain. So black and white, but this one—this one catches my eye

in a whole new way!" Darcy nodded in agreement, understanding

him fully.

"This one gives has an eerie feeling to it. Like what's beyond

that sea that the lighthouse is looking into—" Ron switched his gaze

now from the picture then to Darcy. Darcy looked truly immaculate

now that he was taking a seat next to her. She smelled of lavender

and rich creamy autumn weather on an early Monday morning. Her

hair—her hair shined like the sunshine poured through each thread

of her hair to make them stand out much more perfectly to where

they lay upon her shoulders in a rhythmic proportion. Her cheeks—

her cheeks blossomed like a flower. Like a rose in the early morning

where the sunshine put a nice tint on the ever-so-lovely plant.

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Ron felt ecstatic, purely ecstatic to be in her presence. She

made him feel no other way but simply happy. Seeing her made him

happy. Happy to be her presence, happy to be in anyone's

presence, just happy to be alive! Be alive and be well!

Ron snapped out of it. The trance he was in. It was too

much. He thought he was about to be swept away into a storm. A

hurricane of horrendous proportions!

Now she was looking at him. And Ron knew it! Right away

there it was! She was thinking of the same things he was thinking of.

She bit down on her lip. She began to bite it tenderly for him and

then all he began to think about was how he wanted to bite down

upon that same lip. Then Ron went for it. Slowly, ever so slowly he

went to kiss her but—like _that!_ She pushed his face away.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." And then she got up and left. Ron

couldn't believe it. But at his loss, he understood why. Her father's

funeral was today. And he'd been too persistent. But when was he

going to ever get the chance to be with her?

"I'm not even from her time period," Ron said to himself,

shaking his head. He got up and walked a little closer to the newly

changed painting and began to look at it more closely.

"Now what makes you so special?" Ron asked it feeling for

the two pocket watches that were now gone from being around his

neck. Like he expected, it didn't reply. Ronald went outside to see

that Darcy's horse was now gone. His ride was gone, and now he

was alone. All alone. Alone like he should be. No more Darcy. No

more Freddie. No more Daniel—

"Daniel!" Ron suddenly became angry thinking of Daniel.

He'd been exiled by Daniel and now he had nowhere to go—

nowhere to go with his life. He couldn't go back to the funeral. Not

back to the church where Darcy was headed. It didn't feel like

where he should be headed next—on his family trip to Europe. That

was where he wanted to be. But at same time, Ron knew that

wasn't going to happen. He knew that he was staying one hundred

years before heading over to London with his mom and dad—and

Shelly! Ronald began to miss Shelly greatly. His little sister with her

little things that got on his nerves, and the little things that she

would do to make Ron smile.

Ron began to look around at the green hills of Ireland in

despair. There was nowhere for him to go except only

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stand there, awkwardly. Until—suddenly—out of the blue— there he was! Magic came trotting in over a hill in the sunset of the distance.

It was such perfect timing. It was just what Ron needed to pick

himself up again. Magic came over to Ron, trotting with such

excellence that Ron just wanted to cry. He wanted to break down

and cry right before this horse—this wondrous horse that didn't

make sense to him—this horse that _just_ left him a note saying

goodbye but, now, was suddenly back from his short departure. His

short departure made no sense. No sense as to where this horse

has been all this time. How did it get out and how could it have

changed from one painting to another—and then to a whole new

one!?

How? How could this horse have possibly made Aengus and

Bartley believe that no other painting existed as the one shown

before them? But, at the same time, Ron didn't care. _And—_ at the

same time as well, he knew he _couldn't_ care. He couldn't care that

this horse had more secrets than he did. _Couldn't_ care that this

horse came back for him when he thought there was no hope to

have left. The horse back for _him,_ came back for Ron.

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Chapter 23

Come Back for Ron

Ron jumped onto Magic, and, instantly, he took off. Straight

back to town they went and right through the desolate feeling it

brought once they were back. The streets being empty made the

once vibrant and upbeat place into a ghost town. Magic stopped in

front of the carriage where, now, Darcy's horse was tied up to once

again. She came back.

"She didn't think _you_ were coming back, though," Ron said to

Magic, who did a silly neigh in return, shaking his head back and

forth with such rejuvenation. Ronald jumped off and tied him to the

post.

Running inside, Ron entered to see everyone in the church

gone.

"Where were they?" Both caskets were gone as well. He

looked upon the ground to see if the pocket watches were tossed

away, hoping that his offering wasn't rejected.

"The ceremony must have moved outside." Ron thought.

But—suddenly—then Ron saw it—a door over in the far right corner

just finished shutting. And it finished with a loud click that could be

heard all throughout the church, echoing in reverberation. This had

Ron quickly walked over to the door while he still tried to be reverent

in this Holy Place. Once he got to the door he tried to open it but,

sadly, it was locked.

"Why is it not open?" Ron questioned.

" _I'm back! It's Marcus! Is anyone there!?"_ No one answered.

_Was it_ a door that led outside? Ron began to look around the

church in confusion of what to do. It _couldn't_ be the way outside. It

seemed more like a door leading to a cellar—or a dungeon—Ron

felt absurd thinking those two things. It's _obviously_ just a basement.

A church's basement that was somewhere where the priest most

likely kept extra garments and wine and such. Ron began walking

away when— _AAAAARGH!_ And then _BAM!_ A loud crash of glass

came echoing up to where the door was. It sounded distant but, at

the same time, close. A loud stomping of shoes began to come up

the stairs leading to the door. Bursting out of it—

"What are _you_ doing here!?"

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"But..." Ron felt stupefied to see the man who looked at his

pocket watches yesterday. What was he doing down in the

basement of the church? And—where was everyone else? "What—

what's going on!? Why were you down there?" He only shrugged

Ron off.

"I was only putting things away from the mass ending. Why

aren't you in the yard with the rest of Kinsale? Didn't you leave

already? You made a grand exit putting those two pocket watches

on the caskets that you had me look at yesterday. Darcy didn't

come back with you after both of you were gone for a long time—

why is that? You know it's her father's funeral day, right?

Everyone's talking about it—you and she are the new gossips of the

town!" He, then, turned around, locked the door with a key that was

in his pocket, and took off towards the main aisle and then to the

front doors of the church.

"Come with me _laddie_ —we're late." Ron glanced at him

leaving, feeling petrified at his sudden outburst of words, and then

looked back at the door he locked. Ron felt concerned. Why was

there a reason he would not go to the door? But what was down

there? Was he _really_ putting things away? Was he the liturgical

coordinator? Ron didn't see him being a _good_ liturgical coordinator if he suddenly screamed and broke something. What did he break?

Ronald wanted to get down into that basement... no—he _needed_ to.

He needed to figure out what was so fishy about what just

happened.

"What are you waiting for!? Let's _go!"_ Ron didn't hesitate any

longer, following Mr. Callahan with uncertainty. He seemed alright

when he was in the store with him the other day but now the tide

had changed. An eerie feeling lingered off the man who was leading

him to the rest of Kinsale. The basement they left gave off an even

more eerie feeling as well. The mysterious goings-on in this town

left Ron disturbed—disturbed to be in the presence of it, and

disturbed to know that Darcy, his new-found love was in the midst

of it as well.

Following Mr. Callahan out the front door, he headed over to

the side of the church where a fenced-in graveyard rested beyond

the buildings of the little town. Once they made it closer, it was

shown that _this_ was where everybody was now. It all seemed so

awfully quick, the whole service and having it done so fast. Ron

looked over at Mr. Callahan to ask him if this was how fast every

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funeral was held, but it didn't seem like the right question to be giving at the moment. Especially with the stern face he had on. Ron

knew this was a time of grieving and mourning but all he had going

through his mind was wondering—wondering about Mr. Callahan,

wondering about Magic, and wondering about this _town._ There was

more to it than met the eye, and Ronald needed to get to the bottom

of everything. He needed to get down in that basement; he needed

to talk to Aidan about selling Bartley and Aengus the second

painting. But, on the other hand, did that painting still exist in the

eyes of anyone else? Anyone else besides Darcy and him? _But why_

_was it only Darcy and I know?_ He thought. _Bartley and Aengus sure_

_as well don't remember. How did she know about the paintings that_

_mysteriously changed from one to another? And will the paintings_

_change again? And why did Magic say goodbye when he was right_

_outside?_

Ron looked back to see Magic. _There he... w—where is he?_

And just like that, he was gone again. Just like that, the horse

vanished from his view. From his sight—from his life? Will he ever

come back? But, at the same time, Ron knew he wouldn't. Knew he

was gone like he said he would be. But Ronald didn't want that

horse to leave. That beautiful horse. That horse that always had a

spark of hope in his eye telling Ronald that everything would be

alright. That everything would work out just fine.

"What are you looking at?" Mr. Callahan asked angrily. Ron

turned back around from seeing the horse vanish and kept walking

towards the graveyard, ignoring Mr. Callahan.

"Fine, don't answer me. But _boy,_ you rub me the wrong way

you do. The _wrong way, boy!_ A filthy stitch sinks into thine nostrils, and it's coming from _your_ way. You have a lingering smell that

makes me want to heave! Heave into _your_ hideous sight. I'd think

it'd be best if you stayed away from Darcy. She's too good for you.

She's a nice girl. Her father dying and everything, it's a shame. But

you trying to make her into a prostitute for your— brothel house— I

won't have! Nope! I won't have it! It'd be best if you'd leave Kinsale

after this is all over and done with. I know everyone from Kinsale

would agree with me. Agree that you're not right to be here.

Something about you, I can tell that you don't belong. You

don't belong, you don't belong, you don't _belong!"_

They were now over at the graveyard. Everyone turned to

watch them as they made their way towards the ceremony. It

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seemed overcrowded, but everyone still made the point to part ways making an opening for the two. Then Ron saw it: the two graves dug

about ten feet away from each other. It brought an abnormally large

lump to his throat.

"Would you like to throw them in?" Aidan walked in front of

the gap made between the two and held out the two pocket

watches. Ron looked at them held out before his eyes. He knew he

was supposed to throw them in, but, at the same time, he was

regretting getting rid of them. They meant something. _What_ though?

Ron didn't know.

But he had no choice. He had to do it. And maybe they _did_

mean something. But what if it was for them to be given to Jack and

Liam as a token of how he was sorry for their untimely deaths. They

weren't part of the war they were fighting, but they still died because

of it. And it sickened Ron; sickened him to the pulp. How they died

so unfortunately and how it wasn't right how they went. Both deaths

happened so fast and so unjustly. They didn't do anything wrong—

but still, they died.

Ron took the pocket watches out of Aidan's hands and

looked to see which one Jack gave him. He noticed it right away.

The intricate design of how the wavy lines moved from the far-right

corner and swirled off in the middle to go off of the pocket watch

down at the bottom-right. He walked over to the tombstone that

read:

Jack McDover

1883-1915

Kneeling down, Ron breathed out: "It was very nice to meet

you for the short time we met, Jack. Here's your pocket watch back.

It belongs with you. No matter what you might've thought before you

left us." Ron tossed it in, having it land on his casket with a _thud._

Ron then walked over to Liam's grave.

"Thank you for trying to save me. I will forever owe you for

your actions. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you, however. Here's my

pocket watch as a token of my appreciation. It's yours." Ron tossed

it in. When this one landed on the casket it opened up with a clang.

Ron peered down to see the clock inside of it with its Roman

numerals. The dial cracked from being thrown in, and the pendant

began to speed up. Faster and faster they began to spin—until—dirt

was thrown on it, and the pocket watch could not be seen anymore.

Ron looked up to see who threw the dirt. It was Mr. Callahan. He

176

scowled at Ron as he threw another clump of dirt into the grave with his shovel. Suddenly, Ron felt a hand pat Ron's shoulder. It was

Daniel. He smiled at Ron and nodded his head in thanks for his

offering to his father.

"I'm sorry I said those things earlier." He whispered; "You

can stay in Kinsale if you want to. I don't want to be the reason you

leave—and if you do decide to leave, I want us to both be on good

terms." Ron smiled at this. He felt relieved to hear this. Daniel

snapping at him was not how he wanted to have his last words

between them. But, at the same time, Daniel was right. He _did_ need

to leave. Magic left so that meant he needed to leave as well. There

was more work to be done somewhere else. And Ron felt a strange

feeling that if he stayed—he would have to kill Mr. Callahan. But

why? Why would he think these things? Mr. Callahan might not

have anything wrong with him. He, most likely, _was_ the liturgical

coordinator. He most likely _was_ putting things away since the mass

had ended. He most likely _only_ dropped something and that's why

he screamed. But Ron knew this wasn't true. He knew that Mr.

Callahan was hiding something. He knew that he had something in

that basement that he didn't want anyone to see. But—why was it in

the basement of the church? Why was it not in his shop? Why did

he scream and then something crash? Was he throwing something?

Was he mad? Ron began to think about how he offered up the

pocket watches—were they connected somehow? These pocket

watches. These pocket watches that are now buried with these two

men—what were they?

177

Chapter 24

What are They?

The funeral was over, but something in Ron's heart still

lingered—his love for Darcy. He wanted her to be his, but he knew it

was time for them to part their separate ways. He had to move on.

There was unfinished business to attend to, and Darcy distracted

him from it. He had to look at the bigger picture. He had to become

a man. The only way he could do that was not live on the farm

anymore. Not be near her. Not have her in his sights day in and day 
out. The problem that stood, however, was that he couldn't leave

Kinsale. Not yet—not _just_ yet. So after the funeral was over, Ron

went up to Aengus and Bartley.

"Thank you both for your hospitality. But—I think it is time for

me to find a new place to stay for the moment." Aengus shook his

head at this.

"No. You are needed in Kinsale; there are still parties to be

had for our dearly departed. We must celebrate the lives these two

had. Come! Let us all drink together for them, and we will share

good stories of how wonderful these two great men were." Ron

didn't know what to say to this. He couldn't say no but—he still had

to get his point across.

"I will drink with you both but—my decision has been made

for finding a new place to rest. Your generosity is greatly

appreciated. I know this, however. Living on the farm will be too

much for me." Bartley put his hand on Ron's shoulder and tried

holding back a tear.

"We need you in our little home, _laddie_! You provide much

company!"

"I'd love to stay with you both! I would—but I can't. Please

understand me when I say this. My time in each of your homes has

been long overspent. For now, I'd like to see myself getting a job in

town. But just for the time being."

"What's wrong with getting a job on the farm? We'd love to

have you work with us, and you'd be a pleasure to have around!"

"I have reasons not to stay on the farm, and my reasons are

set." Bartley and Aengus looked at each other in the realization that

there was no reasoning with him. He was set in his ways.

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"So—where in Kinsale _do_ you want to work?" Bartley asked curiously. Ron shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea. McDover's

Pub was a thought and Fergus' Inn was another. But, at the same

time, he didn't see Aidan wanting to work with him, and Fergus

most likely didn't need his help.

"How about with Mr. Callahan?" Bartley said jokingly. Ron

didn't catch it as a joke, still not realizing Bartley and Aengus' past

history with Mr. Callahan's wife.

" _No._ I wouldn't like that." Aengus snickered at this and

replied:

"His wife would love for you to take some of her time off

though, I bet." Bartley shoved at Aengus who shoved him back. Ron

still didn't get it but knew he never would realize their inside jokes.

Daniel came over to them, interrupting their conversation:

"Have you three seen Magic?" Ron looked at

Daniel then to Bartley to Aengus who all gave stern looks around,

unaware of where he could be; "It's not like him to just vanish. And,

the strange thing is, Pepper is now tied to the carriage where he

was. I don't understand!"

"Do you think someone stole him?" Daniel shook his head at

this.

"It wouldn't make sense. Why would someone steal the

horse strapped up to the carriage? Why not one of the horses tied to

the post? And then why would the thief strap up the horse that was

_tied_ to the post. The whole situation is weird if you ask me."

"Well, where could he have gone? The horse couldn't have

gotten far if you ask me." Daniel nodded at Aengus upon hearing

this and then turned to Ron asking in a serious tone:

"You didn't see what happened to Magic when you left, did

you? Was he here when you and Darcy left during the funeral?" Ron

didn't know what to say to this. It was not like he could tell him that

he saw Magic disappear—twice. Not _once,_ twice! And the second

time he vanished right before his eyes. All three of them would've

thought he was crazy. But it happened.

"I don't remember noticing. Ask Darcy. She might

remember."

"She said the same thing," Daniel replied. He looked down

at the ground and started shaking his head. "It's not like we even

bought him. He showed up one day while Father was delivering

potatoes. He was a baby. He grew up _so_ fast. This can't be

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happening. We need to find him." Ron felt terrible. He wanted to tell Daniel the truth. So badly. The action of doing it, on the other hand,

wouldn't go over so well at all.

"So where could Magic have run off to?" Daniel shrugged his

shoulders at this.

"Magic has never done this before. It's unlike him. He's

always been a well-trained horse." Daniel began to contemplate the

situation, looking off into the distance; "We need to send out a

search party. Magic has to be found. He _has_ to!" Bartley nodded at

this and replied:

"I'll notify Riley; Daniel, you notify the sheriff; Aengus, you

notify Fergus; Marcus, you notify Callahan. Or Aengus, do you want

to notify Callahan?" Bartley snickered at this which made Aengus

reply to this by giving him a good, hefty _shove_.

"Knock it off you two. I thought you both made good with

Callahan!" Bartley shrugged at this and Aengus shook his head.

"We'll never be good with him. He'll always hate us, Daniel.

And you know that."

"What did you both do?" Ron asked.

"You don't need to know..." Bartley cut Aengus off:

"We both let his wife have it." Aengus shoved Bartley again.

"You need to stop making it sound like we did something

great, brother. The whole town despises us because of it. Plus, it

wasn't just one of us, it was both. That makes it ten times worse."

"Plus she's double both your ages," Daniel added. Ron didn't

know if he should laugh at them or shake his head in

disappointment. Instead he did neither and looked at them like the

crazy brothers they were.

"Are they still married?"

"Yes, but if I was Callahan I would've left that cheater of a

wife long ago. Who knows which one of these is still going back for

more."

"Can we drop this? Neither of us is going back. Right,

Bartley?" Bartley didn't answer; "Right, _Bartley?"_ Aengus looked

upon Bartley, disappointment all across his face; "No—why!? No,

no, no you can't be—you're going to get yourself killed! He's going

to _kill_ you if he finds out it's still going on!"

"That's it. You can't work on the farm anymore. I won't have

this." Daniel walked away from the three, ending the conversation

there."

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"You're going to need to fix this. This is the third time he's

threatened you like this. And this time's different now that Liam isn't

around anymore to cover for you."

"He doesn't mean it."

"He _does_ mean it! Brother! We were shot at by Callahan!

_Shot_ at! I'm surprised we're still alive! This doesn't impact just you, this impacts me _too._ You're going to get _both_ of us killed! I won't have you be the reason why I leave this life. I want to leave my life

on my _own_ terms! Not because you're still messing around with

Callahan's lady. He's already weird enough! Who knows what he'll

do to us." Then Ron remembered back to the screaming and the

crash in the church behind his locked door.

"That reminds me..." Ron cut in; "When I got back to the

church today after I left—"

"Yeah, where _did_ you and Darcy go?" Bartley asked,

grinning at him. Ron ignored this comment and kept on with what he

was saying:

"When I got back, and no one was in the church, I—well I

heard a click come from a door in the far-right corner. I,

immediately thought that was the door everyone left through."

"No—we leave through the front door. Like how we enter."

Bartley cut in again.

"Well, I know that _now_. _Anywho_ , I tried to get into this door,

turning the knob, like I always do, well—it was locked. So—banging

on it, I began to shout for someone to let me in. In return, I heard

someone scream, and a crash of glass shattering came soon after.

Callahan unlocked the door, came out, and then locked it after him.

He was extremely rude to me when I asked what he was doing, and

he threatened me saying to leave Kinsale, and that I didn't belong

here. He—well he said that he was putting things away from mass

being over and everything. Is that what he does?" Aengus and

Bartley looked at Ronald, stunned. They looked at each other and

began whispering back and forth:

"I told you he was odd."

" _Odd! He's crazy! Absolutely nuts! What was he doing down_

_there? Planning how we will be murdered that's what he's doing!"_

"No, he couldn't be. Not in a church! He was putting the wine

goblets and such away. He, most likely, only cut himself on

something sharp and that's why he screamed. He cut himself and

he threw a goblet onto the ground because it hurt so badly."

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" _Do you know how completely bonkers that sounds? He's_

_mad! Raving mad!"_

_"_ So I heard one of the farm's horses has run away; can I

help find him?" Aengus and Bartley quickly spun around to come

face to face with Callahan. His rolls of fat could be seen from under

his collared shirt. The plaid pattern didn't match his tie one bit. He

had a pudgy smile on that made Ron feel sick to his stomach for it

seemed more sinister than his dark eyes showed beneath the

pupils. He was missing one of his front teeth and his hair was

slicked back with grease smothered all over. What looked like oil

seemed to be dripping from the back part of where his matted down

hair ended.

"Is there a search party underway?" Aengus nodded his

head.

"Would you be willing to check out the area around Riley's

farm with him? He might want some wheat-barley. Horses like

wheat-barley; don't they Bartley?" Bartley nodded his head.

"Yeah, wheat-barley is tasty to horses, I would think. Let me

ask Daniel if Magic would be eating Riley's wheat-barley." Bartley

quickly left the conversation and walked over to Daniel talking to

Fergus about what happened.

"Wouldn't this horse have been stolen? Horses don't run off

_willy-nilly_." Callahan began glaring at Ronald.

"Who would have stolen him?" Aengus asked. He sounded

irritated at Callahan.

"I don't know. Maybe it was the one standing with him that

left only a few minutes into the funeral!" Callahan didn't move his

eyes away from Ron. They penetrated deep into his heart making

Ron feel queasy; "You stole the horse! I can see it in your _face!"_

Callahan spit at Ronald's feet. Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed

his arm yelling:

"APPREHEND THIS THIEF! THIS NEWCOMER INTO OUR

TOWN IS A _THIEF!"_ The sheriff ran over to Callahan yelling. Ron

tried to break free from his grasp, but his pudgy fingers were too

tight around his wrist.

"What's going on here?"

"He _did_ it! He stole the horse!"

"I didn't _steal_ the horse. Let go of me!" Ron tried to break

free, but Callahan's hold on him wouldn't budge.

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"Let go of him, Callahan." Callahan hesitated for a second

and then let go. The sheriff, upon Callahan's release, grabbed Ron

and handcuffed him.

" _Sheriff!_ What are you _doing!?"_ Aengus protested.

"Handcuffing him. Callahan said he stole the horse—so I'm

handcuffing him."

"Do you see any horse? He didn't steal any horse." The

sheriff looked from Aengus to Ronald. Daniel ran over with Bartley.

"Let him go! He wouldn't steal my horse. He helped me get

two of my horses back from the two Germans that came into town.

One of those Germans was the one that killed Jack. Let him go!"

Daniel put his hand on the sheriff's shoulder; "He didn't do it. You

have to believe me." The sheriff shook his head at him.

"I'm sorry, but Daniel—you don't truly know that. He's our

number one suspect. I'm taking him in." The sheriff shoved Ron

forward, bringing him to the courthouse next to Patsy's Pasties and

the town theatre.

"I didn't even notice this town had a theatre! What plays

have you watched there that you really liked?" The sheriff took a

while to answer Ron when, finally, he brought up:

" _The Birth of a Nation_ was marvelous! I would suggest

seeing it."

"I'll have to check it out!" Ron would have never thought of

the sheriff having a preference for plays.

"Have you seen any good plays lately _me laddie?"_ Ron

shrugged at this. Thinking back to going to Broadway with his

family, he wanted to say _Cats_ but that wouldn't be out for a very

long time.

"No, not lately. Maybe we can see one together sometime

soon." The sheriff nodded at this and smiled.

"I'd be happy to, but I think we need to first off get this

figured out with the whole horse situation."

They were inside the courthouse now. It smelled musty

and—

" _GÜNTER!?_ Wha—what are you doing in that jail cell?"

Günter only laughed upon seeing Ron walk into the courthouse

handcuffed.

"Welcome home my American friend!"

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Chapter 25

Welcome Home

The sheriff went ahead and put Ronald inside the jail cell

with Günter.

"So what did you do to get the pleasure to spend some more

time with me?" Ron hadn't done anything. He only saw a horse

vanish into thin air. So now he's in trouble for the disappearance of

it.

"I—allegedly stole a horse."

"But did you?"

" _No!_ I don't take after your friends Ludvig and Heinrich."

" _Old_ friends. Remember, you killed them."

"I had to do what was needed to be done!"

" _You killed them!_ And don't you ever forget that! Just like

how you killed Hans." Günter stood up now and began pacing back

and forth like he was going to strangle Ron. For a second, Ron

thought he was about to go for it. But he didn't.

"So—why are you here." Günter pointed to his greenish-blue

collared shirt and his dark brown pants. Head-to-toe he was covered

in dirt.

"These aren't my clothes if you guessed it yet."

"I see that—what happened to your uniform?" Günter looked

at Ron like he was an idiot and then, after a minute of silence, finally

replied:

"What do _you_ think happened to it?! I got rid of it you

American!" Ron was taken aback by the harsh tone of his voice.

Looking him up and down, it seemed like he'd been in this jail cell

since the last time he saw him.

"How long have you been in here?" Günter shrugged at the

question.

"It's hard to say. I would assume we last saw each other

yesterday morning so— yesterday morning."

"How did the sheriff know those clothes weren't yours?"

"A man on the street out there strikes up a conversation with

me about how his wives must have the same taste in picking out the

same wardrobe. Then—well then he began examining my shirt and

pants. I tried to get him to leave me alone and to stop touching me,

but it turned out he was worse than Ludvig. Out of nowhere, after

184

examining me and my resistance in trying to get him to stop he

screamed out: 'THESE ARE MY CLOTHES!' giving me a good

punch right across the face. Needless to say, I woke up and here I

am... Now—I'm ready to hear your story. There's more to this horse

thief than I truly know about; isn't there, my American friend." Ron

nodded at Günter for there was more to the story, and he did a fairly

good job at telling him how he stole the clothes he was wearing.

"Did the man not want them back?"

"Not when he thoroughly questioned me while I was in here.

All the way to the point where I finally told him I was a German and

for him to leave me alone. He spat upon my face and yelled: 'ANY

GERMAN THAT WEARS MY CLOTHES, I'D RATHER HAVE

THEM BURNED THEN TO HAVE THEM BACK!' and he stormed

out. Good riddance to _that_ carrot top!"

"Now you see! You need to stop saying 'carrot top' if you

actually want an Irish lady!"

"Who needs an Irish lady when I have a big breasted

German woman waiting for me when I get back to Granschütz!"

Ron couldn't believe this. Hearing what Günter said made

Ron want to punch him right, dab in the noggin. The other day he

was talking about how he was going to find an Irish girl and now

he's talking about how he already had a German woman back

home!? But, at the same time, he _was_ extremely drunk the other

day. But, then again, he was trying to get with Darcy when he

wasn't.

"I don't understand you Günter..."

"Nitz. Günter Nitz. And all you will ever be to me is

American." Ron shrugged at this. He liked that. It was better than

going by a fake persona. He actually began to miss telling people

his name was Ron Lampson. It was better than saying, Marcus

Reynolds. Which in saying, didn't feel right at all. It wasn't _his_ name.

But, at the same time, he wasn't Ron anymore. He was a

completely different person.

"My name is Marcus Reynolds if you do ever get tired of

calling me by my nationality." Günter shrugged at this and replied:

"No. I don't think I _will_ ever get tired of it. I mean—it's not

every day you meet an American!" Ron shrugged at this in reply. He

actually hadn't met any Americans in a while. Only Germans, Irish,

and—Evan. Evan was an Australian. And Gus—what was Gus? He

knew German—did that mean he _was_ German? He could have

185

been, on the other hand, from another country in Europe and just learned German when he was young like most other European

children.

"You're right. It _has_ been a while since I've seen—or even

talked to an American." Günter laughed at this.

"Maybe when you go back to America someday you might

see some." Ron laughed at this as well.

"Maybe you're right." At this, the sheriff came back over to

the jail cell and opened it up. Pointing to Ron, he said:

"You, come with me." Ron looked at Günter next to him who

pointed his head at the sheriff and whispered:

"See you around, American." Ron smiled at this and got up.

Following the sheriff, he led him to his desk. There, standing in front

of it was Darcy. She gave him a side-smile. He side-smiled back.

Letting a tear roll down her cheek, she jumped into his arms, and

whispered into his ear:

"I confessed to letting Magic go free. For Father." The sheriff

pulled her away from the embrace and led her to the jail cell next to

Günter's. He began to laugh, seeing her being led into it and yelled

at her:

"So here's the real horse-thief!"

"It's her family's horse. I don't understand why you have to

put her in jail?" Darcy, answering for the sheriff, replied to Ron:

" _Ronald,_ it's my brother's horse. It wasn't mine to let go free."

Having her put in the jail cell just didn't seem right. Why would this

sheriff put her in there when it was her own family's horse?

Now that Darcy was put inside the jail cell, Ron walked up to

the sheriff asking:

"What does her brother think about this?!" The sheriff

shrugged his shoulders at him.

"He's a _wee bit_ angry that she would let the horse go like

that! But he said when they come back with the horse running

around free, she should be let go." Ron didn't like hearing this. The

horse _wasn't_ running around free. It was _gone._ They weren't going to be able to find Magic. The search party for him was a waste of

time and Ron and Darcy both knew they weren't going to find him.

"I just don't understand why he would have her own sister

locked up in that jail cell— especially since..." he was whispering

now; "It's her father's funeral day." The sheriff looked at Darcy who

186

seemed perfectly content to be in the jail cell and looked down upon the ground in contemplation.

"You're right. The whole stream of events that has happened

today is a wee bit crazy—but me _laddie_ , if you haven't noticed yet,

this isn't the most normal of towns." At this, the sheriff walked away.

Ron ran up to the bars that kept him from holding his Darcy, and she

got up and got as close as she could to him.

"I want to be with you!"

_"Lampson."_ Ron said his real last name; "It's Ronald

Lampson."

"I thought it was Mark Reynolds, American." Ron ignored

Günter, but Darcy didn't. She gave him a confused look and

stepped away from him.

"That's not the first time I've heard you called that name.

Have you been lying to me?"

"No, no, of course not!" She turned her back to him.

"I don't know who you are... Ronald, Marc—I need time to

be alone. I can't understand someone who has two completely

different names. It—it just doesn't make sense." She sat down now

and put her face into her hands. Ron backed away from the bars.

He messed up— he messed up this time. But all he ever wanted to

do was tell people his real name. But telling other people his fake

persona hasn't helped. Ron ran outside. The street was empty

besides a few children running around playing and women still

wearing their church dresses taking strolls on the wooden

walkways. One of them walked up to him and, with exuberance,

flicked her hand-fan squealing out:

" _OH, YOU'RE THE NICE YOUNG LADDIE WHO_

_OFFERED HIS POCKET WATCHES UP TO JACK AND LIAM!_

_WHAT A NICE THING YOU DID! THAT WAS SUCH A NICE_

_THING YOU DID!"_

Ron nodded his head, surprised to be noticed for what he did.

" _MY NAME IS TRACY! TRACY CALLAHAN!"_ Ron didn't

really pay attention to her while she was trying to talk to him. Her

voice was strangely irritating. But when he heard her last name, his

body froze. His mind froze. Everything he was thinking of froze for

hearing that last name; he knew exactly who she was. He never

thought he would actually meet Callahan's wife, but here she was.

She stood right in front of him expecting to give a name in return.

The only problem was—he didn't know what name to give her.

187

"Should I say, Marcus Reynolds?" It was what his name tag

around his neck. Ron put his hand to the name tag resting on his

chest and only felt the lie it held engraved on the piece of metal. It

_wasn't_ his name. He _wasn't_ Mark Reynolds. He was Ron

Lampson. Or how Darcy would say it, _Ronald_ Lampson.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Callahan." She blushed at

this and took Ron's held-out-hand flirtatiously.

"Oh _please!_ Call me Tracy!" She began to fan her face faster

than ever, her face reddening like a tomato. Ron knew right away

why Aengus and Bartley couldn't resist her. She was far too

beautiful for Mr. Callahan. Her hair was as silky as it was curly. Her

lips stood out in a radiance that matched her dimples right perfectly.

She seemed far too thin for him and the only exception Ron could

find in her loveliness was her abnormally large, pointy nose.

Then Ron said it.

"I like your nose; it's quite lovely." Her face changed. From

her once soft smile it went straight into a frown. She stopped her

fanning and brought it to her side. Her face became extremely

disgusted while she looked Ron up and down that, all of a sudden, it

just came out. She cocked her head back and let her mouth's juices

fly all over Ron's face. With a:

"Hmmph!" She flicked her hair in Ron's direction and strolled

away. Wiping his face, he let out a smile.

"She was lovely." He went back into the courthouse.

188

Chapter 26

What's in a Name?

"What are you doing back in here?" The sheriff asked smiling

at Ron entering back inside. Ronald shrugged his shoulders smiling

back at him. Walking back over to Darcy's cell, he saw she wouldn't

look at him. She kept her gaze fixed on the wall towards Günter's jail

cell.

"He's right. What are you doing back here?" She said sulkily.

Günter added:

"Yes, tell us, Marcus! Or Ronald—no, I still like American."

Günter snickered upon saying this. Ron ignored Günter and took off

his dog tags. He threw it into her jail cell. She looked at it but didn't

pick it up.

"What did you just throw in here?" Now looking up at Ron

from where she sat.

"It's my identification tags. It says what I think my name is."

Darcy looked at him confused.

"What you _think_ your name is? What? I'm confused—you

don't know your own name!?" Ron shook his head at this. For some

strange reason, he _didn't_ really know what his real name was. Being

in Marcus Reynolds' body he always assumed that he was now this

new person. But—deep down, he knew he was still Ron Lampson.

Darcy picked up the tags lying on the ground.

"It says, Marcus Reynolds. So you _aren't_ the Ronald I

always thought you were."

"But _no._ That isn't my name. My name is Ronald Lampson.

That's the name I was born with." Now Ron had Darcy standing up.

"This doesn't make any sense. Why are you saying your

name is something totally different from what this identifies you as?"

Now, Ron had everyone in the courthouse intrigued. The sheriff had

left his desk and was stood in front of Günter's jail cell, away from

Darcy's eyesight. Günter had his face pressed up against the bars

so he could get a better view of Ron.

"What it says on there is not my name. I woke up a few days

ago with that around my neck. I've been given a whole new name."

Darcy shook her head at Ron in disbelief.

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"That's crazy-talk Ronal—whoever you are..." Darcy

couldn't take this. She sat down and put her face in her hands

again; "You know—this isn't right. _No one has TWO names!_ Do you

know how _absurd_ you sound right now!?" She was right. Ron knew

what he was saying was ridiculous—but, at the same time, it was

the truth. He didn't have one name anymore; he had two. And it

was driving him mad. Why couldn't he just have one? Why couldn't

he just be like everyone else? Why couldn't he choose one?

"I think it doesn't matter that I have two names."

"But is it so hard for you to choose which one you want to go

by?" Well, Ron thought it was. He was going through an identity

crisis, and he didn't know who he was anymore.

"Which name do _you_ like better? Ronald or Mark?" Darcy

shook her head at this.

"I'm not choosing for you. It's _your_ name. Not mine. I think

you need to be alone right now. You, obviously, don't know who you

are." This hit Ronald/ Marcus hard. Who was he? He looked down at

his open palms in realization: these weren't his hands. This wasn't

his beard attached to this face that wasn't his. He wasn't Marcus

Reynolds. But, at the same time, he knew he wasn't Ronald

Lampson anymore either. Did this mean he was no one or was he

both of these people? Ron couldn't take it! This thought began to

gnaw at his mind and made him perspire all about his Marcus body.

He looked up at Darcy in desperation.

"You're right." And he walked back out again. Ron began to

walk around the town aimlessly. He felt lost—lost in a body that

wasn't his, lost in a town that wasn't home, lost in a time period he

didn't belong. He didn't belong. He wasn't where he was supposed

to be, he wasn't in the right state of mind, he was—not there. " _Ron!?_

_Ron, where are you? Where's my body? Where's Ron!?"_ At the

same moment of Ron's/ Mark's nervous breakdown, the search

party rode back into town, and Daniel was leading it. His face was

grim, and once he saw Ron/ Mark he rode straight up to him.

"Marcus, I'm terribly sorry about how you were put in jail like

that." At that point, he decided he was now Marcus Reynolds.

Marcus shrugged and replied:

"It's alright, I'm just confused why you would put your sister

in there, especially on this day of mourning." Daniel got off his horse

and put both of his hands on each of Mark's shoulders.

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"She shouldn't have done that. It wasn't right of her to just

set him free like that."

"It wasn't right for you to put your sister in jail over a horse."

Marcus' face became red with anger. He felt disgusted in the way

Daniel had been acting. He had changed; yes, it was his father's

funeral today, but it was Darcy's father's funeral as well. They

weresupposed to stick together. But, instead, he threw her in jail

over a horse. A _horse!_ It's just a horse! It was not like Daniel knew

what Magic was truly capable—and then Marcus understood. Or

Ronald understood. He changed his mind again. Ronald was his

name, and it's what he liked Darcy calling him.

"You need her, Daniel. Today of all days you need her in

your life. For all it mattered, she could have released all of the

horses. But at the end of the day, they're just horses. And she's

your little sister." Ron wanted to cry. Today of all days was quite an

emotional day, a day not quite like any other. Ron did begin to cry. It

came slow but his emotions weren't staying in.

"Daniel—I'm sorry about your father—but your sister. Your

sister, Daniel. Be with your sister. Please—go be with your sister."

Daniel's face darkened. His face changed. And Ron didn't like

seeing how stern it became.

"I'll let her out of jail once Magic comes back." Ron couldn't

believe what he was hearing. Daniel _had_ changed. He wasn't acting

like the same person Ron met those couple of days ago.

"Don't be like this. Just forgive her." Daniel's face darkened

into an essence of hatred written across it.

"Maybe when Magic's back I'll try." Daniel directed his

attention away from Ron and to the search party waiting on him;

"LET'S LOOK ALONG THE COAST NOW!" Daniel got back on his

horse and took off back out of the town.

Ron looked around the town, feeling lost once again—but

then he remembered: "What does Keera think about all of this!?"

Ron scanned around the town until his eyes landed on Patsy's

Pasties where a group of women in their dresses could be seen in

the window of the restaurant. It was across from where Ron was

standing, and he could see them drinking out of cups of steaming

mugs, and they were conversing amongst each other.

"Keera _has_ to be over there," Ron said under his breath. He

walked across the street and entered the restaurant. A group of

ladies chattered amongst themselves, but when Ronald stepped

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inside, they all stopped and turned towards him. None of them

spoke. They only kept their gaze on Ron's petrified face. He felt like

he was being stared down by a pack of hungry wolves. Finally, Ron

spoke up:

"I..." Keera cut him off.

"She's not in jail because of the horse." Ron looked at her

speechless.

"Wait—what?"

"She's not in that courthouse because of that horse

disappearing. Come sit down next to me." Ron then noticed the

empty chair next to Keera. He went over to the opposite side of the

table where Keera was sitting and sat down next to her.

"Now—how about a cup of tea for, Patsy." A man standing at

the desk a few tables down from the table they were all at nodded

his head and went through a door that led into the back kitchen.

Ron began to have his gaze wander from all around the table. All of

the ladies sitting around it were either intent on sipping their tea or

staring down at Ron disapprovingly. One of them finally spoke up:

"Why didn't you join the search party?" Ron looked at her

stupidly and replied bluntly:

"I was in jail. That might be why." Ron said this with a snide

attitude the lady did nothing but notice.

"But they came back. I saw it. I was looking through the

window, and I saw it happen. And you talked to Daniel. And then he

left."

"And he left without me. Yes, yes I know." Ron said,

interrupting her; "We aren't on the best of terms, since Darcy's in jail

and everything."

"And you love her," Keera said, cutting him off. Her face had

a smug expression on it that made Ron look back upon it with

wonder and awe. Ron nodded. He had to nod. It was the truth. He

did love her. What he felt for her was something unbelievable.

And—it seemed like Keera didn't mind. She didn't look angry as

Ron expected. She didn't look disappointed like Ron felt like she

was supposed to be. Finding out the man who was there when her

husband died has feelings for her daughter doesn't seem like the

best situation. And adding that it's the day of his funeral doesn't

lighten this new load in any which way as well.

"That's why he had her put in the courthouse. He doesn't

agree with the two of you." Ron didn't understand this. Daniel

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couldn't put Darcy in jail _just_ because she—then it dawned on him Darcy liked him back. She had feelings for him just like how he had

feelings for _her!_ Ron couldn't hold it in; he let out a smile of supreme joy. Of unbelievable bliss. Of sweet gratitude.

But Keera didn't agree with this. She frowned upon Ron.

"This is not a time for happiness, Ronald. Your lover is being

held by you because of her brother. And my _daughter_ won't be

leaving that courthouse. Even if my son finds that horse that she set

free, doesn't mean that he'll notify the sheriff to let her free. He

would rather keep her in there. Keep her in there until you are gone.

