

Saving John

A Novel

By

Gabe Sluis

February 2013- August 2013

"However, it was not his physical strength, but rather his strong principles and ideals that defined him." – Chelsea Thornton Buchholtz

"A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." –Ecclesiastes 4:12

"Oh you poor souls, who see me for anything other than who I truly am."

-Unknown

Published by Gabe Sluis at Smashwords

First Edition

Copyright Gabe Sluis 2013

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

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. I need to get rich...
Chapter 1- John McCourtney

John McCourtney was a good man. He was a hardworking man, a mason by trade, and gave his whole life for his family. At twenty-three, this son of an Irishmen took a trip with friends from his dreary home in West London and made up his mind to stay in Southern California. The sun, the fresh air, and the new start kept him. He stayed to live the dream, and so he lived. Soon, his dreams moved on to dream of things themselves.

John became involved in construction as soon as he finished school at the age of sixteen. With an aching desire to do more and see the world, he worked as an apprentice around London, and traveled to Germany for work. Forming things with his hands gave John a particular satisfaction he found nowhere else. Though he was adept in many things, the ability to create what one saw in their minds eye, captured him. While he would never consider himself an "artist", John could merge stone and mortar to bring forth their natural magnificence, while still getting his hands dirty and remaining true to his serious, masculine nature.

In Southern California, in the late 70's, John worked odd jobs and got his green card. Due to his imposing size, a powerfully built six-foot-two, John found extra work as a bouncer in nightclubs around Los Angeles. Continuing in construction, John obtained his contractor license and decided to start his own masonry company with a friend from New Zealand. The two enjoyed the Southern California life, focusing on the design and building swimming pools. In between the beers, the days in the ocean tide, and the occasional brawls in crowded fast food restaurants, John made memories that would forever bring roaring laughter to his belly. These were some of the best years of his life.

In the summer of '81 he met Mae. The story of their meeting was well known to their children, with the underlying message that sometimes, when something is meant to be, persistence will pay off. You just have to want it bad enough.

Mae was a good girl, and John, with his rough exterior but gentle heart, were soon inseparable. He quickly became close with Mae's family and began to attend church with Mae. They married two years later and life began to pick up speed. Like a series of snapshots, the life he worked so hard for unfolded.

They bought a home in a quiet, featureless neighborhood in the Los Angles. The single story houses that line the street are all off-white with light brown roofs. Power lines and palm trees poke up into a constant cloudless sky. On the parched lawn, the young couple stands, blissful in the beginning of their lives together.

They start a family. John finally feels at home. He now belongs, no longer simply existing, but living in a new country, his country. Christopher is born in the spring of '85, and nothing has made him happier. The big man with rough hands and soccer shorts holds his son on the couch. It's a Saturday, and Liverpool is giving Manchester United a good run. He breathes deep, enjoying days like these.

Chris is still in diapers when his sister arrives. The golden haired toddler peaks at the wrapped bundle lowered to him by his kneeling mother. Watching Chris look upon the face of little Elizabeth makes his heart swell. John now knows his little family is complete.

The expected departure of John's business partner leads to the tough decision to move away from the lucrative business opportunities in the big city. In order to be closer to Mae's parents, the McCourtney's make the move to the Gold Country of Northern California. Rebuilding and replanting.

Life continues as the children grow. John becomes more interested in politics and current events. A strong urge to be informed on the issues and policy-makers that will affect him and his family overtakes John. This naturally led to his development of strong opinions and an attitude that cannot be described as anything less than patriotic. With this, John begian the long process of gaining his citizenship.

Standing amidst a full auditorium in Sacramento, nearly fifteen years after coming to America, John holds up his right hand and swears. He can now proudly say, in his already half departed British accent, that he is an American. This is a great day for him, and an experience he draws from in his future political arguments on the topic of immigration. Many of John's political arguments, of which he unabashedly shares, are channeled from his unique experience of going about doing things 'the right way.'

John's business starts to transform. He began to experiment with more complex and advanced designs in his masonry. He perceivered, making a substantial living for his family, and becomes renowned for his high-end work that is sought after by wealthy clients all across the Sacramento area. An unintentional key to John's success was John himself. He ran his small crew in a fair way that inspired loyalty. Every job John worked on, he refused to cut corners. This business ethic and his magnetic 'British working-man' personality gained him guaranteed work stemming from the word-of-mouth of his affluent clients.

The relocation and boom were good to him. He was able to build his dream home and send both his children to a private religious school. He provided so that Mae could enjoy her children, working as a secretary at their school. They had fine cars and even a late model ski boat. The family lacked nothing in love or lifestyle. Chris graduated high school and worked at a degree while becoming a distinguished banker. Liz also finished school, and went off to college in the middle of the country. John missed his little girl terribly, and even when the economy entered a recession, he still provided her with everything she needed.

When the recession hit, money was slow to be handed out for luxurious projects. The bright years of youth became overcast. With the children both out of the house, John's life changed. An ominous wind was in the air. Though he felt generally secure and able to deal with the rough patch, uncertainty felt close at hand.

But, this story is not solely about John. This story is about his son, Chris McCourtney, and his two best friends, Donny Bryte and Jake Gates. This story is of their journey.

Chapter 2- The Camping Trip

All four windows of the pickup were down as it sped up Highway 1 on a bright summer night. The heater was on full blast and the stereo's volume joined in harmony. Chris slid the four-door truck around the winding curves of the two lane coastal highway with reflexive skill. The words to Ludo's "Lake Pontchartrain" were being sung at the top of the trio's lungs, in an attempt to overcome the roaring wind and the blaring music. Jake, in the passenger seat, occasionally reached over to drum on Chris, keeping time with percussive points in the song. Chris tilted and stretched his head to the center of the vehicle singing along with the high notes. Donny, who was not as familiar with the song, sat in the middle of the back seat, grinning and drumming along. This was the only way to listen to good music on a road trip up north on a cool summer night.

The song ended and Donny reached up and tapped Chris. "How much further you think?"

"We are almost to Fort Ross, so it shouldn't be much further. Ten minutes?" he said.

"Hey, pull over when you see a spot," Jake said. "I gotta take a piss."

The roar of deceleration on gravel signaled Chris had found the requested turnout. All three climbed out, their surroundings temporarily black as their eyes adjusted to the lack of non-ambient light. Chris tucked a chair deeper into the gear-packed bed on his way over to the nominated bathroom area. The wind was at their backs, sweeping down from the mountains, out to the vast sea below. Jake warned the other two about their position near the drop off point of the sea cliff. Down below, the moonlight reflected off the white water created by the ocean crashing against the rock outcroppings. After they were done, they all stood still and looked around.

"The stars are so bright out here. You can see the milky way so clearly," Donny said.

"Yeah, we are pretty far from the bright lights of the city," Jake added.

"I wonder how many whales are totally just swimming out there right now!" Donny brought up, out of nowhere.

"Probably a lot, D.B.," Chris said as if he was speaking the obvious.

"When are Steve and them supposed to get there?" Jake asked.

"I don't have any reception out here," Chris said. "They said that they were going to leave as soon as Matt got off work. So I expect they are only a half-hour behind us. We aughta get back on the road so we can get up there soon. I hope we can find a site in the dark."

"Yeah, I'll get the fire going as soon as we find a spot," Jake said and took the lead back to the truck. "I'm glad we found a weekend to get away, guys. I love it up here."