Gone from our farm. Gone from Kinsale. Gone from Ireland. But

Ronald—sweet, wondrous Ronald. You haven't been in my life

long— but I have a loving feeling about who you are, why you're

here, and why you haven't left yet. Everyone who comes into this

town always leaves. It's not a town that people are too fond of

staying in. Jack's wives were few of the many that thought this way."

"My sister too. Visiting her, she did her best to try to

convince me to stay in America." Ron looked at Gael with

curiosity upon hearing this.

"But what about Riley?" Gael looked down at the table they

were all sitting at.

"She doesn't think we belong together." Ron understood

why. Gael, on one hand, was far prettier than Ron would have ever

expected for the woman Riley would be with.

"Anyways, Daniel—he doesn't think you would be any

different from the rest. He doesn't have much trust in the people of

Kinsale that aren't from here to actually stick around. We live in a

strange town, with strange people who do strange things. Don't tell

me you haven't noticed peculiar _goings-on_ in this town because I

know you have." She was right. Ron'd _only_ been noticing strange

events everywhere he's turned. Ron thought back to Callahan and

the door and felt a shiver go down his spine thinking about her.

And—once he thought about him—there _she_ was sitting at the

table. Her face looked disgusted to be gazing at Ron's. But when

she saw that he noticed her she quickly scooted her chair out from

the table and left. Ron watched her take long, brisk strides out the

door and slamming it shut with a _BAM!_ Ron felt terrible. The remark

he made to her was uncalled for, and, surely, all of the ladies at the

tables knew her grand exit was geared towards him. Then Ron said

it:

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"I made a rather rude comment to her earlier. She spit in my

face because of it. I deserved it. I—I feel terrible." Ron looked over

to see Keera give him a warm, sympathetic smile. She put her hand

on his shoulder.

"It would be nice of you to go apologize. She finds it hard to

make friends in a town where everyone knows about the Aengus,

Bartley incident." Ron nodded. Before he left, he looked at her

wondering if she knew about Bartley still going behind Callahan's

back with her. What he was doing was wrong. Their marriage was a

sacred thing that no one should have the power to break.

Walking out, he said his goodbyes to all of the ladies and

made his way into the street. Tracy, on the other hand, was

nowhere to be found. She had disappeared right out of Ronald's

sight, and he had no idea where she could have gone. Then Ron

looked upon it; Callahan's store was placed right across from the

post office. The chances of him being in there were slim because of

the search party out roaming for Magic, but on the off chance he

was, Ron didn't want to risk it. But, Tracy, Tracy might've gone into

the store. Into the store to maybe go up the stairs to where they

lived or to go so she could be alone and sit at the counter. Ron had

no other choice; he had to find out if she was really in there like he

was expecting her to be.

Ron ran over to the store and looked inside. And just like he

expected, there she was. She sat at the counter where all of the

pocket watches and old-fashioned cameras Ron had only seen in

museums and old pictures laid in the glass case that made up the

counter. Ron went inside. She immediately looked up on his

entrance and stared at him with eyes of heat and rage. She was

angry with Ron, and he could see it.

"Get out of my store. Can't you read? We're closed." Ron

looked at her with sorrowful eyes. His apology would never be

enough, but she deserved it anyway.

"How I acted when we first met was uncalled for. My words

were intended to love but only came out wicked. Today isn't my day.

Today isn't anyone's day. Today's a rough one, and I took out my

sorrow on you which was unexpectedly not my wish in any way

possible. You seem like a wonderful person, and I'm so

unbelievably happy to meet you, Tracy Callahan. I have no reason

to deserve your forgiveness, but you deserve an apology. I would

do anything to be friends with you, and you were so nice to me

when

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we first met and that's only what you should ever deserve in return.

Please forgive me. My insult came out harshly, but my compliments

flow like a river that turns into a creek. For every water droplet a

lake can hold, you sweeten it with beauty so bold." At this, Tracy

couldn't help but blush. Her face turned as red as a smooth tomato

soup freshly made on a winter's day. Tracy couldn't help herself but

run over to Ronald, making her stool fall over in the process, and

plunging into one great, beautiful hug that they shared together.

Ron let out a sigh of pure joy. Having someone mad at him was

such a terrible feeling that he wouldn't wish it on any of his most

sinister of enemies but having someone hug you so graciously and

lovingly in the representation of forgiveness made Ron feel like the

weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he could fly as high as

Freddie on those beautiful, sunny days they would share together

by going to the park.

"I forgive you—you American boy, you!" And then, when Ron

least expected it, she grabbed Ron's head with both hands and

went in for one sloppy kiss. Ron couldn't get away from it. She had

him stuck to where he was unable to move from the tight, binding

grasp. Unable to wiggle free, Ron did the only thing he could

possibly think of doing: he bit down hard on her bottom lip.

Thinking this was the end of their unexpected kiss, Ron broke free

from the clenched lip he had between his teeth. Tracy let go of his

head and yelled:

" _OH, YOU'RE SO BAD!"_ Slapping him across the left cheek,

she quickly put her hands back tightly on their grasp with his head

and returned to her slobbery lock of the lips with him. Ron didn't

know what to do. He tried to wiggle free but that only made her hold

on tighter. But it was too late. The door opened, and she

immediately let go of him. And there he stood: Callahan glared at

the two with eyes of rage.

" _HONEY! IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! I SWEAR!"_ But

he didn't listen. He only stared up at Ron with madness lingering in

his eyes. Grabbing the shoulders, Callahan brought Ron down upon

his right knee which he simultaneously brought up at the same time.

Once Ron's face hit his knee, he was instantly knocked out.

——————————————————————————————

Ron woke up with a startle. The room he was in was pitch

black until, suddenly, a candle was lit. There, holding the candle,

was _him_. Callahan gave Ron such a terribly nasty smile that Ron

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knew this was it for him. He was sitting in the corner of a small room with his hands bound behind his back. Callahan had him seated on

the ground while he leaned up against the corner of the wall.

"You wanted to see what was down here- well here you are.

I hope you're happy now. Look around; I'm not hiding anything

strange or unusual. Nothing weird or _peculiar."_ Once he said this,

Ron began to look around the room. It was not what he expected.

Across from him, on the other side of the wall where Callahan was

standing was a bookshelf packed with thick, leather-bound works of

art. Ron noticed at least three bibles on one of the shelves with

dictionaries and encyclopedias alongside it. Ron saw some of his

classic favorites: _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,_

_Robinson Crusoe, A Journey to the Centre of the Earth, and..."_ And

then Callahan noticed him eyeing his books.

"Ah yes, my collection of books. Do you see any that you

like?" Ron didn't reply. He looked down at the ground, avoiding the

malicious eyes staring deep into his skull. Ron then looked up to

see Callahan take one of the books off of the shelf and open it.

" _My favorite_ is _The Count of Monte Cristo._ Have you ever

read it?" Ron had, but he wasn't going to reply; "It's about revenge.

Have you ever felt the need for revenge? I know I have; Bartley and

Aengus, they don't deserve to still be walking around this town. Do

you know what they did?" Ron kept silent; "If you did, you wouldn't

be happy to know that they're your _friends."_ Ron began to try and

stand up, but Callahan went over to him and pushed him back

down. "I always knew you were someone that I knew I wouldn't like.

Right went you stepped into my shop and showed me those pocket

watches. And _then—_ then you offered _up_ those pocket watches;

those were perfectly good pocket watches but now they're buried—

buried with that drunkard who doesn't know to keep a wife and that

_potato man_. With his ' _magical potatoes_.' I doubt they're magical _now!"_ Ron began to look at Callahan glowering over him and gave

him a scowl in return.

"Don't ever talk about Jack and Liam that way. They were

_good_ men! Better men then you will ever be! And you have nothing

to say to Jack when you have a wife like _yours!_ She kissed _me!_

And she probably did the same to Aengus and Bartley. I never

wanted her to. I only came to apologize for insulting her _nose."_ At

this, Callahan kicked Ron right between the legs. Ron rolled over

onto his side in a state of agony.

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"DON'T YOU _EVER_ TALK ABOUT MY WIFE THAT WAY!

_YOU—_ YOU _MADE_ HER KISS YOU! AND YOU'LL _PAY_ FOR

TRYING TO INFLUENCE MY LOVE LIKE THAT! SHE'S _MINE!_

SHE'S _MINE,_ I TELL YOU!" Upon yelling this, Callahan began to

repeatedly kick Ronald in the gut. Callahan finally stopped and

wiped sweat rolling down his pudgy face.

But all of a sudden, once he stopped, a loud banging was

heard from up the stairs where the main church area was. The door

unlocked and someone came rapidly down the spiral of stairs in the

far right corner of the room.

"CALLAHAN!" The priest yelled; "WHAT IS THIS!?" The

priest ran over to Ron laying on the ground in agony and untied his

bindings.

"GET OUT!" The priest yelled, now turning towards

Callahan; "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! You are _not_ allowed in this

church _ever_ again! _Never!_ I mean it, _never!"_ He turned back towards Ronald and helped him stand up. Up the stairs they went, out the

door, Ron wanted earlier to know what was behind, and onto the

altar and over to a door in the corner that led into his office. Sitting

him down, the priest began to clean up Ron's face with a cloth he

soaked in water.

"Why did he do this to you _me laddie?"_ Ron didn't answer.

He, instead, let him clean his face until he stopped and gave Ron a

stern look.

"His wife." The priest looked down at the cloth he had in his

hand that was now covered in blood and sighed.

"Bartley and Aengus are two good men. They have loving

hearts. But—sometimes their love is too much for me to understand.

What they did with Tracy is unforgivable. They ruined a perfectly

good marriage that is now slowly falling apart. Those two—those

two love each other. But sometimes love is hard to control. I hope

you, young _laddie_ , know how to control yours." The priest placed the

cloth in a basket to the side of Ron and sat in a chair next to him.

"My name is Father Alby. I don't think we've had the

pleasure to meet yet."

"I'm..." but suddenly Ron didn't know what his name was.

Once again, he was in this uncanny dilemma; But then, then he said

it. He said his name. His name that he loved so much. His name his

parents gave him at birth. He was—

"I'm Ronald."

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Chapter 27

I'm Ronald

Leaving Father Alby, Ron walked out of the church feeling

sore from head to toe. But it was worth it. For some strange reason,

he felt like it was worth it to get clobbered by Callahan. He was

clobbered senseless, and he was fine with it. Why? He didn't know.

Was it because he found out what was behind that door? Or was it

because it felt oddly familiar. Oddly familiar that he blacked out

before knowing what was behind a door only to find out what it was

when he woke up afterward. Then he thought about Freddie—and

Magic—and then Darcy. Darcy, oh Darcy.

"It's time for you to be mine." He said under his breath. And

then he ran. He ran, and he ran, and he ran—ran right straight over

to the courthouse. But—once he was inside, there was only Günter.

Günter sat in his cell singing a German song. Ron had no idea what

he had just heard when it was done—but, at the same time, it

sounded beautiful. Günter's voice sent shivers down Ron's spine.

And then Günter saw him— and he smiled—and this time—

this time he sang it in English for him. After he was done with the

melodic tunes, the air grew peaceful.

"Thank you for that," Ron said in reply to Günter's singing.

"Anything to make my American friend happy. What brings

you back here? If it is because you were looking for that girl, she's

gone. Her brother came and had her released." Ron sighed in relief

upon hearing this; "But, don't look too happy hearing this; he pulled

her out of that cell by her hair, and he seemed to be raving mad."

Ron was shocked to hear this. That was not the Daniel he knew.

"Do you know where he was taking her?" Günter shook his

head at this. He looked down towards the ground and then looked

back up at Ron with solemn eyes.

"She told me she would forever call you Ronald. She said it

fit you better. She's yours, Ron. Go get her." Ron nodded at this. His

eyes then began to skim aimlessly around the courthouse.

"Where's the sheriff?" Günter shrugged his shoulders.

"Getting supper I suppose—why?" Ron went over to the

sheriff's desk. Searching rapidly through drawers and under pieces

of paper, he couldn't find it.

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"What are you looking for?" Günter called over from his cell

to the side of Ron.

"The keys to getting you..." and then he found them. They

were an assortment of large brass keys that Ron scanned over so

stupidly in the corner of the desk. He shook his head at them and

smiled. Grabbing them, he quickly rushed over to Günter's cell and

began trying one after the other. Günter, getting up from the dull jail

bed he sat on, began shaking his head at Ron.

"Leave me in here. He'll be back any minute. He wasn't even

in here when Daniel came in with crazy eyes."

"If Daniel used these then I..." at that last word, Ron fiddled

with one of the larger keys, turning it to where it clicked open right

on cue. Opening the cell, Ron whispered:

"Let's go." He threw the keys back in the corner of the desk

where he found them. Günter followed him out the door.

"I'm going my separate way." Günter said once they were

outside; "We can't be seen together, it's too dangerous." Ron

wanted to object to this, but he knew he was right. Plus, Ron still

had to find Darcy. She was in danger, and Daniel was the reason.

Ron would never have expected it would come to this.

They both ran out of the town until the road diverged into

two. One led back to the potato farm. The other seemed to head

more inland.

"I'm taking this road." Günter said, looking at Ronald, giving

him a dignified expression Ron couldn't help give a simple smile too;

"Thank you for freeing me. I think this is where we part our ways, my

American friend." Günter held out his hand which Ron graciously

took. Ron then brought it in and made it into a hug.

"Who would've thought? After all we've been through we

leave each other like this." Günter ended the hug once Ron said this

and replied with:

" _Tis_ true. I hoped to never see you again after you took

company with those Irish-folk that killed Schneider and Schweiger,

but it is _you_ who turned out to be the one I'm glad to have met. You

taught me so much through our experiences together and our

journeys from when we parted. I'm glad to have met you, Ronald

Lampson."

"And you, Günter from Granschütz."

And they parted. Ron began to pick up speed as he ran

back to the farm. All he could think about was Darcy. What was he

doing to her? Why was he acting like this?

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_I thought we made up? I thought we were friends once I_

_offered up the pocket watches._ But deep down, Ron knew however

many pocket watches he offered up, it still wouldn't change the fact

that he didn't agree with how he had feelings for his sister. His

beautiful sister. His sister that Ron couldn't help but smile from just

thinking about. And how, even in the darkest moments of a life, they

were still able to find love for each other. Love no one could ever

break. Not Callahan, not Günter, not even Daniel.

——————————————————————————————

As Ron got back to the farm, he stopped for a moment and

looked at Aengus and Bartley's bungalow. It looked so perfectly

nestled at the edge of the farm that Ron couldn't help but feel

saddened now that he wouldn't be spending any more unrested

nights there while he thought about how he would earn Darcy's

unrested love. He knew now that he had her love. The only problem

now was getting it. If Daniel brought Darcy back here like he

suspected, it wouldn't be easy getting past him. He was the only

one now who kept them apart. The only one who didn't want them to

be together. But they were _supposed_ to be together. They were

_meant_ to be together. And he wasn't going to keep them apart.

Ron was now in front of the little, white house that is now

only home to Darcy, Daniel, and Keera. Liam was gone from this

house and would never be coming back. And then Ron realized it;

he was now trying to take his sister away from Daniel as well. He

had already lost his father, but, losing his sister too would be

devastating. And Ron realized how he didn't want to be that person.

That person to take a second person away from someone's life.

That person that would put a dent in not only Daniel but Keera as

well. He couldn't do this. Backing away from the house, he looked at

it with sorrow. A sorrow that having Darcy was not his to have. Not

now anyway. It wasn't supposed to happen. And then he did it. He

slowly began to walk up the stairs onto the porch. He paused for a

moment, glancing at where Liam once laid. Ron remembered back

to how he was covered with white linen adorned with black ribbons.

And then Ron glanced away and walked inside. And there was

Daniel. He sat on the couch facing away from Ron. But somehow he

knew who it was.

"Sit down, Marcus." Ron walked over and sat down next to

Daniel; "My sister, she's going through a rough time right now. She

doesn't know what she wants. She thinks she wants you. She

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doesn't want you. That's her grief talking to her. You have to

understand that, Marcus. And I understand how you might have

feelings for _her._ She's a very pretty girl, my sister is. But it's not meant to be, Marcus. I'm sorry, but you're not meant to be with her."

Ron looked out the window upon hearing all of this. It was now

nighttime. Ron hadn't had a thing to eat but the breakfast Aengus

and Bartley had made him. He looked back at Daniel who was now

facing him. He had a scowl on his face.

" _Leave. Leave my household at once. You don't belong_

_here. You can't be a part of my family. This isn't meant to be, you_

_and her. She's my_ little _sister. My_ little _sister! And we've become_ _good friends I would think so. Good, good friends. We've been_

_through a lot! A ton! And now—now it is time for us to go our_

_separate ways."_ Daniel turned to see Darcy standing in the

doorway leading to the kitchen. In her hand was a knife and she

had it put up to her neck.

" _Why can't I be with him Daniel? Why won't you let me be_

_with him?"_

_"_ Darcy put the knife down. Just, please. Put the knife

down." Darcy was now pressing it against her skin.

" _I want to be with him. I just wanted to be with him!"_ Darcy's

crying turned to sobbing. Now Daniel was crying.

" _OH—oh please, my little sister, won't you please put that_

_down. Just give it to me. Please just give it to me, and I'll let you_

_decide what you want to do with your life. I promise Darcy! I_

_promise!"_ Darcy slowly lowered the knife away from her neck. She

took step after step over to where Daniel was crouched down next

to the couch and held out the knife to him. Daniel _snatched_ it out of

her hands, flung himself around, and jumped on top of Ron who

was still sitting on the couch.

" _YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED MY FATHER! HOW COULD_

_YOU!? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS, MARCUS!"_ Darcy

screamed back at him:

"BUT _YOU SAID! GET OFF MY RONALD! GET OFF MY_

_SWEET BELOVED RONALD! HE'S MINE! WE'RE SUPPOSED TO_

_GET MARRIED!"_ Daniel began to press the knife deep into Ronald's

skin. Blood began to seep onto the knife, until— _CRASH!_ Glass flew

everywhere! Daniel's pressure on the knife was dissipated by a blur

of brown colliding with him. Ron looked over to see a horse land half

on the couch and half on the ground. Daniel's body landed on the

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wall next to where Darcy was when she was standing in the doorway.

Darcy quickly ran over to him.

" _DANIEL! DANIEL!"_ A groan came out of Daniel that

reassured Darcy. She looked up at what was now a horse standing

in her living room. The horse had its head turned back towards Ron.

With the white spot between its eyes, he knew immediately that the

horse staring back at him was none other than Magic.

Magic neighed to Ron and motioned with his head towards his back.

Ron got up from his seat and felt at his neck where blood was still

dripping. Looking over at Darcy, he saw she was still crouched down

next to Daniel. She stood up now and looked intently at Ron's

saddened face.

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean? I wanted to be with you. I thought

there was no other choice. Daniel was persistent in saying we

weren't right for each other."

"But you didn't have to do it by holding a _knife_ to your throat."

Darcy looked down upon the ground upon hearing this.

"I'm—I'm sorry. My feelings for you seem overwhelming.

Overwhelmingly so powerful that I would go at any length to be with

what my heart desires. And what my heart desires is you." She

looked back up at him upon saying this. Ron couldn't help but smile

upon hearing this. And she smiled back. She held out her hand for

him, and he his. He then quickly jumped up onto Magic's back.

Holding out his hand to Darcy, she went over to take it. But—

suddenly, once the tips of their fingers touched, something strange

happened. A misty swirl began to take a hold of Ron and all around

Magic. Their fingertips were no longer touching, and Darcy was

disappearing from Ronald's view.

" _DARCY!"_ Ron looked down at her as he was lifted up into

the air. The whole house crumbled around them as they rose higher

and higher into the air. The voice of hers was heard, but it sounded

like a distance away:

" _RO_ NALD..." And then she was gone. Just like that, her face

was no longer there. And then, all of a sudden, Ron began to spin—

spin around on Magic's back. And the mist around him became

denser. It turned into a fog that Ron, to a point, could see nothing.

Not even the horse he was sitting on. And then—BAM! He landed.

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Chapter 28

To Return

"We belong together, Ronald," Darcy fed Ron a grape off a

cluster of grapes she held.

"We do, my sweet darling," Ron replied as he ate the grape.

He looked out into the sea that lay before them. It was such a

magnificent view. Ron couldn't be happier. Both of them sat on the

edge of a cliff covered in greenery. He must've still been in Ireland.

But—what just happened? The last thing he remembered was

being taken into the air by Magic and—Darcy's hand? He never

grabbed a hold of it. They were barely able to touch finger to finger.

Ron looked over in confusion at Darcy.

"What just happened?" She looked at him sweetly.

"What do you mean what just happened? We just got

married of course!" And like _that!_ Ron was sucked out of it. Out of

the most perfect of dreams, he could have ever asked for. And he

woke up.

Ron sat straight up in a cold sweat. He began to look

fervently around. Where was he? But—then it all began to look

familiar. It was the room. It was _his_ room. It was Marcus' quarters.

He looked to the right of him and saw the same circular shaped

window with a steel frame surrounding it. The paintings—all the

same paintings were still on the wall.

And—and there she was—the nurse. She smiled at him

tenderly—just like before. She brushed his hair back from out of his

hair.

"That was a _nightmare_ you must've had Sergeant Reynolds.

Or—can I call you Marcus?" There was that same flirtatious twist

she put in the tip of her voice's tone.

" _No! No, no, no!_ I want to go back!" The nurse looked at him

confused.

"Back _where_ honey?" Ron quickly sprung out of the bed and

went straight over to the closet.

"You _shouldn't_ get up sweetie. I was told that you've come

down with something!" Ronald shook his head at this.

"No, I'm fine!" She gave him a stern look; "Really!" He added

in. She looked down towards the bed and sighed.

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"If you say." She sighed once again; "Well there's nothing I

can get you? Some tea? A cucumber sandwich?" Ron looked at her

and then hesitated. He couldn't even remember the last time he had

something to eat.

"Well—I suppose—but could you make it five?"

" _FIVE CUCUMBER SANDWICHES?"_ She yelled in surprise.

She began to laugh at this. Getting up from her chair placed next to

the bed, she brushed off her thighs and walked over to him gently

touching his chest.

" _Five cucumbers it is."_ She whispered to Ron seductively.

Once she closed the door, Ron shivered from that. It felt like Tracy

all over again. Ron looked down at his bare chest. And there it

was—once again his identification tags were rested upon his chest.

Or, more correctly, Marcus' chest.

Ron looked now to the closet in which he was laying in front.

It was almost as if everything that had happened to him once he

entered the gazebo never happened. It had all been erased. He

was about to step outside that door, and Freddie was going to

chase him into Gus' room. But he wasn't. Ron knew better this time

not to wear just the t-shirt and the shorts. He had to wear the

uniform. Or did he—if he really _did_ go back in time why not have

everything replayed as it once did—

"But I can't do that," Ron said under his breath. He couldn't

let the people that were aboard this ship die a _second_ time. Not a

first, a second one. This time had to be different. Everyone had to

live.

"Darcy's father won't die. Liam will live." This gave Ronald a

sense of relief. Darcy deserved to keep her father. He couldn't take

that away from her. It would have to be so they will never have met.

Like Daniel said, it was not meant to be.

Ronald put his head into his hands. The thought of them

never kissing began to torture him. He took his head out of his

hands and, with his fingers, felt his lips. But—at the same time—it

_did_ feel like they kissed. Ron remembered it so vividly that he could

still feel her lips on his.

He shook his head in despair. He felt selfish. Selfish that he

had a power running through his fingers to change the world, and

he was contemplating going back down the wrong road. The road

where he was a killer. A killer, he still felt like, but, for some strange

reason, he felt like they were still alive. They had to be still alive. He

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never drowned Hans, he and Daniel never shot Ludvig and

Heinrich, Jack was still alive, Daniel never shot Schweiger,

Schweiger never shot Liam in the back, and Liam never shot

Schneider trying to save him. And, still, in the back of his mind, he

couldn't get out the thought of how he never really met Darcy now.

He never fell in love with her. But, still, he would give anything to be

with her. Anything to make that dream he just had come true.

Anything to be able to marry her like she said they did.

Ron took the white shirt he put on when he first went back in

time and dropped it onto the ground. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Letting all of those people die was not the road he was supposed to

take. He wanted the road to life. The road where everyone lived and

no one died. Even if it meant that he would never see his sweet

beloved. His precious flower. His other half.

Ron took his military uniform and slipped it on. He then

grabbed for the pants. But before he put them on, he had to check.

Feeling inside the right pocket his hand nestled onto what he was

expecting to find: the pocket watch. The pocket watch he buried

with Liam was now back where it was supposed to be. But, still, he

had no idea what it meant; what it symbolized. Did it even did

symbolize or mean anything? Ron began to feel that, deep down in

his heart, it truly meant how Liam's life was sacred and now he was

alive and well again tending to his potatoes with his son, Daniel.

The Daniel with whom he became friends. But also the Daniel who

he was driven apart from by a love Ron had no other choice but to

seek out.

Ron took out the pocket watch and opened it. It wasn't

spinning rapidly like beforehand. It only—did nothing. All three of the

dials rested on the one. But Ron hardly would have guessed to it to

be 1:05. And it wouldn't give a reason as to why the second's dial

wasn't moving. Ron closed it and slipped it back into his pocket.

After putting on his pants, he reached into the left pocket. Ron

forgot all about the Swiss army knife in it. He examined it and then

put it back away.

At that moment, once he was fully dressed, he heard a

knock. Expecting the nurse to come in after she knocked, the door,

instead, remained closed. Ron looked at the door curiously. Who

was knocking on his door? He couldn't remember anyone coming to

his room beside the nurse when he first found himself on the

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_Lusitania_. Ron opened it. Outside, waiting for the door to be opened was—

"FREDDIE!" Ronald exclaimed. He smiled at Dr. O'Malley

but wasn't given a smile back in return.

"Who's this _'Freddie'_ you speak of, _me laddie_? I've never

been called such a name before. I'd like it if you would call me by

my actual name. Nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Harold

O'Malley." O'Malley held out his hand. Ron looked at the doctor

curiously not understanding what was going on. What happened to

his pet falcon being this old man? Was this no longer Freddie? Ron,

hesitantly, shook his hand.

"I'm—I'm" O'Malley interrupted his introduction with a:

" _NOT A RONALD LAMPSON, THAT'S SOMETHING I'M_

_SURE OF!"_ O'Malley brought their handshake in and turned it into a

hug. Then, whispering into Ronald's ear, he exclaimed:

" _When you go back in time to change a large series of_

_events and take on a whole new body and persona you DO NOT_

_give people your real name. Especially if it's to a girl you have, just_

_so happened, to have fallen in love with."_ O'Malley pulled away from

their hug and winked at him.

"You—you..." O'Malley nodded in agreement to Ron's

astonishment.

"I was Magic. I take on the presence of many creatures. And

you—if you've looked into the mirror, you do as well." Ron didn't

understand.

"How could you be O'Malley and Magic at the same time?

Magic is in Ireland right now, that means you're in Ireland. But—

you're here?" O'Malley smiled at Ronald.

"Magic is a wondrous thing, isn't it? It made you be who you

are right now, Marcus Reynolds. While you are still Ronald

Lampson in another time period. And it made me be Freddie, a

beautiful falcon, along with Magic, a mighty horse, and Dr. O'Malley,

an old geezer!" O'Malley chuckled at this. But Ron, Ron still looked

upon O'Malley in disbelief.

"So—when you aren't Magic—or Freddie—or O'Malley—

who—what are you?" O'Malley looked into Ronald's eyes with a

twinkle in his and plainly replied back:

"I'm me." And at that, he turned his back to Ronald, and

began walking, calling back to him:

"Follow me! Let's stop this wondrous ship from sinking!"

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Chapter 29

The Dining Room

Marcus got left behind fast. But when he did catch up, he

recognized where they were immediately.

"How do we handle it this time now that we know it's those

two?" Gus asked, pointing to the four men all sitting down around a

women sitting by herself.

"How about we don't scare the whole dining room senseless

this time and not have one of your own men mistake you as the

enemy." Gus glared back at Evan's undeniably true remark. But

thinking back to it, Mark really _did_ think Gus was the enemy. After all that has happened, Gus hadn't shown to be the friendliest person

around. He's started fights with Marcus twice, and his sarcastic

remark about how he would never have thought they would be

killing people when they were on the submarine made Mark not

flinch _once_ when he shot Heinrich that following day. His regrets for

doing that were also left behind when Jack was killed.

"There's no way we're _not_ going to make a ruckus."

"So do you want to do the hostage situation and have me

have everyone get on the ground again?"

" _No!"_ Mark spurted out. "That didn't end so well did it?"

"Of course it didn't. He knocked me out. And I never got

answers. You ruined that chance. We had to leave before he came

back."

"We're doing this _my_ way this time." O'Malley simply stated

in the midst of Gus' and Mark's arguing. O'Malley then walked into

the dining room, with the three following behind him.

" _GET UP! YOU FOUR!"_ O'Malley bellowed; "My lady, you

may stay seated." The men quickly stood up from the table. All four

looked over at O'Malley and his three followers in their military

uniforms.

"EVERYONE STAY CALM. THESE GERMANS ARE

BEHIND A CONSPIRACY TO HAVE THIS SHIP SINK!" Then they

took off. Marcus became frustrated by this. Of course, they were

going to try to get away. All four of them went into opposite

directions, every which way except for the _World War Rewinders_

who, immediately in response, sprinted after every which one.

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Marcus knew exactly which one he was going for: the one that

dropped him back into the ocean. The man jumped up and across a

dining table and ran straight into the kitchen. Marcus, following close

behind, did a home base slide under the table and quickly followed

him into the kitchen where cooks were preparing dinner for the

evening. Gus ran after Harold, who was the one sent to get the

authorities for him in the previous encounter. Evan went after Hans.

But not running far, grabbed the table nearest to him, and picking it

up by its underside, threw it at Evan. Evan did his best to dodge it,

but, instead tripped on one of the table legs. Hitting the ground,

Hans ran up to him, giving Evan a kick to the head. Evan screamed

in pain. Watching the horrific scene, O'Malley flinched at the kick,

but instead of acting upon the kick, he sat down at the table where

the lone woman still sat. She looked petrified to see O'Malley sit

down next to her but in response, he only gave an amused smile.

"It's a pleasure to _meetcha, me lady!_ O'Malley's the name!

_Albert_ O'Malley. I'm the famous doctor you've been hearing about

from the latest lady-talk; woman to woman conversations I like to

call them!" She smiled back at him curiously.

"Famous—doctor?" She replied confused.

"Oh, you mustn't have _heard!_ I cured cancer my, dear lady!

It's all the rave! It only took a sprinkle of detergent into the drinking

water! Nothing big." Now her face changed to one of irritation.

"How I could ever believe that; I don't know. Will you please

leave me be; first _those_ men all sat down around me and now you

are—it is becoming _quite_ the nuisance. Not being able to have my

own privacy on this ship is absurd." Her British accent began to

stand out more clearly. O'Malley's ears figured out early that she

was trying to hide it but there's no hiding being a Brit when you're a

Brit.

"I'm terribly sorry for intruding Madame, but you are _most_

impeccably beautiful." She frowned at this; "That's what they said,

isn't it?" She turned her face away from O'Malley and towards the

empty plate in front of her where her encore will be placed upon;

"That's what Hans said when he came up upon your table with the

three other men." Now she began to get up but O'Malley quickly

grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back down into the seat; "the

discussion—the discussion with them is clearly enemy meets

enemy. Why? Well there are beneficial reasons for both sides of

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the front. One side clearly seems to be acting like a spy for their side." She pushed his hand off her shoulder, and he let her do so.

She sighed at his remarks to and replied promptly:

"So if one of us _was_ a spy, which I'm _not_ and I don't know

them—I wouldn't know for them—who would be the spy?" And then

she quickly added: "Or _spies?"_ O'Malley smiled at this and picked

up the fork on the table and fiddled it around in his hand. Then he

put it back on the table.

"The one _saying_ how she put a bomb on the ship if the

torpedo doesn't work like it's supposed to." Then she flipped the

table and got up yelling at O'Malley:

"WHO ARE YOU!?" She grabbed the fork from the ground,

he was fiddling with, but O'Malley was too quick; he grabbed ahold

of her once she had her grasp on it.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be. The _Lusitania_ isn't the

way to get America to join the war. You British must be in absolutely

no doubt that the war will be lost if America doesn't join your side.

There has to be another way!" Now O'Malley had her bawling. She

repeatedly shook her head at him and gasped for breath under her

tears.

"I—I don't _want_ it to be this way. I don't want it like this! _I_

_don't, I really don't. They won't join our side unless we do this. They_

_won't. I don't see it any other way! My leaders—my leaders don't_

_see it any other way either! It has to be done. It has to. These_

_people on this boat need to make a sacrifice for the betterment of_

_this world. They can't win! They can't, they can't!"_ Now people at

other tables began to stand up from their chairs. People all around

began to back away from the scene held in front of them. Screams

were heard from women. One man yelled out in horror:

"MY COUNTRY'S TRYING TO KILL ME!" And Evan, at this

moment in his pummeling by the German, grabbed his leg and _flung_

him down onto the upside-down table lying next to him. He rapidly

got up, carrying up his agony from the pain with him, and quickly

kicked the German in the gut.

——————————————————————————————

Once Marcus entered the kitchen, there it was—a circular

grey slab of steel was flashing right before his eyes and straight

towards his face. All the while—all the while Marcus couldn't get the

idea of how many times he'd already been knocked out. All the

times he blacked out, missing a series of events that he wished he

209

was awake to see. But not this time. This ma— this man that

Marcus had a large amount of dislike forever since he dropped him

back into those cold, rough waters—well he was _not_ about to get his

way again. He was not about to win a second time. And then

Marcus blocked it. He grabbed the slab of steel, when inches away

from his faces, and ripped it right out of his hands. He didn't see it

coming. He didn't see the slab of steel that he hoped to use as his

weapon come right back around to bite him in the butt. In the side of

the head to be more correct. And instantly—instantly he fell to the

ground. And Marcus didn't see him getting up any time soon. After

telling the cooks standing around in shock to tie him up, he, then,

ran back out of the kitchen to see O'Malley sitting with the woman at

the table holding her arm. Evan was pulling the German onto the

upside-down table. But Gus—where did Gus go? And the last

German? The last German wasn't followed by O'Malley so he got

away. And Marcus knew he was in charge of finding out where that

last German went. But where? Where could he have gone? So

Marcus ran across the saloon, through the lavatory, and into the

area with all of the stew arcs. Marcus knew he lost him. But where

could he have gone? Then Marcus heard it—fast-paced footsteps

came from the staircase he stood near— and it was quick steps

going downwards. Marcus ran over to the staircase and ran down it.

Finding himself in the Seamen's Mess, Marcus watched as he saw

the German make his way past the Cargo Hatch and through a door

into another area of where room quarters could be seen all around.

Marcus followed him close behind over to another staircase where

the German took the flight down into the deck below. Again, Marcus

found himself in more accommodations of where people slept. And

there he was—the German was running down the hall in full sprint,

his arms flailing back and forth. Following behind him, Marcus

began to wonder:

"Where is he running to? Why is he going deeper and

deeper into the ship? Sooner or later he will _have_ to have him

cornered. Cornered to a point where he's running into the deepest

part of the ship in the farthest depths of its corners. But— _why?_ Why

is he heading down into the ship's deepest crevices?" And then he

lost him. Under all of Marcus' contemplating, he was gone from

view and was nowhere to be seen.

"How could he have gotten away so fast? Where could he

have gone?!" Marcus muttered between his teeth as he kept his

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running pace down the hall. Then Marcus came upon more steps.

He listened closely, but to no avail did he here steps pacing down

farther into the ship. So he kept running. Passing room doors and

more room doors, Marcus began to feel hopeless. Hopeless that

this time he had lost him for sure.

——————————————————————————————

At this time, O'Malley loosened his group on the woman.

They'd been staring at each other for what seemed like hours on

end. But it had only been a short minute of silence until finally—

finally the British woman softly said:

"You're right." O'Malley let his grip finally release and had his

hand fall to his side. She began to feel at her wrist and nurse it with

her other hand; "You're right that destroying a perfectly good ship

like the _Lusitania_ is wrong. It's _so very terribly wrong._ But sir—sir it has to be done. These people have to make the sacrifice for the

betterment of the world. For this world to stay in peace. For no more

lives to be lost." O'Malley shook his head at this and put on a face of

turmoil. Standing up, he muttered:

"No, no, _NO!"_ Pointing his finger at the woman, he spurted

out: "What your country is doing is not only _wrong!_ What you're

doing to your people is _despicable!_ That's your own _people!"_

O'Malley pointed all around the room at everyone's turned heads

who watched the scene in horror; "Men, women, _children!_ Why

would you let the infants of this world die because of a belief that

the world wouldn't be the same if _your_ country didn't win? It makes

me wish that America would join Germany's side instead of yours.

But how about thinking about _this_ Madame! What if anything you did

to hurt your country _failed;_ failed in turning America's head to your

side of the platter. To your point of view. To your belief that you're

the side to join and Germany is the side that only causes horrific

deeds of destruction." Now the woman stood up. Her face looked at

O'Malley in terror. In realization of the words he said to her, they

might actually come out to be true. About destroying her own

people in hope for a better tomorrow wasn't the solution; wasn't the

choice to be made.

"America _will_ join! They _have to._ Why _wouldn't_ they _join?_ The country of Great Britain gives them a better solution for a better

tomorrow! When we win this war, there will be _no more_ wars! No

more! Think of the thought of that! Think of the perfection in that! It's

_glorious!_ It's _marvelous!_ It's _how it should be."_ Her face sputtered 211

out these last words like she was trying to make _herself_ believe in the very words she spoke.

"Where is it? Is it a bomb? Did you put a bomb on this ship?"

She shook her head in frustration.

"No. No bomb. You don't need a bomb to make this a

successful mission." O'Malley looked at her in confusion.

"The Germans—what did you tell them then?" At this, the

women began to walk away. O'Malley quickly tried to grab her arm

once again, but she pulled away from the grasp and glared back at

him.

"I told them where the explosion will be." And then she

walked out of the saloon.

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Chapter 30

Potatoes

Gus couldn't keep up with him. Every time he would turn a

corner, Gus would lose him. But then, after a minute of not seeing

where he was, he would catch up with him again. Off and on it

went. Gus began his chase for Hans by following him down the

main stairs in the saloon. These stairs were close by from the table

where it all _went south_.

Down the stairs they both went and they found themselves

in rooming accommodations surrounding the two from all around.

Gus quickly followed Hans close behind as he zigzagged from hall

aisle to hall aisle. The chase became one of immense speed for the

two were nimble on their feet and were as fast as two rabbits after

hearing a gunshot from every which direction. After much running

across the ship, soon enough they were on the whole other side of

the _Lusitania_ , passing three sets of stairs along the way. But soon

enough, Hans disappeared from Gus' view, and Gus assumed it

was because he stood next to a set of stairs after his running

brought him down to a complete stop. Not thinking twice, on the

other hand, he went down the stairs to the deck below and began

his running once again. Finally, Hans came back into view after

what seemed like hours of hopeless turns as Hans had him running

from one side of the Main Deck to the next. After circling and

lapping around, Hans headed deep down into the set of stairs from

near the one he came from. And being close behind from the

perseverance of the chase, Gus readily followed. Down into the

Lower Deck, they went, but— Hans was gone once again. Gus

looked around every which corner but couldn't find a speck of him

anywhere.

"How strange," Gus muttered in annoyance. Then, looking at

the room next to him, he felt a sense of unease.

Putting his ear to the door, Gus listened; for a second, just for a

second, he must've heard a muffle. But it wasn't even a muffle. It

was a hint of a muffle. The very slightest muffle you would never

expect to hear unless, by an off-chance, silence ensued all around

and no noise could be heard. No noise—besides that slight hint of

the tiniest muffles not even a mouse could hinder out. And then Gus

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flung it open—and there he was—and he wasn't empty-handed—

and what came next, Gus didn't see coming. For what came next

wasn't a pan of grey steel. It was a pipe bomb. And Gus was

knocked out.

——————————————————————————————

Marcus began running up a flight of stairs he was near and

began running across the ship. All he knew he could do was run.

Run until he couldn't run anymore. Run until he was out of breath

with nothing left in him. Run until he found him again. Run until he

gave up. But Marcus knew he wasn't going to give up. Not now, not

later, not even when he goes top to bottom searching in every

possible nook and cranny, every possible crevice that he could be

hidden in. And if he doesn't find him then he'll look everywhere off of

the ship. He'll go onto that submarine once again and look for him

there. But Marcus knew he wouldn't have to do such a thing. He

knew he would find him. He _had_ to. But where was he? Then—

suddenly—Marcus came upon two feet sticking out of a door, laying

forward with the heels sticking up into the air. And then they

disappeared. Almost like someone dragged them into the room. As

a matter of fact, Marcus analyzed, someone _did,_ in fact, drag those

two feet inwards. Running over to investigate the situation, there

was Gus laying on the ground. Dragging him into the room was

Hans. Hans looked up to see Marcus staring at him in total disbelief.

Was Gus dead? Did he kill Gus like Marcus killed him?

" _You—YOU—MURDERER! YOU KILLED HIM!"_ Marcus

jumped over Gus' body, lunging with full force upon Hans. Hans

grabbed ahold of Marcus as he brought him stumbling backward

into the sack of potatoes that lay behind them. Marcus began

pummeling of Hans and hit after hit Hans clawed his way at Marcus'

face, but it didn't stop there. He kept at it. Hit after hit. Marcus was

filled with a burning rage. His hatred for Hans never ceased. Yes, he

felt terrible for drowning him from before but now he was alive once

again, and Marcus didn't approve. Didn't approve of how because

he was alive once again and there was now an uncertainty in

whether Gus was or not. Marcus felt his temperature rising and his

face steaming red with heat. He felt like a raving monster taking

Hans apart and having blood painted on his fists. Hans was his

canvas of chaos, and the potatoes Hans laid upon represented the

love of his loss that he would never see again. But he knew now

that he had to lose her. He knew now that he had to forget what the

214

heart that pumped within him desired. He had to. He had to. He had to kill Hans once again. But then... all of a sudden—that desire was

yanked right out of him. In other words, he was yanked right off

Hans, which was now the crippled remains of Marcus' leftovers, and

he was thrown instantly to the ground. And there he was. There was

the man he'd been chasing but lost, only to meet in the most terribly

inconvenient of circumstances, only to be thrown on the ground next

to Gus' unmoving body.

"GET UP!" Marcus felt spit hit the back of his head as he lay

there in pity;

"You look like an American. Did I guess it right?" This time it

was Hans who spoke. Marcus looked behind him to see Hans

standing up out of the sacks of potatoes while he wiped the blood

from his face; then they began to speak in German to each other.

But Marcus understood what they were saying to each other. But he

didn't understand how; he didn't know German. But—now he was. It

was almost like they were still speaking English, but it wasn't. It was

a muffled form that had German muffled out in the background:

"Where did you put it?"

"Where she told us to put it—do you—do you think she can

be trusted?"

"No. I don't. But she got us on here. And she told us how this

had British soldiers everywhere inside it with a load of ammunition

as well. I just don't understand how she knows this but doesn't know

where they are and where the ammunition is."

"Do you think one of those two knows?" Hans looked over

at Marcus and Gus still on the ground. Marcus was sitting up now.

He then moved to a crouched position and put his fists up.

"How would I know where it is? I don't even know what it is

you both speak of." Both of them looked stunned at him and then—

suddenly—Hans ran up to Marcus crouched down and brought his

left foot into the bottom of his chin and the top of his neck. Hans

sent Marcus flying backward and against the wall. Immediately,

when Marcus hit the wall he was knocked unconscious.

——————————————————————————————

Once she walked away from O'Malley, Evan noticed how the

German he had been pummeling kick after kick now had a look of

stillness to him. He looked down in pity upon the feet he now

loathed to be looking at. This was not what he wanted. A sick feeling

overcame him starting with his palms sweating and shaking

215

uncontrollably. He then felt his knees bend in an uneasy tension making him want to sit down. But there was no chair in sight. All

there was for him was the ground as he began to lose more and

more balance. It felt terribly nauseating for Evan to even glance at

the unmoving German who only lay there now. The people who

were sitting at the table only stared at Evan with a look of shock

mixed with fear. He felt a ringing in his ears from when the German

had attacked him while he was on the very same ground he now

laid, and it wasn't going away. It swayed in and out within his ear

sockets until he began to look over at O'Malley who stayed away

from him. His body was pointed towards the woman who vanished

from sight as she walked out of the saloon. As he walked over to

him, it slowly died away until his ears were back to normal. Putting

his hand on O'Malley's shoulder while he was still turned away from

him, O'Malley quickly looked back at him with a look of dismay.

"This is going to be harder than I imagined."

"You told me every mission we go on will be only extreme

degrees of difficulty. But I said I would join you in accomplishing

what needed to be accomplished. Just like how Gus and Marcus

agreed as well."

"But Marcus still doesn't remember what happened to us."

"Even though he still is indecisive and unclear of past

events, he will understand soon enough. We are in for a tough one

I'd have to say. After we do this mission _right_ this time, he will

understand. And maybe Gus will be kinder to him. For all we know

he is _new_ Gus! Give the boy a break!"

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Chapter 31

Germany will Win

"Ron. Wake up, Ron!" Ron opened his eyes and looked over

to see Sherry standing outside of their car door of the fiat. Ron

looked over to see Mom and Dad in the front seats. Dad was

throwing back some _cheerios_ out of his _cheerio_ bag and Mom was reading a magazine about London.

"Oh look honey; Prince William and Princess Kate! They

definitely win in all-time best couple ever!" Mr. Lampson only

nodded his head at his wife and then looked back at Ron sitting

back there in total shock. Mr. Lampson gave Ron a big grin and

then threw a _cheerio_ at him.

"Europe's not too far away now, buddy!" He then looked at

Sherry who was still standing outside; "Get in Sherry! I'm ready to

go, girl!" But Sherry only stood there, staring at Ronald.

"What's wrong, Share?" Ron asked, looking at her confused.

But she only stood there silently. And then, in a snap, the weather

went from being a bright, sunny day to one of gloom and darkness.

"I'm not getting in there." She said plainly. "I'll drown." Ron

looked at her in shock. Then he felt it in his shoes. Water filled the

floorboard of the car. His shoes became soaked, and the water only

rose the more he tried to pick his feet out of the blue liquid. The

more he tried to fight it, the higher it would rise. Ron looked over at

Sherry in horror as it came up to his ankles.

"GET OUT, MOM! GET OUT, DAD!" Mr. and Mrs. Lampson

quickly rushed out of the car while Ron couldn't move. The water felt

like it was holding him down in place. It had a grip on him that he

couldn't maneuver out of. Why couldn't he pull his feet out of the

water? The harder he tugged to try and free himself, the higher the

water rose.

"SHERRY! _SHERRY, HELP!"_ Sherry only stood there and

watched as the water rose over her open door and began to spill

out. Sherry went ahead and closed the door so the water stayed

put. Once she did this, the water rose faster. It quickly came up

upon Ronald's neck and then steadily began to slow down until it

was right up to Ronald's mouth where he could still barely breathe

out of it. Mr. and Mrs. Lampson were now both standing next to

Sherry and, together, all three of them watched as Ron began to

217

drown. The water was now surrounding Ron's whole body. The car

was completely filled with water, and Ron could barely hold his

breath. Finally, after looking at his family's blank faces, he gave up.

He let the water rush into his mouth and up his nostrils.

Then, suddenly, Marcus woke up from being splashed with a

bucket of water. Looking up, there, standing in front of him, was

Hans holding the bucket. He grinned evilly and then looked over to

his left. There he was; Gus had been splashed with water as well,

Marcus noticed by how he was drenched from head to toe. He was

tied in a chair, and the room they were in—it—it wasn't the potato

storage area anymore. It was a room with machinery—and on the

wall to the back they were facing was a—but then Marcus heard a

groan come from his left. It was Gus waking up. He went with his

right hand to feel what looked like a bump the size of half a

tangerine, but then quickly realized that his hands were tied down

along with the rest of his body.

"Where am I?" He muttered. He looked up to see Hans

standing before him and the other German close behind him. Gus

then looked over to see Marcus to the right of him and frowned.

"Goddammit, Marcus, what have you gotten yourself into!?"

He laughed at himself upon saying this and then looked back up at

Hans who was now frowning at his laughter.

"What's so funny, my fellow German friend? Being a

German spy _never_ ends well." Marcus looked upon Gus in surprise,

but Gus didn't seem to notice the shock on his face. Instead, he

kept his gaze directed towards Hans with a smug smile. All Marcus

wanted to blurt out was:

"You're German?" But he kept silent, for, for somewhere in

the back of his mind he knew. He knew right when he accidentally

ended up in his room because O'Malley led him there. He knew

when Gus shoved him through the glass door and into the dining

room. He knew when he thought he was holding the saloon hostage

because he was evil. And then there was no doubt in his mind when

he spoke German to him that he already had known but that had

been the deciding factor. Gus was a crazy German who was on his

side. He was a good guy. And now he was being called a traitor. But

then—then Gus began to speak in German again. But this time, he

couldn't understand what he was saying. Marcus looked at Gus in

confusion. Why was he able to understand German before but

218

couldn't understand it now. _Then,_ Gus motioned with his head towards Marcus while he was still speaking in a language

incomprehensible to him. Incomprehensible, but still, with how they

were reacting to what Gus had to say, he felt like he understood

what was going on through their captives' reactions. First, they gave

Gus reactions of irritation and ignorance. It quickly changed,

however, when he motioned his head towards Marcus. They now

had expressions of surprise mixed with smiles. After Gus finally

concluded his long, drawn-out speech that was incomprehensible to

Marcus, they nodded their heads to Gus and Ron and, in a muffled

toned with German in the background once again. Marcus couldn't

get the reason out of his mind of why he could understand what

_they_ were saying, but he couldn't understand what Gus would say in

German.

"You two made it seem like you weren't a part of the same

mission but, since both of you are from the Central Powers and

everything. And you!" Now Hans was looking towards Marcus; "I

didn't know America chose us in the war against the Allies! But—

being that you understood me earlier and everything, it makes quite

a lot of sense!" Hans looked at him with pride as the other German

untied him; "Let us go and leave before the pipe bomb is set off!

And then it will be a victory for Germany like it should be!"

"Yes!" Gus replied, speaking in English once again;

"Germany will win!" Gus stood up from the chair now that he was

untied and shook hands with Hans. Once their hands released, Gus,

without thinking, grabbed the back of Hans' head and brought it

down to where his knee met Hans' nose. The ambush shocked

Marcus, but somehow he knew it was coming because once it

happened he quickly swung his fist around behind him into where

the other German's cheek was too slow to move away from. Both of

them were knocked unconscious, and, simultaneously, Gus met eye

to eye. He was on _his_ side. He always was.

"Now where's the bomb?" Gus shrugged his shoulders, then,

picking up the rope that he was just tied up with, threw it at Marcus

and simply stated:
"I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

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Chapter 32

The Tables Turn

"So what _was_ she?"

"Well, she definitely wasn't British like she said she was. I

actually _don't_ know what she is. I ran all the tests on her, but she

came out with barely any feedback besides the obvious

characteristics that all of them show."

"But her power gradient seems like it's not that strong."

"But that's the thing! She seemed like she was holding back

of what she could've been doing, and she's—she's keeping her

abilities set aside for what might be bigger to come."

"So you have _no_ idea!? Nothing you might vary her in

between. And how could you possibly know that she's holding

anything back?"

"Something as big as this event carries a great amount of

danger along with it. She seems far from a world I could know ever

existed. She has to be—new to us I suppose."

——————————————————————————————

Marcus and Gus began examining the room. It seemed to be

one of the many engines of the _Lusitania_. Or all three of them for

what it seemed like. Three huge pillars were displayed in front of

Gus and Marcus. They had two legs each, and they rose upwards

and then flattened out. The middle, metal pillar had a huge, red

wheel placed in the center of it, and five small clocks were placed

halfway towards the top of the pillar to the right. The clocks had

different pinkish red wires displayed going out and in of the circular

pressure readers. A hose was to the right of the pressure readers

and the side of the pillar.

"That's what they used to drench us." Gus remarked. "Maybe

we should do the same to them. It's only just."

O'Malley and Evan were now in the kitchen, and Evan

carried in with him the German he knocked out.

——————————————————————————————

At the very moment, the first German that Marcus followed

into that very kitchen was now waking up. The cooks didn't even try

and make one move in dealing with him. Instead, they just let him

lay there next to the door while they kept making the meals to be

carried out into the saloon.

220

"Where's a back room where we can bring these two men?"

O'Malley asked as a cook strolled by with a plate of spaghetti. He

shrugged at O'Malley and kept on with his plate of spaghetti like

nothing ordinary. Besides, he had suppers to make, and he couldn't

get distracted. The German on the floor was now stumbling to get

up, so, in taking action, O'Malley quickly pressed upon two pressure

points around his collarbone and neck. He immediately collapsed

once again from the simple touches he placed upon him.

"Pick him up too, will you Evan?" Evan struggled to reach

down and grab ahold of the German while he still tried to keep ahold

of the other one; "You have both of them? Good! Now let us find a

place where we can interrogate them!" Then O'Malley noticed it. In

the back of the kitchen, a freezer room was placed where meat and

ice cream and what not was held. As the two of them placed their

Germans in the freezer, Gus and Evan were preparing how their

interrogation would go.

"So once they wake up for us, what will we ask them?" As

Marcus was asking this question to Gus, Evan was asking the same

exact question to O'Malley. They both replied:

"We will test out to see their irregular humanistic patterns

and find out what hides beneath the skins they wear and find their

true purpose and why they find themselves on the ship we call the

_Lusitania_."

"Marcus—just stay silent. I'll ask all the questions.

You just stand there and be a good boy." Evan's expression in

O'Malley's reply was one of satisfaction while Marcus', of course,

was one of sheer annoyance and anger towards Gus. He thought

that he was better than that. That he would finally treat him like the

human being that he was. But he wasn't. He was still ugly towards

him, and Marcus was sure that Gus wouldn't have any problems

with starting a fight with him again.

"I'm going to ask some questions too! I'm not going to just

_stand_ there. What do I look like to you? Your punching bag? Do you

really think you can do anything you want to me and say anything

you want? Well, guess what! News update! You can't! And I won't

have it. I'm going to be a part of this whether _you_ like it or not!" Gus snickered at Marcus and then went over to the hose.

"Why is this even in here? This is an engine; there's no need

for a hose in an engine-room!"

221

"Maybe if something got over-heated?" Gus shook his head

at this.

"No. It would damage the engine if it had water poured on it.

All I know is that when I had a car back home if water was poured

onto it then I would have to drain the oil and put fresh oil back in it. If

this isn't done than the engine would be eaten alive."

"Well, then I'm confused why this isn't destroyed since we

had water sprayed all over us." Marcus then picked up the end of

the hose; "Where's the knob to turn it on?" Gus pointed to a dial

switch above the hose.

"Try that." It was a metal piece that pointed to a red-shaded

area. Marcus then reached up and switched it over to the green

side. Immediately, the end of the hose began to suck the air around

them. Before Marcus knew it, he couldn't hold it any longer. The

pressure of how intense the hose was sucking everything around it

was far too powerful for him to handle. The end of the hose began

thrashing furiously around the room. Marcus didn't know what to do.

His grasp couldn't find hold of the hose no matter how hard he tried

to grab it. Then it found a home—the hose sprang forward onto the

center of Gus' forehead. Gus began to tug at it with every possible

amount of strength he had in him. Sadly, however, the hose wasn't

budging. Marcus stood and watched in horror. He tried to move his

feet in hopes of helping his friend but was frozen in sheer terror of

what was occurring. Then Marcus noticed it. His face began to

change from a fleshy pink skin tone to a horrid light-grey paleness

to every ridge that was held in to be on his face. Then Marcus felt it

in him. He quickly sprung his hands around the hose's nozzle and

tugged at it with all of his force. Finally—after one final pull that was

forced into everything he had—the hose was pulled off his head.

Marcus let the hose fly around free once again and then quickly ran

over to the hose's switch, turning it off.

"OW! Marcus, you need to control that thing of yours!" Gus

remarked. He then began to laugh at what just happened; "That

almost took me!" Marcus gazed upon him in a stunned silence.

"What was that?! What is this!? What?" He began to pace

heavily around the room in confusion.

"THAT!" Gus remarked with sheer and utter disgust; " _Is what_

_took THEM!"_ Gus gazed upon the two men before them that were

still passed out in the chairs where they were just recently soaked

with water. Marcus looked down at the two men and then he saw it;

222

there it was right before his very eyes. They both had greyness to their complexion and were not, what it seemed like, as to be in the

most steady-made of minds; "They've fixed." Gus then sat down in

the pool of water which came from the chairs.

"No—no. I don't like this. What's going on with them!?"

Marcus looked at Gus frantically.

" _They're POSSESSED! What does it look like to ya!"_ Gus

yelled out, looking at Marcus in stupidity. Marcus stared back at him

in silence. Then he muttered:

"By _ghosts!?"_ Gus' face began to redden in anger at the

remark.

"NO! _Not by GHOSTS! By telarets."_ Marcus had never heard

of a 'te-lar-et' before. It sounded like a word Gus just now made up

so he could mess with him some more. But then Gus' face began to

ease up and soften. His voice came out more soothing and gentle

this time.

"A telaret is a being that comes from another planet only to

cause destruction and conflict amongst the world. They wish to see

us fight each other. Their only one mission is to bring extinction to

the leading race of beings on that planet or to all living beings. This

telaret has brought a weapon to our planet along with it and has

been using it on who knows what." Marcus still couldn't believe what

he was hearing.

"Wait—how do you know this?"

"O'Malley has told Evan and me much information while you

were passed out upon getting here."

"Well—what else did he tell you that I should be aware of?"

Gus then looked away upon hearing this. Slowly looking back up, he

barely got out the words that wouldn't stop ringing in Marcus' head.

"He said one of us will have to sacrifice our life for the good

of our planet and all that live on it. One of us will die."

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Chapter 33

It's Always me

_No—no. One of us die? One of us can't die!_ Marcus wanted

to say this to Gus, but he knew it wasn't in him to speak those

words. Instead, he muttered out.

"Die. Of course one of us will die. We're in a World War."

Gus shook his head at this.

"But I think he's wrong. I think none of us will die. We can't

die! We have a life to go back to when we finish our missions." But,

upon hearing this, Marcus only sat down in the puddle of water next

to the chair in which Hans was still passed out.

"But do you really think we'll _ever_ finish our missions? This is

only World War I. What about World War II?" Gus immediately

replied back without any hesitation:

"But World War II won't happen after we stop World War I

from happening. That's why we started here—in the beginning.

"But— there were _three_ doors. Do you remember?" Gus had

to think about this.

"Yes—yes you're right. And we went in through one of them

and it led us here. And if the pocket watches..."

" _Xikonians."_ Marcus said, interrupting him.

"Yes, yes—well if this _xikonian_ ..." Gus took his out of his

pocket and began examining it; "Will transfer us from mission to

mission from what I'm guessing to be in the first World War—then

what do the other doors lead us to?" At that moment Hans and the

other German began to wake up.

Once Marcus and Gus' Germans began to wake up,

O'Malley and Evan's were finally tied down to chairs in the kitchen

freezer, and O'Malley was now waking them up from after putting

them to sleep.

" _WHAT DID SHE DO TO YOU!?"_ O'Malley and Gus both

blurted out. But, instead of getting an answer in return, they were

only met with silence.

"They aren't in the right state of mind." Evan and Marcus

both replied to this.

"We need to find her weapon that she used so we can

reverse this," was O'Malley's only reply.

224

"We need O'Malley's help." Gus said in response to Marcus.

But the problem was—not any of the four _World War Rewinders_

knew where the other two from their group was.

"Is there not a way to communicate with Marcus or Gus?

Where could they possibly be?" O'Malley only shook his head in

response to this; "The pocket watches aren't like cell phones as well

as _time-traveling doohickies?"_

" _Xikonians!_ And no, my dear _laddie;_ we have ourselves in

quite a pickle. These two men that sit before us are, more or less,

zombies than human beings anymore. They've been brainwashed,

and, to think the worst, hopefully, our two _who-knows-where_ friends

are not in the same trance as these fellows."

But O'Malley spoke this at the worst moment—for what

came next, Marcus didn't see coming. Suddenly, Gus arched his

back backward and pointed his face up towards the ceiling. He let

out one long scream of agony while letting his feet slide out from

under him. His head hit the ground first along then with the rest of

his body. He began to squirm around on the floor like he had the

worst itch on his back, beating the poison ivy, poison sumac, poison

oak, chicken pox, sun poisoning, and every type of rash imaginable

combined together to be one itch you wouldn't wish on your worst

enemy. Then Marcus noticed it—Gus' face began to, ever so

slowly, lose the pink flesh-color that made Gus look like the human

that he was, and Marcus watched as it changed into a sickly grey

look that made Mark feel that now Gus could have possibly just died

right before him. The one thing he didn't want to happen—the one

thing that Marcus dreaded the German did to Gus when they were

in the potato storage area—and it happened. Gus stopped

squirming back and forth once his once pink color was now a gray

paleness, and it had spread to every inch of his body, he now only

lay there motionless. Marcus stared down at him in shock. He

looked up at the two men who were tied down to the chairs, and

they smiled down at Gus with a sinister look spread across their

faces. Then they both looked up at Mark and began to laugh—it

was a terrible laugh—they laughed wicked laughs that left Marcus

trembling with fear.

" _WHAT DID YOU BOTH DO TO HIM!? WHAT'S WRONG_

_WITH HIM!?"_ Marcus got down on his knees and shook Gus

furiously. But he only lay there, his eyes closed. Marcus checked for

a pulse in his neck—nothing. There was no pulse. Gus was dead.

225

But Marcus didn't want to believe it. He couldn't be. Putting one hand over the other, he began doing chest compressions. After a

few minutes he gave up on this, and tilting his head back, he

breathed as much air as he could muster into his mouth. Doing this

over and over again, he only began to feel more and more anger

rise into his cheeks and redden his face. Finally, he couldn't take it

any longer. Looking up at the two men who smiled down at him, he

yelled out:

"STOP SMILING! _HE'S DEAD!"_ Marcus quickly got up and,

stepping over Gus' still body, he pushed Hans' chest with all the

force he had left in him. Immediately, Hans fell to the ground, his

head hitting the hard floor. But instead of yelling out in pain, he only

brought out that harsh laugh again, letting it ring back and forth

inside Marcus' ears. The other German added in with Hans'

laughing. Together, their voices filled up the small room that Marcus

began to feel more and more trapped inside. The room began to

shrink in a way that Marcus felt the true place of where he was. He

was inside a prison cell. A prison cell that locked him out of ever

seeing his family again—of ever being able to go on that Europe trip

with them and spend time with them like he really should for once.

For it began to sink in—not Marcus but _Ron._ Ron never spent time

with his family. Never told them things that he wished he told them

more. How he loved them, how they made him happy, how he was

happy that they were there for him. And Ron only took it for granted,

and now he was Marcus and now he was realizing his mistakes.

Realizing that he hasn't been the most perfect of sons, the most

perfect of brothers like how they deserve.

And then Marcus felt it. The air in the room seemed to shift

while he stood over Hans who still lay there on the ground. It was

Gus—he felt him standing up behind him— felt him breathing on his

neck. But it wasn't _Gus_ that was breathing on him. It was—it was

the two men tied up in chairs in front of them. And then they

stopped laughing. And, now, they only left stained smiles of malice

upon Marcus' perspiring face. But Marcus knew it wasn't him that

they were smiling at. It was the man that stood behind him. And as

he stood there he felt it coming. He felt the wrath of this man—this

man who wasn't Gus—this man ready to change him as well and

turn _him_ into one of _them_. So Marcus ran. He saw a flight of winding stairs that led out of the engine room, and he went for it.

226

Jumping across Hans and around the other German, he felt

Gus running after him from close behind as he made his way up the

stairs. Mail was everywhere. He was in the _Lusitania's_ mailroom

with people all around bustling back and forth with the mail they had

in their hands. Pushing someone out of the way Marcus sprinted

from one end of the room to the other while almost running into

three of the mailmen. Looking behind, Gus was coming out of the

stairs, running after him in a cold pursuit. Seeing a mail shoot,

Marcus dove head-first into it. Marcus flew down it and landed in a

pile of mail. A man ready to push the cart looked down at Marcus in

shock.

" _Crikey!_ The boss told us to stop doing this!" Marcus

struggled to get out as fast as he could, but, leaning the mail cart

over too far, it fell to the ground; "You're cleaning this up you

_jamoke_!" But Marcus was already standing up and running down the

hallway. And right behind him, he heard a _CRUNCH_ from Gus as he

landed on the cart that was still tilted over on its side.

" _LOOK WHAT YOU DID!"_ But Gus ignored the mailman,

running after his prey with a set of black eyes that penetrated into

the back of Marcus' neck. But then Marcus saw it—clear as day was

an open lift. But coming toward it was a mailman with a basket of

mail in each hand. Marcus began to pick up the pace. The mailman

grew closer and closer to the lift while Marcus reached his hands

out in despair. But it was too late—the mailman put his two baskets

inside the hamper and turned the lever having the mail sent

upwards. But Marcus wasn't giving up. He quickly sprang to the

already closed lift and pried it open. Flinging the baskets of mail out,

he jumped into the lift with it already half-way up. His legs still

dangled up so squeezing in one, he began to squeeze in the other.

But then there was Gus—he lunged onto his last leg that still

dangled free and began forcing the lift back down in doing so. But

Marcus wasn't taking it—he struggled with Gus' steel grasp, kicking

him in the face all the while. But Gus wasn't letting go—his eyes of

coal glared up at Marcus with a thirst in them that would only be

quenched by having him fully in his clutches. The lift slowly began to

move up all the while Gus tried his best to tug it back down. Then

Marcus couldn't see him anymore—but his leg was about to be

taken off if he didn't free it in time so bringing his other leg back out

he maneuvered it between Gus' arm closest to him and broke his

227

hold off on him. Quickly bringing both legs in, Marcus was gone and up to wherever the lift was bringing him.

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Chapter 34

What to do, what to do?

"Should we just leave them in here?"

"No. No, that wouldn't be smart. She might know that we

have them. She did _this_ to them, I wouldn't be surprised if she can

track where they are as well." O'Malley didn't know exactly what he

_could_ do with them, however. They're not to be left alone, and he

didn't want to have to split up his crew any more than it already is.

Where Gus and Marcus could be, he had no idea. At this moment

he wished he _could_ track where his men could possibly be. They

could be anywhere on this ship and they might as well possibly be

on the submarine too. But O'Malley doubted that. He doubted that

the submarine was still hanging around the _Lusitania_. Schweiger

wasn't one to stick around for his own men. Especially since they

were under _kalinasis_. But it wasn't like he actually knew that.

"You're going to go off and search for them. I'll watch over

these two." Evan looked at O'Malley unsure about this. But there

was nothing for him to be unsure about. He was given a command,

and he had to follow it; "Head down to the Lower Deck and work

your way up." Evan nodded at this and began to leave—but then he

turned back around and asked:

"Do you think they're alright? Where would you think I might

find them out of anywhere on this ship?" O'Malley smiled sweetly at

Evan and only shrugged his shoulders.

"Their minds are not mine to know." Evan nodded at this and

then he was off,

Riding up the lift, Marcus began to feel a lack of oxygen in

his small box that he was beginning to feel trapped inside. Soon

enough, he passed out.

——————————————————————————————

" _Ronald! Ronald!_ OH, _Ronald!"_ Jack was laughing at Ron

while they sat on top of the lunch tables outside their high school.

"No, she didn't respond that way when I asked her ya

goober!" Ron rolled up his sleeves as he got ready to tell what

happened; "She gave me one of those sweet smiles. You know!

Those sweet, sweet smiles that just make you melt straight to your

knees! Her lips were freshly glossed too! I _know_ she had to have

229

just recently glossed them because she knew I was going to ask

her."

"She didn't _know!_ Koloa, her _best friend,_ didn't even see that stunt you were about to pull! I mean who _does_ that man! Who goes

out and spends _that_ much money!?" Ronald smiled back upon how

he _did_ spend an abundant amount of money on her. _Eighty dollars_

to be exact! But it was worth it. _Carla_ was worth it! She deserved

every piece of fruit put on that edible arrangement delicately stuck

into those long wooden picks to make the best _promposal_ ever to be

planned out in Dunedin High.

"What if she said no?"

"Why would she say no? I'm _Ronald Lampson!"_

_"_ But you aren't Chad Milone, idiot—plus, she might've

thought that offering was a little too much. She might've not liked

how you went through all that work when you don't even date her."

"But that's not what _matters_ Jackson! What matters is that I'd

go to such a great length to make her my prom-date. Go to such

great length to show her I'm the best guy to take prom pictures with!

I'm the best guy for the job to have her be the one that she dances

with when that slow song comes on and time stands still for those

few seconds of prom. I don't have any regrets about doing what I

just did. And even if she did say no, even if she _did_ decide that _Chad_ _Milone_ would be her prom-date and not me then in the back of my

mind, all I would deep down truly know... is that at least I tried. That

at least I gave it my one hundred and ten percent. That at least I put

in all the effort that I could try and muster out and hopefully try to

stand up to a football player like _Chad Milone."_ But then Ron began

to think about what he did—all that money—was it really worth it?

He could've gotten her a basket of fruit that would've only cost up to

five dollars, and she still might've said yes. But would she have?

And this dwelled inside Ron's mind. It stayed there until he finally

realized it. Finally realized the truth to life. Money isn't everything.

Marcus woke up in a cold sweat on the ground. Looking up,

there was the man he thought he'd never see again.

"Now where in the world is our dear friend, Gustavo, my

dear man!?" O'Malley asked in a stern tone that left Marcus

speechless. For the words that he had to say were having trouble

coming out of his mouth. Telling O'Malley that Gus had—turned—

was the least of what he wanted to do, but he knew he had to do it.

And then looking

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into O'Malley's old, experienced eyes he knew right away from the face Marcus presented him that it wasn't going to be good what he

had to say.

"Dear God—he isn't dead is he?" And, still, Marcus didn't

exactly know. But deep down in the back of his mind, he knew

he wasn't. He couldn't be. Well, at least he hoped not. Hoped

with all his soul he wasn't. So Marcus shook his head.

"We were in an engine room—and—there was a hose—but

it wasn't a hose..." O'Malley put up his hand stopping him.

"A _hose."_ O'Malley looked at Marcus in confusion; "And— it

was attached to an engine?" Marcus nodded his head. Well, at least

he _thought_ it was an engine it was attached to.

"We thought the hose would spray out water since we had

two of the Germans tied down."

"That sounds _ridiculous._ Anything that is attached to

something you think it shouldn't be you should think twice before

turning it on! It's common sense, Marcus." Marcus didn't like

O'Malley's criticism. Or how he liked to make it known that his name

was Marcus and not Ron anymore. He _knew_ his name wasn't

Ronald anymore. The problem was, he didn't like having it shoved

right in his face; "So then what happened once you turned it on?

Because it's _obvious_ when I hear that there's a hose where one

shouldn't be _you'd_ be the one to turn it on. I don't see Gus deciding

that he should turn on such a device!" O'Malley's voice sounded

irritated with Marcus. And he _didn't_ know that it could've been Gus

to be the one to turn it on! It's not like Marcus was the one that

turned into a pale, grey form of his former self who died and then

was reborn into a monstrous clone of the Germans—speaking of:

"What happened to the other two Germans?" Marcus

remarked, switching the subject.

"They're in the freezer over there—what did the hose do? I

need to know, Marcus." And then Marcus lost it:

" _I'M NOT RON ANYMORE! I GET IT! STOP RUBBING IT IN_

_MY MARCUS-FACE!"_ And then Marcus realized it—once he

finished his sudden outburst, he looked around the room to see

cooks everywhere stop their meal preparations and stare at him,

having the bustling of lasagnas being layered, crab legs being

broken, and dough being rolled only to eye the multi-identified,

uniform of a soldier-wearing, sweat-perspiring man that had an old

man in an Irish-doctor attire looking up at him with shame.

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" _Now you've done it."_ O'Malley whispered up to him. At that moment one of the head chefs came up to them covered with dough

powder and stains of red sauce still lingering on his white cooking

uniform.

"Who _are_ you two men? And why are you both in our

kitchen?" And then another cook came out of the freezer looking

frantically over towards the head chef talking to O'Malley and

Marcus.

" _There are two men tied up in the freezer? Where did those_

_two men come from?"_ The cook asked as if coming out of a daze;

" _And why are there two men tied up in the freezer?"_ The head chef

looked back at Marcus and O'Malley after hearing the cook's

whimsical rant and gave them both a stern look.

"Now I don't know what's going on here, but it's not going to

happen in _my kitchen!_ George! Untie the two men in the freezer and

then escort all four of the men out of this kitchen where _work_ is held!

I don't know what you four are doing in my kitchen." The chef wiped

his hands on his chef uniform with a look of utter filth; "But it's

_disgusting!_ I will _not_ have it done in my kitchen! Let alone my _freezer!"_ O'Malley looked at the chef in a state of shock then called

over to George who already went back into the freezer.

" _DON'T UNTIE THOSE TWO MEN, GEORGASON! THOSE_

_ARE CRIMINALS IN THERE! WE NEED TO CURE THEM WITH A_

_HOSE MY FRIEND—MY FRIEND HERE MARCUS FOUND!"_ The

chef stared at O'Malley with a look of repulse beaming out of his

eyes.

" _Someone needs to cure YOU with a hose, good sir!"_ All of

the cooks began to cheer at their head chef's remark back at

O'Malley's yell over to George; " _And one more thing! DON'T_

_command my man, George, and tell him what to do!"_ The cooks

clapped and cheered as well. Then turning to his kitchen: "NOW

BACK TO WORK!" And just like that, all the cooks went back to

tending to their meals they were readying for the supper that night.

Turning to Marcus, O'Malley whispered:

"We're in a bit of mess now—aren't we _Marcus."_

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Chapter 35

A Mess

Everything was black. Blackness was all around. And Gus

couldn't move either. Or could he speak? But he felt something. But

that was the only sense he still had in his possession. But what did

he feel? And then he knew it—it was the presence of others around

him. But—where were they? Where was _he_? But, at the same time,

he felt like he was nowhere. He was in a void of nothingness, a

space that wasn't even space at all, an emptiness where life was

nothing. _He_ was nothing. Where his body was he didn't know.

Where he was now, he didn't know. Who was with him—he had an

idea.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evan became more than just tired—he felt exhausted. He

could pass out at any given moment from all of this unneeded

running. This searching. But what was he searching for anymore?

Did Gus and Marcus really _need_ to be searched for in the first

place? They were grown-ass men. They could take care of

themselves, and Evan wasn't supposed to be playing hide-and-seek

with them on a ship that could go at any minute. Any minute—any

minute it could start sinking or have the bottom of it blown off from

right under where it sat. And then—then there he was—

" _GUS! GUS, THERE YOU ARE! WHERE'S MARCUS!?"_ As

Evan yelled to Gus as he ran up to him, something felt oddly

strange about him. He only answered Evan with silence—which was

strange because that wasn't like Gus to not say anything.

Immediately, he stopped in his tracks from running towards him, and

Gus stopped in _his_ tracks as he walked towards _him._

_"_ Are you alright, Gustavo? You look like you've seen a

ghost!" Gus shrugged his shoulders.

"I just don't know where Marcus went."

"Well—where was the last place you saw him?" Evan asked

as he began walking now over to Gus. Gus looked at him curiously.

"I think he got scared. He gets scared easily."

"Well that's only because you're not the type of guy to mess

with; are you my friend!" Evan was now in front of Gus and began to

kiddingly punch Gus after he finished his remark. But—Gus, on the

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other hand did not take his punching too kindly and quickly grabbed both of his wrists in a flinch of the eye.

"I—don't—like—that." Evan looked at Gus in shock. "What's

wrong with you!? I always jokingly..." But then Evan

saw it—in the eyes of Gus were black pits of despair that weren't

the eyes of the companion he knew so well.

"Alright, alright Gustavo. I won't do that to you anymore!"

Fear chattered between every word Evan spoke. He was in the

presence of an imposter and so far the imposter hadn't caught on

yet that he knew it wasn't really his friend he was looking at.

"So where do you think our friend Marcus could have gone?"

Evan shrugged his shoulders and tried to unclench the grasp Gus

had on him. Slowly he took his time to make sure Evan could be

trusted in not punching him again.

But then Evan had an idea:

"Maybe... we should split up in search of him. It makes

more sense. How about I check the deck above us, and you'll..."

"Check the deck below us?" Evan quickly nodded at this.

"Yes! Yes, you'll check the deck below us!" Evan began to

speedily try and walk away but then—Gus quickly grabbed his arm

as he turned away from him.

"No. No, you _aren't!"_ Gus quickly snapped; "We're staying

together. I'm not losing another one of _you."_

_"_ Another one of us?" Evan whispered to himself. And then

he quickly added: "I think I might know where he is!" Gus looked at

him with an impatient anticipation.

"Show me!" Gus said with such force that Evan leaned back

in shock. But then—then Gus shook his head at this and then

corrected himself; "I mean—let's go, my good friend?" Gus

questioned this, but Evan nodded to him and motioned him to

follow.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two Germans in the freezer were now untied and looked

upon Marcus and O'Malley with smug expressions that made

O'Malley's face heat up to a point where when he looked to Marcus,

the anger poured forth from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Marcus mouthed. But O'Malley wasn't taking it.

He was annoyed with the man that he brought here to help him

make a difference in this world. A change much needed to happen,

and he was getting in the way of it. But, so far, Marcus only

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caused trouble, got himself into trouble, or would wander off from the rest of their group and disappeared from them to a point where

the hole he would dig himself would be too big to be filled.

"I understand you're learning—but sometimes—sometimes

you make it too hard for me to teach you what to do right." Then

O'Malley paused and thought about what he said. Then, putting a

finger to his chin he added: "Just—don't go off to Ireland again and

fall for a girl out of your league." Marcus couldn't help but smile at

this which, O'Malley, in return, smiled back.

"Now let's go fix this mess you've made!"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evan didn't actually know where he was bringing Gus. He

could walk around in circles, and Evan wouldn't know how long it

would take before Gus caught on. That—actually—turned out to be

his plan from the start. And in the meantime, while they walked

endlessly around the ship, Gus decided he would think of an actual

plan along the way.

"So where was the last place you _saw_ Marcus?"

"Why does that matter?" Gus didn't say this as a question

but more as a plain statement. And his new monotone voice that

had a faint echo to it began to creep Evan out the more and more

they walked. For this wasn't the Gus he knew and loved. This wasn't

the Gus he thought of as a brother. This was someone who has

taken his body and was now controlling it. And all Evan could think

about was how he wanted his old Gus back. But—he knew this was

fogging his mind for thinking of an idea—a next step of what to do—

and that's all he knew he should be thinking about. But then—then

he had it.

"Gus—why aren't _you_ leading the way?" Gus looked at Evan

plainly.

"Don't ask idiotic questions like that. You know better."

"But Gus! Marcus went back to where you last were with

him!"

"He did? He did," Gus said in realization. Then, looking at

Evan with eyes beaming with an inauspicious characteristic to them,

he quickly punched Evan across the face. The force of the hit was

unexpected and what came next surprised Evan even more. Once

he hit the ground, Gus picked up both of Evan's ankles and began

to drag him down the hall. Evan was in too much of a daze to fight

back. His headache felt unbearable and being dragged across the

235

floor didn't help either. But, when he did come to his senses to try and fight back against him, it was too late. Time had passed right

before his eyes for the scenery all around him had vanished and

what appeared before him was uncharacteristically impossible. Gus

dropped his ankles and now Evan was able to sit up. He was in a

room. And the room—it had an engine in it. He gazed at this engine

with anticipation like he was _meant_ for him to have been shown to it.

Like this was what Gus couldn't wait to show him. Evan then noticed

two Germans tied down to chairs and staring over at him.

"Well—what do you think?" Hans said. "Are you ready to

become one of us?"

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Chapter 36

One of Us

"Hurry! Follow me." O'Malley waved his hand at Marcus as

he did a fast-pace walk out of the kitchen and back into the saloon.

" _What are we doing?"_ Marcus whispered back. O'Malley

didn't reply. Instead, he quickly sat down at one the tables in the

corner of the room. It was a table already taken. A man wearing a

top hat and fine woolen jacket sat next to someone who seemed to

be his wife, based on how he snatched her hand in fright when the

two newcomers took no action to ask if the vacant seats were

taken. But, instead of asking for their permission, they went ahead

and plopped down while not even noticing the couple. The man

began to twist his thick handlebar mustache around in his fingers

as he looked upon the two in curiosity. Clearing his throat:

_"Ahem!"_ But Marcus and O'Malley kept their heads facing

towards the entrance to the kitchen; _"Ahem! Ahem! I say! Good_

_sirs!"_ Marcus turned his head to the mustached man, but, O'Malley,

not leaving the gaze he had fixed towards the kitchen entrance,

clutched the top of Marcus' head, his fingers outstretched all around

his temple, and turned him back to the entrance he was so intently

set on.

_"I say, William! These two have the manners of a_

_blacksmith's dog!"_ The woman glared at the intruders with a heavy

set of eyes that steamed up at the sight of them at her table.

Ignoring the fed-up lady, O'Malley blurted out:

"There they are Marcus!" And there they were; the two

Germans walked out of the kitchen with a steady-paced walk. Their

eyes were fixed on a door across the saloon leading into a hallway.

"Let's go," O'Malley whispered. Following them out of the

saloon, they kept their distance.

"Let's follow them, William! They're up to _no_ good!" But as

she stood up and began to follow O'Malley and Marcus, Willy stayed

seated; " _WILLY!"_ Will grunted and, after looking down at his bland

bowl of soup, he finally got up and followed his wife.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evan quickly got up and began backing out of the door.

"What _is_ that on the engine, Gus?" Gus throttled out a

bellowing laugh at Evan and remarked:

237

"You obviously know I'm not Gus now so you can stop

calling me that."

"Alright. Then who are you?"

" _He's no one."_ Evan quickly spun over to the Madame

entering who had sat at the table with the Germans earlier. She

arrived by coming down the spiral stairs in the corner of the room.

"What do you mean he's _no one!?"_

_"_ He's normal inside. He's just like everyone else on my

planet. This machine here. This machine that is here for _your_ planet!

It's a gift!" Evan looked at her like she was crazy. She _was_ crazy.

"This can't be a gift when the man I once knew is now gone.

It sounds more like a curse."

"It's not a curse. I'm happier this way, _Ev_." Evan couldn't

believe the gray form of a human just said that to him. Only Gus

called him that. And this wasn't Gus. O'Malley never even called

him that. Only Gus. But—

"You're not Gus, though! _Where's Gus!?"_

_"No._ You're right. I'm _not_ Gus. I'm no one. And it's better that way. You should be no one too, _Ev_."

"STOP CALLING ME _THAT!"_ Evan caught himself. "I didn't

mean to yell. I'm sorry, Gus..."

"See, that's not my name anymore." Gus said, cutting him

off; "I'm no one. Don't you get it? I'm no one, and it's better that

way." Evan didn't know what to say. Now the lady had untied the

two Germans from their chairs, and they stood up and walked over

to Gus, one on one side and the other on the other side.

"Be no one with us." One of them yelled out. Then all three

of them were chanting with him.

"BE NO ONE WITH US. BE NO ONE WITH US **."**

" _No. NO!"_ Evan backed away from them. He couldn't take

them _all_ on. He was unmatched.

"Obviously we will have to try another way to make him

realize." The woman yelled out over their chanting. All of them at

once rushed over to Evan. The two Germans grabbed an arm each,

and Gus grabbed his legs and lifted him up. Evan struggled and

jerked to try and break free from their grasp, but they all had a firm

hold on him. They quickly carried him over to the chairs while trying

their best not to let him break free. They pushed him down onto the

two chairs to where he was laying across them, and, quickly, they

tied him down. All the while, Evan worked at loosening the

238

rope that was holding him down, but they persistently tightened the hold the more he struggled. Once the ropes were tied around every

inch of his body, and his head hung limply off of one of the chair

seats while his butt was found in between the gap between them, he

gave up in his struggling realizing he wasn't getting out of this one.

He believed that if he even tried to rock back and forth it would only

conclude in him breaking a bone or cracking his skull which would

not be helpful to the mission at hand.

"You'll thank me after this is over." She gleamed as she

glowered over him.

But who was she? Evan didn't understand why she would do

this to all of the men around her; the Germans, Gus, who even was

Gus anymore? It didn't make sense how he could be no one. But—

he was someone. Evan turned his head to what was once his friend.

"Gus—I know you're in there somewhere! You have to be

able to hear me! I'm your friend! Your companion! Your..." As much

as Evan disliked this name he still said it: "Your fellow _World War_

_Rewinder!_ But Gus only looked upon Evan with a blank face. He

didn't even twitch at the sound of being called something as silly as

a _World War Rewinder_.

" _Gustavo_." The woman said to Gus. But Evan couldn't bear

to have heard her mouth those words.

" _NO! NO! YOU CAN'T CALL HIM THAT! YOU CAN'T! I_

_WON'T LET YOU!"_ The woman turned to Evan and gave him a

sinister smile. Evan began to notice the wrinkles that stood out on

her face. She had a mole that nearly took up her whole nose, and it

sickened Evan to stare into her steel black eyes for too long. Her

brown hair shriveled with the turn of her head, and her red lipstick

looked smudged on instead of gently caressed.

"My name is _Gustavo, Ev_. She can call me that."

"But I thought you were no one!?" Evan replied, smiling at

him as he realized what she was doing to them didn't make sense. If

he wasn't Gus anymore then how did he know that Gus called him

_Ev_ and he called him Gustavo?

"Never mind that. Contract his _florebit_!" Gus grabbed the

hose from the engine and put the tip of it on Evan's forehead locking

it in with a switch so it stayed right in the center of his noggin so he

wouldn't have to hold onto it.

"TURN IT ON!" The woman yelled out. Hans went over to

the hose switch—but—before he turned it on the door was opened

239

up at the top of the stairs and down came four legs down. Hans held off turning it on—

" _WHAT IS THIS!?"_ The woman yelled out to the two men.

For although these two men were wearing German clothes one

wouldn't have guessed to believe that such a disguise could be so

realistic. Marcus and O'Malley wore the men's clothes that they

followed out of the saloon, but, before they entered through the door

O'Malley and Marcus both sprang on them at the last minute. Now

they were wearing their clothes.

"We're here, Madame," O'Malley said in his most plain of a

voice he could pull off. The Madame looked upon O'Malley and

Marcus in a furious rage.

" _Where—are—they!?"_ O'Malley ignored this and replied with

a:

"Madame! That isn't fastened on right!" O'Malley walked over

to Evan with the hose stuck to his forehead and began to unfasten

it.

" _NO!"_ The Madame yelled out; " _GUS, STOP HIM!"_ Gus

sprang onto O'Malley's hand-hold he already had on the end of the

hose, but—it was too late. It was already undone. Gus began to

fight with O'Malley for a grip on it so could tug it away, but O'Malley

held it firm.

" _MARCUS!"_ O'Malley yelled out; "He—he—lp!" He was able

to sputter out as he loosened the hold he had on it, and Gus was

able to take over in having the better of the grip. Marcus sprang

onto a section of the hose farther down from where their grip was

held and worked at trying to tug it away from the both of them.

" _NO!"_ O'Malley yelled in a panicked frenzy; " _We have—to_

_work—together!"_ But by this time the Madame had had enough of

the struggle between them and finally spurted out with red cheeks of

anger:

" _HANS! TURN IT ON I SAY!"_ Hans quickly flipped the switch

and watched it as it flung out of all three of their hands. The hose

flung wildly around the room."

" _MARCUS! CATCH IT!"_ O'Malley spurted out as it flew from

one side of the room to the other. Marcus did his best grab any type

of clutch he could get a hold on, but the hose was too fast—it

couldn't be controlled. O'Malley then began to see if he could make

it over to the switch but every time he got close to it the hose would

fling amok his way. The Madame raged a cry of murder as the hose

240

was recalcitrant for everyone. But—suddenly—as the head of the

hose flew inches by Evan's tied-down body, Evan saw it coming—

sliding his hands out of the grasp held down by the rope, Evan

caught it. The hose was brought forth into his hands with an

unmeasurable speed that he was surprised to have gotten ahold of

it. But he did—the only problem Evan began to realize—was that it

was too much to hold onto. The hose raised Evan into the air while

he was still strapped down to the chair. Evan was suspended into

the air and began to level out to where he was in a standing position

instead of being levitated from the ground by the side of his back.

The hose gained energy and sprung forward while Evan still

clutched it. The circular head on the tip of the hose flew in a straight

line and as Evan held on he briefly was able to look up to see where

the hose was heading. As it headed forward, the Madame began to

scream. Its target came down right in the center of her forehead.

Evan still held on as she began to emit a bright light out of every

pore of her body. She lit up like a candle in the darkness of a dreary

night. She illuminated like the sun spurring out every bit of energy

the special star would have in it. And then she broke into a million

pieces with every bit of her flying in every direction. And as she

exploded all around, everyone couldn't help in feeling the impact of

the effect of the hose. The engine from what brought forth the end of

the hose fell apart as well. It crumbled downward into a fine powder

of dust right before everyone's eyes. And as every particle of every

obliteration fell to the ground, silence followed. A still silence that

hung in the air while everyone stared around blindly in a state of

complete and utter shock. But then O'Malley broke it:

" _GUS! GUS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?"_ Gus nodded, his head

in a daze.

"Where—where am I?" O'Malley smiled at this.

"You're back! You're back my friend, you're back!" Gus

looked frantically around the room.

"Where—where was I?" O'Malley stared down at the engine

that was now crumbled down to a pulp of pieces.

" _She_ had you."

Both of the Germans were now walking around in a daze of

confusion.

"How did we get _here?"_ Hans asked O'Malley after stopping

for a second to collect his thoughts.

241

"You are on the _Lusitania,_ my dear friend. You were taken off your submarine and put on this cargo ship by a woman." Hans

thought about this for a second before saying:

"Yes—yes you're right. But she was British. Why were we

listening to her if she was—British—why were we listening to her if

she was British? And what did she put—"

" _ON OUR FOREHEAD! SHE PUT SOMETHING ON OUR_

_FOREHEAD AND THAT'S ALL I REMEMBER."_ The other German

said, cutting off Hans. O'Malley put his hands up to motion both of

them to settle down now that they were having their memories

recovered. They became quite disturbed with what just occurred to

the two of them. Gus, on the other hand, was perfectly calm and

tried his best to calm them down as well by talking in German to

them. Again, Marcus didn't understand what he was saying; but

when they spoke back to him the same muffled German language

was in the back while English came out clearly in front of it.

"How was she not British?" Hans asked Gus. Gus replied

back with not a word of the language making sense to Mark. They

all nodded their heads finally after what seemed like a long

explanation. Gus turned his head towards O'Malley and gave a

thumbs up.

"We're all good. So now what happens with the men on the

submarine?"

"They will wonder where their fellow men went, but they

won't assume they will be on this cargo ship which is, by chance,

only passing by them in their coordinates."

"Then how will we get back on the submarine? And are my

fellow men still affected by the machine that was just destroyed?"

Hans asked. O'Malley shook his head at this.

"When I tampered with the machine—before..." O'Malley

stopped and thought back to how when they were on the submarine

before and how he thought there was only that one mechanism that

she brought with her. He then picked it up again: "The other

mechanism is now destroyed as well. Once Evan turned her own

machine on herself her whole foundation of every machine she

brought with her has now been destroyed."

"So does this mean it is all over and done with? Every

significant event that she has impacted has been unraveled? Has

WWI been altered into it never beginning?" O'Malley shook his head

at Gus and simply replied with a:

242

"No. No, it's far from over. This has only stopped the

_Lusitania_ from being taken down. We still have other significant

events to stop from occurring."

"How many more?" Marcus asked. All he could think about

was how he has had enough of this time period. All this time it has

chewed him up and spit him out, and he can't take it anymore! He

wants to go home. Back to his family. Back to—Marcus looked up

from the ground after lowering his head in his contemplation and set

his eyes on O'Malley. His—his falcon. Or what he thought was his

pet falcon.

"That—I am unsure of Marcus. All I know is that it is not over

yet. As for you four..." O'Malley now directed his eyes towards the

two men that came down the stairs in their britches and Hans and

the other German. Their faces showed how lost they felt. What

O'Malley had been saying has been sounding absolutely ridiculous.

But what _just_ happened didn't leave them any room to question it;

"Rooms B50, B49, B48, and B58 are unlocked and will be a good

set of sleeping quarters for all four of you until this beautiful ship

lands in Liverpool. By then you all will be able to make it to a phone

where you all will be able to head back to work. Good luck and safe

travels."

"Where will all four of you all be going?" One of the Germans

asked, confused.

"We will be on our way." O'Malley simply replied back.

"Can we go with you?" Another one of the Germans asked.

O'Malley, in return, gave a plain, flat out:

"No." They all shook their heads, leading the Germans to

the stairs out of the engine room. Once they were out the door,

O'Malley turned back to his fellow _World War Rewinders_.

"Congratulations my fellow companions! Now it is time to be

on our way." O'Malley turned towards Evan who was still tied up to

the two chairs but was standing up while they never left his back.

O'Malley frowned at this and looked towards Marcus; "Untie him for

me, will you?" Marcus nodded his head and untied him;

"Now that we are finished here it is now time to move on!

_EVERYONE! TAKE OUT YOUR XIKONIANS!"_ O'Malley blared out

in pride; " _ON THE COUNT OF THREE, OPEN THEM UP AND_

_TURN THE STERN WHICH CAN BE FOUND AT THE TOP OF_

_YOUR XIKONIAN, AND HOLD ON TIGHT TO IT WHEN YOU_

_HAVE IT LAND ON THE NUMBER TWO! ONE...TWO...THREE!"_

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Part III:

The Zimmermann Telegram

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Chapter 37

The Second Mission

As the dial fell on the Roman numeral two, all four of them

were thrust forward into a mist that swirled all around them. Their

feet left the ground and the four of them began to spin rapidly

around in a circle. Marcus faced in front of O'Malley while the mist

gathered in a thick fog encircling them both so they couldn't see

beyond the circle they spun in making them all more of a blur to

each other. Evan and Gus faced each other, both holding their

_xikonians_ tightly against their chest. Marcus felt his slipping out of

his fingers. He began to try and close it shut from the thought that it

would break in two if he kept it open any longer. O'Malley quickly

stopped him by echoing out a:

" _DON'T!"_ to him. Then, suddenly, they began to drift in the

circle instead of rapidly spin. The fog became a mist once again,

and they slowly drifted to the ground. They landed on the ground

with a _thud,_ and the mist dispersed. Marcus looked around to see

they were in a city full of buildings surrounding them.

"I've _been_ here before," Gus muttered.

"Yes. We're in your capital, Gus. Why, well it could only be

one reason: a letter is about to be written that can't happen."

"What letter?" Marcus questioned. O'Malley looked behind

him at the building that stood before them.

"Here is where Germany sends a letter to Mexico. It will ask

them to join the war. We can't let this happen."

"Why not?" Evan quickly cut in. "Great Britain will intercept it.

That's a good thing, right?" O'Malley shrugged his shoulders at this.

"You have to remember we have fast-forwarded into time

and looking back at what we just went through, the _Lusitania_ never

sank. There is no just reason to say Germany is the wrong of the

two sides."

"What about how they sank the passenger ferry, the _Sussex_?

That was wrong of them!" Marcus remarked. It was one of the few

events of World War I he knew about. Still, he still received a 74 on

his test covering information of the two world wars.

"It could have been another one like the Madame from

before?"

245

"The Madame—why _did_ you call that soul-sucker the

Madame?"

"Well my dear man, Marcus me boy; the Madame is what

she goes by. Her full name is rather long, but I will shorten it for you.

She is the Madame, Bringer of Minds where none can find, Taker of

Worry for she provides it, Mother of No One. That is what she made

Gus into; no one." Marcus thought about this for a second and then

looked back at O'Malley, still confused.

"So—she's not from here." Marcus more or less stated this

then questioned it. But still, in turn, O'Malley nodded back at him.

"No. She's not. She's not from this planet just like I'm not.

The only difference is that I'm a Helper, and she's a Destroyer. Are

you wrapping your mind around this now, my dear son?" Marcus

nodded. He believed he was. But what sunk in more than anything

was how the falcon he had been living with all this time was

actually an alien from another planet, here to help his world from

preventing the chaos that has already been laid out in his history

books. It was amazing. No, it was more than amazing, it was—

extraordinary. And _he_ was able to be a part of it.

"How can we stop a telegram from being written when there

might be even the slightest chance that Britain doesn't intercept it,

and Mexico gets it with no problems at all? And then what? Will the

war be changed to Mexico joining the war? And is there even a

point to stop this from being written and then from being

intercepted? Don't we _want_ the message to be read by the British so

it can be shown to the United States? Don't we _want_ America to join

the war? This could end badly, O'Malley." Marcus looked up at the

building feeling a multitude of stress lying inside it.

"No. You're right. This can go many ways. But we can't be

sure which one is the right one until we start trying. We just have to

try. That is our mission for the time being. And no. We _don't_ want to

let America join. The whole point of everything we've been doing is

to make sure _no_ country joins. We don't want a war, Marcus. We

want lives to be spared, and a better world to be lived." As Marcus

listened to O'Malley he began to understand. War was the greatest

of all evils brought out on this planet and to distinguish war was to

distinguish a great weight on such a small world's shoulders.

Marcus then began to notice that Evan and Gus weren't wearing

their military uniforms anymore. As a matter of fact, he wasn't

wearing _his_ either. Instead, what replaced them were old-fashioned

246

suits that looked like they came out of _What a Wonderful Life._ He then noticed the hubbub of heavy pedestrian traffic. It must have

been the lunch-hour crowd for groups of businessmen wearing the

same attire as they came by the bus-loads filing out of the nearby

buildings. Mixed in the crowd, sprinkled in-between the suits and

ties, were soldiers wearing a rounded-out army helmet placed in the

center of each of their noggins, and a rifle at-ready in case

suspicious activity were to come a-brew.

"Is it this building that we're supposed to go inside? And do

we have new names? Do we know exactly what floor it is to be

written? Do we know any names that we might need to know in the

near future?" O'Malley shook his head at Gus, smiling at him with an

expression of congruous simplicity.

"Relax. Enjoy the scenery all around, Gustovious! This

mission isn't one of chaos or stress, heart-ache or cold-pursuit,

death or destruction! This—this is one for pure brilliance and

outwitting. We are maneuvering from bronze to brains. A torment of

Hell to a nice family vacation with your fellow _World War Rewinders,_

my fellow man! Welcome to Berlin! The capital of Germany! Of

course, since this _is_ your home country you already know that!

Marcus—this will be abundantly different when you come and visit

with your actual family when you walk back to the gas station!

Gus—not so much. Evan..." O'Malley laughed when he got to Evan

for his time period was one that Gus wouldn't be ready to come

close to understanding. The changes exposed from two centuries of

life on the planet Earth brought a great multitude of developments

and technological advancements that have never before been seen

to the naked eye in the current times to which he had only been

exposed: "Wonders it will be when you are shown to the life this

great planet is destined to pursue!" Marcus realized what O'Malley

was saying and, for the first time since he had woken up in this time

period, he began to relax. He began to breathe away the worries of

what they only just recently left. For it only felt like seconds for them

from when the _Lusitania_ was supposed to have sunken, it had been

_years_ for Darcy. _DARCY!_ The name rang in Marcus' ears like a

thousand drums colliding into an eternal rhythm of never-ending

insanity. The thought of how he was now so far away from the love

of his life brought his gasping of life to weaken every second. He

wanted her back. He _needed_ her back! But they were not meant to

247

be. Marcus looked towards O'Malley with a weary set of eyes.

Instantly, O'Malley knew what was troubling the star-crossed lover.

"You miss her, I know, but I need to tell you something

serious, and no matter how you might not understand it, you will

have to." O'Malley brought Marcus away from Gus and Evan who

went next to the entrance of the doors inside to lean up against the

building; "The pub owner. Who had a _xikonian_? She's now married

to him." Marcus stepped away in shock. He couldn't believe it. It

couldn't be! It wasn't! Marcus shook his head several times in

denial.

" _I don't believe you. You're—you're lying to me!"_ O'Malley

put his hand on Marcus' shoulder and with a sympathetic smile

replied with:

"It's better this way. _They're_ in love. Not you two. And they

already have a child! A beautiful baby girl! She's so precious,

Marcus. A real darling of the two! And this time—this time Jack's

wife isn't running away or divorcing him. This one's a keeper."

Marcus had mixed feelings about this. He didn't know what to think.

On one side he wanted Darcy in his arms and in the other he

wanted them to be happy. And it made him happy to think that she

still had her father. Daniel still had his father. _Keera_ still had her husband! It was how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to

be with her. No matter how badly his heart persisted to feel her lips

on his again, to look upon her tender smile, to have one last

conversation with her, it wasn't going to happen. They were miles

upon miles away from each other. And he had a job to do. After

much contemplation came the realization that of course, O'Malley

knew this to be true. Magic knew so O'Malley knew.

"What—what's her name?" Marcus began to tear up. He

knew that the beautiful baby girl had to be one gorgeous daughter.

He had always wanted a daughter. A daughter to bring shopping; a

daughter that would go through the 'I hate you, Dad' phase, and

through all of those rough patches he knew she would always be his

baby princess.

"She was named after her grandmother: _Keera."_ Marcus

nodded with tearful eyes, but a smile of happiness lit up on his face.

" _Keera."_ Giving out a gasp of pure happiness he added: " _I_

_like it."_

248

Chapter 38

Don't Count so Lucky

"This building smells like animals have been nesting in here

since the start of the universe." Evan plugged his nose with his

fingertips in sheer disgust.

"This is a building. What do you expect it to smell like?" Gus

sneered.

"To smell clean. To smell sustainable. Somewhere I can

actually breathe! _Not_ a moldy heap of bricks _plastered_ together to make me _gag_ with every breath I take!"

"Well do you know what _I_ smell?!" Evan shook his head in

response; "I smell his office building. I smell a place where my

people get work done. Where job interviews are held, and an aura

of solitude. A freedom of expression. A building that holds great

people with great choices that are made day after day. The

decisions that are talked over and dealt with. A life that is put on the

line because my people think what needs to be done is what _needs_

_to be done!_ Not some old building that smells different to you!"

Evan kept his mouth shut from then on. All the way up the stairs

they went, and he didn't say a word for he knew that he insulted

Gus, and he _knew_ he didn't want to do it again. They finally made it

to the 4th floor where O'Malley stopped and walked onto the main

floor where discussions were being held, and men all around were

at their telegraph systems transmitting information through the

_Morse Code_ that each punched in one after the other. Dash dot

dash dot dot dot dash dot dot dot dash dot dot.

"This way," O'Malley remarked as they moved past each

and every man that was distracted in the work they were doing.

They finally came to a desk of a secretary in the back right-hand

corner of the room. No one was sitting at it. O'Malley looked back

at Evan, Gus, and Marcus after he stared at the desk for the

duration of a long period of time and remarked:

"You three will have to stand guard for me while I deal with

this. The Zimmermann Telegram will or is in the process of being

written as we speak. Who is writing it, I'm unsure of for it truly can't

be the man behind it all: German Foreign Minister Arthur

Zimmermann. He must have someone else doing it. But this is,

249

however his office, and I believe he is here. I also believe that this will be, unlike the _Lusitania_ mission, a cakewalk. I plan to persuade

him to not go through with it. I'm sorry that you all will not encounter

me following out this mission, but I will do it to the best of my

abilities." O'Malley whispered all of this with sincerity, making sure

none of the telegraphers around heard him.

"Do you think someone will interfere with your conversation

with him? Is that why we're here? To stand guard for you so the

persuasion is dealt with without any interference?" Evan asked

questioningly. O'Malley didn't reply to this but only stared off into the

distance. He contemplated his reply before finally saying:

"If we have another one, like the Madame." O'Malley looked

towards Marcus upon saying this; "Then yes. Yes, I will need each

of your help. This could turn out unfulfilling and fall apart right before

our eyes. The Zimmermann Telegram could have been Morse

coded to Mexico by now, and we might, already, be too late. But

that is pessimism, and I, personally, don't believe that to be true for

if we were sent to this exact time at this exact point in history. But if

it is finished, however—we might have more trouble than we asked

for." And on that note O'Malley knocked at the door and walked

inside without hearing a response, closing the door behind him.

Speaking in German:

" _Did I tell you to come in!? I thought it was your lunch_

_break?"_ Zimmermann looked up to see an older fellow wearing an

ivy cap nestled atop his head with a brownish green, worn-out

jacket. His pants were far too short for him for his socks could be

seen all the way up to where they stopped at the bottom of each of

his thighs.

"My name is O'Malley. It is quite a pleasure to meet you. I'm

sorry if I might be intruding, but I am here on important business that

must be over and done with, taken care of and out of the way!"

Zimmermann looked at O'Malley curiously. He was astonished to

have such an old man barge in on him the way he did, but his mind

felt stressed enough with the matters on his plate that he couldn't

pass up the chance to be possibly amused with the character

presented before him.

"You speak English. You sound Irish. How could a man from

the Emerald Isle ponder into my office when a man as busy as me

couldn't have expected you so unexpectedly? Are you here to sell

me something? Talk business of Ireland's stance with Germany? Kill

250

me?" And O'Malley smiled at the last words that slipped through the crevice of his mouth for once this was said, O'Malley began to

laugh. But not just laugh, he cried as well. Tears were shed and

laughter of madness could be heard from outside the walls of the

office where Evan, Gus, and Marcus stood. Nor did they perchance

open the door that separated their curiosity for they stayed put and

let it burn them alive. For what was going on inside was unknown to

them.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is that _O'Malley_ laughing?" Marcus asked curiously to Gus.

Evan stepped in on the conversation saying:

"Don't question what he is doing in there for we only need to

trust the decisions that are made by our leader. For he is our leader

and his decisions will always be the best decisions." So Marcus shut

his mouth and kept to his listening to the ever-so confusing laughter.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You _are_ a funny man, my dear friend!" Zimmermann looked

upon O'Malley scared out of his wits. His laughter and his remark

weren't making sense. He left an air of mystery within the room that

couldn't even be sliced with a knife. He walked up to Zimmermann's

desk and placed a cheek of his butt upon the desk. Leaning in

towards him, he took in one long, drawn-out sniff.

_"What—what do you want from me?"_ Zimmermann said, fear

pouring out of his eyes. He was in the presence of a maddened man

that had problems he could never understand. Why he was in his

office, he had no idea, but the moment he was in it wasn't the

possibly best-suited time either.

"I'm here." O'Malley remarked, picking up one of the writing

utensils on his desk; "To help you make the right decision."

" _Right decision!?"_ Zimmermann blurted out; " _What in_

_heavens are you talking about!?"_ O'Malley smiled at this.

"Oh—you know. I only want the best for you Mr.

Zimmermann!" Zimmermann looked at him stunned.

" _Ha—how do you know my name!?"_ O'Malley picked up the

nameplate and showed it to Zimmermann. It read Arthur

Zimmermann. But, instead of looking at it, Zimmermann kept his

glare fixed upon O'Malley. O'Malley did the same. Not once while he

picked up the nameplate did he look at it and even while he set it

down his eyes stayed locked onto Zimmermann's.

251

"Let me tell you a story Zimmermann; once there was a

country that owned quite a bit of land. They had so much they didn't

know what to do with it all! But one day! One day another country

comes along and says 'Hey! Look at all of this wonderful land! This

should be mine! So do you know what the country does?! Do you

know Zimmermann!?" Zimmermann's eyes raged with hate. But

O'Malley didn't seem to notice and kept on with the story; "That

country _took it!_ But _hey!_ That was the other country's land! So you know what they did!? They started a big, nasty war. And it didn't end

so well for the country that got some of the land taken away. For at

the end of it, they lost a good bit of it! Now; telling this country to join

something they shouldn't be a part of just so they can get some of

that land back—do you really think that would work!? Or would that

end badly? I think it would end..." but O'Malley didn't have time to

finish. For what came next was an unbelievably unrealistic scene,

nothing could seem real after that moment. For storming in through

the door she came. Her hair was the same autumn tint that gleamed

in the sun like the morning came with it. Her eyes sparkled a hazel

green that could only be found in the jungles of the Amazon. Her

lips glistened with a red lipstick that would make the most alert of

men faint from sudden fatigue. She was everything she was before

and everything she now seems all the more.

" _Darcy?"_ O'Malley muttered in complete and utter shock.

He began to tremble in the mouth to try and find more words.

"Why am I being called that!? Zimmermann what is going

on?! Who is this man sitting on your desk? Why are there three men

outside that had to carry one of them away when I confronted them?

And he called me Darcy too! Darcy? Do I look like a Darcy?"

"No of course not, _sweetgums_! You are my _Mina,_ and you

always will be!" Zimmermann got up from his chair and headed over

to Mina, giving her two pecks on each cheek and then giving a nasty

glare back towards O'Malley:

"What are _you_ still doing here!? Get out! Get out of my office

so I can make sweet _love_ to this woman!" O'Malley looked from

Mina to Zimmermann and then Zimmermann to Mina not

understanding the occurrence that has taken place in the very room

they stood.

"So do you not have a twin _sister_ named Darcy?" But

O'Malley stopped himself before the words came tumbling out. For

he knew she didn't. Mina wasn't Darcy's sister and even if they

252

could be they would have been separated at a young age. But he

would have remembered them talking about her. Remember the

conversations they would have during their evening and morning

horse-rides about what Mina might possibly be doing and is she still

in Germany you think? Where do you think she could possibly be?

But no... none of those conversations ever occurred. They spoke of

no recollection of a second daughter being out there living off from

their quaint, little town of Kinsale. And she acted like she had never

heard of the name Darcy before. They had to have been separated

at birth—the more O'Malley thought about it the more it didn't add

up. Who was she and how was it that she looked identical to the

woman living with a child now in Kinsale? Completely and nowhere

near to be explained how _she looked exactly_ like Darcy. No facial

differences, no body attributes could be deciphered from the two of

them—nothing. It was as if Darcy stood right before his very eyes

and was cheating on Jack with another man. But she _wasn't!_

She was at home nursing her child.

"Are you from Ireland, Mina?" Mina broke her connection

with her lover and looked over at O'Malley confused.

"I am not. I was born here in Berlin and raised up by my

father. My mother passed away when I was two. I know what you're

thinking; the red hair, yes, comes from my mother who was, in fact,

an Irish lady that met my father in a small coffee shop outside of

Paris. It was love at first sight."

"Just like it was love at first sight for us, _sweetgums_." Mina

smiled at Zimmermann and gave him a peck on the lips; "Whoever

said you can't be in love with your secretary, they're wrong. We are

engaged and are ready to start our lives together!" Mina held up her

left hand showing O'Malley the diamond-encrusted wedding ring

placed upon her fourth finger. After showing it off to O'Malley she

then turned her hand back around and began to examine it herself

with a gleeful pleasure.

"Well, that's very beautiful! You've got a lucky catch there,

Zimmermann!" Zimmermann's smile turned into a frown once

O'Malley said those last words. Whispering into Mina's ear, she

went out of the office-door, shutting it behind her, still blushing from

the ecstasy of love she had towards her engagement ring.

Zimmermann turned away from the door shutting and looked upon

O'Malley with a glare that would have made a harmless puppy

whimper.

253

" _What do you want from me? And I know what you spoke of._

_The Mexican-American War was not a just war..."_ Zimmermann

turned away from O'Malley and glared at the ground; " _America_

_shouldn't have taken all of Mexico's land like they did. It wasn't_

_there's to be taking."_ O'Malley shrugged his shoulders at this.

"Maybe you're right—but maybe you're wrong. When is it

ever just to take land from another country's? But it happens all the

time, and you know it."

" _Well we need Mexico so I don't know who you are! Where_

_you came from! Or what your idea is—how could you have found_

_out about the ideas we have set in motion? Did someone send you?_

_What do you want from me?"_ O'Malley didn't answer him but only

looked down at his desk and smiled at it. Getting up off of it, he

walked around to where his chair was scooted out. O'Malley sat

down in it and scooted it back in. Once he was comfortably seated

he looked back up at Zimmermann and answered him simply with

three words.

"Mexico says no."

254

Chapter 39

Mexico says No

" _Darcy! Darcy! That was Darcy!"_ Marcus tried to break free

from Evan and Gus's hands wrapped around each arm as they

dragged him away from the office door. He finally gave up and let

his feet get dragged across the carpet as both men held him up.

Evan let go of him and opened up a closet door, Gus throwing him

into it. They both quickly stepped inside, shutting the door after

them.

" _Get ahold of yourself!"_ Gus snapped. He went in to smack

Marcus across the face, but Evan rapidly grabbed his wrist stopping

him.

"I—I don't understand. Why is she here?! And I understand

why she doesn't recognize me but..." Evan stopped him short.

"Yes, Marcus, we know. You met her while you were in

Ireland, and you fell in love with her. O'Malley told us. But that can't

be her! Why would she be _here? On our second mission?"_

"I don't _know_ why she's here! But she's here! That's her!

That was her that came up to us!"

"Well she went into Zimmermann's office so _something's_

going on."

"But what!? Why is she here!?"

"Do you think she's looking for me?" Marcus cut into their

conversation between themselves. But Evan and Gus ignored him

and kept their eyes fixed on each other.

"She could be searching for Marcus."

"But she doesn't remember Marcus. Only O'Malley and

Marcus remember what happened in Ireland."

"Do you think she had a feeling of coming to find him? Like—

she felt his presence even though she still doesn't remember him or

something—inside her somewhere she still beats for Mark!" Gus

shook his head at Evan.

"It's too good to be true. They never met. It never

happened."

"See, I'm not so sure. Marcus _still_ met Darcy. It's just Darcy

who never met Marcus. But Darcy—somehow—Darcy might have a

faint gleam of love keeping her after this unknown

255

mystery of who her lover is or where he might..." but Marcus

stopped him there.

"No. No, she doesn't love me. That can't be it. She loves

Jack." Evan and Gus looked down at him curiously while he still sat

next to the broom in the corner of the cramped closet.

"Well, don't give up hope, Marcus! Jack can't have the same

feelings that you keep yearning for. You want her more!" Marcus

shook his head at Evan and looked at the dirty closet ground.

"Well, who even _is_ this Jack that thinks can hold a flame next

to your roaring fire!?" How Marcus _did_ think Gus had a point, Jack

was Darcy's life now.

"She's her husband. And—the father of her child." The tiny

closet stayed silent upon these words being spoken. Marcus knew

why—he began to feel the anger come from Evan and Gus. Their

eyes turned from ones of sympathy to a stern glare that could slice

the air with a knife.

"I'm sorry to say this but—I've misjudged you, Marcus

Reynolds. How could you be attracted to a married woman that

already has a lover? And how is it that somehow she has traveled

many miles to see you when she doesn't even know you existed!?"

" _BUT—_ if she has traveled many miles to see _me—_ then—

why did she look at me like she has never seen me before!? Her

eyes—her eyes weren't the eyes Darcy had that were softly nestled

into her face—the very face that _I_ had fallen in love with! That

woman is _not_ Darcy! Darcy is taking care of her child back in

Ireland. I _must_ know who this—this— _imposter_ is!" Marcus was

standing up now, and his face was red. He didn't look well. He

looked like he was about to faint. And he did.

——————————————————————————————

" _What do you mean Mexico says no!? Who are you!? Who_

_are YOU to say who joins Germany's war to fight for the greater_

_good!? It's absurd! It's preposterous! It's uncanny to think you, MY_

_GOOD FRIEND, are in your RIGHT MIND!"_ O'Malley _shoved_ the

chair back from under him letting it _slam_ against the wall from

behind. Now standing with both of his palms spread, he brought

his whole upper-body down onto the table in front of him with his

hands hitting it with a _bam!_

_"I AM HERE, good sir, to let you know that Mexico isn't_

_joining your war. They have much better things to spend their time_

_with then running around with GERMANS LIKE YOU!"_

256

_"It still astounds me that you know about our advances in_

_Mexico. How? How is it possible? I have yet to send out the_

_telegram. I am, only but seconds before doing it, but here you are._

_Here to stop me. Sitting in my chair. Telling me all of this. It—it just_

_doesn't seem right. This—all of this. This has been under wraps,_

_about our plans, but, still, here you are! And to think—I don't even_

_know your name!"_

"No. No, you don't. But the thing is—is my name is not the

issue at the moment. Only yours does, Arthur Zimmermann! Arthur

Zimmermann. Arthur Zimmermann, Arthur Zimmermann, Arthur

Zimmermann. You can go ahead. Send your silly telegram if you

would like. Send it and see how much good it would do! I just want

to let you know that it would be a _waste_ of your precious time to go

through with it and that is why I am here today—to formally tell you

that your time is being wasted. So waste that precious time of yours

and send that silly note about how you can't win a war by yourself.

How you need a country that has enough problems at the moment

as it is to come in and swoop in and save the day for you. So waste

it. Waste it! I don't care! Does it look like I care!? Waste it already!"

" _My precious time? Waste my precious time!?_ My precious

time _is_ to send this telegram you annoying, self-loathing, _old man!_ I have been given the authorization to do this and if I so happen to

even think that I might not— I will, with no doubt be fired! You say

that Mexico won't help us. Well that's where you're wrong! Mexico

wants that land back that the United States took from them, and

they'll get it back. And we'll help them! With all of our power, _we'll_

_help them!"_

_"_ Oh please! Mexico wouldn't dare to even think of believing

that! _Your country is too naive to think that Mexico would believe_

_any propositions made their way!_ This telegram—I suggest isn't

possibly the smartest way to win the war. I say _no_ to this. No to all of this. Every dot and line that is Morris Coded to Mexico will be

inclined to be shut down. The Mexican President, Venustiano

Carranza, has already done a military commission of feasibility with

the propositions. The United States is far stronger militarily. This is

true because of Mexico's Revolution that only just recently occurred.

But say—Mexico does have the better stance over the United

States, which they don't of course, they believe that it would be too

difficult in the accommodations of dealing with the large English-

speaking territories to a point where it would be too much to deal

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with and would be more of an inconvenience than anything. Another main reason why Mexico says they won't put up arms with the

United States is the Niagara Falls Peace Conference they signed

together. This is because of the conflict they had together over the

United States occupation over Veracruz. They won't go to war

together, and I'm sorry but Germany can't make them. I'm sorry to

have dragged this out for so long, but this telegram won't be the

_smartest_ choice to go through with for the Central Powers. Arthur

Zimmermann, thank you for your time, and I wish you the best of

luck in this war." O'Malley walked out from behind Zimmermann's

desk and came up to him face to face. Zimmermann stood there

frozen in disbelief. O'Malley's final conclusion of words left him

stupefied and awestruck. O'Malley knew so much and foretold him

everything that he never expected he would actually hear from this

man.

" _Are—are—are you my guardian angel?"_ O'Malley smiled at

this and slowly shook his head.

"I'm only the _One Who Helps_." O'Malley walked out.

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Part IV:

_The Sussex_

259

Chapter 40

The One Who Helps

"I don't know what your problem is Ronald, but you need to

liven up!" Mr. Lampson looked at Ron with stern eyes.

"I just don't like how Freddie isn't here with us. He would

_love_ to be perched atop Big Ben right now!"

" _STOP TALKING ABOUT FREDDIE!"_ Mrs. Lampson

shrieked. "That stupid bird of yours takes up your whole life when it

is only a _falcon."_

_"But it's a cool falcon!"_ Ron muttered under his breath.

"I don't care if Freddie is a cool falcon, smart falcon, pretty

falcon, or dumb falcon! He's not your life Ron, and you need to stop

making him your life!"

"Honey—honey! Where's Sherry!?" Mr. Lampson remarked,

looking about frantically.

" _SHERRY! SHERR—Y!"_ Mrs. Lampson started to breathe

heavily with fear pouring from her eyes. " _We're in my favorite city,_

_and my baby daughter is lost in it!"_

_"_ It's going to be alright, honey! Everything is going to be

alright! Please stay calm; we'll find her!" Mr. Lampson turned to

Ronald with rage; " _LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! ARE YOU_

_HAPPY!? ARE YOU HAPPY YOU'RE SISTER IS LOST!?"_

_"Frank! Don't yell at him! It's not his fault!"_ Frank nodded and

looked down at the ground in remorse.

"I'm sorry, Ronald. I just want your sister back. _Your sister_

_back. Your—sister—back..."_

His voice echoed away, and Marcus woke up in a cold

sweat. Looking around him he was in a dark room lying in a bed.

Expecting to see a nurse when he looked to the left of him, instead

he saw no one. It was strange however, for there he was again—on

another ship. But it wasn't the _Lusitania_ this time. The room he was

in seemed smaller than before and less roomy. It was cramped like

the closet he was—the closet—he was in a closet! But what

happened to the closet he was in? What happened to Evan and

Gus who were in it with him? What happened to O'Malley? To—

Darcy. But then he thought back to the woman he saw go into

Zimmermann's office. That wasn't Darcy. But—if it wasn't Darcy

how could she have looked identical to her. Sounded

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exactly like her? Walked the way she walked, made the same face with her nose when she was annoyed with something like how she

was annoyed to hear him call her Darcy. But the real Darcy wouldn't

have cringed at the sound of her name. The real Darcy would have

answered to her name and would have remarked: 'Hey! That's my

name! You know it!' so it wasn't Darcy. It couldn't be. It was—just a

clone of her? Her twin sister? Her doppelgänger? None of this

seemed to add up and, somehow, none of this seemed to be the

right answer.

Getting up, Marcus looked out the circular window that,

instead of being to the right of him like it was on the _Lusitania_ , was

now to the left of him. The water seemed to have a hint of a muggy

essence to it unlike before when looking out at the _Lusitania_ waters.

They were blue like the ocean's floor was covered in blueberries.

Now it seemed that the floor was covered in kiwis and avocados.

Looking back into the room, there weren't any paintings up like

before. No _Picasso_ , no _Van Gogh_ , nothing to have his weary eyes ponder upon and examine the texture and the artistry of every wave

or line that's drawn so simplistically. Looking down at himself, his

suit from before was gone, and like before on the _Lusitania_ , he wore

nothing but his trousers. The name tags were back around his neck

and there was his name: Marcus Reynolds. He was still Marcus

Reynolds, and it was still like Ronald Lampson no longer existed.

He was still a completely different person of which he had no

idea his history. Who were Marcus Reynolds' parents? Did Marcus

have any siblings? What was Marcus' romance history? Did he

have a girl back home that he was supposed to have been sending

letters to, telling her he was doing well and that he loved her?

Telling her that he cared for her and couldn't wait to see again

soon? Or did Marcus Reynolds not exist until Ronald Lampson

became him?

Marcus looked around at the desolate space of a room and

felt the need to escape its four-wall clutches.

Suddenly, in through the door came a heavy-built man with a

rough, brownish black beard. His eyes were as blue as the sea they

were sailing on. His stature was stout, and his frame was hardened.

The man had on trousers soaked with a deepened mud only found

in the bottom depths of the ocean, and his shirt had stains of oil and

grease from top to bottom. He looked at Marcus coldly, but then his

face changed quickly with a perk of his lips forming into a smile.

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He took off his navy blue sailor's hat showing his matted down bald spot. He scratched at it remarking:

"I have clothes in this closet here if you want _somethin' ta_

wear; let me tell you though that you won't be _skippin'_ and _ninny-_

_trollin'_ all over my ship _lookin' like that ya hear!"_ The sailor gave out a hoarse throttle of a chuckle coming from the back of his throat and

then went over to the closet pulling out a clean pair of trousers along

with a slightly dirty shirt; "Get some grub when _ye_ be decent, and

then I'd like to have a word from _ya 'bout_ where you be _comin'_

from!" He left out the door while Marcus stared down at the clothes

laid out in front of him. He slipped it all on and ran after the scruffy

sailor hoping to catch up.

Once he left the room, the hallway he entered was a bit

more dimly lit. The walls that spread all the way down the corridor

were painted white with two light-blue streaks running across on

each side. Marcus felt lost. This was not like the _Lusitania_ at all. It felt more isolated and dreary. He just wanted to get off this ship and

back to Berlin. That's where he was supposed to be—Berlin;

stopping the Zimmermann Telegram. Or has it been already

stopped? It couldn't have been finished.

——————————————————————————————

" _What just happened!?"_ O'Malley blurted out as he found

Evan and Gus in the cramped closet with looks of horror spread

across each of their faces.

" _Marcus is gone,"_ Evan muttered.

" _What!? What do you mean Marcus is gone!?"_ Evan said it

again but in a lower tone:

" _Marcus is gone. He started screaming— screaming a girl's_

_name..."_

_"WHAT GIRL'S NAME!? DARCY'S!?"_ O'Malley yelled,

interrupting Evan. But Gus went ahead and shook his head for

Evan, and then he muttered the name:

"Sherry. He was screaming Sherry's name. He said he had

to find her. He said—he said she was lost, and he had to go find

her..." O'Malley looked at them both in anger and let a deep

moment of silence take ahold of the situation. Then he ended it with

a deep sigh.

"Why didn't you two stop him? You obviously saw him take it

out of his pocket." Neither of them answered. Then, Evan blurted

out:

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"We didn't know he would think that leaving without us would

be his plan. Why would he think he would find _Shelly_ if he took his

_xikonian_ out?"

"Sherry. His sister's name is Sherry— _well it happened. He_

_went after his sister, Sheryl, and now he's gone."_ O'Malley snapped

back. Evan and Gus tensed up from shock at O'Malley's tone.

"Alright well, we'll just take our _xikonians_ out and go after

him. We will—we will just try to go after him and everything will work

out alright!"

"No, Gus. It doesn't work like that. He has the next mission

on his own. It _may_ work when you all came from different time

periods using the _tempus capsa_ I gave you all to use, but it won't

work now. _Xikonians_ work differently. We either use them all at the

same time or then none of us go together." Silence followed yet

again.

"Well—now what?" Gus finally remarked, the intensity of the

situation beginning to grip him down tightly to a point where he

didn't think he could breathe. O'Malley looked away and, with

frustration, choked out:

"We're stuck here."

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Chapter 41

Welcome to my Ship

"Come take a seat! Come take a seat!" The man with the

sailor's hat remarked as he got up from his seat in the room. Marcus

now stood. The room was full of long, rectangular tables where

people were spread out all around eating what seemed to be lunch.

Or breakfast—either or the sun was still out. Marcus walked passed

a few of the people eating biscuits covered in gravy. The more

plates he saw in front of the men and women throughout the hall the

more he saw the same dish that brought his mouth to an

uncontrollable watering. Marcus looked around to see where he

could get a meal of his own until his eyes landed on a shorter table

than the rest sitting in the front of the room that had baskets inlaid

with white cloths and biscuits by the abundance. Following the

baskets were pots of gravy that steamed forth an aura of

excellence. The man with the sailor hat saw Marcus' eyes lingering

upon the buffet of morning delectables and motioned with his hand

to go and have a hand at what his taste buds couldn't resist.

Marcus went over and covered his plate with warm, savory biscuits

and used a ladle to stir the white, creamy gravy with chunks of

ground meat stuck in between the thickness of the heavy liquid.

Pouring it on top of the fluffy baked dough, Marcus felt the heat of

the steam come to his nose and surround each nostril with a sweet

scent of savor that penetrated deep down into his soul where Ron

still lay ready to be awakened once again.

"Good food, yes?" Marcus noticed the heavy French accent

come out of the man standing behind him. He had a plate as well

that had already been eaten on by the signs of gravy remains and

biscuit crumbs. Marcus turned around to face the man in the sailor

hat and holding out his free hand:

"My name is Marcus; Marcus Reynolds." With the sailor's

free hand, he shook his and smiled down at him. He was much

taller than Marcus and his shoulders stuck out far beyond his own.

"I'm the captain of this passenger steamer. My name is

Reynaud. I can already see we have some similarities, my American

friend, for my name is the French form of Reynold. Just like your last

name but with an _'s,' me_ dear friend!" Marcus nodded smiling back at

this coincidence Reynaud noticed; "So where do ye call home, me

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dear friend!?" Marcus wanted to say Dunedin, Florida, but he knew it wasn't where _Marcus_ was most likely from. So instead he just

replied with:

"America. I'm from America. And I'm guessing you're from..."

"France, yes, but I mean what state do you reside in? I'm

asking because I can actually name off all 48 of your states! See I'm

very interested in the American culture and the whole country as a

general. I think I can sound like I'm an American if I put my mind to it

too, yes?" Marcus could hear him trying to impersonate an

American accent, but the French accent still largely controlled his

English speaking.

"Yes, you do." Marcus said smiling; "You'd fit right into place

in America." He thought about what state Marcus would be from,

and it came to mind how it certainly wouldn't be from Florida like

Ron was from. As long as he didn't say Alaska or Hawaii he knew

he'd be fine. Then it came out like he was meant to have once lived

there: "I'm from Nebraska. Have you heard of it?" By the look on

Reynaud's face, he could tell that he had not. He wasn't surprised

either. Whenever he told Jack that he'd be leaving Dunedin to go

visit his uncle and two cousins in Nebraska he'd always look at him

strange replying:

" _Really!? Nebraska!?"_ But to be honest Ron loved Nebraska.

And now so did Marcus for it was his new home; or his old home for

that matter. For whenever Ron went to visit his family, he always

felt like a _corn husker_ at heart. The endless plains of farms going on and on forever always put a simplistic smile across his face and

made him feel like his dreams could go on and on forever as well.

"I've never heard of that one. But—that can't be—I know

them all..." Marcus saw the frustration seep all around Reynaud's

stern eyes, and the contemplation of the remembrance of the state

of Nebraska driving him mad. "Where do I find this state you a call—

_Nebraska?"_

_"_ It's right above Kansas." Hearing the word _Kansas_ disturbed 
Reynaud as well.

"What are these states you speak of? These are not

California! New of York! _O-hey-yo!"_ Marcus laughed at this and

shrugged his shoulders.

"There's so many of them I understand how hard it is to keep

track of them all."

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"Well you will have to help me out, young Marcus, in

teaching me all of them and which ones you think are your favorite."

Marcus already knew the answer to this one. His favorite was

Florida and there was no doubt in his mind about that. "So why is it I

found you like I found you?" They were sitting at a table now across

from each other and Reynaud leaned in closer once he brought this

up. "You were in a military uniform passed out in the sea on a

discarded plank of wood. I thought you were dead until we brought

you on the ship." Marcus froze up upon hearing this. Why was he in

the ocean? Were O'Malley, Gus, and Evan still out there as well?

Did they drown and only he survived?

"Were there any others out there beside me?" Reynaud

shook his head at this.

"What happened? Were you in a submarine and something

happened? I don't understand how you are still alive, my friend!"

Reynaud looked at Marcus with a stern expression seeped deep

into his eyes. Then his face changed to one of astonishment mixed

with happiness; "But you are _alive,_ my friend, and that is what

matters!" He got up upon saying this, his plate cleaned from only a

bite left of his last biscuit that had a dab of gravy drizzled on top.

Marcus still had a full biscuit left feeling stuffed from the three he

quickly scarfed down. Before Reynaud could give Marcus the

chance to eat anymore off his plate, he picked it up and brought it to

an opening in the back wall where empty plates were cluttered all

around the surface. A man on the other side of the opening was

doing his best to grab plates and rinse them off, but he had too

many that he couldn't handle it all, and he really could have used

the help. Marcus got up upon seeing this scene of helplessness and

wanted to go and offer a hand, but Reynaud was already back at

the table and motioned with his hand to follow him. And they were

off.

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Chapter 42

An Idea

Reynaud led Marcus out of the mess hall, and they headed

out to the top deck which Marcus was immediately met with a gush

of windblown against his face. Smelling in the sea-breeze as it filled

his nostrils with a sweet sting, Marcus followed Reynaud over to the

edge of the ship where they looked out beyond the railing that

separated the two of them from falling.

"There in the distance is my home country. France has been

my love ever since I was born, and it has always been held dear to

this heart of mine." Reynaud put his hand against his chest as he

looked out into the distance as the land was shown so clearly to

them. Marcus couldn't help but think of what a beautiful sight he was

seeing. France stood out to him with an impeccably brilliant view.

The sand from the coast spread out all along his view of eyesight

bringing him back to all of the wonderful times he went to the beach

with his family and friends. The bonfires they would share during the

late nights of weekends when everyone couldn't help but getting

loose and being set free from all responsibilities and stress that

school brought with it. Back home he was only a rising senior but as

Marcus, he felt like a grown man. A man that had been to Hell and

back. A man that had come close to many near-death experiences.

A man that had killed but had his deaths reborn like it never

happened. A man that had fallen in love and had it slip right

between his fingers. He was a man. He always wanted to be a man.

He always wanted to feel the responsibilities of feeling grown. He

always had the urge to prove to himself that he was older than he

really was. And now—now that he _was_ older all he could think about

was going back to being a boy again. A boy whose only

responsibilities were remembering to take care of Freddie.

Remembering to make sure he is loved and being cared for. And

that was all Ronald really wanted was to care for his falcon. But

now that his falcon has been caring for him—he didn't understand

anymore.

Didn't understand that all this time—all this time that it was really

_Freddie_ that had been caring for him all along. Always making sure

not to get him into actual trouble. Always making sure that he

always had a friend even when he didn't, even when Jack acted

differently, and he needed someone to look to. And it was Freddie.

It

267

was Freddie every second of every day of all of his life ever since he found him as a baby.

"Have you ever visited France, Marcus?" Marcus shook his

head. Not yet at least. It was on the list of countries to visit for his

family European adventure; "Yes, France is nice and yes France

has everything I could have ever asked for—but—I think I'm ready.

Ready to move on from my home-country that has brought so much

happiness while at the same time so much misery. It is time."

Marcus didn't understand what he was asking. What was Reynaud

pulling at?

"Do you—want to move to—America?" Marcus asked as he

stared out at France in the distance. After some silence Reynaud

finally spoke up:

"No. I can't do that. My wife is in France so France is where

my heart belongs. But..." And Reynaud paused upon saying this for

he had to think before finally saying:

"I want you to think about bringing my love if you ever plan

on going back to America."

"Your love?" Marcus felt confused about why he would want

this. "No. Not my wife. Someone who I would very much like

you

to meet. She is dear to me, and an American such as yourself

deserves to meet a girl like this one." Reynaud motioned with his

hand while he led the way off of the open deck and down a flight of

steps. Heading into a new hallway that was more brightly lit than the

one he was in before, Marcus noticed the smell of this one has a

hint of lavender floating around within the air. Finally stopping at a

door made of a fine darkened wood, Reynaud knocked on it saying:

"Honey-pie it's me, your father. I brought someone!" Marcus

heard a rustle of papers come from inside the door with a stir of

movement. After a long pause a voice yelled back out:

" _FATHER, GO AWAY!"_ Marcus looked at Reynaud

confused.

" _Why have you brought me here to your daughter's room?"_

Marcus whispered to him. But—instead of answering, Reynaud

banged on the door with full force.

" _IS HE IN THERE!? I TOLD YOU! GOD DAMNIT I TOLD_

_YOU, MERCEDES!"_ The door was swung open wide with anger

brought from the other side. And there she was. Standing with a

distraught face of an attitude Marcus never thought he would see

again was his love—his reason for living. His dream within a dream

268

that perplexed him out of his very wits was the woman that wouldn't stop showing up in his life. There was Darcy. But—Marcus didn't

understand. How could it possibly be Darcy once again? How could

she be standing before him for a second time when somehow it

wasn't her? It wasn't the Darcy that he met in Ireland and fell so

deeply in love with. The Darcy that stole his heart in the most

inconvenient of circumstances. But there she was. And she looked

like she hadn't changed the least of the bit.

" _Darcy?"_ Marcus muttered under his breath. She looked at

him like he came out of the gorilla exhibit in the zoo. Her eyes

fluttered from the word that poured out of Marcus' mouth like

somehow he was crazy to call her such a name.

" _Darcy?"_ She replied back; "Father, what is this!? Who is

this man and why is he wearing your clothes?" Reynaud was now

looking at Marcus with a strange expression of bewilderment upon

what Marcus just called his daughter.

"No—no this is Mercedes, Marcus. Her name starts with an

'M'! Just like your name! Just like my name is Reynaud which is also

Reynold! Just like your last name!" Mercedes shook her head at her

father and then looked back at Marcus.

"My father likes coincidences. If you couldn't tell. It's nice to

meet you, Marcus; I don't know why you would call me Darcy. I

guess I might look like a Darcy but that's not my name. I'm

Mercedes. It's nice to meet you."

"You already said that honey." Mercedes looked back at her

father.

"Well, I guess I did. Father, what is it you want? Why did you

bring Marcus to see me?"

"He's from America! _An American, Mercedes! An_

_AMERICAN!"_ Mercedes shook her head at her father in frustration.

"No! _NO STOP THIS! I LOVE FRÉDÉRIC! FRÉDÉRIC,_

_FATHER, FRÉDÉRIC!"_ Mercedes slammed the door on them.

Marcus heard her stomping away with anger and jump onto the bed

in her room.

"Reynaud, why did you bring me here? Why did you bring

me to see your daughter?" Reynaud shook his head at Marcus

while he looked away from him. His face showed how perplexed he

was from the situation at hand.

"I only want the best for my daughter. I only want her to be

happy." Reynaud began to sniffle as he put his palms spread out

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upon his daughter's door. As much as Marcus loved Darcy,

somehow, he couldn't believe the situation that unfolded before his

eyes. Not only did she appear before him in Zimmerman's office

but—now—now she was here _again,_ and he didn't know where

Evan, Gus, and O'Malley were. They were always with him when he

turned up in a new place. Now that they weren't here he had no

idea where they were or what ship they were on.

"Reynaud—you said you were the captain of this ship—well,

what ship are we _on?!"_ Reynaud got ahold of him and took his hands

off his daughter's door. Looking towards Marcus he replied:

"Like I said, this is a cross-English Channel passenger ferry.

We just left Folkestone and are headed to my hometown of Dieppe."

Marcus thought about this and how it could be important. Why

would he have somehow ended up on this random ferry—that had

no possible impact on him to have him remember why it was of

significance.

"What is your ship called, Reynaud?" Reynaud looked at him

strangely as if why would the name of his ship matter to him.

"Well, we are on the _SS Sussex_. Why do you ask, my dear

friend?" Marcus froze upon hearing the name spew forth from his

mouth. The name _Sussex_ rang through his ears and echoed all

around his head over and over again. _This_ was the _Sussex_. This was an important event that changed World War I. It was just like

the _Lusitania_ but on a smaller scale of lives lost. But still—there was no _Lusitania Pledge_ like there was a _Sussex Pledge_. This changed the war more greatly than any of his fellow students back home

could have ever known for such a ship being so powerful yet, still,

so small. This _was_ a game-changer. Marcus thought back on how

his history teacher, Mrs. Crowl, brought up how _this—this—_ this

small little ferry was what boiled the kettle over the top. This

_incident—_ this incident was what made the _Sussex Pledge_ between America and Germany where Germany promised that they would

change their naval warfare policy. They promised they wouldn't

target passenger ships anymore, merchant ships would not be

sunken unless they were assured of the presence of weapons on

the ship, and they promised they would not sink the ships without

providing safety for the passengers and crew. But the more Marcus

recalled the history lesson he had when he was Ron, the more he

realized. The more he realized how he was standing in a

monumental event that was about to come forth and boil over. How

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the _Sussex_ being torpedoed was what made the _Sussex Pledge,_ and Germany breaking it was why the United States joined the war.

It gave the _Allied Forces_ the advantage. The advantage that would

help them when this significant war taking place right before his very

eyes.

"Reynaud—thank you for saving me—but I need to know if

my friends are alright." Reynaud shook his head at this. "I don't know

where they could be, I'm sorry. I only saw _you_ out there, Marcus.

_You_ were the only one I saved." Marcus showed the frustration on

his face which Reynaud didn't know what to do about; "Look my

friend; I'll be on the lookout for any more survivors of what might've

happened to you and your friends but finding you out there was

strange. There was no wreck, no bodies floating around, only you.

You and the plank of wood that kept you afloat. What exactly

happened? Where were you before you were brought onto this

ship?" Marcus didn't know how to answer this. He couldn't say he

was in another event in World War I. Another event that wasn't

anywhere close to where they were now. So he kept silent and

looked away feeling the pressure Reynaud was putting on him. But

Reynaud understood the silence and put his hand on Marcus'

shoulder.

"I'll leave you be. Look, I have to go check on a few things

but whenever you are ready to talk about it just let me know. And I

promise I will be on the lookout for your friends. I'm sure they are

alright wherever they are." At this Reynaud walked away from him

down the hallway and up a flight of stairs leaving Marcus standing

awkwardly there in front of Mercedes' door. Marcus didn't know

where to look for them. Were they even on this ship? Were they

passed out on a plank of wood like how he was using it to only

barely stay afloat? Or—Marcus didn't want to even think about them

being dead or—were they—were they still in Berlin where he last

was? Was the Zimmerman Telegram still being stopped from

happening? Marcus felt lost. Lost in thought about what was

happening. Who was this woman that looked like Darcy and how

has she shown up twice already? Where were Gus, Evan, and

O'Malley? Was he on his own? The thought disturbed him.

But through the disturbed thought-process of his indecisive

contemplation, the door to Mercedes' room opened back up. But

this time, instead of flinging it open, she took her time to peer

through it before finally fully opening it.

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"Where do you think your friends are?" She muttered,

looking at him with a pair of heartfelt eyes Marcus couldn't help but

cling his to.

"I don't know." He choked out feeling the pressure come

back on him. Suddenly, she flung her arms around him, embracing

him with a grasp of sympathy, her little hands squeezing down deep

into the grooves of his back.

_"I'm sorry."_ She whispered as she held him tightly; "Your

friends are out there somewhere. And you know what?" She asked

as she ended their hug and kept her hands on his arms. She looked

into his eyes with sincerity waiting for a reply. Finally, after a few

seconds of looking back at her, he whispered:

" _What?"_

"They are _out there,_ and they are _alright!_ Now come with me

Marcus Reynolds, and let us get out of this hallway."

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Chapter 43

Out of the Hallway

Once Marcus entered the room he was immediately hit with

mixtures of the sweetest smells that he would never have thought to

befall on him. Lilac scented the air from her perfume while an oil

lantern burned letting off a fresh smoky breeze of a winter's night

snow. On the desk, along with the oil lantern was a handful of

written letters crumbled up or not even on. Some of the papers were

even barely hanging off the table and if, even by the slightest hint of

a gush of air passed by, over three of the sheets would fall off.

Marcus looked over to Mercedes who was now sitting on her

bed which was centered in the middle of the room. She patted the

cushion motioning to Marcus that he should take a seat. He was

hesitant at first; unsure whether it was appropriate for him to be

here. Here, now, with a woman that wasn't Darcy. But was she

Darcy? She looked and sounded exactly like the Darcy he met

which only felt like a few days ago—but then again, so did the

woman that went inside Zimmermann's office. Marcus sat down

next to her.

"Where are you from Marcus?"

"Nebraska." Marcus liked sticking with Nebraska. Mercedes

looked at him puzzled upon hearing this. It was the same look he

got from Reynaud.

"Well I say—I've never heard of _Nebraska_ before!" Marcus

added:

"It is right above Oklahoma." To change things up, hopefully

getting a different response from her then he got from her father.

But, instead, she replied with:

" _Ok-la-home-a? These are not Tex-ass, Washingtan, New of_

_Hampshire!"_ Mercedes giggled at the thought of the funny-sounding

states she remarked upon; "Well Marcus of Nebraska, what brings

you here?" Marcus wanted to tell the truth— but, then again, he had

to lie just like how he made up how he was from Nebraska. He

couldn't tell her that the ship they were on was going to be

torpedoed by the Germans. So—there came out the last lie he

hoped he had to tell her.

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"I was working with Frenchmen on a Battlecruiser but then—

then something happened..." Marcus took the words right out of his

mouth like he was Ron again explaining to Sherry what happened

when Jack hit B7 in Battleship.

"What—what happened?" Mercedes asked a mixture of

anxiety and fear for what he had to say. Marcus honestly didn't

know what he was about to say. But then—then it came to him:

"A man went overboard—so—well I went in to fetch him out

for it turned out he didn't know how to swim. Once I got ahold of him

he began to push me down under, drowning me in the process of

his own fear for his life. After some time of my struggling to break

free— well I went unconscious. I'm surprised I'm still alive. I was

pretty sure I was a goner. But— here I am." Mercedes looked at him

in a stunned silence. Marcus wanted to do the same thing to

himself. He didn't understand where this story came from or how

believable he made it. But— it was believable. And there was no

doubt that Mercedes believed it.

"I don't understand how you didn't drown?" Then her face

went white; " _No."_ She whispered to him; " _You did drown. But—but_

_that means..."_ Mercedes got up from the bed; " _That means I'm dead_

_too."_ She began to pace frantically around the room pulling her hair.

Marcus stared at her in shock. He messed up. He knew he messed

up. She believed she was dead because of the story he told.

" _No. No! Mercedes we aren't dead! Your father rescued me_

_out of the water! He saved me!"_ Marcus was now standing up and

grabbed ahold of each of Mercedes' shoulders, stopping her in her

tracks. Once he did this she quickly pulled away from his hand

showing an expression of being claustrophobic from his being too

close to her.

" _My father is the DEVIL! You're on the DEVIL'S ship!"_ She

spit these last few words out with a passionate hate that Marcus

found it hard to look at her.

" _Your father isn't the devil, Mercedes! Don't say that! He's_

_your father! Your father!"_ Mercedes shook her head repetitiously at

this. She wouldn't have heard it.

" _He is NOT my father! MY FATHER WOULDN'T HAVE LET_

_'HIM' BE KILLED!"_ At this, she shoved past him and ran out the door.

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" _THIS WHOLE TIME RON LAMPSON HAS ONLY CAUSED_

_TROUBLE!"_ Gus yelled out as they left the building behind and

began their walk through Germany's capital.

"Stay calm and have faith in Marcus. He is new. Just like

how you were once new."

"But when _I_ was new I didn't cause _two_ failures back to back, _in a row,_ like this one!" Evan shook his head at Gus.

"You were new once too, yes, but that didn't mean you

caused problems like he did."

" _Fluctuating the time sequence of ONE person the way he_

_did is more than just a problem—it's abnormal!"_

_"_ Is love abnormal to you, Gustavo? Is love _scary_ to you? Or

just because it keeps showing itself to Marcus when all hope seems

to be lost in his heart _doesn't_ make it abnormal. Love is love, and I

wouldn't change that for all the marbles in the penny jar." Gus was

still frustrated. He had every reason to be. But he didn't share the

same love Marcus was sharing so it confused him. It was abnormal,

yes, but it still confused him.

" _Twice."_ He muttered to himself. And he muttered this all the

way to their next destination.

Marcus walked out of the room in a state of disarray. He felt

troubled by the occurrence of a woman he felt like he loved so

dearly but had, strangely, so many sides to her. From a farmer's

daughter, a secretary to a _State Secretary for Foreign Affairs_ , and

now—now she was a captain's daughter with secrets he felt he

didn't deserve to uncover. She, in no doubt, had a past that seemed

somewhat messy to be getting entangled with. But even though—he

didn't care. Didn't care she was not what he expected when he first

started falling. Didn't care that a past followed the present; one he

has now encountered and didn't care if it turned out like the first. All

he cared about was beginning his journey in getting to know the one

he was with now. Find out about her and unwrap the shells she had

layered herself with, hiding a dirty interior that she planned no one

to ever figure out about. Marcus was going to do his best and that

was all he knew in his heart now.

——————————————————————————————

"What are we doing here?" Gus looked around at the main

entrance of what seemed to be a quaint inn for a place where one

could rest their weary head after a long journey. And feeling the

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exhaustion come over him after all they've been through, that was all he could have ever wished.

"What does it look like? We're here to get some rest." Evan

went up to the front desk and held up three fingers; "Three rooms,

please." A woman with greying hair, who appeared to be about the

same age as O'Malley, stood behind the desk looking down at

papers she had placed out in front of her. When Evan spoke to her,

instead of looking up, she kept her head down seeming too busy to

reply. Evan looked at her irritated. Speaking louder, and with more

of a tone in his voice, he said again: " _Three rooms, please."_ Her

face, still, stayed lowered and she began to scribble something out

on one of the papers. Evan looked back at Gus and O'Malley

showing his astonishment of the audacity this woman had to keep

ignoring him. While he looked back upon them with this face, the

woman looked up and locked eyes with O'Malley.

" _ALBERT! It has surely been a minute, my dear man!"_ Evan

quickly turned around to see the woman leave her desk and walk

with brisk strides over to O'Malley embracing him with a hug leaving

Gus and Evan in utter shock. Her left hand cusped O'Malley's head

as she left the hug giving a peck on her lips on each of his cheeks.

_"How are you, my sweet pomegranate!?"_ The woman

blushed upon hearing O'Malley call her this.

" _Oh, Albert stop!_ You always _do_ know how to treat a lady!"

O'Malley motioned to come from standing over near the desk, and

once he had Gus and Evan in front of his _pomegranate_ , with a tilt of

his head, he announced:

"This is Rose. She is my heart's delight, and wherever I can

find a beating in my chest, she's there to answer to it." Evan and

Gus shook hands with her and, afterward, O'Malley whispered in

her ear. Gus and Evan looked upon this with curiosity not knowing

what to think of it. But as he whispered softly into her ear, her face

changed. From one second she had a loving, tender smile

glistened upon her face to a horrid shock of disarray. Quickly, she

motioned with both of her hands:

_"All of you; come quickly! Hurry now, we don't have time!"_

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Chapter 44

I'm Your Father

Marcus left the room and began to wander around the ship

aimlessly. It was strange. A slight hint of light-headedness began to

take hold of him—but—it didn't end there. His feet began to give way

to a sensational abundance of tingling that moved from the very tip

of his toes all the way up to his ankles and spread out into every

inch of his body until he couldn't force himself to take another step

forward.

"What—what's going on?" Marcus questioned as the strange

happening, not once, stopped as it overwhelmed him. He felt like he

would collapse upon the ground or faint from his shortening of

breath but neither of these things happened. Instead, he felt himself

rising off the ground. Quickly looking down in horror, he saw that his

feet still lay on the floor like they had never left. But, strangely

enough, it still felt like he was floating. His head began to subside in

its endless array of buzzing and turn into a tingling sensation like

what the rest of his body was going through. Suddenly, his body lost

the feeling of hovering off of the ground, and he could feel the floor

that rested under his feet. The tingling slowed down and Marcus

began to sway back and forth. As he wavered like he was in a

drunken trance, he felt himself falling face-first toward the ground.

Marcus collapsed unconscious.

——————————————————————————————

"I don't know how long it will take me, Albert."

"Well, we don't know how long it might take him."

"Wait—what's going on!?" Evan asked confused about what

Rose and O'Malley were speaking about as they were in the back

room of what seemed to be an office where metallic parts were

scattered about a table. O'Malley turned to Evan and Gus and

looking at them with eyes of a sterner fright he exclaimed:

"We have to understand this: the problem is—our _xikonians_

aren't programmed to skip missions. They are only programmed to

go from one to the other in chronological order."

" _But Albert! I don't know if I can't make one! Let alone—for_

_THREE!"_ O'Malley quickly spun around and blurted out:

"WE HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE!" He held out his hand in

an apologetic remorse realizing his tone of voice was uncalled for.

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He did this, closing his eyes, feeling the pressure of the situation squeezing inward upon his shoulders. Repeating to himself, he

whispered again: "Rose—we have no other choice. I just need you

to _try_ and make it." She shook her head, holding herself back in

tears of fright.

" _Albert, don't get frustrated. This planet—this planet—."_ He

interrupted her, opening his eyes back up in anger:

"I don't believe that!" He snapped. "I will _never_ believe that!

_Every_ planet is worth saving!" Calming down he looked at her

sympathetically: "Just—just do your best."

——————————————————————————————

"Marcus is the _best_ in his class, captain!" Marcus looked

around, confused. He was in a chalkboard classroom with what

seemed to be a female teacher standing over him as he was sitting

at a rather puny, little desk. He was in, what seemed to be, an

infant's body. He couldn't have been older than six years old. Being

so young scared him. How was it possible that he was so young?

"I'm very proud of my son! He has always been an

exceptional piece of work at times but smart—yes! I always knew he

was smart! Someday he will possibly be a doctor! A lawyer! Maybe

even one of our great leaders! But God can only hope that maybe—

just maybe—he'll be my first mate." The teacher nodded at this and

knelt down kneeling before Marcus. She pinched his dimples and

smiled sweetly down at him. Looking at her, disturbed, he stared

back speechless.

"Thank you for letting me teach you, Marcus."

——————————————————————————————

" _Hey. Hello. Marcus._ Marcus, my boy!" Marcus woke up with

Reynaud crouched over him.

"Where—where am I?" Trying to sit up, he looked around to

see he was where he collapsed before the tingling began in his

head. Fellow pedestrians who were walking by stopped to ponder

upon the matter of the situation at hand.

"Are you alright, boy!?" One of the men standing by asked.

Before Marcus could answer, Reynaud, replied:

"Yes. Knowing my son, he is fine." Marcus looked at

Reynaud quizzically.

" _Son!?"_ Reynaud stared down at Marcus like he was trying

to dig something out of him. But what? Marcus didn't understand.

Why was he saying this? Why did he have a dream like that?

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Reynaud wasn't his father; the man who was obsessed with

cheerios was his father. Not— not this man he just met; "Why are

you calling me your son?" Reynaud grabbed under Marcus' armpit

and pushed him up to his feet.

"It will take time for you to get your memory back, but you

will. I _know_ you will." At that note, Reynaud walked past him, and

the crowd gathered around dispersed. Standing there, puzzled,

Marcus tried to comprehend the situation at hand. But as much as

he tried, he couldn't. Why would Reynaud start to call him his son

when Mercedes was his daughter? But then Marcus thought back to

how Mercedes said how he _wasn't_ her father. Was she just saying

that because he did something to make her mad or was it true? Was

Reynaud not _really_ her father!?

——————————————————————————————

"You have to remember that jumping missions are

_dangerous,_ Albert! You can get you _and_ these boys killed! _Is that_ _what you want? To—to DIE!?"_ Rose shook her head at O'Malley in

frustration; "I only want to tell you what's best and that going and

getting yourself killed can ruin all other missions you've already

completed and not just on this planet but many others as well! Do

you want _Apctovia, Saurercerous—Meladovix, Harold! Think about_

_Meladovix! They can't just die off with this one just because it can't_

_be saved!"_

_"_ Your pessimistic outlook will be the fall to you, Rose. And

my hope for a planet with so much future will be my reward. Earth is

so much more than what you give it. It provides a life for many

beautiful creatures that live with lives of abundance and prosperity.

They grow and develop like the sea that meets the stars. They love

and nurture like a mother's cub that lets its offspring eat her share;

they can grow, and she— _she_ can wither away in happiness for her

little ones' future."

Rose stood there, her face softening from the simplistic

pictures he drew out for her with his elegant grouping of words.

O'Malley's words sunk into where she felt them holding onto her

heart like it had a kangaroo pouch to slip right into.

"Alright, Albert—now there are going to be a few things that I

will need that I don't already have." Turning to Gus and Evan; "Get

ready boys because Albert is going to have to bring you to planets

neither of you will be happy going to."

——————————————————————————————

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Marcus chased after Reynaud in hopes for some answers

but—before he knew it he had disappeared. Marcus began trying

his best to open up doors but none of them would budge. It was like

he was meant to stay in that dark, desolate hallway he wandered

himself into. And the whole time he has been on this ship he has

barely seen anyone! It was driving him _mad_. Just one—one

conversation with another human being that could possibly walk by

as he wandered around aimlessly. But it didn't seem like he was

going to get it. But then, all of a sudden, at what seemed like hours

of looking for another voice to talk back to, a woman opened a door

and came out wearing a fine, linen dress and a hat to accentuate

her accouterments of earrings and rings displayed for what seemed

like a conviviality of an occasion.

"Excuse me!" Marcus remarked. "What seems to be the

party one's hosting?" The madam glared at Marcus like he had just

insulted her on the attire she had on display.

"One can't go over the top when there is a father to

impress." She looked down at Marcus' bland clothes and gave out

a: " _hmmph!"_ She then walked away, striding like it was impossible

for anyone to match her eccentricity.

" _Father?"_ Marcus muttered under his breath. By the look of

the woman, she was far too old to still have a father that would be

alive. It would have to be by some miracle that her father somehow

pondered upon the fountain of youth and had discovered everlasting

life. And _that—_ that was something Marcus didn't want to miss out

on seeing. But where her father might have found this fountain, _she,_

on the other hand, had not, and he has been hogging it from his

daughter that seems to have dressed up with a rather radiant

fashion for extravagance. Especially being that Marcus knew not of

the customs of this day and age but _this get-up_ she strolled away in

was nothing ordinary of what the _day-in-age_ was putting out! Marcus

began to follow her closely behind but far enough so she wasn't

aware of his presence. At times she would glance behind as if she

knew she was being watched but—other than that, he was as quiet

as a mouse. Following her up a flight of stairs and out of a hallway,

she entered the mess hall where Reynaud previously fed Marcus

the biscuits and gravy he began craving ever so much for once

again. It became an obsession with how much he wanted those

biscuits and gravy that Marcus began to feel the need to end his

going undercover and jump right into the dining area in hopes there

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was still some possibly left over. But—then again, he couldn't. He couldn't risk revealing himself. This fountain of youth man that the

overly-dressed woman spoke of will not know of his spying. But

then—then Marcus realized it. Why had he not thought of it sooner?

Why was he so ignorant to leave out the _clear-as-day_ reality of the

father she spoke of. It was her _actual father_ that fed her growing up

and taught her how to walk. Taught her how to speak her first words

and brought her to her first day of school. No. It wasn't _this_ one. It sounded absurd like he could have possibly thought of such a

ridiculous idea. He wanted to thud his head on a wall and yell out in

his sheer stupidity of the idiocy he contrived to have himself believe!

" _Fountain of youth!"_ Marcus shook his head to himself and

let out a: _"Ha!"_ He wanted to laugh out loud but didn't want to cause

a disturbance in whatever the woman was doing with her ' _Father.'_

He supposed they were most likely having a mass or praying the

Rosary. So pondering upon whether or not to join, Marcus felt like it

was needless to say how he yearned for the very company of others

and how at home he would dread going to church with his family;

but now—now he couldn't wait to go and join in the Holy Ceremony

taking place. So Marcus left his hiding spot and headed over to the

entrance of the room with excitement beaming forth from behind his

eyelids as he couldn't hold in his relief that the power of company

will bring to him. Upon entering, Marcus' gaze fell upon Reynaud in

the front of the room with passengers of the boat sitting around

various tables. Whatever Reynaud was saying to them, his mouth

left no words for Marcus to grasp the occurrence that he pondered

in upon. And like a priest that Marcus was expecting, only stood

Reynaud standing in the same sailor clothes he was wearing last

time he saw him.

Everyone's eyes turned towards Marcus. He felt the intensity

beaming straight into his very skull.

"What's going on?" Marcus asked, frightened of what he was

seeing. For on the table next to Reynaud was accouterments

scattered all over it. From watches to earrings. To bracelets to rings.

To necklaces to brooches. Marcus even noticed a few pocket

watches here and there. Gold and diamonds inlaid into every piece

spread out all across the table. And as it was all spread across,

Reynaud stood right next to it with a face of guilt like when a six-

year-old is caught stealing a Lollipop from a candy store.

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" _Marcus! Where did you come from!?"_ Marcus gave a face of shock to Reynaud. He was not the priest that he was expecting. He

could be a priest, Marcus assumed. But he couldn't be a father. A

pastor, maybe, but not a father. Marcus' eyes scanned the room but

Mercedes was nowhere to be found.

"What's going on?" Marcus asked while he then brought his

focus down upon the table of merchandise; "Is this an auction?"

Reynaud, instead of responding, only stared back at Marcus in

fright. Before he had time to open his mouth again, a man quickly

stood up and pointed at the table yelling:

"OUR FATHER NEEDS OUR POSSESSIONS! GIVE UP

EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! GIVE UP YOUR SOUL TO OUR

FATHER!" Marcus looked at the man with a profoundly stunned

expression. Looking beyond his face to everyone else seated about

him, they nodded their heads in agreement to what the man spoke

of. He even noticed the older woman he was following had none of

her golden rings or diamonds necklaces from before.

But it all seemed so crazy. Marcus stared at, what seemed

to be, a colt. Reynaud was the leader of a colt, and he was stealing

from these people. These poor, innocent, _stupid_ people! These

people who wanted to give their _souls_ to this man! And it seemed

like they believed their souls were found in what they believed were

their own _possessions!?_ Marcus felt disgusted to still be staring at

the whole set-up and felt the need to hurriedly look away before he

heaved in repulse.

"Now settle down Julian!" Switching his gave over to Marcus;

"Do whatever you want, my son. As long as you know that you

belong with me! Here on this ship is your home, and hopefully..." he

paused as a tear rolled down his face filled with sorrow; " _You,_ my

son!" He was now pointing at Marcus; "You belong with _me, your_

_father!"_ Saying these words, he opened his arms, welcoming

Marcus into the community he had in front of him. But instead of

embracing the arms spread, he backed away from fear of what was

laid out before his eyes. For this was not what he expected. Now

Marcus knew. He understood why Mercedes acted so strangely to

Reynaud. For he wasn't truly her father. It was a lie. It was all a lie!

And Reynaud was a thief! Marcus turned around and then ran. He

had to find Mercedes.

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Chapter 45

The List

Rose pulled out a piece of chalk and began to rapidly

scribble down what seemed to be a list.

"This is my grocery list." She said giggling at what she wrote

down and handing it over to O'Malley. O'Malley looked at it with

surprise and then a state of worry wrinkled the edges of his face.

"Rosy this is absurd! You _must be_ joking! What type of

_xikonian_ is this!? Not _this_ one that's for sure!" O'Malley said this while he took out his _xikonian_ from his pocket looking at it while

looking back at the list.

"What's on the list, _O'Mal'?"_ Evan asked, doing his best to try

to peak over his shoulder.

"It's _not_ a _xikonian_ ," Rose replied before O'Malley could say

anything back to Evan. Snatching O'Malley's xikonian out of his

hand, she then held out her other towards Evan and Gus. They both

looked at her empty fingertips, then at each other, and then back at

Rose. Her eyes beamed with impatience as she stared back at them

both.

"What—are—we..."

" _I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY—!"_ In response to Rose's

outbreak, Gus and Evan scooped their _xikonians_ out of their pockets

and dropped them both into the outstretched hand. Taking all three

of the _xikonians_ she had in her hands, she gently laid them on the

table while she then picked up a quill and a blank piece of paper.

The three World War Rewinders watched carefully as she drew out

what looked to be a metallic disk with curves along the outer edges.

Placing the _xikonians_ onto the drawing, Rose fit the pocket watches

into the edges to where each of them fit perfectly inside.

"That's what I will be making," Rose remarked as she

nodded her head down toward the drawing with the _xikonians_ laid

out along the sides of it. It was more of a drawn-out triangle with

scooped curves upon where every point would have been. And at

the scoops were the _xikonians_ glistening with the shine of the

metals they were made of. Each had a golden hint with their glitter

while all seemed to be more different than the other. They were

clearly made of different metals but were not recognizable to any

ordinary earthen material. In the middle of the drawing was a raised

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bubble of a circle drawn with a hinted shade to make it look more three dimensional. Putting her index finger on the bubble, Rose

remarked:

"This is a _confibulator_ for _xikonians_. But I just don't have all the materials needed to have it fully functioning. Using this list, I

hope for _heaven's sake_ that you all will be safe in retrieving the

desired substances and corporeality that are a _must_ for the

_confibulator_ to be made. While some may be easier to recover,

others..." she paused, shaking her head at her drawing; "Might do

more harm than justice while I look at this situation you all have laid

out." Looking towards O'Malley: "Albert, please don't go through

with this! I don't want to see what I believe will happen! This mission

is dangerous!"

" _The mission MARCUS is on is dangerous!"_ O'Malley

snatched his _xikonian_ off of the piece of paper. As quick as O'Malley

was, Rose was a step ahead. With a flick of her finger, she slipped

her index around the chain and pulled it out of his hand. O'Malley let

it slip out while it flew right back into her grasp.

"I will need these more than you all will!" She said this while

she looked at the _xikonian_ with appreciation; "It is not like you all will be leaving this time period _anyway!"_ O'Malley didn't take too kindly

to hear these words, but he nodded his head anyway.

"So where are we going first?"

Mercedes stood in a gangway of the _Sussex_ , looking out at

the open deck laid out in front of her. The once bright and cheerful

day had turned into a dreary night that rolled in fast with a fog

swooping in right behind. The darkness surprised Mercedes. Her

whole head couldn't cooperate what was happening, but—

whatever it was— she felt nauseous from it.

"What—happened to today?" She muttered to herself.

Walking out onto the deck, she couldn't help but feel the wooden

boards swaying around as they lay beneath her feet. She stumbled

a bit before she was finally able to grab ahold of something. But

what was it? She thought, at first it was a railing. But no— feeling

the texture of the coat, it wasn't a railing at all.

" _Darcy! What's wrong with you!?"_ Mercedes looked up at the

body who spoke to her only to see it was a man.

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"You're not a railing." She plainly spoke this, acknowledging

to herself how she was actually talking to a man and how it _wasn't_ a

railing. Marcus shook his head.

"I suppose I'm not." He simply said, responding back.

Mercedes stood up from being crouched over and leaning on

Marcus, grasping his coat. She stared down at the arm she clutched

and let go of it.

"Did—did you call me, ' _Darcy,'_ again?" Marcus looked back

at her puzzled.

"Who's—who's that?" He responded back. Mercedes smiled

up at Marcus' confused expression but, then, looking back down at

his coat, she frowned.

" _You weren't wearing that before."_ Mercedes gasped as she

backed away from Marcus. Not understanding, he stepped forward

grabbing her arm.

" _I didn't mean it, Darcy! I didn't mean to call you that!"_

_"STOP IT! STOP CALLING ME THAT NAME!"_ She flung

away from him but then caught herself. Suddenly, there before her,

was a huge chunk of the ship gone right before her eyes; "What

the..." she muttered to herself. She looked over at Marcus who

seemed unequivocally unaware of what she was seeing before her;

" _Marcus!"_ She whispered. Marcus looked at her with a dazed look

found in his eyes and replied with:

" _Darcy, my love!"_ Ignoring this, she responded to him: "Do

you see this?" Without a second to spare, he muttered

back:

"See that you are the most beautiful creature ever to behold

my eyes, ever to walk this earth, ever to..."

" _No, no!"_ She replied, interrupting him; "See that _half of our_

_ship IS MISSING!"_ She tried with all of her might to whisper this

but—being in the predicament they were in—she couldn't help

herself. But still—a glossy ignorance covered Marcus' eyes as if he

wasn't actually there. Looking at her and then looking down at the

ground she pointed at, he stayed silent. Mercedes couldn't stand it.

Her face boiled up with rage and, without a second chance for

Marcus to even flinch, she slapped him right across the face. For a

second, the slap seemed to have no effect on him. But then—

suddenly—he felt the red mark throbbing upon his sore face. He

touched it with gentle fingers and then looked at Mercedes stunned.

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_"What was that for!?"_ She smiled at his sudden-found

coherence.

"I thought I lost you!" She sighed, looking into his confused

expression. Looking down at the coat he was still wearing; "Where

did you get that?" Marcus looked down at the brown, roughly-woven

jacket and shook his head at it in wonderment.

"I—I don't know—it wasn't on me just a minute ago!" He

quickly spun around, taking it off like a foul smell burned right

through it. Letting it fall to the ground, he looked upon Mercedes in

exasperation.

" _What's happening to me?"_ Mercedes shook her head at this

question with a sorrow set of eyes.

"What's happening to _everyone_ on this ship!? Something has

been put on, what seems like, _every_ passenger on this ship!

Everyone I speak to calls Captain Reynaud— _father._ And it's not like

he's their minister either. It's like he's _actually_ their father and

they're his offspring... I don't like this. This—this _ship_ is driving me mad! I've been—well I've been having these dreams." Marcus' face

beamed with shock from hearing this and interrupted her,

exclaiming:

" _I had a dream!_ Captain Reynaud... he was—well he was

talking to, who seemed to be, my teacher. But the thing is—she

wasn't. I've never seen the woman a day in my life. And both of

them were talking of me as if I was his son. But the _strangest_ part of the whole dream— I was in a _child's body._ I didn't even know one

could have dreams taking upon of the such! Then Marcus thought of

how he was already in a body not of his own. His name wasn't even

his own. But Mercedes redirected his thinking when she stammered

forth:

" _Oh Marcus, this is terrible! I'm having dreams of the like as_

_well..."_ she paused before saying anymore and looked away from

him, giving a sideways glance at what she only just recently

encountered; "I—I have something to show you. But you mustn't be

afraid for we are yet to know if it's my imagination or if it is really

gone.

" _What's gone?"_ Marcus asked taken aback by her

annotations in words. Mercedes turned around and looked down at

the ship's wooden panels. Marcus followed her gaze downwards

toward the floor but didn't understand why his eyes were supposed

to be looking at. But then—all of a sudden— _like that_ it was gone.

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From how the ship was only just whole, now an entire part of it was missing.

" _Oh, no."_ Marcus muttered; "This is the _Lusitania_ all over

again."

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Chapter 46

Not Again

"Can I look at the list?" Gus inquired. O'Malley folded up the

piece of parchment as they walked out of the back door of Rose's

office and entered into a field of green. He saw a stable in the

distance.. Evan looked around in amazement upon the sudden

change of scenery,

"Now how did we get here?" Evan said this while taking his

time for he knew no answer would come from it, and it was a

rhetorical question anyway. He felt the need to make it known that

this wasn't urban Berlin anymore. It looked more of a rural Scottish

landscape due to the temperature and quilts that hung limply on a

clothes-line nearby. The stable contained three horses with each of

them sticking their heads out of their wooden cages in anticipation

as they all came near. Rose was leading the group, walking too

fast for any of them to keep up.

" _Hurry along you three! We don't have all day!"_ As Rose only

barely speed-walking her way over to the stables, the three _World_

_War Rewinders_ were all jogging over each other, Evan and Gus

pushing between the both, tripping over each other's shoes.

" _Cut it out you both!"_ O'Malley stammered as he followed

both of them shortly behind.

"I call _that_ one!" Gus said, pointing to the charcoal, black

horse nearest to them." Gus managed to spurt this out before he

began his full-out sprint passed Rose. Evan called out, close

behind, grabbing his shirt trying to hold him back:

"You get whichever one _O'Malley and I_ leave left over!" Evan

quickly spurted out one last jolt of energy and did a jumping leap

passed Gus. They both arrived giving off a frantic stir among the

three horses which didn't take too kindly to either of their

shenanigans. Putting his hands on both of their shoulders, O'Malley

looked up at the three strapping steeds far exceeding any old racing

mount.

"My friends, these beautiful creatures of majestic wonder are

here for our traveling needs. _I,_ Gustavo, will actually be

accompanying Zilestic. She is my own kind so I wouldn't have it any

other way." O'Malley hopped on Zilestic and opened his arms out

wide; "Let us ride!"

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——————————————————————————————

" _Not again!"_ Marcus couldn't take this. He was alone once

again, and he failed the mission without further disappointment to

himself and his fellow— _World War Rewinders._ Marcus shook his

head at the name.

" _Well!?_ What is this!? Do you see what I'm seeing right

now!?" Mercedes paced back and forth, perplexed upon if she was

actually looking at the ship she was standing on and if it truly was

missing the bow completely. Quickly spinning around to where she

faced Marcus looking down at it: " _This is an illusion! A dream! I'm in_

_another one of those dreams that are messing with my mind!"_

Putting her hands on the back of her head, she smiled at him in

realization; " _You're not real!"_

_"Oh hold up!"_ Marcus exclaimed, interrupting her in the

triumphant breakthrough; "How do you know that _I'm_ not the one

who's dreaming!?" She shook her head at this while she looked

down at the whole wreckage of destruction.

"No. You're not dreaming. And I'm not dreaming. I would

know if I was dreaming. If I was dreaming then Reynaud would be

doing something with me when I was younger, and it would be

fatherly."

"Then the ship _has_ been bombed, and we weren't aware of

it. But I don't see how that could be possible! I haven't been asleep

for _that_ long for a while. Or—I haven't, in the spurt of the moment,

recently passed out."

"Well, it could have been when you had last passed out."

Mercedes shook her head at this.

"No this doesn't seem real though. Look at it more closely."

Marcus leaned in. It seemed real enough to him. Looking down

upon what was still hanging from the ship brought a somber taste to

his weary eyes. The more he looked at every layer of remaining

metals barely hanging on, the more he felt tired.

"I'm sorry but that's real. What happened to this ship is as

real as anything that could have happened to any ship; it's as real

as what happened to the _Lusitania_." Marcus tried to catch himself,

but before he could, it had already left his tongue.

" _Lusitania?_ What are you talking about?" Feeling the need to

scream at himself, Marcus only replied with:

"It was—a ship." Brushing it off: "Why would you think this

_wasn't_ real!?" Mercedes shrugged.

289

_"Where's the big commotion over this? This—this—SHIP!_ It's missing its _bow!"_

_"_ I don't see anything missing, you two." Mercedes and

Marcus quickly spun around. It was Reynaud. He was smiling at the

two of them.

"Now _what_ could my children possibly be looking at?"

Mercedes glared back at him.

"We are _not_ your children!"

"Oh sweetens why _won't you_ drop that tone with your father.

I am _not_ being given the audacity any time soon to keep putting _up_ with it!" Directing his attention to Marcus; "You, my son, should

understand this. You two are my son and daughter, and I raised you

_both—_ both do you hear me!?" Marcus was silent; "That is what I

thought, my dear my boy. That is what I thought."

" _WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS SHIP!? WHAT DID YOU_

_DO?"_ Mercedes, through her yelling, had spit flying into Reynaud's

face. His face went dark from this sudden outbreak. Slowly, he

raised his hand up to his face where he took his time in wiping the

drips still remaining.

" _I do not see anything that could be of the matter, my dear_

_young Mercedes."_ Marcus turned his head and, like that, the ship

was fully intact. No hanging wires, no splinted wood, no mess that

was, only recently, barely hanging on by threads. Marcus turned to

see Mercedes' face gaped wide in disbelief at the perfectly in-lined

wood panels that were anything but dented or bruised. As a matter

of fact, they shined upon the star-lit night and looked newer than the

day they were made.

" _You're the DEVIL!"_ She sputtered. Reynaud flung back his

hand and slapped her across the face.

" _DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME THAT WAY, LADY!"_

Reynaud grabbed Mercedes by the tip of the ear. Fighting to break

free, she faced difficulty as the captain's other hand had other plans;

grabbing her by the back of her neck, he led her away from Marcus

who stood frozen still.

"MARCUS! _MARCUS! MARCUS HELP..."_ Marcus was

already moving, however, before she pried out the words. But as he

ran after them, something strange shifted. His knees slogged in a

downward manner, and he felt himself falling. Then it was silent.

Darkness enclosed all around him.

——————————————————————————————

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"You three will be traveling to three galaxies close to my

home planet. The first one is where my ancestors learned of this

special liquid when traveling to the planet for a mini-excursion. It is a

fairly safe resort—for ones only willing to sleep with one eye open,

that is. What you all would call, amphibians, fertin live in these

certain habitable lands and prey on smaller reptiles and graze on

the grass of the planet. They have similarities to your planet's

common salamander but, be warned, they are much larger and

have vicious qualities that wouldn't give themselves the audacity to

think twice before ripping off your heads. Be well-prepared to take

on this mission and possibly lose a limb or two." Now looking

directly towards O'Malley; "You can't be serious in letting one of

these boys get entangled with these animals? They _aren't_ safe."

O'Malley brushed it off, replying:

"Whatever we have to do to keep moving forward in the main

mission then it is what needs to be done." She didn't seem quite

pleased with his answer but nodded her head to it anyways.

"Gus—I'm putting you in charge of the liquid substance to be

retrieved from these fertins. Fertins are the main reason my

ancestors went to Balpentan. They would capture them as a sport,

and they provided juicy dinners for the whole family to feast upon.

Sadly to say, my ancestors almost killed them all to extinction. That

is why you won't be killing one. Only taking a small amount of the

liquid and putting it in this small three-necks flask. It will all fit snugly

onto the fertin's— liquid maker. The fertins will be found grazing in

an open field on Balpentan's aerodin grass. This will be the most

necessary item on the list, and it is what will energize the

confibulator enough to where you all will make it to the mission that

is past the one Marcus is currently undergoing." Gus took the flask,

examining it in the process.

"What—what exactly _is_ this liquid that I will be taking from

this—this _fertin?"_

"Don't worry. It is not anything absurdly ridiculous to get. It

isn't teardrops or their saliva— it is only the fertin's urine." Gus' face

turned queasy and, taking a gulp and analyzing the situation, he

repeated back:

"U—u— _urine!?"_ Rose nodded.

"Yes. And don't let any get on you. It _will_ burn a hole in your

leg if you let some accidentally drip onto any part of your body."

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" _Aghh! Drip!"_ Gus gave off an expression mixed with repulse and nausea.

"Why can't I be in charge of it, Rose? Gus doesn't seem to

be up for this one." Rose shook her head.

"No. Evan I'm sorry, but, this one is for Gus to follow out.

Just like Marcus is in charge of following out on his own mission.

You will be going to a different planet, and it will be ten times harder

than your friend Gus's. You will be going to the planet, Queshtigue,

where instead of dealing with a deadly animal, I'm sorry, but this

planet will have some questionable plants. Poisonous, flesh-eating

plants that have nectar inside them that will have to be exuded from

the stigma. The nectar is poisonous but greatly needed. It will

perform with the pump module to create a kick-start in activating the

confibulator. No other kick-starter will fully work for it besides this

specific nectar that comes from a noolani bulsprit. They will be

found in and around a smaller open-area inside the deepest parts of

Queshtigue's jungle forests. They will be hidden at first but then will

suddenly shoot up out of the ground and then quickly go back down.

Your job is to do your best in grabbing one of the noolani bulsprits

and pressing down onto the stigma, the nectar will be ejected in the

process. You will then catch the nectar into this round-bottom flask."

She gave Evan the flask making sure to be careful with it as she

handed it to him. Now, finally turning her head to O'Malley, she

shook her head looking more at what seemed to be between him as

she gave off a grave expression.

"Why are you doing this?" He didn't answer but only looked

back at her with an expression of impatience. Then, without further

delay, he brought his horse, Zilestic out of the stable and circled

around. After Zilestic stomped her hooves into place in front of the

three, O'Malley announced:

"Your horses know where both of your planets are. Safe

travels to the both of you. I know each of you will get the

supplements we need to carry on with our mission." And Zilestic and

O'Malley were off. As she galloped away from the three, Zilestic

slowly began to lift off of the ground. As they rose, they both slowly

became a speck in the sky until they were just a mere twinkle that

disappeared without further delay.

"You didn't tell him where he was going," Gus stated once

O'Malley was no longer to be seen.

"He knows."

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"Well..." Evan added; "Where _is_ he going?" For a while,

Rose didn't reply. She only stared up at the spot in the sky where

O'Malley vanished from eyesight. Then—taking in a deep breath,

she replied:

"He's going home."

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Chapter 47

Taken

" _Peddle Marcus!" Peddle faster!"_ Marcus' feet were rotating

in a circular motion. Looking down at his feet, where they were—

resting each on a peddle. But how? Why? But then he felt it. The

hands on both of his shoulders.

" _Dad!?"_ Marcus knew this couldn't be real. He was with his

father, and he was teaching him how to ride a bike. Everything felt

so familiar: the bike's handle grips he clutched with such excitement

and fear, the dark red color of the bike and how it was so smoothly

painted on, the wind blowing freshly upon his young, innocent face,

and even the bright, sunny day. Although—the sunny day almost

felt a bit dimmed. Like he was in a dream. But he couldn't be in a

dream! It all felt so real.

"I'm here, Mark! Just hold on tightly. I promise I won't let you

go!" Marcus wanted to believe him. In fact, he _did_ believe him. He

felt safe with his father. He felt like he was protected from anything

that could come between a son and a father's bond. He knew

nothing would happen to him. But then—then he felt the hands on

his shoulders give him a push and they no longer rested upon his

shoulders. Mark felt the blood drain from his face. His father had

forsaken him and now he was on his own. Looking around, he felt

helpless. Anytime now he could fall and—and then what!?

Something bad, that's what!

" _NO!"_ Marcus screamed. His panic began to take over, and

all he felt was a complete and utter terror.

" _You're doing it, Marcus!"_ As Marcus kept peddling, the man

who he called his father, that stood now a distance behind him, was

right. He was doing it! He was still peddling, and he hasn't fallen nor

did he feel like he was about to anytime soon. But suddenly, a

wobbling in his hands began to occur. His handlebar began to

shake uncontrollably which moved down into the lower part of the

bike. Marcus stopped peddling and, stopping the bike in full-swing,

felt the jerk of the bike raise him up to where his front wheel was the

only thing that touched the ground, keeping him from being in mid-

air. Then, just as he thought it would begin going forward again, it

went back where his head smashed into the cement ground with his

back landing shortly after. His head began spinning, and he

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didn't understand how he wasn't unconscious. Then, just as his

eyes began to become foggy, they cleared right up again. And as it

cleared, there came his father rushing to his side. As he looked up,

something seemed not right about the man he looked up at. Who

was this man? This man wasn't his father. But as his eyes began to

focus on the face, Marcus knew exactly who was crouched over

him; it was Reynaud.

——————————————————————————————

O'Malley felt strange _protaginating_ back to Alphasia. It was

not home anymore nor will it ever again. He promised himself he

would stay away from this planet. This dark, lonely planet that they

were fixed upon, shunning themselves from the rest of the Order of

All. But here he was again. The two suns were almost dead, and

they would have to be refueled. The crops growing all around the

main village were looking dull and bland. He was not home. This

wasn't the home that he left. It seemed so wrong to be standing on

soil that tasted of raw garbage. Looking upon buildings that were

dilapidated but still being lived in, he felt sick at looking upon the

ruins of what seventy-six wars actually do to a planet. And it was

terrible to know that not only did it look this bad here, in his old

stomping grounds, but also in every village that was dispersed all

across the land.

O'Malley got off Zilestic and, walking over to where he stood

in front of her, he held her muzzle in between his two hands. He

already saw the dark spots that seeped into his body when it hit,

forming again. He had to hurry. The atmosphere seemed different.

It felt thinner than ever and much harder to breathe in.

"I'll be back soon, Zilestic. I'll only be a moment." He knew

where he might find it, but O'Malley didn't know who he would see

along the way. He only knew he didn't want to see anyone.

Everyone that stayed behind after the _Maledictionem Bomb_ either

lost someone or only believed since they were now hideous, it was

only just for them to stay on a hideous planet. And it was wrong. It

was wrong, and it was unhealthy for them to make the irrational

choice. They've been killing themselves since _Day 1_ after the after-

effects were passed and everyone could come out believing it was

alright to resurface. But—of course, it wasn't alright. It will never be

alright. The planet stays dying, and the Alphasians that stayed

along with it as well. As O'Malley walked, he examined the

bleakness of every little speck that was composed to make up the

planet now. From the dishevel and upheaval, it was

295

only growing worse and worse. At one time there were still specks of beauty lingering that once existed everywhere, all over the great

landscape. But now—now it has been deteriorated into oblivion.

_The Hills of Forusquah_ went from being made of golden flakes

etched in with _Dokranian_ diamonds are now but only simple brown

clumps of a mound. The Arched Trees to the Eternal Sunset have

only but shriveled up to decaying chunks of rotting wood. And then

O'Malley noticed the stream of what was once a bright purple was

but now a black color filled with death. The _Hoomany_ fish that swam

to make whirlpools that would rise out of the water and make

miniature tornadoes with their brilliance were now all only but slowly

puckering along with a dreary tone to their movement. O'Malley

couldn't take it. Why did all this happiness he held in his heart for his

home slowly decay along with its own deterioration? And sooner or

later it would all be unsustainable, hardly possible at all to be livable;

becoming a black hole like the prophecy declared, and the people

along with it. And as O'Malley looked down at his hands again, he

noticed how much more progressive the _Maledictionem illness_ was.

The black spots were already moving past his wrists and up his

arms.

Now he was entering the heart of the village, and there he

saw them. People scattered all around were walking or sitting with a

slumped look to each and every one of them. It seemed like they

had ten-pound bags of rice stacked upon their backs from how low

they crouched over. O'Malley looked at all of them with despair

mixed with a loathing for his home to be what it once was. Every

person he glanced at he remembered as being the ones that

stayed. As he walked by them, no one gave any recognition as to

his presence. They all seemed out of it. Like a haze had taken over

them from where they could never return. O'Malley felt hopeless

here. They all were morphed into different forms of repulsiveness

that showed through the black holes marks that covered every inch

of their bodies.

O'Malley could already see the black hole become what it will soon,

dare to say, be. Then O'Malley noticed it. One of the buildings that

were almost ready to crumble forth into a shred of dust had a black

mark swirling around in the center. O'Malley gasped. It had started.

Quickly looking around at all of the passer-byes, in the center of

their stomachs was shown the same large black mark over every

one of their dirty, raggedy garbs that looked like it had been years

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since they at least tried to possibly wash them. All of the Alphasians left their crouched-over slouching to stand directly up, all at the

same time while looking down at the dark pit of death looming out of

their bodies. And then—just like that—it disappeared and they all

went back to being slouched over and wandering aimlessly. But as

O'Malley looked back up at the _hellish_ looking building, its mark

seemed to remain.

——————————————————————————————

" _Wake up!" Wake up you FOOL!"_ Marcus opened his set of

eyes languidly only to look up at a new, peculiar face. He showed

every inclination to being French. From the beret resting atop his

head to the thinly shaven mustache that dreams to point higher in

the sky than it already does, this Frenchman wore his black

suspenders with such grace there was no denying from what

country he hailed from; " _You IDIOT! What were you doing out there_

_on the forbidden deck! It could have reappeared again, and you_

_would have been LOST! Lost, I say!"_ The Frenchman spoke with an

accent that couldn't come close to being as thick as Mercedes' or

Reynaud's. Some of the words he spoke in English to Marcus

rasped together to where he was hardly understandable.

"Who—who are you? Where am I?" Marcus began looking

around to see that he was in a room with a fairly low ceiling with

pipes running all along the top and sides of it.

"This is the headquarters! _My_ headquarters, you silly

American. And you are the first of my many followers. We must

achieve our sanity back. Not only the items that he has taken from

us but the minds he took along with them!"

" _Items? Minds!?"_ Marcus couldn't think of any of the items he

had. He wasn't even wearing any of his own clothes. "I'm sorry, but I

don't own any items, and my mind is fine, thank you!" The

Frenchman shook his head at this.

" _I see! I see that he is ALREADY getting to you!_ You must

_think_ young American boy! _Think!_ Think about the life that is _yours!_

You have your _own_ mind! Your _own_ body! Your _own_ self-life! And it _isn't_ some _man_ who calls himself our _Captain;_ calls himself our _Leader;_ calls himself..." before the Frenchman said what he was

about to say, he added in a loud: " _HA!"_ While looking up into the air;

"Our _Father!"_ But Marcus only shook his head at these profound

statements. This man with his barely understandable thick accent

couldn't possibly be suggesting that Captain Reynaud wasn't his

297

father. For there was no way he wasn't. This was the man that

brought him through his schooling since a young age, the man that

taught him how to ride a bike even though it was difficult at first, the

man that—well that was all Marcus could have his thought-process

think about at the moment, but he knew there were more memories

that they had together. More good times that they could look back

on when he saw him next. Marcus began shaking his head furiously

at the Frenchman.

"Whatever you think about him, you're wrong! He's a good

father! A loving father! He's _my_ Father!" Marcus tried to stand up,

but the Frenchman quickly pushed him back down.

"I almost gave up on you young American but then you said

the word I'm glad you _spat_ out with your _puny_ American mouth. He is not trying to make you believe he is only _your_ father. Yes, that is where he starts out and how he hooks you, inbred countrymen, in,

but he has so much more coming for you. He will make you believe

that he is _everyone's_ father. But he _isn't!_ He's no one's! Not even..."

the Frenchman took a while before he finally choked out: "My dear

_Mercedes."_ As the Frenchman looked away from Marcus, it all

started coming back to him. How he showed up here, and how

Reynaud gave him his clothes, how he met Mercedes and how she

loved—

"YOU'RE _FRÉDÉRIC,_ AREN'T YOU!?" Marcus exploded out

as he turned to him to where he was facing the man. The

Frenchman looked at Marcus incredulously.

"So you _aren't_ gone, American boy, so you're not!" Now

smiling at him; "Well we have much work to be done. Every time I

have spoken to my dearly beloved, she has been _capitulated_ by

the—the— _putain_ they call Reynaud! It is time to win her back! Now

that it has been shown that you can be won back, it is time to win

_her_ back! Time to win _everyone_ back! Time to defeat this demonic _devil_ that has _taken over_ this ship! TO TAKING BACK THE

_SUSSEX_ , MY DEAR MAN!"

" _TO TAKING BACK THE SUSSEX!"_ Marcus replied as he

looked at the gleeful smile of the Frenchman spread far and wide

across his face while he, in return, tried to hide his fear. For right

when he began to hope he would have his Darcy back with a new

name and a change from an Irish to a French accent, it was gone. It

blew away in the wind like how Reynaud took her away right before

he fainted. It blew in the wind for as he was losing her again

298

only now to this man; he, in return, was giving him hope from

snapping him out of the delirium of having a fake father.

299

Chapter 48

Together

"Why are we separating?"

"Because the three of you don't have time to do the missions

together. It is faster this way." Evan shook his head at this.

"I don't know, Rose. I might need Gus' help. Or O'Malley's."

"Well, O'Malley is already gone. Gus won't be going to

Queshtigue with you and _you_ won't be going to Balpentan. Now

_please!_ You two must hurry! There is a great deal of importance

resting on both of your shoulders." But Evan wouldn't have it.

"No. No, I am sorry, but I won't have it." Directing his

attention away from Rose; "Gus. Get on one of the horses." Gus

stared back at him, scuttling in place, unsure of what to do. But as

Evan glared at him, Gus finally went ahead and jumped on the

black horse, broad in the torso and thumping the ground with its

hooves as in ready to head out for the journey ahead. As fast as

Gus got on, Evan was faster for he immediately jumped on behind

him right as soon as Gus had gotten situated. Unsure about the

situation it had been put into, the horse chomped back and forth

unknowing if to go or not.

"This isn't smart, Evan. You should know better! You're the

most senior."

"And going together _is_ the right choice. We can't split up

anymore. We need each other. We're family." And at that moment,

the black stallion couldn't wait any longer and took off in the

direction heading more west than from where O'Malley had headed.

——————————————————————————————

O'Malley began to walk toward the building but before he

could do so—

" _It is YOU!"_ O'Malley turned to see an older gentleman

around his age.

"Greetings, Darten." Darten stopped slouching and stood

upright. The black swirl that everyone all around had for those few

seconds came back into the center of Darten's stomach but only,

as O'Malley scanned the scene all around, everyone else stayed

slouched and intent in their aimless wanderings.

300

"Why are you back here O'Mall!?" O'Malley shrugged his

shoulders and smiled at the mess of an Alphasian that stood in front

of him.

"Do you remember when we used to go down by the _Caves_

_of Sikkahoy_ when we were little and use the Squendal Moss inside

them as a trampoline." Darten stared back at O'Malley with a lack of

remembrance shown clearly upon his face. His face also stayed

blank of an expression when O'Malley added: "What about when we

would run through the _Laresca Leaves_ after the _Pollyhunes_ had shed their coats for it was too hot for them to grow them out any

longer?" As O'Malley was just about to give up on his old, long-lost

friend.

"If we are talking of memories, do you remember when you

had forsaken us because you didn't desire to carry the mark of who

we are now? _Even though,_ even though, O'Mall, wherever we go it

will always be carried upon you even when it is not seen anymore.

But now, as I see on your face, it covers your skin like your foreign

clothes stenches your body." Darten spit upon O'Malley's shoes;

"You aren't welcome here anymore, _O'Mall."_ The black hole upon

the center of his torso disappeared, and he went back to being

slouched over, slowly taking his time in walking away from

O'Malley.

Walking inside, he was confronted with a rounded lobby with

a statue in the center of it. The statue was of a woman cloaked in

gold and hair like fire rising up all around the back of her head,

falling all the way down to her buttocks. As O'Malley examined the

statue a bit more closely, the statue was shown to actually be a real

fire that simmered in a way that it actually did look like her hair.

Walking past it, O'Malley was confronted with the woman that was

the statue. It looked exactly like her except her hair was, instead, an

autumn red than actual fire.

"How may I help you fellow Alphasian?" O'Malley pointed

behind him to the statue.

"I would like to see her."

"You're looking at her." She replied smugly. O'Malley shook

his head.

"No. I mean the real her." The woman at the desk frowned,

looking at O'Malley with irritation she moved around in place, unsure

of what to do. Then, after some time, she finally motioned with her

hand to follow her over to a large disk that took up most of the

corner of lobby placed to the left of them. It had a metallic look to it

301

that resembled a giant-sized battery that would be found inside a wrist-watch. Once they both stood upon the slab of metal, the

woman, with her hair tied back in a bun, muttered:

"Fourth level." And the huge slab of metal quickly shot up

into the air. With the ceilings cut out precisely for the two to travel

straight through, the slab finally halted to a stop in a room mostly

obsolete. The furniture seemed to have come from an earlier time

period on the planet from how the furniture display-change went

from a more futuristic and artsy point of view displayed in the lobby

to a vintage, tacky set-up now placed in front of him. As soon as

O'Malley stepped off the outrageously large battery, it quickly

floated back down to the first floor where O'Malley was able to

glance down and peek upon her stepping off it and heading back to

her front desk station.

Beginning to walk around the room, a huge, pillar-like rod

began to marvel down at O'Malley's minuscule body. It was

completely black with ridges running straight down it along with a

foundation placed at the bottom to keep it from falling over. As it

was the center of attention for the room, a crescent-moon tip on the

top shot out a beam of darkness upon the wall which grabbed much

more of the eye. It was the black hole that covered the center of the

building, and, as O'Malley stepped closer to the black pit of despair,

he felt its tugging which only kept his secure stance so he wouldn't

be sucked right into it. It was like an enormous clock working

backward.

Looking away from the eerie presence of what was shown,

taking up the entire wall, he walked up to the towering size of what

was creating it. Putting his hands barely on it, he felt the sting of its

presence. He knew he had to hurry. Hurriedly looking around, he

knelt down to where he was at the pillar's foundation and took the

pocketknife out that sat in his pocket long overdue to be used. He

flipped up the corkscrew of the Swiss Army and, once out, it began

to spin. Once O'Malley thought it was spinning fast enough, he

brought the tool down onto an edge of the black cylinder-shaped

beam. A chip of it cracked off which O'Malley let fall into a cloth he

pulled out right in time before it hit the ground. As he let the

corkscrew slow down to a halt:

"Do you like it? It really is a wonder, isn't it?!" O'Malley spun

around, finding himself face-to-face with a woman with a gold dress

on with diamonds encrusted in a vertical pattern. She was the same

one from the counter, however—she wasn't. She was dressed

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differently, her face was layered with much more make-up, and her hair fell brilliantly down to her shoulders in wisps of curls instead of

in a classy bun.

"This shouldn't be here, Malloraya. You have no right to

have made this." Her face seemed to not hear what O'Malley had

said for, instead, she stood next to an ugly flower-imprinted couch

coated with an unpleasant brown color. She picked at the couch's

fabric with her fingernails and then—with a flick of her head

upwards:

"What is it that you said, Daddy?"

——————————————————————————————

"Evan! Where did this horse bring us?" Gus looked around at

the abnormally barren landscape. Neon green grass covered the

ground they jumped onto while, spread out, were trees of blue wood

growing out of the ground. But—as Gus peered in for a closer look,

the trees seemed to be standing tall but in an upside-down fashion

not what Gus was used to seeing. The bushel of leaves with red and

yellow patterns covered the base of these new, magnificent

structures. As the blue trunk of the tree sprang from the, more or

less, shrubbery that rested all around it, the roots that sprang out of

the trunk flew out into the air with a splendid grace of symmetry and

wonder. It almost made it seem more like a fellow with tremendous

strength came and pulled the trees out of the ground and put them

on their heads for their own amusement. The only problem seemed

to be, as Gus, looked more closely, the roots of the tree closest to

him had no remnant of any dirt leftover from the pulling of the

ground.

"What did someone do to the trees, Gus!?" Gus shook his

head in disbelief at Evan.

"I don't think anyone did _anything_ to the trees! I just think

that's how they are grown!" But Evan wouldn't have it.

"Nope! We're on a planet full of destructive, wrath-creating

giants. That's the only reason as to why these trees have been

flipped over. We have to be careful." Evan crouched down and

began nudging the horse over to one of the nearby trees.

"Evan! Stop it! We aren't on Earth. Not all trees grow the

same way _our_ trees are grown." But Evan kept his slouched position

and brought their horse over a little way to where they were better

hidden behind a grove of the mysterious planet's blue ground-

growers. Motioning with his hand to follow, Gus reluctantly began

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following after grunting and stammering under his breath; " _Ev_ —

there _aren't..."_ before finishing, suddenly, a loud _thud_ began ringing back and forth throughout their ears. Looking around aimlessly,

Evan caught eyes with Gus showing his 'there aren't, are there?'

expression.

But before Gus could reply, out of nowhere, they heard a:

" _HEY PAPABALINGA! TRAPA DE PAPPA DE FERTIN! EH!"_

From hearing this, Gus changed his slow walk of a pace over to

Evan and the horse, speeding up the tempo to where he was at a

full sprint.

"And the loud sound of the giant's footstep _didn't make you_

_jump!?"_ Gus shook his head and whispered back while his voice

shook out:

"I—I _was a little bit preoccupied with being frozen in place to_

_actually move..."_

_"PAPABALINGA DO YOU HEAR DAT!?"_ The voice was

carried out in the distance coming high up in the air.

_"Shhh..."_ Evan put his index finger to his lips. He motioned

upwards, and then—before Gus could stop him—he disappeared

into the leaves of one of the trees that covered them from sight.

Next thing Gus knew, he was watching Evan begin a climb upwards

and beyond the thicket of leaves. Evan found it strangely easier

than he had expected to place his feet and hands into grooves as

he made his way up. Once to the top, he was immediately met

with—

" _CHAKADALINGA, CHAKADALINGA! I'M BEING_

_ASTACKED!"_ There in front of Evan sat a turtle-man with a rough,

green skin with a small, rounded shell on top of his head resembling

that of an army cap. But it was clearly a turtle. The shell was clearly

that of a turtle's shell. In his brownish palms held what seemed to be

a gun with three slender spirals protruding out of the tip of it. The

turtle-man quickly pointed the peculiar gun at Evan and, before he

was able to duck, a thick net of foam encircled him. Everywhere he

looked was a white, puffy cream that felt as if it was stitching itself

into his skin. Before he knew it, the foam was everywhere, and he

couldn't hold onto the roots of the tree any longer.

" _Evan—Evan!"_ All was silent. Then branches were heard

from above being broken as down flew a big white mound of foam. It

landed on the grouping of leaves Gus stood in front of and acted as

a cushion from the fall. Gus looked at it mysteriously. What it was,

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he had no clue, but it didn't take long for him to examine it for the white foam encircled him faster than he was able to look up to see it

coming at him.

" _AYOO! YOU CATCHY A FERTIN!?"_ Papabalinga shook his

head as he gazed down at his two prized catches of the day.

_"I catchy more than a fertin today Chakadaling,."_

Papabalinga muttered this under his breath as he then blew off bits

and remains of the foam.

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Chapter 49

Caught in a Sticky Situation

"How do I turn this off? How do I stop our planet from being

an empty terrain of vacancy that YOU CREATED! Because YOU

believe in an Alphasia that is not. Malloraya—stop this. Alphasia

_doesn't deserve this._ She didn't give you her authority to do a

malicious deed like this and for you to become someone you are

not. You are creating a problem that might never bring you back.

You won't ever be able to fix this, and it might all be over if it isn't

stopped. You don't deserve to have this done to you. These _people_

don't deserve this. I—I want my daughter back. Where's my

daughter!? I need my daughter!" But Malloraya wasn't paying

attention. No, instead, her eyes were fixed intently upon the bottom

of the great, black pillar in the center of the room.

"My generator—it—you?" Her gaze lingered away from the

chipped part and looked at O'Malley in hatred; "Why? Why, O'Mall,

why?" O'Malley was silent. He didn't expect her to notice it so soon.

So, taking a step—and another rather slow bringing of the other foot

until he was face-to-face with his daughter, his face turned into a

diminishing stern expression down into a harsh, belittling feature.

"Just because you can use this—this _thing_ here to be

everywhere and be _anyone_ doesn't make you more than you really

are. This whole— _thing_ you having going on here. It isn't right!

GET—OUT—OF MY ALFASIA—

" _Everyone."_ She whispered out. He looked at her confused.

She repeated herself but louder this time; "Everyone. My name isn't

Malloraya anymore, Father. No, now—it is Everyone. I am

becoming everyone so it is only right that my name is what I have

become."

"Malloray—my dear sweet _Everyone..."_ O'Malley said with a

sarcastic jolt of a laugh; _"_ Only because your body has been _cloned_ into people all across the universe doesn't mean you _are_ them. You

are only you and that is all you ever will be. And don't you know how

wrong it is that your face is displayed onto people that lead their

_own_ lives!? Have their _own_ families like we have ours. They have their own fathers, brothers, sisters, mothers."

"Mother would be proud of the life I'm living."

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"Wiping out Alphasia wouldn't make her proud. It would only

make her regret ever having you."

" _LIKE YOU REGRET HAVING ME!? LIKE YOU BELIEVE_

_THAT I SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN!? WELL, I HAVE_

_BEEN BORN. BUT NOW I HAVE BEEN BORN HUNDREDS OF_

_TIMES. THOUSANDS OF TIMES."_

_"_ Millions of times. Yes, you have been born millions of times.

And soon— every human that is born will be your face being born.

And it makes me want to vomit to think such a terrible atrocity is

being done. And soon—soon you will have the human race wiped

out, and you will be what is left of it. And you will change from being

everyone to being no one. Because that is what you are: no one."

O'Malley turned his face away from his daughter and slowly walked

away from her, heading towards the cavernous hole in the ground.

"What will you do with it?" Malloraya exclaimed, quickly

turning around so he faced him slowly leaving. He stopped from

walking and, turning around:

"Fix something that still holds the power to become intact

once more." He gazed at her skin which was clear of any black

marks and then at his which were covered with them. And holding

up the back of his hand: "Nothing will fix this, however." The slab of

steel came in through the hole and, stepping on, down he went.

"Have an _Alphastic day!"_ The woman behind the counter

yelled out as O'Malley left. He didn't bother to reply. He knew she

wasn't a true Alphasian so she didn't have the right to yell out the

planet greeting to her.

——————————————————————————————

"How long has Reynaud been on this ship doing this to

everyone?" Frédéric shrugged. Taking out a cigarette, he placed it

between his lips and, with the spark of a match:

"Ever since I can really remember. Reynaud wiped out

everyone's past memories and put in new ones. Even the ones that

were part of the _French Revolution_ believe that he is their father

which is completely and utterly impossible. When you can put that

into someone's mind which can't be in the least bit realistic then you

just have to applaud the guy. But he has had me stuck on this ship,

_in hiding,_ going on a never-ending voyage while he pulls food out

those _flabby_ cheeks he keeps locked up in that downstairs

_basement!_ So no! I will _not_ be applauding him! I am, instead, ready 307

to win my Mercedes back, _prove_ that the front of the ship has been torn off because of him..."

"Wait! You've seen that the front of the ship is missing too!?"

Frédéric put the palms of his hands facing the sky and tilting his

head showing Marcus the uncertainty:

"Well—American friend, seeing it and then not seeing it are

two completely different things."

"Then how do you know about it?" They were now walking

through a hallway Marcus had never been in before. It was desolate

with dimmed lights that barely kept the two from seeing where they

were placing each foot after the other.

"It is a rumor. I see that you have heard of it too; this ship is

supposedly Hell, and Reynaud is actually the devil. That is why it

seems like we have been on this obscenely small ship for what

seems like forever, having dreams that are molding our minds, and

the ship was actually torpedoed whenever World War I was. I'm

sure you are from the future my friend, and World War I has long

been passed. That is why you were not here and now you are. You

are a new member of the society of Hell." Marcus shook his head in

disbelief.

"That isn't it." But then Marcus was beginning to feel unsure.

Was it? Was he telling himself what he knew to be true all along?

_This didn't seem right. EVERYTHING from this whole experience_

_didn't seem right. He had to be in Hell. Seeing Darcey over and over_

_again has been like Hell. So why couldn't it have been?_ "I'm in Hell."

Frédéric nodded and put out what was left of his tobacco.

"But not much longer. We're going to escape!"

——————————————————————————————

Gus felt the remains of white particles still covering his skin.

It made him feel disgusting. Trying to reach with one of his hands—

" _What?"_ His hands—they were—

"Are their hands and feet good and stuck together, Linga

brothers?"

" _YES! GOOD AND STUCK!"_

_"YES, YES! STICK GOOD, STICK VERY GOOD!"_ Came

another voice right after.

"Well, when you two want to begin the ceremony? I am very

excited about trying out this new meat!" Gus froze. _Eat?_ Were they

about to eat one of them?

" _SOON! VERY SOON!"_

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_"YES! VERY SOON, VERY SOON!"_

_"_ Well, I want to start now. I am _hungry!_ Papabalinga—you

are the oldest. You must decide now! Do we eat one now or do we

do it later!?" Gus felt the excitement being held on Papabalinga's.

Not being able to hold it in any longer, he bellowed out:

" _NOW! NOW, MASTER LOONGARAUM! IT IS TIME TO_

_FEAST!"_ With a bellow in Loongaraum's voice, he sounded out:

"PREPARE THE CEREMONY!" And a strange clattering of a

noise rang out before him. The clattering turned into a sound that

must have come out of an exotic shell for it resonated like it was a

sea-shell back home. All around, Gus could hear scuttling of feet

following out in the preparations for the feast. Beginning to feel a

fluttering start in his eyes, vision slowly began to ease its way back.

Soon enough, Gus was staring into the face of Evan. He looked so

utterly awful that, for a second, Gus had to close his eyes before

opening them back up again, analyzing what they did to him. His

mouth was sealed shut by the white sludge that seemed to once

have covered them from head to toe and scrapes and bruises

covered his skin from most likely being dragged back to wherever

they had them now. As Gus tried to open his mouth he felt the

sludge ripping from between his lips and, soon enough, he was able

to yell. But he didn't. As much as he wanted to scream out in agony,

in pain from how the white sludge sunk deep into the depths his

skin, he kept his mouth shut. As he tried to do the same with his feet

and hands, for some odd reason, it seemed to be trickier.

_"What are they?"_ He heard one of them say.

" _Fertins?"_

_"But don't smell like fertin? They come from the canyon._

_They have to!"_

_"But none come from the canyon. Only our ancestors' spirits_

_reside below inside the Big Hole."_ Suddenly, the bright rays of

sunshine that touched down upon Gus were clouded over by a

figure peering downwards towards him; " _Not anymore. It seems that_

_they brought food for us now that the fertins run low."_ Gus felt the

figure swoop down and kneel on top of him. His spleen couldn't hold

the weight of what felt like a shell made of cement. As a rough-

skinned green face laid its head on the ground next to Gus', he

didn't know what else to do but keep his eyes frozen open. As soon

as he chose, he realized it was the wrong one. The face stayed in

front of

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his, bringing out its tongues from time to time to lick its obscenely largish beak of a nose.

" _Chakadalinga—this one seems to be dead."_ The face next

to Gus' muttered.

" _Of course it would be."_ Chakadalinga replied; " _They come_

_from the canyon where everything is dead! Throw it back into the_

_Big Hole where it came from if it is true what you say."_ Gus wasn't

going through with it. _Big hole?_ He wasn't planning on being

dropped into a canyon but—on the other hand—he wanted to not be

eaten. But if he wasn't eaten than Evan would be.

"I do come from the Hole you both speak of."

" _PAPABALINGA! GET AWAY!"_ The face resting beside Gus'

quickly flung itself off the ground. With as much strength as he could

muster, Gus worked his way off the ground as well into a sitting

position. Before standing, the two hardened faces, that were as oily

and unkempt as Gus felt, looked at his attempt of standing at

surprise. Not only did they have a perfectly shaped shell on each of

their heads, but they also carried a shell-like padding displayed

upon their shoulders that curved backward down their backs ending

in a pointed tail-like structure between their legs. Not knowing what

to do, he muttered out:

"We come from the Hole with a message."

" _A message?"_ They both looked at each other, confused.

" _What message do you bring?"_ Gus was lost for words. He

couldn't think of any stories to make up for helping both him and

Evan to be free and uneaten. As he was silent they whispered back

and forth to each other.

" _His message must be that they are food for us!"_ Looking

back at Gus; _"Thank you, food! We will eat you, and it will be good_

_to us!"_ They inched forward as Gus shook his head in fear. 
"No—no we aren't food!" They looked again at each other.

" _That's what food would say!"_ Before Gus knew it, he was

dragged to his feet by Papabalinga and faced towards the center of

the village. It was massive. Tents made of a slimy substance were

scattered about near and wide. The land it was placed upon was

covered in grassy hills that over tens of hundreds of the tents were

nestled upon. Gus began to feel his stomach drop as he realized

the implications he was being put under. The meal of the day won't

be water lettuce or worms for these enormous turtles. It will be

human.

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——————————————————————————————

" _What happened?"_ O'Malley rode in to see Rose still

standing next to one single horse left.

"You weren't gone long." She held out her hand as Zilestic

shimmered away beneath him.

"Butamina is still here? Why? What happened?"

"They went to Balpentan together." O'Malley shook his head

at this in disbelief.

"They ruined it. We had a chance, and they ruined it!"

O'Malley gave the handkerchief with the chipped pieces of the pillar

to her.

" _No! Albert, it is not the time to become hopeless! Think_

_about what you only accomplished in such short of time! Even with_

_the mishap on the Zimmerman mission, you still did it rather_

_speedily! We HAVE more time!"_ Rose placed her free hand on his

reddened cheek and gently caressed her thumb to his plump, pink

nose. She reached up to his face with her's and brought her hand

full of the clothed chips around his neck and rested her other arm on

his shoulder. They embraced with a flaming kindle that showed

signs of never leaving. They felt right in each other's arms once

again. But once they both knew it was time, O'Malley jumped upon

Butamina and took off once again. As he drifted out, Rose fiddled

with the pieces that had been chipped and uncovered the folds of

the cloth she saw the black roughness leaving them, smoothing out

into a creamy white texture.

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Chapter 50

It can't all stay the same

As O'Malley _protaginated_ onto Queshtigue, he scanned the

area and then looked down at Butamina.

"Where did you bring me? This isn't the jungle forests that

my early field trips were taken into when our young children would

explore combinational arborous environments." He whispered this

with fear for, inside, he felt he already knew where they landed. As

they rode on in silence the land was barren and instead of any trees

or shrubs to be seen at all, an amusement park came into the

distance labeled _Queshlandia._

"Come, come, homo sapient lifeform! The rides are never-

ending! The amusement park covers this whole planet! And we

have been ranked as the leader of the entertainment world!

Welcome to the planet with the best chance for life for it is the life

that is always being enjoyed! Welcome to _Queshlandia!"_ As

O'Malley neared the entrance gate he got a better look at the furry

figure with three arms on each side and horns covering his entire

back. In every hand beside one was a triangular piece of paper.

The empty one looked ready to take O'Malley's money.

" _Flakaprana?_ This isn't your planet! What are you doing

here? Where—where are the jungle forests?" O'Malley exclaimed,

confused. The hairy _flakaprana_ laughed and, leaning out of the

window of the booth:

"There was much money to be made, my friend, so we

_flakaprana_ saw that this planet was a great investment!"

"But I thought Queshtigue was registered as one of the

preserved planets because the jungle forests here are so unique?"

Shaking his head:

"Well, they were unique. Queshtigue was on the list of

planets that were buyable if any new lifeforms needed a new home,

and we _flakaprana_ couldn't turn down the chance in having another

home beside the one where we don't even have _room_ to make a

planet-sized amusement park! So here we are!" O'Malley stared

back at the _flakaprana_ , bewildered.

"There must've been some mistake! Queshtique is a

preserved planet, and it always will be!"

312

"I'm sorry you think that way. Buying one of the five tickets I have in my hands and checking our amusement park out might

change your mind, my friend. Our rides and games are sought after

by any walking lifeforms that knows what enjoyment looks like. I

promise you won't have any doubt that we have mastered the art of

living once you have explored and enjoyed yourself here." O'Malley,

hesitant but succumbed, bought one of the triangles with twenty-

seven of his _Universal Coyramas_ and went inside. Immediately, he

was met with a sea of ocean while he stood on golden flakes of

sand. A group of boat-like vessels hovered above the shore, having

the sand beneath them stirring in circular motions along with the

engines attached below the slick frame. Another _flakaprana_ stood

near these and motioned O'Malley to step onto one. Stepping on,

O'Malley felt the metallic board begin to rise higher and higher off

the ground until O'Malley couldn't help but sit down from feeling the

velocity of the engine shaking so uncontrollably. Any minute now he

could already see himself falling for the machine felt like as if it was

trying to shake him off instead of keeping him on. Once the

_flakaprana_ was barely a speck on the beach, the metallic board

shot out latches all around O'Malley's waist and legs securing him

in tightly so he felt more secure.

But then, that feeling quickly went away. The board began to

tilt downwards while the engine roared louder than ever. Suddenly,

the engine peaked in its roaring scream of intensity and shot

O'Malley like a cannon as he began pummeling downwards into the

ocean below. The blue waters shimmered before him as he grew

closer and closer until, instantly, an oval shell came out of the board

and encompassed O'Malley, shielding him from the ferocious wind.

As it did so, the engine jolted to a stop right at the base of the water

where the pointed tip of the board was barely touching the steady

ruffling of the blue liquid as it vibrated outwards from the tip. Then,

just as stillness caught ahold of O'Malley once again, he began to

feel the impact of his body still registering itself for such an

unexpected ride. His heart pounded like a hammer was beating

down deep into his chest.

And just when he felt like he was going to pass out, the

board shot forward once again but this time into the cool, pristine

water. From only just transcending downwards through a spiral

O'Malley thought this would be to his death. But now—instead it had

turned into a gentle stroll through the waters of Queshtigue.

313

O'Malley felt exhilarated to actually be gazing at the sea creatures of Queshtigue he never knew could have existed. A combination of

a jellyfish and a starfish floated by him with such grace that once a

whole school of them came into view, O'Malley felt his mouth as it

gaped open wide in disbelief and wonder. The pink star-shaped

bubble with tentacles attached was all he saw as he made his way

farther and farther down into the depths of the ocean. As the fish

dispersed until none were left around O'Malley, the bottom of the

ocean floor became clearer and sea plants of every shape and size

came into view. Little mounds of rock were spread out along the

floor with purple bamboo-like reeds sticking out of them. Around the

mounds were red and yellow moss laid out in clumps. The moss

would in one second be the color of the sun but then slowly shift

into a moon-like candescence of a color. O'Malley marveled at these

color-shifts that he almost didn't even notice when, coming into

view, a rather globe-like bubble could be seen barely sticking out of

the bed of the floor. As O'Malley neared it, a tube-like platform

sprang forth from the tip of it which the metallic board glided onto

coming to a resting stop with a gentle ease. The tube warped forth

around O'Malley and dropped him forth into the globe having him

slowly spin around as he took in a view that he thought would never

have been beneath the crust of this planet.

If not for him knowing that it was flakaprana that had now

inhabited this planet, underneath the layer of the ocean, he left

were rides and games taken from every planet O'Malley has been

to and even the ones he hasn't. A stream of rods twirled and

spindled as lifeforms big and small zipped around the underground

park. A circular glob of rounded cushions spread out along the

edges of the park sending _jatrid_ -aliens through them like cushions.

It reminded O'Malley of a sideways merry-go-round in how the

_jatrids_ had the bodies of what Alphasians back home would ride on

when the ride was still operating. Now, thinking back to it, Malloraya

has let them be turned into heaps of rusty metal. As the metallic

board slowly hovered him to the ground, female flakapranas came

over to him landing carrying woven necklaces of—

" _What the?"_ O'Malley began trying to jump off the board as it

opened back up now that he was out of the water to see better if it

was true to be what the flakaprana women held. Around their necks

and wrists were the noolani bulsprits. They looked dried up but bits

of the orange nectar still remained to make a jagged design all

along

314

the puffy roots from their inside. One of the flakaprana motioned to put it around his neck.

"Noolani bulsprits. They are what is left of the deepest parts

of Queshtique's jungle forests." O'Malley scowled back at the

flakaprana's statement.

" _I know what it is."_ The flakaprana slowly lowered the

necklace unsure of where his anger was coming from.

"Do you not like Queshlandia?" O'Malley, now off of the

metallic board, took the dried up noolani bulspruts necklace and

shook his head while he felt it between his fingers.

"It truly is a wonderful amusement park that you flakapranas

built but the jungle forests were such an odd beauty of nature and

how they were only held on this planet that I was actually really will

miss walking through them." The flakaprana felt his remorse for a

second but then, smiling up towards him, she replied:

"But you still can! We have a virtual tour of the history of

Queshtigue, and it starts out with a walk through what it used to be.

We really did try to keep the jungle forest alive by building the park

underground, but sadly it killed everything. Killing everything deeply

troubled us. We tried restoring the jungle forests back on our home

planet, but it wasn't the right atmosphere for the exotic plants to

grow. If you know of any habitations that would be more suited for

the plants like the noolani bulsprits to grow in then, by all means,

we will give you the seeds we have saved for you to find a place

with the right soil and climate to bring the jungle forests back to life

again!" O'Malley rubbed his thumb across the jagged lines of what

remained of the noolani bulsprits' nectar and gave her an

expression of relief.

"I'd love that."

315

Chapter 51

A New Home

As Marcus and Frédéric walked in a more dimly lit hallway,

Marcus realized where they were.

"That's Mercedes' room!" He pointed out. Frédéric looked at

him questioningly.

"How did you know that?" His face then changed suddenly

from concern to anger. Running up to the door he began banging on

it wildly.

" _MERCEDES! MERCEDES!"_ The door was opened and

Frédéric barged his way in; "Where did you..." hearing the change

of his voice Marcus walked in to see Frédéric kneeling over as he

watched Mercedes holding up the bed's comforter and revealing—

" _Mercedes?"_ Marcus looked at the woman that came out

from under the bed holding a collection of watches, pock watches,

and miscellaneous jewelry. Although... it _wasn't_ Mercedes. This

new, fairly slim female with, instead of red hair, had blonde curls

that radiated like sunshine.

"So when did you initially meet my lover, Marcus?" Marcus

stared at the woman in confusion; "Did he free you from below the

deck?" Marcus looked at her with a clear state of dismay. This

wasn't Mercedes! Who was she? Where was the Mercedes that

always lived in this room; the Mercedes that Reynaud introduced

him to? The one she had revealed the missing part of the ship to

him? And now that Darcy had reappeared into his life, she was

nowhere to be seen. Instead, an extremely attractive woman that

looked like she came out of the magazines under his bed back

home in Dunedin came out to replace his sanity.

"My friend! _What is wrong! You look like you climbed out_

_from under this bed along with what the devil took from this whole_

_massif SHIP!"_ Frédéric nearly spits out his sputtering.

"I'm—I'm..." and Marcus understood. He only pictured

Mercedes as Darcy. Just like how he pictured her as Zimmermann's

secretary. But they weren't his Darcey. His sweet and wonderful

Irishwoman that he knew was meant to be destined to. Even

through the harsh environment they were put under when they first

met. But now they never met, and he had to face that. She didn't

get to face that like he did that and that troubled Marcus the

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most. He felt the need deep down in his heart that she would still only remember him. Remember him as the man that fell in love with

her.

" _What is it, man!? Spit it out!"_ As Frédéric said this, he spit it

out as well. But as Marcus looked down, feeling troubled by this

horrendous position he was put under, there it was.

"My _xikonian_." He whispered.

" _Zi—cone—in?_ Marcus, what _ever_ has gotten into you!?" But

instead of replying back to Mercedes, reaching out, he snatched the

pocket watch out the pile of the rest of the stolen pieces. He felt the

articulate swirls wrinkling into his hand once again as he brought it

back around his neck where it felt so at home upon his chest. Once

Marcus did this, the confusion upon both Frédéric and Mercedes'

faces were left with comprehension of what seemed to be the

problem in his sudden strangeness; "Oh that is yours; well if

anything else you see that might have been taken from you, then by

all means. We need to get it all back to our other fellow civilians on

this boat. Every last piece that has been taken away from what

seems to be their true illusion of what is real. They _can't all actually_

_believe that he is our father! He isn't! He seems to be some sort of_

_evil demon or maybe actually be the devil!"_

_"Diable,"_ Frédéric repeated as he took the mound of metal

being held in a blanket and threw it onto her bed.

"How exactly did you get ahold of all of this?" Marcus asked,

a curious expression strew across his face.

"When he took me, he locked me in his office. Throwing me

onto the ground, he opened a chest he had sitting beside his desk.

Opening it, there it all was. He took out the diamond earrings my

grandmother gave me and held it out in front of me. Mercedes could

still remember it so clearly; "He thought I fell asleep. Asleep to one

of his dreams he displays into our minds." Mercedes added.

"Yes, I remember them well," Marcus replied.

"Well, I was able to stop myself. I didn't understand how. But

then I saw it. _My grandmother's earrings!_ It had somehow fallen

onto my leg. He must have placed it on his deck and it fell off. And

then I realized it! It stopped me from believing him to be my father.

For when he held it—somehow I knew he was my father— _But he_

_isn't! Oh, Frédéric, I'm so scared!"_ Mercedes fell into Frédéric's

arms, holding her tightly. Upon their tight embrace, the ground,

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walls, and ceiling shook immensely causing them to tumble and fall forward.

——————————————————————————————

" _CHAKADALINGA! STOP LICKING THE FOOD!_ Gus

shuddered when Chakadalinga took one last, quick lick on his

shoulder.

" _I'm hungry, and I haven't had fertin since we went hunting."_

_"You must wait! The food might be poisonous!"_ As they

neared the center of the village, the scenery morphed out of the hilly

terrain and into an encircling of a massive pit of emptiness that

seemed to never end. Gus glowered into it, petrified. But however

great of a hole this was, the bonfire he neared was just as

overwhelming. Larger than he had ever seen, the flames danced

and swirled into a mountainous-sized fire. He began to gaze around

the never-ending pit, and bonfires of the like were scattered all

around the hole as well, spread out miles apart. As the bonfire

roared with a bright intensity of light, Papabalinga and Chakadalinga

brought Gus around it and had him step up towards the edge of the

great hole. He felt his heart drop as he gazed down at a pit that

seemed to not even hold a bottom. If he fell, days of falling would be

the last of his short life. He tried to take a step back but felt the

remnants of the white sludge still sticking off of the gun that was dug

into his back.

" _Where do you think you're going?"_ Gus slowly stepped up

again to the edge of the hole and, taking his time turning around,

instead of Papabalinga and Chakadalinga's normal sizes, being

about twice as tall and stocky as him, an even greater one of them

stood before his tiny, frightened body.

" _Master Loongaraum! Is it poisonous!? Can we eat it!?"_

Loongaraum looked down at Gus, scowling at him. Bending over, he

took a sniff inches to his face. He patted his cheek with his hand the

size of Gus' face and replied:

" _Poisonous it is not. Let us eat it."_

_——————————————————————————————_

Screaming could be heard from outside the room as they lay

hunched over from the sudden rumbling that took them by surprise.

"What was that!?" Mercedes asked, fear creeping into her

shaking hands. Marcus got up while Frédéric helped Mercedes to

her feet. As Marcus looked at their clueless faces, he sadly knew all

too well what it was. He had failed, yet again, another mission. The

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_Sussex_ had been hit and now the front of the ship was actually missing its bow instead of an illusion that Reynaud showed them.

"Let's check it out," Frédéric replied. They left the room and

was immediately met with a gust of dusty wind coming from the left

side of Mercedes' room. A few doors down could be seen a sunken

floor running down into a carnage of wreckage. The hallway that

was once there was now not. Instead, replacing it was piles of

floorboards fallen into each other with scraps of metal and wires

hanging and laying around scrupulously.

" _Marcus! What we saw earlier!"_ Marcus nodded,

remembering it so clearly. The only problem was now it was actually

real. The staircase was still standing to the right of them so, as

Marcus motioned to it, Frédéric turned to Mercedes, quickly saying:

" _Hurry! Go get the stolen goods. This seems to be the time."_

Mercedes ran back into the room as Marcus and Frédéric began to

walk over to the staircase, peering up it. Reynaud's voice could be

heard on the main deck trying to calm passengers down.

" _But Father..."_ one of the voices could be heard; " _What has_

_happened to our home!?"_

_"Yes, Father..."_ another squealed out; " _What has_

_happened!? The front of the ship is gone!"_ Mercedes was now with

them so they went up to join the rest of the gathering.

"EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT!" Conversations stirred up

between the rest of the gathering as Marcus, Frédéric, and

Mercedes hung in the back.

" _What is the meaning of all this!? Father— who did this?"_

Reynaud looked at the woman with confusion.

"Betsy! Calm down. No one needs to be frantic!"

" _WHY WOULDN'T I NOT BE, FATHER!?_ WHY WOULDN'T

_WE,_ YOUR CHILDREN, NOT!? IT IS OUR HOME!"

"Because it is only stolen for a little while longer. We'll get to

the bottom of this!" Betsy looked at Reynaud hysterically.

" _Father—_ there isn't any way we're getting the front of our

ship back. It has been more than stolen." Reynaud looked at her,

bewildered.

" _What—ever are you talking about, sweet Bets!?_ The front of

the ship hasn't been stolen! My _possessions_ you all children gave

me have been taken right out of my chest! And I think I know just

who!" Reynaud turned towards where the three in the back were

standing silently. Mercedes held the bundled blanket more tightly

319

against her chest, as she felt his intense glare upon her; "You three—come forward." The crowd in front of Reynaud dispersed

making an opening for Marcus, Frédéric, and Mercedes. They came

to where they were standing in front of him, his eyes fixed down

onto Mercedes' folded up blanket.

"Can I see that, my sweet child?" Mercedes shook her head

and backed away into Frédéric's arms. Reynaud, looking away from

Mercedes, turned to Frédéric and smiled; "I was wondering how

long you would be in hiding until you would finally come out and

realize _I am your Father."_ Frédéric's grasp tightened around

Mercedes as he replied:

_"I would never be a son of yours."_ He then raised his voice

shouting out: "NONE OF THESE PEOPLE WILL _EVER_ BE YOUR

CHILDREN!" As he directed his attention to the rest of the crowd

gathered around. The fellow passengers began to converse

amongst themselves as one replied back to Frédéric:

"But what do you mean!? He _is_ our Father!" But then Marcus

stepped forward.

"This man! He claims to all of you that he is your father; but

would your father be younger than you, my dear lady?" Marcus

asked, directing his attention to an older woman towards the front of

the crowd; "Or be about the same age as you, my fellow man?"

Marcus peered over to a gentleman in the back of the crowd; "The

memories we might have of this man as being our father might

seem realistic and, in no other way around it, true; but it can't be! He

is the captain of this ship, yes that might be! But never will he be our

father!"

"Now, now, Marcus. I will not stand to have one of my

children act this way!" Directing his attention to two burly men

standing near-by, Reynaud muttered: "Throw him into it." Before

Marcus knew it, the two men grabbed ahold of him and threw him

off of the ship where the front of the ship was supposed to be.

"NO!" Mercedes screamed. But it was too late. Marcus was

nowhere to be seen when both her and Frédéric peered down into

the abyss of wreckage their ship has become.

"Now _give me that!"_ Reynaud tugged at the bundled blanket

in her arms.

" _You killed him."_ She muttered as Frédéric held onto her.

She jerked away from Reynaud's grasp on the blanket sending it

flying out of her hands. The jewelry, watches, and pocket watches

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scattered all throughout the crowd. Mercedes quickly snatched up the blanket from in front of her and yelled out: " _IS THIS HOW A_

_FATHER TREATS HIS CHILDREN!? HAVING THEM THROWN_

_OFF OF A SHIP!?"_ She turned to Reynaud and spit at his feet.

Frédéric gained his grip back around Mercedes as she began to try

wailing on the captain.

_"When one of my children falls out of line I have to punish_

_them to keep the rest in order."_ Reynaud whispered to her; _"And_

_don't think I'm not afraid to do the same to you as well."_ But

Mercedes didn't seem to be paying much attention to him as he

gave his rant to her. For what unfolded all about the crowd made

her eyes twinkle with satisfaction. Men, woman, and children, all in

the midst of it all, began to pick up what was flown to their feet and

smile at their possessions that they had given Reynaud so willingly.

" _My mother's ring!"_ One woman shouted out as she picked

up a golden band with a large diamond attached to the top of it.

" _And my grandfather's pocket watch!"_ One man said as he

pointed it out at someone else's feet. While this happened, the boy

beside him pointed out as well:

" _Hey! My father gave me that wristwatch!"_ As all around, the

passengers began to pick up their property, they just as soon began

to turn to Reynaud in anger.

"No, no! Don't pick any of it up!" Reynaud sputtered out as

he began to run all around the crowd in a frenzy. Turning to Betsy

before she picked up the other pair to her earrings: " _Betsy! You_

_gave those to me! Give those back, give those back!"_ Betsy looked

at Reynaud in horror as she picked it up from off the ground.

"I'm sorry—Captain _Reynaud,_ but I don't remember giving

_anything_ to you! I think you stole all of this from out of our rooms!"

Reynaud looked back at her in terror.

" _Captain Reynaud?"_ He muttered back; "But I'm your

_Father!"_ Betsy smacked him upon the words leaving his mouth.

" _That's absurd, Captain!_ I am _much_ older than you! I could

_never_ be your daughter."

" _THIEF!"_ People began to yell out.

" _MURDERER!"_ Others added. Reynaud spun his head back

and forth as the uproar only rose in the heat of the air. Slowly

stepping back as the mob inched forward, Reynaud felt his feet

touch the edge of the ship where the bow was still missing. Still, the

mass of people only grew closer. Reynaud began to lose his

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balance. And as Mercedes and Frédéric stepped forward to him he flung his arms out wide for help. Instead, Mercedes placed the

blanket into his hands and down he fell.

As Reynaud disappeared from view, the ship's bow slowly

began to appear as if it had never left. Lying in the center of the

bow was Marcus drenched in water. He got up, and pocket watch in

hand lifted it up to hear uproar of applause coming from the crowd.

"Where did Reynaud go?" Marcus muttered as he limped

over to Frédéric and Mercedes.

"He's gone—why are you limping?" Mark shrugged.

"It was a long way down to the bottom." Suddenly, he

noticed what he forgot he felt in his pocket back on the potato farm;

"My pocketknife..." picking it up, Marcus saw dents in the edges as

if someone tried to open it but failed trying.

"Where did that come from?" Frédéric asked, taking it out of

Marcus' hands and analyzing it. After a fluent examination, Frédéric

tried opening the smaller knife of the two attached to it but, to no

avail, was able to do so.

"I guess it doesn't work." Mercedes said as she took it out of

his hands and tried opening parts of it as well. She gave it back to

Marcus who felt disappointed knowing this.

"So who will be the captain now?" Marcus asked as he

looked at the crowd dispersing off of the deck as if nothing had

happened.

"Will _you?"_ Mercedes asked, her eyes brightening in the

aspect of Marcus steering this ship for the rest of their voyage. But,

instead of agreeing, Marcus shook his head in surprise at the

question.

"I don't know how to be a captain!" But Frédéric shrugged

slightly at this.

"You could do it. All that needs to be done includes operation

of the ship's equipment, business functions, navigation and the

assignment and monitoring of..." Frédéric stopped short, looking at

Mercedes who smiled in astonishment at him.

" _Love!_ You aren't _just_ my captain! You are this ships as

well!" Frédéric looked at her in surprise and, cupping her hands in

his, replied:

" _My darling you are right! This calls for a celebration!"_

Turning to Marcus now; "Come! It is time to rejoice for the darkness

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that resided upon this ship has left!" But instead of following them, Marcus shook his head sadly, stating:

"I have made two new friends, but it is time to leave them

just as soon as we have found each other." They looked at him in

confusion.

"What do you mean, Marcus? You are leaving? How?"

"This darkness might be gone but my help is still needed

elsewhere." Mercedes flung herself into Marcus' arms.

" _I will miss you, sweet Marcus!"_ Ending their hug, Frédéric

held his hand out and mouthed _thank you._ A tear rolled down his

face as Marcus nodded back. They walked away and stood back as

they watched Marcus open the _xikonian_ and, with one last wave to

them, he turned the dial to four.

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Part V:

The Assassination to start it all.

And end it all.

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Chapter 52

More Food?

" _Bring us more of you, strange fertin creature!"_ Gus looked

back up at the creature that resembled more like a tortoise. Its skin

was more of a bumpy, lighter brown than the other rough, green

textures surrounding him. The shell on its back seemed much

bulkier and rounded out as well. It was a different creature all in

itself. The difference was definitely more noticeable when other

creatures like Papabalinga and Chakadalinga began crowding

around it with expressions of hunger wondering what Gus' meat

tasted like. As Gus felt the dirt beneath his feet crumpling into the

great pit of darkness, a breeze gushed outward that made him move

back forward onto the tortoise-like creatures' gun.

" _MASTER LOOGARAUM! MASTER LOOGARAUM! WIND_

_BLEW FORTH FROM THE BIG HOLE!"_ Papabalinga screeched as

the gush of wind hit everyone around as well with a great force.

Loogaraum, instead of answering, looked down at Gus with fear

creeping up his skin. But as Gus looked more closely at his face, it

wasn't him that he was looking at; no, it was the hole. And before

Gus could turn his head around to look down into as well,

Loogaraum jerked away from Gus towards the crowd behind him,

bringing the bulky shell on his back with him. Before Gus knew it, he

was shoved into the pit by the shell, his arms flailing aimlessly for

something to grab onto.

" _THE BIG—FERTIN—!"_ Loogaraum wailed.

Flying backward into the darkness, Gus slammed with a

smack onto a slimy rubber-like skin. As he tried to feel at where he

landed, his right hand pushed down onto a glassy globe of what

seemed to be a large—

" _Eye!?"_ Gus flung away from it and found both of his hands

on a rather largish tusk sticking out of the slimy skin right above the

spherical, glassy substance. Once wrapped tightly around it, Gus

felt where his feet were rested which slowly sloped downwards to

where it felt like he was on a slippery cliff. He quickly flung himself

around to where he was sitting on the tusk instead of hanging from

it. As he got a better look at what creature he was hanging onto, he

noticed how Rose was right when she said he would come across a

salamander-like animal. But this was _not_ what he expected. This

325

was much larger than any salamander that he had ever come

across. Even the largest salamanders on earth, which could be the

size of large dogs, came nowhere close to being as big as this

monstrosity. And then Gus heard it; a loud vibration reverberated

from one loud pulsing sound. It was the sound of a salamander but

multiplied to a point that when Gus saw the effects of the sound, a

large area of the village had been completely destroyed. It was

horrific. How could such a harmless animal on his planet make such

a huge impact like tearing down a part of a village as big as this

one? Then, suddenly, just as the tusk kept him safe and secure as

he kept himself wrapped around it, the mouth of the huge fertin

closed shut sending Gus being flown into the air. Flying forward,

wildly, Gus landed with a _plop_ in a pile of a slimy residue near one

of the fires that had been extinguished by the creature's coming.

" _Eggh!"_ Gus moaned as he tried to lift himself out of the

sticky substance.

" _Fertin gunk."_ One of the turtle-like people said this as they

rushed over to him.

"Does this come out of the— _Big Hole—_ often?" Gus asked as

it helped pull him out of it.

" _Yes, yes. The Big Fertin comes out when we've eaten too_

_many of her children. Now come creature, unlike the fertin, we must_

_hide until it has eaten enough of us."_ Gus still felt the glassy texture of the gunk still sticking to his skin.

_"I have to find Evan!"_ Gus muttered as he searched around

at where he could be. The villager accepted Gus' compliance to

listen to him and ran off yelling:

" _You will get eaten by it if you don't follow!"_ As Gus looked

around from crevice to crevice as to where he could possibly be, he

felt a hand covered in white blotches come out of nowhere and

cover his mouth.

" _Shhh!"_ Gus tried to turn his head around to see what had

him.

" _Evan!?"_ Gus mumbled, trying to speak through the hand.

"Yes." He whispered; "What _is_ that thing!?" Gus shook his

head in disbelief as he looked at the huge salamander with two

horns sticking out of its head and two hanging low beneath its chin.

It was a marvel to gaze upon but not to be in its midst. Nothing of

the nature had ever come close to being this odd on earth. This

326

creature was unlike anything that they ever expected to come

across but, then again, here they were, in the presence of it.

Another vibrating pulse reverberated from what seemed to

be the bottom two tusks, channeling downward to a large section of

the tents. Evan's hand slowly left Gus' mouth as they watched in

horror as the tents squeezed inwards into dust like the creature was

squeezing a balloon. The abnormal part of it all was how it did

nothing, in regards, to touch them. The vibrations that it protruded

did all the ghastly work.

"Gus; follow me," Evan muttered as he began moving, still

watching the creature in awestruck.

"They were going to eat me before— _that_ came." Gus gasped

out as he tried his best to keep up with Evan's sprinting. While they

did this, they stayed crouched over in an uncomfortable position,

trying not to attract attention.

"Don't worry about _them_ eating you, little Gustavo. We first

have to worry about _that_ not eating us." At that moment, they turned

their heads in an utter disbelief as the creature focused its bottom

tusks onto one of the villagers that were only just able to make it out

of one of the tents before it shriveled up with the rest of them around

it. The villager saw how it had noticed him and stood frozen in place,

not knowing what to do. Immediately, the village was picked up into

the air and, as it lost all mobility to move, the shell on its back began

cracking in every part of the intricate design sending pieces flying in

every which direction. As this happened, the now shell-less villager

levitated towards the creature's mouth like a vacuum was slowly

sucking it up after it finally was able to get a piece of flint from out of

one of a couches' legs. It swallowed it immediately after it met its

slimy, lipless mouth.

" _Evan! I don't want that to happen to me! That was_

_unbearable to watch."_

_"Shut up!"_ Evan whispered back.

_"Where are we going?_ " Instead of answering, Evan made it

over to where the white remains of the sludge still covered the

ground in the shapes of their bodies. Evan got down on his knees

and started doing his best to rummage through the thick substance.

" _My pocketknife! I don't know where it went!?"_ He uttered out

as his hands tried their best to ease around inside of it.

"They've taken them," Gus replied, checking his pockets as

Evan squeezed his hands into the sludge, searching around

327

aimlessly. Gus got down on his knees as well and began searching through his pile of sludge. They both grappled through the sticky

substance, feeling their hands begin to mold around the globs of it

like before. Evan tore his hands away as he felt the pain of guck

seep into his skin.

_"Gus, don't keep your hands in it for too..."_ Evan suddenly

yelled out in agony as he felt an intense pressure pound into his

back. Gus' hand felt around the sludge and, miraculously, one of his

fingers touched down onto a solid-feeling object.

" _Gustavo!"_ Gus cried out as he inched his hand closer and

closer until it was wrapped around the buried treasure. Slowly

pulling out the pocketknife, Gus wailed out: " _EVAN! I..."_ No one

was next to the pile of sludge next to him. " _Ev..."_ quickly spinning

around, Gus watched in atrocity as Evan was being lifted into the

air. His back arched backward in a way that looked unbearably

painful. Gus didn't know whether to be sucked up with it in some

possible attempt to save Evan or to just stand there motionless and

watch him be eaten like the villager was. But it didn't seem possible

if he became a part of it that he would still be mobile, and he wasn't

going to watch his friend die. Then Gus saw Evan's face. He was

looking at him. But then again— no he wasn't? What was he looking

at? As Gus followed Evan's gaze downwards it led directly to—

" _The pocket watch!"_ Gus exclaimed. He peered down at it, not

knowing how it would help in any possible way. It was only a pocket

watch!

As his gaze lingered from part to part, his eyes were met

with the wire clippers. He didn't know what it was about it. He began

to slowly slide it out of the socket it was nestled inside. Immediately,

he was met with a wire streaming outward with such ferocity he

almost let it slip from his hands. He didn't understand—where was

this wire coming from?

He grasped his other hand tightly onto the pocket watch as it

shot out endlessly forward towards— _smack!_ Gus looked up to see

that the wire clippers had latched onto the creature. The huge

salamander-like Godzilla let out a wail of agony dropping Evan in

the process. Evan fell speedily towards the ground while Gus was

jerked out into the air, being dragged in towards the creature. The

pocket watch lets loose a strange mechanism that crept up his

arms with metallic fingers. It unlocked in the middle and unfolded

out a thick panel of bulbous buttons along its front side. Gus lifted

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his gaze away from it as he was flung forward feeling the rest of his body dangling helplessly.

As Gus flew forward, Evan's drop came near to where Gus

was directed. As they grew closer and closer together, a strong

desire was shown in Evan's eyes as he hoped for a miracle while he

plummeted towards his death—some possible way that their paths

would cross. But then—Evan saw his chance. Gus' legs bolted

passed his face as they barely met inches away from each other.

Evan stuck his hand out grasping for anything he could get a grip on

and felt his fingers wrap around a dangling foot. Bringing his other

hand around, he found contact with the other foot and held on tight

trying not to lose his hold. The creature began to shake wildly

sending Evan slowly losing his grip as he mustered to hold on. All

the while, the tusks under the creature's skin scraped against the

ground sending heaps of dirt and debris flying. A huge clump

became a part of this powerful rain and flew into Evan and Gus with

a loud _thump_. Evan saw his last hand leave the last bit of strength

he had left and began falling into the fog of dirt hitting rocks and

shreds of tents while he plummeted downwards. As Evan fell, he

peered down seeing that he wasn't heading towards the ground this

time; no, this time he was heading towards the massive pit of

darkness that the creature called home. Darkness immediately

clouded his sight. As he fell, Evan noticed, in the hint of the

darkness that the creature extended fairly deep into the pit. It then,

suddenly, cut off into a gap located on the side that was more like

an underground cave in how it was shaped. As Evan flew down

passed it, he was by himself. And on and on he kept falling by

himself.

As he fell, he realized that it seemed impossible that a hole

could be this deep! But suddenly—the hole he was inside, shifted.

Instead of a steep decent going straight down into nothingness, it

began to slightly curve little by little.

"What is this?" He muttered to himself. This wasn't like he

was falling anymore. No; now it felt like he was more or less floating.

Like the gravity had shifted strangely and his decent was more of a

gradual intake. As it curved more and more into a slant, Evan began

being able to skid his feet into the ground of the now, tunnel. Soon

enough, he was able to come to a complete stop and his deathly fall

was now a not-so-deadly after all. His eyes began to become acute

to the darkness, and he was able to take it all in. He began to

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notice his new surroundings. In the tunnel were strange lanterns in the shape of hour-glasses that could be seen on either side of the

tunnel with a walkway placed in the center heading deeper and

deeper into the darkness. He stood silently, taking deep breaths as

he tried to accumulate what just happened. He was alive. That's

what mattered. But how? It didn't make sense. This was _not_ what he

expected when looking at the great pit from above. It seemed so—

_deadly._ So impossible that he could _still_ be alive! But somehow—he was.

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Chapter 53

They're Gone

"Where are _they!?_ They should be back by now..." O'Malley

felt frustrated.

"Balpentan might be different from what we remember. The

two species might not live so peaceably together. They _are_ —

_different."_ But O'Malley shook his head at this, not accepting her

statement.

"The druwians and the garsagans are so perfect together

that I couldn't ever see them _not_ living together! Something has

happened—fertins aren't _that_ hard to control."

"Well, then I'm sure they are just loving there stay at

Balpentan that they just _can't_ stand to leave. That's how your

father's father was."

"But he never came back to Alphasia. That's not normal."

"Darling..." Rose replied, looking into his eyes; "I haven't

been back—since—since..." O'Malley wouldn't let her finish. "Yes—

since."

——————————————————————————————

Gus watched as Evan disappeared into the darkness. He

was gone. There was no way he would still be alive after that fall.

Even if he had somehow landed on the ground and not into the

hole. He would have still have hit the ground with such force that

there would have been no way of him standing back up again. But

as the wire flew him onto the creature like a leash pulling in a dog,

part of the pocketknife latched into the creature suddenly eased its

way out and uncoiled from his hands leaving Gus having to try and

cling onto the slippery skin. But as much as he struggled, it came to

no avail that he could actually hold onto something that felt as grimy

and disgusting as this creature did. As he fell, Gus noticed a safe

haven from below. For under him he was able to maneuver his body

slightly to the left so one of its tusks would catch his fall. The tip of

the tusk caught onto the back of his shirt, tearing it down the middle

as he slid down into the groove. Gus hung there limply. The

pocketknife still in hand, he held tightly as the creature flung him

around wildly. Gus felt the intensity of the situation pressuring down

on him. But Gus then began to feel the two tusks shake with an

unbearable force. And then suddenly, like that, a shot of energy

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gushed through the ivory, and Gus felt an entranced state take over him. He watched helplessly as the two tusks targeted another

section of the village, and the tents shriveled up like blueberries in

the hot sun. One of the villagers quickly ran out of their tents just in

time before it became as thin as a pencil, but sadly it didn't help for

as soon as he was out in the open air the creature turned on him.

Focused on the new target, the villager was caught instantly.

Hanging limply in the air, Gus watched in horror as the poor soul

neared the creature's salivating mouth.

" _NO!"_ Gus blared out; " _Not again!"_ Gus pushed down on the

tusk and then pulled up on it. He wanted the creature to let go of the

hold it had on the villager, but it seemed impossible. He couldn't

take it. Taking his time, Gus brought his feet up so he was barely

standing on the tusk. Then, with all of his might, he jumped up and

slammed his feet down onto it. A splintering followed with a loud cry

that rang threw Gus' ears like a thousand bells going off all at once.

The hold on the villager was released and he fell to the ground as

Gus plummeted. The creature dove its head down back into the

hole with Gus with it. Gus saw the darkness flash before his eyes.

Suddenly his back slammed against the side of the hole. The tusk

slid from under him, and he was falling.

——————————————————————————————

Evan watched as the tunnel turned flat. The staircase was

gone, and his eyes were failing him for where he was walking, he

had no idea. It was pitch black and not even the unlit lanterns were

still barely visible. But as he walked, it then changed again. The

tunnel began to slant upwards and his feet began landing on stairs

again. But this time it was different. This time they were heading

upwards at an extremely steep rate. And then, like before, it turned

back into the shape of a hole. And this tunnel had once again gone.

Evan began to stick his hands and feet into where the staircase

disappeared, and light began to protrude in the distance. But—

where was he headed? What was about to be on the other side of

this extremely strange hole-tunnel? Closer and closer he came to

the top and, all the while, strange voices could be heard from what

surrounded it.

" _Where is sh-she!? Sh-she should be BACK by now!"_

_"You don't think they—they killed her, do you?"_

_"They couldn't kill her! She's unstoppable!"_ Evan appeared

before them. Looking down at him, working his way up to the

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surface were three furry rabbit-like faces that all had a small set of buck teeth with two long, pointy ears that were folded down behind

their heads. They looked at Evan stunned, and he looked back the

same way.

"Wh-wh- _what!?_ First turtles—now— _bunnies!?"_ The three,

instead of replying, began whispering to each other with Evan still

being able to hear them.

" _What is-s it, Rookale!?"_ Rookale went over to Evan who

still only had his head peeking out of the hole. Sniffing at him while

still not getting too close, Rookale then quickly brought her hands

under his armpits and picked him up, throwing him onto the neon

green grass.

" _Druwian it is! Shell-less druwian!"_ Rookale frantically picked

up a large rock nearby and threw it down at Evan's head.

" _I'm not a druwian!"_ Evan pleaded, barely missing the rock

coming straight towards his face; "Druwians have shells, and I don't!

That means I'm not one!"

" _Then what is-s it?"_ The other two muttered between each

other as Rookale stood over Evan as he did his best to try and slide

away.

"I came from where the druwians live. They were— were

being attacked!"

"Yes, yes, we _know._ We sent _her!"_ Evan looked at the

woman who resembled more of a hare than the other two.

"Wait..." Even began to stand up and the hare-like face

standing over him backed away so she was now out of his way.

"The druwians have always been our enemy. Ever since we

could remember, they have been the foe. We are the garsagans.

We dug this hole to get away from them." Evan stood eye to eye

with Rookale. She seemed hard in her ways with the drewians, and

Evan somehow felt why. They were ruthless creatures. Barbarians

for that matter. They didn't sound so friendly like Rookale was and

even though Rookie threw a rock at his head, at least she didn't try

to eat him. He felt quite an attraction to her alien normality. And her

face showed a spark for him as well. But Evan, at the same time,

didn't feel right about her. Something didn't feel right about how she

was presenting herself. She _would_ send a creature like that to do

her dirty work.

"That— _fertin._ Why is it so much larger than the other fertins

that roam around this area?"

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"She is the mother." Rookale replied; "Her children are our

children. We have a bond with her that the druwians will never be

able to have." All the while she said this, she inched closer to Evan

but Evan kept the same sequence in backing away. Evan began to

notice how she was right about the fertins. As he got a clearer

picture of their village, it was covered in leafy shelters with trees that

seemed to have morphed together to show shade over the many

garsagans that were riding around on different-spotted fertins.

There was a marketplace displayed in front of him but what

they were selling was nowhere near to what he was used to.

Strange fruits in the shapes of bulbous potatoes and bubbly pears

having colors of the brightest of pinks were on display.

"But you all _have_ lived with the druwians before, haven't you

all?" Rookale was silent. She paced a few steps away from Evan

and then turned back around to where she was facing him.

"They—they are not us-s. They don't look anything like us-s.

They are..."

"But they once lived with you all?! _"_ Evan butted in; "I don't

understand; What happened? Why do you hate them now!? Why

would you hate them enough to send a creature as big and as

frightening as that upon them?" Rookale shuddered.

"I do not want to relive the story from which I had to go

through."

"But I do." Evan looked into Rookale's eyes, feeling her push

away but then linger back.

"Alright." She muttered out; "But not now. We have plenty

more to discuss. Like where you hail from and what you are? We,

garsagons, have never seen anything of the likes. You resemble

much like our fertin, however. Have they birthed you?" Evan

shuddered at the thought of possibly coming from the creatures they

rode.

"No! I'm _definitely_ not from a fertin. And I don't think we look

the _least bit_ alike! I came with one of my own kind from another

planet. But..." Evan paused before adding: "I won't tell you why we

are here until you tell me what happened between _your_ two species

that live here." Rookale shook her head vigorously.

"I _will NOT!_ The story is too painful. Ever since we were put

on this planet like you were put on yours—it has always been the

druwian and the garsagan. Our two species began a life of peace

where we both contributed to the other. They; their love; but—us...

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we gave them a life worth living! Where we live now is where they used to live. Full of the most succulent of fruit that grows right above

our heads as we wake up. We have a waterfall that shoots out from

the ground and into a river nestled with velvet moon berries that

grow alongside. We make the best hot moon berry mash that cures

every hiccup from here to the mountains of the suns for they are

shaped in a way that their trees make them look like they are on fire.

And last but not least—we have our beloved fertin. They are what

we care for with all our ears and only give our love to now." Evan

noticed how the threes' ears fluttered under their woven headbands

of intertwined vines when their love for the fertin was mentioned.

"So—you exiled them from this paradise because..." Evan

showed an expression of sympathy once he knew why. It all made

sense; "They began eating the fertin, didn't they? And that's why

you exiled them." Rookale was silent. Her face was expressionless

beside one tear that slid down her furry face and onto the bright

grass.

"No." She shook her head; "No, they did more than just that."

She let out a gasp as the tears began to stream forth from her face;

"They— _they fed them to us."_ Rookale stepped back and crouched

over as if she was ready to heave at any moment. Evan watched

her and the other two garsagans went to her aid, gently patting and

rubbing her back. His face showed mixed emotions of anger and

confusion swelling up inside him. How could they do that!? _Why_

would they do that? It was so dreadfully horrible that the druwians

couldn't have done this without another reason or motive behind it.

"How could they have fed them to you all? Couldn't you have

known that it was fertin before it touched your mouths?" Rookale

stood up straight, trying to collect herself.

"Their leader—Loogaraum, one day announced that he and

his fellow druwian were tired of what they were being served. I don't

believe he even consulted his children. They were made to go along

with it. So he announced it was the druwian's job to go and find this

new edible and have it arranged to be one our society's new

sources of energy. We protested how we deserve to help as well,

but he was adamant about how we have done enough already. So

him, along with twenty or so other druwians, went out on this quest.

They were gone for many cycles. But one day they came back. And

the group that came was far fewer than what left our little home we

have here. They seemed different upon entering the village. The

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aura—it had somehow changed from a once gleefully carefree

charisma into one of concern. The druwians' hands showed stains

of murder and their faces were hardened by weather and an

experience I will never be able to understand. Loogaraum was still

with them. He had woven sacks of meat spread out in his arms that

he smiled down on once confronting me.

'My lady,' He remarked; 'When we left—energy sources

were tough to come by. But we found a way around that. And here

we have with us a plenty of what everyone will enjoy.' At the time, I

had no idea what it was he was showing me. It smelled delicious,

none the less, and I was rather famished. We had a feast that night.

They ordered a section of the village off to be the preparation area

for it. It didn't occur to me how it was right next to the fertin grounds.

A stench filled the air as they went at a long and tedious day of

preparing for it. It didn't occur to me that it was fertin that I smelled.

At times, I would try and find where this stench was coming from. I

looked towards who might've died from a ripe and long, old age. It

never occurred to me to check if it was any of the fertin. We had a

feast that night. And I ate every bite that was served. But after,

when I wanted to go for a ride, that was when I realized—"

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Chapter 54

Its Lair

Gus held on in the darkness. He was _not_ going to die. Evan

might be gone, but he would hold on. He had a plan. And it was not

to lose. The mission was essential and his job now? To carry it out!

Gus felt his fingers slipping below from where the creature

disappeared into. He mustered his hands up and onto the rugged

rocks scattered around the floor while breaking a few ledges here

and there.

Managing his way up, he dragged himself over and onto the

slimy floor. He peered inside to see a speck of light not far off. The

light in the distance shined with a mellow candescence with a

cooling essence to it. It didn't seem far as he began walking, but the

more he made his way in, the more it seemed farther away.

"This _mustn't_ be its home?!" Gus whispered, incredulously.

Or, through a more proper examination, it was more of an entrance

that grew more and more spacious the farther he walked. But why

was it living underground? All of the fertin that live above grazed

upon the aerodin grass on the surface. But here— _this_ was only dust

and rock! Where _there was no aerodin grass_ to be found. This

creature had every right to be living outside and not kept in this

underground prison. Gus began to hear a whining pitch coming from

the mellow light rested inside. Then, after passing a large hill

grooved into the tunnel, its figure was shown. It was knelt down into

a pond of a liquid substance with a thick silver-blue texture. The

pond showed what was seen to be shining. The tusk that Gus

injured was deep inside the mysterious pool. The animal was

soaking it while steam rose from around. Gus began to near it

cautiously, wanting to know why its agony was being soothed by

this strange substance. But then it noticed him. It swung its tusk out

of the liquid pool, splashing Gus while it froze motionless after

stumbling around. It stared at Gus like a deer in headlights and then

quickly back-peddled its way into the corner showing fright spewed

across its face. Gus showed his hands flat in the air as he slowly

made step after step towards the creature. But it wasn't having it.

With full force, it galloped towards Gus with the horns and tusks

lowered for the attack. Gus began running backward, tripping and

stumbling and then back on his feet as he ran back into the dark

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tunnel he spent so much time making progress into. He saw this

ending badly. This _couldn't_ end badly! But then it did. Gus' head-first sprint up the hill once again and into never-ending abyss ended

rather shortly as he was stopped in his tracks by a prickling of

harsh, thorny needles shoving themselves into every inch of his

body. The creature had him.

——————————————————————————————

Evan sat on a hill overlooking the fertin grazing below. It was

amazing to think that such odd, little animals were the reason he

was on this planet. And they all seemed so harmless and non-

carnivorous that it was impossible to think that one fifty times as big

almost ate him. And the pain it brought with it. But Gus saved him.

"But now—now he thinks I'm dead... Oh, wherever you are

my friend—"

"You _will_ reunite with him." Rookale came out of a leafy

green shading with tables laid out underneath.

"Yes. I know." Evan replied as Rookale walked towards him

with two diamond-shaped cups with a smooth light blue liquid inside

each of the bubbled containers.

"Gus came with you, and he will leave with you as well."

Evan had trouble believing this. They were separated on a planet

with two completely different species, and the one he was with was

not as kind and as lovely beasts of intellect like his. They were

smart, unwittingly charming, and creatures of another world! It was

as if they came with such grace while the druwians came with such

hostility. But where were the druwian's grace? He saw none in

them. But where was the hostility in the garsagon's? Their hostility

was rather different. It was more evil and canine. Setting a huge

beast down on a species for the wrong they did in the past wasn't

right. In _any_ manner.

"Will you ever forgive the druwians? Or—Loogaraum.

Whoever he is or whatever he did shouldn't be the judge of their

entire species as well. It should only be his fault. He is the one who

directs his people..."

"Yes! Exactly! _He is the one that directs the druwians, and if_

_they follow a being that would eat a harmless creature like a fertin_

_then they deserve what they are getting._ Their mother will give them

justice, and, in turn, they give her a source of energy. _"_

_"_ But what if she ate the garsagons..."

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" _But she doesn't._ She eats _them!_ They could never turn such a beautiful creature like Helocious against us!" Evan felt the anger

rising within him. Why was she like this? How could such a

sophisticated woman be, at the same time, this fury-driven

psychopath?!

"Helocious—where did she come from? How did you find a

way to control such an incredulous sight to behold!?"

"Helocious is, was, and always will be. She is the birther of

the fertin and the mother of all fertin that roam this planet. Her

children did not deserve such respect to be eaten so she eats _the_

_druwians_ in return. We did not turn her on the druwians. We only

offered it to be a better source of nutrients then the fariscus trees

she found appetizing before— _it_ happened. Please—let us not talk of

this any longer. They chose their fate. They chose to eat the fertin.

They are getting what they deserve."

"No." Evan didn't want it to end like this; "They didn't know

any better."

" _THEY KNEW BETTER!_ They knew it _was_ what it _was._ And

they _still_ ate our beloved fertin." Rookale got up and took the cup

out of Evan's hand. He forgot he was even holding it. She began

walking back to the village.

——————————————————————————————

Gus felt the tingling vibrations that stung his skin begin to

settle. He wasn't heading towards the mouth of this ferocious

creature. No. Now he was above its head. He gently floated

downwards until his legs were spread around the neck of it. But then

he noticed how it wasn't an it. _It_ was a she. She purred in an

unfamiliar tone he had never heard before that brought out a

feminine quality to it. She didn't eat him. But why? Why did she

have him land on her neck?

But before he could question it any longer, she took off. This

magnificent beast was letting him ride on her while wind fell upon

his face as they flew back from where they came from. As they

reached the edge of the tunnel, the creature didn't let up. She made

no reasons as to why she should stop, and, before he knew it, they

were falling. The heels of his feet tried their best to dig into her skin,

but it was no use. He was slipping. A gush of wind pounded against

his body, and he was in the air.

"Was this what she wanted?" He wondered; "To kill me by

having us plummet to our death?" Gus couldn't believe what was

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happening. This monster was killing the both of them! But why?

Why didn't she eat him, instead? Why did they both have to go out

like _this? Together!_ He wanted to scream out in fear of the death

that neared, but it was kept locked up inside. Instead, he let it

happen. He let his fate close in on him. But then—then a strange

shift occurred. The creature and he became one again. His flailing

arms of desperation latched onto the animal, and she glided toward

the edge of the pit to where she was running alongside it. The

massive hole that flashed before him switched into a tunnel like

before. They galloped along through what was once an escarpment,

now an underpass below the world going on above them. But as

they headed speedily along in the darkness, a slanting upwards

occurred and, before Gus knew it, they were out of the hole and into

the blinding light.

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Chapter 55

The Blinding Light

"Evan of Earth. He has made it." Evan was still gazing at the

fertin grazing when she came back. They were so similar to the

creature that almost ate him. All the way up to the last groove in the

point of their curved ivory. The exotic grass seamlessly plucked out

of the ground without the fertin ever touching it. It floated up into its

mouth with an ease that left Evan's mouth plopped open in awe.

"Rookale—these animals are _amazing._ How could anyone

eat such a beautiful creature!?"

"How could anyone eat any creature? Now come; Gus would

like to see you?" Evan stood up, surprised upon hearing the news.

The fertin that surrounded him cleared a path as he walked over to

Rookale who stood slightly out of the grazing grounds.

"Here? How? Did he come with the druwians?"

" _Nonsense!"_ Rookale replied, showing an expression of

absurdity; "The druwian would never come through the hole to get

here. They are forbidden!"

"Could they not come here outside of the hole and on land?"

Rookale shook her head at this.

"No. Pools of lava swamps cover the distance from our

village to theirs. The only way here is through Helocious' territory."

"What? That mustn't be! Helocious' territory should have

filled up with the lava from the swamps by now then..."

"No." Rookale interrupted; "That would never happen; the

lava swamps aren't what you think of them as. They..." before

Rookale could finish, from beyond the hill, where Evan recently sat,

came the formation of her. She steadily reached the top, making a

grand jester of revealing herself. She lay down in wait as Evan

looked back feeling an unsteady tingling spread throughout his

body. It was the same fear of that of a druwian whenever they

beheld her weight in size. How terrible of a curse this dictator put on

those poor souls.

"Look more closely for she found her master at last." Evan

took a step forward as he gazed more closely. On top of Helocious

was Gus. He was dressed head to toe with cloths of differently

colored feathers. On top of his head was the same band that

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Rookale had on. But it was decorated with a much larger stream of color.

"We have found him. He has come."

——————————————————————————————

"How long have you been here without my knowing?" Gus

shook him off as he filled his cup with more of the strange

substance.

"They greeted me with praise when I exited The Hole. _I am_

_their leader now. Helocious has chosen me!"_

_"Helocious! Gus—she eats druwians..."_

"Who would have eaten us if it hadn't stopped them. She

_saved_ us! Be happy my _Evanesce_!"

" _Don't—only O'Malley calls me that."_

"You call me Gustavo; I call you _Ev_ —I like Evanesce better!"

Evan didn't reply. Instead, he began examining the quarters they

gave Gus. It was huge. Gus put a hand on his shoulder trying to

bring him back.

"They plan to extinguish the vile creatures that live beyond

the other side." Evan stopped walking around the edges and faced

forward away from Gus at his side. His hand still held onto his

shoulder. Keeping his face facing forward, he sputtered out:

" _The druwians are not why we are here. We are here for_

_the..."_

_"_ The fertin piss, I know! But the mission isn't where I belong

anymore! I belong _here—as their leader!"_ Evan quickly snatched the

hand from his shoulder and spun around to where he was facing him.

" _This!_ THIS isn't your home. _Earth_ is your home. _Germany_ is your home..."

" _NONE OF IT—IS MY HOME! Here—_ here is where I belong.

But I can't live here peacefully unless these— _these—VILE_

_CREATURES AREN'T EXTERMINATED!"_ Evan stepped back, his

face painted in horror.

"Gus. _What has happened to you?"_ Gus showed no

expression. Only a greedy interior was all to be seen. Then—

stepping back until he stood in the center of the leafy shade, he

exclaimed:

"DOWN WITH THE DRUWIANS!"

" _DOWN WITH THE DRUWIANS."_ The voice echoed back.

He took brisk strides to the thin branches of leaves and flung them

out of his way. All around garsagons stood, chanting their leader's

words.

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——————————————————————————————

Marcus' vision cleared from the foggy blur that entranced

him. He was in a back alley of what seemed to be a hectic city.

People in bowler hats dressed in their finest attire, and women with

frilly dresses and obscenely large hats scurried by as a commotion

of some sort was taking place. Marcus gazed down at his clothes

that had, once again, changed. He was on the next mission. But

how many more were there? He couldn't take it much longer! This is

the _fourth_ and who knows how many more there would be? But why

was he doing them all on his own now? He didn't understand.

Marcus began scanning the area in hopes to spot a glimpse of

maybe O'Malley—or Evan! Maybe even Gus—but they were

nowhere to be found. He was on his own, and it just had to be dealt

with. He gazed at the perimeter for possible hopes of seeing why

where he was might matter. Then he noticed what he stood beside.

It was a small bar. Marcus began to feel cramped in the small

walkway he found cover inside the little saloon. It was dimly lit even

though most of the light came from it being wide open to the outside

where pedestrians could still be clearly seen walking by.

"Can I get a drink?" A young man with a thin mustache that

didn't reach past his lips asked. He was hatless unlike most of the

other gentlemen who took up the rest of the crevices in and outside

of the bar.

"You will have to be more specific," replied the bartender,

none too pleased to have been asked such a question.

"Well, what would our Archduke want me to have since he _is_

visiting this fine day?" The bartender stared at the man with a dull,

unamused expression and then began to fiddle around behind the

bar. He, then, pulled out a bottle and poured the clear liquid into a

small case he brought out as well.

"I'm sure he would love for you to have a glass of _rakiji._ " He

pushed the glass of _rakiji_ forward which the man, in turn, forced

back into his throat and pushed it away.

_"Hvala Ti."_ The man replied as he finished his gulp. He

pulled out a hand full of coins dropping them one by one. As he

walked away the bartender called out:

"If you see the Archduke, give him my regards!" The man

turned around and smiled back at the bartender. He walked back

over, heading not to where he was sitting but to the empty area next

to it where the bar ended. The bartender walked into the space and

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embraced the man unexpectedly. Marcus watched in confusion of

what was going on. Why were they, all of a sudden, hugging? It

didn't make sense—but then he noticed something rather odd. Their

hands reach down to the sides of each away from the rest of the bar

and towards the wall. The man took an item, it seemed, out of the

bartender's hand and slipped it into his pocket. But—what is it? He

wondered. The man left and headed north down the tight walkway

at a brisk pace. And Marcus felt the urge to follow.

——————————————————————————————

Rookale led Evan back to the pasture of fertin.

"Why are you bringing me back here?" Rookale looked back

at him quizzically.

"Why _else_ have you spent most of your time in Balpentan

here?" Evan shrugged in return. They made it back to the edge of

the hill where she spread her arms out wide to the various fertin

below.

"You still haven't _found_ your _companion!"_ Now Evan was

looking at _her_ quizzically.

" _Companion?_ What do you mean?" Rookale briskly headed

down off the hill and patted one of the fertin with an expression

dazzled with excitement.

"Your fertin—they are here for us to live upon as they bring

us distances across land." Evan looked at the fertin with a new

perspective. He didn't know every garsagon rode the fertin. It all

made sense now. They were like their horses and camels. Their

elephant like what Gus had now. And Gus had found the largest

fertin of them all—Helocious. But—

"The druwians—because of their shells, they can't ride the

fertin. Do you think that's fair?" Rookale didn't respond. Instead, she

began trying to hop onto the fertin she patted. But the fertin wasn't

taking it—quickly scuttling away, it left Rookale standing where it

once was awkwardly.

"What do you want me to do? Try to get on one until one will

finally let me?" Rookale stood silently and then sighed.

"You might be able to do that. But once I lost Zilestic—it

hasn't been the same with fertin. They will never have the same

connection as Zilestic, and I had. I was his garsagon, and he was

my fertin. Nothing could ever change that." Rookale then took a

running start at a fertin separated from the rest, leaping onto it and

grasping the horns attached above its eyes. It scurried around

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helplessly as Rookale tried to control what seemed to be him from his masculine squeals of protest, he projected. After some time,

Rookale finally tamed the jumpy fertin while he still gave out spurts

of restlessness.

"Well—?" Rookale mused as she rode the fertin around the

pasture; "Which one will be _your_ fertin? Your friend... our new

King... has already found the Queen of the Fertin. It is now time to

choose one of her lowly subjects." Evan shuddered at the thought of

Gus being their new King. But he won't be for long. They needed to

leave soon. They still had Queshtique.

"I'm not choosing a fertin." Rookale seemed disturbed to

hear this. Her long, pointy ears fluttered downwards in sorrow as

she rode the fertin up to him.

"The druwians may not be able to ride these fertin—but

since you can doesn't mean that you shouldn't either." At first, Evan

was reluctant in trying but, after some time, began inching near a

fertin that caught his eye. It swung its head away from Evan, putting

its mind to a patch of aerodin grass that grew higher than the rest

that surrounded the thick blades. Evan then took a few steps back

before he began his running start, jumping onto the preoccupied

fertin. The slimy skin jiggled in return to his body slamming itself

down onto it. As the blade of a grass, the fertin was intent upon

having float into its mouth, quickly dropped back to the ground, with

a scream of pain erupting from its nostrils. The fertin quickly flipped

over onto its side while one of its horns barely missing Evan's face

as it landed with a _thud_ on the ground. Rookale laughed at the

scene, voluptuously, as she got off her fertin and pushed the large,

slimy creature off of him.

"This one seems to like you! What will you name her?" Evan

frowned at the fertin that went back to grazing on the aerodin grass.

It seemed sloth in nature but mighty in size. He didn't want to think

of her as being his. He wouldn't be with her much longer so there

was no need to be naming it.

"She looks like—" Evan began to contemplate. This fertin

certainly deserved an exotic name so one she should get: " _Salaria."_

He stated with a grin. Rookale smiled back and nodded in

agreement.

"Salaria it is."

——————————————————————————————

345

Marcus wanted to confront the man but kept his distance a

few yards behind as the man made twists and turns throughout the

narrow streets of the city. He was in Sarajevo. He knew that much.

But was this man who he thought he was? He had seen pictures of

Garilo Princip, but it was so long ago he couldn't be sure. But with

the vague remembrances of the pictures he saw in history class, it

had to be. There was no one else he would have been pinpointed to

other than the very man himself. Then he went for it.

" _Garilo!"_ He called out. Marcus began to try to hide, but it

was too late. Garilo turned around to where he was looking eye-to-

eye with Marcus. For a second Marcus just stood there, not knowing

what to do. But then he quickly flung his hand upwards and started

waving at him. He ran over to the man, stunned to see him while

frozen to the spot of unknowing whether or not what to do.

" _Are—are..."_ Marcus nodded back at Garilo solemnly. Then

Garilo's face hardened into an expression steamed with anger;

"Why are you here? Leave me! I will finish out the mission on my

own." Marcus shook his head at this.

" _No."_ Marcus spoke with a cold set of eyes; _"I will be the one_

_killing Franz Ferdinand."_ Marcus held out his hand which Garilo

looked down at furiously.

" _I will not have this."_ Marcus reached down to Garilo's

pocket, but he smacked his hand away, spitting in Marcus' face;

" _Try me—little man."_ Without thinking, Marcus found both of his

arms pressed around Garilo's body as he tackled him to the ground.

As Marcus forced all of his weight onto Garilo's spleen, he reached

down for his pockets. Princip swung at Marcus' face hitting him in

the jaw but reluctant in pushing him off. As Marcus dug deeper and

deeper into Garilo's trench coat pocket, his hands curved around a

handgun nestled inside. As he pulled it out, Princip thrust his arm

back one last time swinging it forward where it Marcus right in the

cheekbone. He flew back off of him feeling the hit throb all across

his face. As he looked back with a dazed expression, two Garilos

could be seen running away from him while stander-byes watched

on the sides of the streets, stunned at what just occurred. But as his

focus came back it was only one Garilo Princip that he saw. Getting

up, he looked down to seen the gun still in his hand. He smiled

down at it and then took off after him.

——————————————————————————————

346

It began raining as the garsagons collected themselves to

begin their descent into the hole. Their army was massive, and it

made Evan petrified. As he sat on Salaria, she shivered from the

chills that came along with gooey raindrops. Evan felt the same

feeling as being hit with the rain as him being licked by a dog;

uncomfortable and disgusted. But he shook it off as he was about to

enter into the hole with the fellow soldiers that had been close

behind him, watching his every move the entire time he had been in

the garsagon village. They didn't trust him. And Evan understood

why. He showed them in his every action that _he_ didn't trust them.

And now he was going to war with them. A war that didn't need to

happen. A war that was pointless. A war. And that's all it was that

made Evan get shivers down his back.

" _You have my back, I have yours."_ One of them said to him

when they first formed in their battalions. Evan agreed to the

statement under the reasonable circumstances presented in front of

him. He was put on a side, and he had to make sure his men—or

garsagon—were being defended.

"You have my back, I have yours," Evan repeated to himself,

under his breath, as they made their descent into the darkness.

Salaria scurried down the side of the hole while Evan did his best

not to fall forward. The sticky skin of her wasn't doing the best job in

keeping himself planted in place and the gravity kept trying to win

the battle. But gravity was at a lost for as soon as he felt himself

being plunged forward off of Salaria, the hole's slope began to

change, and he was back to resting on her squirming body. They

made great distance into the tunnel and, soon enough, they were

rising back towards the surface. This time, however, Evan didn't

plan to get eaten. He would have his fellow soldiers' backs. But he

didn't want to kill a druwian. No. That wasn't his plan. He couldn't

see himself doing such a thing so drastic. But he realized he might

have to. Evan felt the darkness that enveloped him, suffocating him.

He wanted out. He wanted to be free from these chains that have

been so tightly wrapped around him.

But then it happened—the ground below shook with such

ferocity that he felt himself being tugged out from under Salaria. She

gave out a scream of fear that rang throughout the tunnel's walls

reverberating into the same cries that the other fertin gave out as

well. Then—from above—cracks began to form, spilling out a

crystal-colored liquid that started out as drips then became pools

347

spewing forth. Evan scanned the area as light shined out along with it, showing the figures of the garsagons on top of their fertin. They

steered away from the blotches of liquid that spewed forth towards

them. As mayhem quickly progressed throughout the tunnel, Evan

felt Salaria move off the ground and onto the tunnel's walls. He held

on tight as they barely dodged a gush of liquid that flew by them.

Salaria lunged forward passed another spurt of the liquid that

poured forth their way and managed to land her front two feet onto a

crevice that opened up into another tunnel. Salaria pushed her way

up and into it as Evan looked behind to see no one else follows.

They were the only one that made it.

_"The lava swamp..."_ Gus muttered under his breath. It

seeped through like Rookale said wouldn't happen. The garsagon's

entire army was in that tunnel. All he saw was the lava. It wasn't like

what he expected it to look like. It shined with a mellow

candescence that sparkled like the sun but shined no brighter than

the faintest of candles. It was magnificent yet horrific at the same

time. But then he had to scream out in utter terror.

" _GUS! NO!"_ He quickly jumped off of Salaria as she

scampered onward into the darkness. He got up as close as he

could while not being splashed while the thick liquid surrounded his

view and poured down into the massive cavern. Not one garsagon

or fertin could be seen fighting. All that remained was the dreadful

lava.

348

Chapter 56

Conavo

"Where have you been?" Evan looked at O'Malley with a

blank expression. His eyes showed a darkness O'Malley had never

seen before; "Gus?" Evan shook his head.

"He didn't make it." O'Malley looked away. He then looked

with a solemn set of eyes back at Evan and nodded.

"Let's go save your planet, Evanesce." Evan shuddered.

They walked out of the Scottish pasture with the fairly distant

bagpipes being barely heard. Evan and O'Malley's face didn't

change countenance as they made the silent walk back into the

doorstep of Rose's workshop. Together, what she had in all was a

large, cylindrical hunk of metal with the most intricate of any design

to be seen. It took up most of the room with its thick square rods

jagged throughout the ins and outs of its wires. It was like a star with

rounded out points and inside were the three pocket watches.

"I will take Gus' place." O'Malley didn't show any facial

change after Rose's statement, but, instead, kept his gaze fixed

upon the mechanism as a whole that had been created while he

stayed outside.

"You will not. There is only one mission left, and Marcus

already has it taken care of. Plus, you are needed here..."

" _DOING WHAT!?"_ Rose screamed out, interrupting him;

" _Making—THIS!? Oh, look, O'Mall! I've already done that!"_

_"_ O'Mall?" Evan asked, confused. O'Malley held up his hand

to him, brushing it off, while he still kept his gaze fixed on Rose.

"I will _not_ lose another one of my family."

"WE _AREN'T_ ON ALPHASIA!" At that moment Rose pushed

a lever attached to the contraption upwards and threw her hand

onto one of the pocket watches. Evan didn't have time to think for

before he knew it, O'Malley snatched one as well, his hands

pressed down onto a xikonian. The machine began to slowly rotate,

flinging all three of them off the ground and having them hold on

tightly as they began flying madly around in a circular direction until

they were mere blurs. Suddenly, the machine shot upward, sending

them flying upward as well with each pocket watch being unhooked

off from the machine and all three disappeared right from out of the

349

room. Evan's vision came into view of a small ferry boat resting on the banks of water that seemed all too dark for the bright day that

surrounded it. The vision quickly dispersed and came into view of

him standing in a large crowded area. Come to think of it, he was at

the edge of the crowd. He turned to where he was facing the street

where everyone else faced and there before him, was Marcus. He

was holding a gun and had it pointed at—

" _MARCUS, NO!"_ O'Malley yell could be heard as he said this

for before he could jump out of the crowd he stood inside with Evan,

the shot was fired. Evan watched in horror as the bullet flew passed

his view and into the chest of a man who had a gun as well. A finely

dressed man with a fairly large mustache. He was in an automobile

with—Evan looked strangely at the woman he was with for who he

saw was the same woman that Marcus fainted in front of when they

were in Berlin.

"But how could that be?" Evan wondered to himself. Before

he could think about it any further, his vision became blurred, and

his vision vanished.

——————————————————————————————

"That wasn't what you were supposed to do, Marcus."

Marcus looked around to see he wasn't in Sarajevo. He sat in a

sand of mere light bluish shades of powdery softness. It felt like a

pillow against his lower back. He was sunk into it like a seat

cushion.

"Why did I have to do the last two missions on my own? And

what other missions did I miss out on? And I _did_ do it right!" Marcus

noticed his voice wasn't the Marcus he had been speaking in

through as long as it seemed like he could remember. But when

thinking back to when he was the Ronald he once knew, it was his

voice. It felt adolescent before the gazebo. This voiced sounded

much wiser and more mature. But had also gone through what

anyone should have to never go through. He looked down at his

hands, and they were—his own. The very hands he grew up with.

The very legs that he had always walked upon. And, at the same

time, it was amazing to think about. He was in another person's

body. It wasn't his own. It could never have been his own. But—it

was him for some short time.

"I'm Ronald again!" He cried out as O'Malley was beginning

to explain it. He stopped short and smiled at Ronald's realization.

350

"Ha-ha why yes, my young lad!" O'Malley said it in his voice

from when he first came out of the cabin door with his cane. The

_Lusitania_ felt so long ago. But Ron smiled at how Evan barely

caught the strange vacuum.

"O'Malley; where's Evan? And..."

"Gus didn't make it." O'Malley stepped in before Ron could

say his name; "Evan won't be joining us again. He is the reason.

Rose will find two others that are willing to finish up what we were

barely able to do."

_"What happened to Gus? Wait—why didn't we finish it up? I_

_killed..."_

_"YES!"_ O'Malley spat out angrily. He showed how he was

tired of hearing his adolescence sprouting out within him; " _You killed_

_him and didn't talk him out of it like—I—was supposed to do. Like I_

_did with Zimmermann..."_

"Well, why didn't we go back and redo it like we did with the

_Lusitania_?" Ron tried to say calmly, realizing he was getting

O'Malley irritated. O'Malley eased up and relaxed for a minute

before replying smoothly as well.

"The—two pocket watches—where the other one came

from? I don't know..."

"But I got it from Jack, the owner of the bar in Kinsale. He

thought it was strange that I had the same one around my neck.

He—he said he didn't know where he got it." O'Malley got up and

began pacing throughout the silky sand.

"Jack—Jack—Who is this Jack? Why did he have a pocket

watch?" O'Malley whispered to himself as he gazed towards his

shoeless feet. He wore a white, silk-like shirt that shined in

luminesce. Ron noticed he wore the same all-white attire. His

pocket watch lay in the center of his lap. And then he realized it—

"The paintings—the paintings you left me—of the two pocket

watches and then the just one. Then the lighthouse! I didn't

understand! And Aengus and Bartley—they always thought it was

the same painting."

"And let me guess..." O'Malley added; "It was given to them

by Jack, the owner of the bar. I didn't leave those paintings."

O'Malley looked down at Ronald who was still sitting in the sand. He

quickly got up and looked out at the large waves that protruded out

in the very reaches of the sea.

351

"You said Jack married Darcey." O'Malley nodded. Ron

looked towards O'Malley and uttered: "Who's Darcey?" O'Malley

looked away painfully. He left the air in silence before saying it.

"She's my daughter. But it wasn't actually her. She is

changing the spectrum of existence through a black hole she has

artificially made. I used to rule my planet, but one day she decided

she wanted to see more of herself in other people. She made the

black hole to do just so. We have discovered that black holes are

part of the universe's many articulations of keeping itself as diverse

and complex as possible. She has made it so the black hole has

been reversed in a way that makes it simpler. She doesn't just copy

her own self onto others but makes landscapes and planets in their

intricate designs more ordinary and benign. She believes bland is

better. It is dreadfully terrible to say Ronald, my dear boy, that she is

everywhere now. You will run into her again. And again. But I hope

to see the day that you don't see the real her. Ron felt speechless.

He sat down again and then shortly got up right after.

"When I was on the _Sussex_ —she went from being— _her—_ to

being— _another woman."_ O'Malley smiled at this.

"I went back to my home planet to retrieve a few chips of

what she created. Taking a few of those chips away did that." Then,

turning away from the ocean, O'Malley gazed into the jungle forest

he had planted.

"What are those?" Ron remarked as they passed by long,

bumpy plants that sprang out of the ground with marvelous flower

petals intricately placed upon their tops.

"Noolani bulsprits." O'Malley said with satisfaction.

"O'Malley..." Ronald said curiously; "Where are we?"

_"Conavo."_ O'Malley immediately replied back; "And these are

the last of the jungle forests. I was only able to find a few places for

their habitation to be a good-suited environment. This jungle forest

has all the elements to be a forest but has all the elements of being

a jungle as well." Ron gazed along that path and saw trees that

looked like they lingered over him like a jungle's trees would do, but

the trees also stood high and mighty with the implications that they

were forest-like. It amazed Ron to see both habitations co-existing

beautifully. As they walked past all of the plants with the same

aspects, animals like squirrels and deer crept by while, on the other

hand, a colobus monkey could be seen while a leopard, fairly

hidden in the thickets of leaves, stalked the herd of deer in a grassy

352

spot of land in the distance. Once they reached the center of

_Conavo_ , the gazebo lay awaiting them. Ron entered it without

O'Malley and closed the door behind him. There, inside, were the

three doors. He began to examine them more closely and noticed

the roman numerals on each one. The first, I, the second, II, and the

third, III. But what Ron didn't understand was why there were three.

He shook it off and began to see for himself what the third door

could be. It was locked. He budged on it and shook at the knob with

ferocity, but, instead, it stayed closed shut. He then tried the door

with II on it. It was locked as well. He realized, then, that it wasn't

time for him to find out. Another day, however; who knew what

could be behind them. He now stepped in front of the first door. It

was the door he had spent this whole time behind and now he was

going back into it. Turning the knob, it clicked in success. He

opened it to find himself standing in an actual gazebo. Not one that

was closed up by walls, but one that was as open and as free as

Ronald felt. A great weight lifted from his shoulders, and he gazed

around at the all-white gazebo with vines covering the sides of the

gazebo's panels. The vines then sprang up to where they

intertwined with the rods as well. Ronald took a deep breath and

inhaled the sweet air of Dunedin, Florida. Running back over to the

front of the gas station, Mr. Lampson was seen from the driver's

window throwing back cheerio after cheerio. He looked over at Ron,

smiled, and waved.

"ANYTHING COOL BACK THERE?" He hollered to him. Ron

shrugged his shoulders and smiled back in return. Getting to the

open window, his father handed him = cheerio which he ate

graciously. He felt like he hadn't eaten in ages.

"I'm going inside to get a snack. Where's Mom?" Mr.

Lampson looked at the empty seat beside him.

"Oh, your mother went in to check on Shelly just in case she

had a mishap." Ron nodded his head at this and headed in. After

scanning the aisles, he noticed a bag of potato chips. He smiled at it

and picked the bag up. It made him feel like he was back in Bartley

and Aengus' bungalow, strangely enough. It was too bad, however,

that they weren't the farmers that grew the potatoes inside this bag.

He began walking up to the counter but then noticed the girl behind

the cashier desk. Her face was so recognizable, but Ron didn't

know where to pinpoint it. She smiled at him with keen eyes and

looked down at the bag of chips, ready and eager to ring it up.

353

"So do you come around this part of town often?" She asked,

winking slyly.

"I have a friend that lives near-by. My family and I were just

dropping off my falcon at his house before we head off to Europe

for a couple of weeks."

" _Pet falcon?_ And _Europe!_ I dare say, but _you,_ my good sir, live _quite_ the extraordinary life!" As the receipt came out, she looked at him daringly, adding: "I'm guessing you _want_ your receipt..." Ron

took a minute but then quickly understood the innuendo, replying

back:

" _Ron!_ Ron. My name's Ron."

"Well, _Ronald..."_ as she said this, she began scribbling

something down on his receipt; " _You—_ should call me sometime!"

She finished and handed him the receipt with seven numbers

written clearly on it with a dash and the name ' _Dee Dee'_ following.

Ron smiled back up at her, but, before he could say anything else,

she was already walking into the back room. Ron noticed an

intricate design of a four-leafed clover tattooed upon her ankle. He

couldn't help but whisper to himself:

" _The luck of the Irish."_ As he walked out of the store with his

bag of potatoes and another adventure that still awaited.

354

**Thank You**

I'd like to thank L. A. Beane first off for being the

first person to read this and fully go through and

edit _The Gazebo_. And for giving me the

inspiration to write since we both love the books

we've grown up with. If we hadn't gone on our

first of many Appalachian adventures I don't know

where I'd be or if I would have even found out that

I had such a strong desire to write. Without you,

my dreams of someday becoming a writer

wouldn't have been possible.

I'd also like to thank my middle school

teacher, Sterling Smith, for giving me pointers on

_The Gazebo_ when I came to you for advice on

grammar. You sat down with me, read with me,

and helped direct myself towards the path that

would get this book on the right track. I needed

someone that worked in your field and had your

expert education, and you were there for me.

Thank you so much. I'd like to thank my high

school teacher, Taylor Berrier, for sitting down

with me and helping me with the historical

aspects of the book. Writing this I needed

someone that had your education and that

worked in your history field and you were there for

me. Thank you. 
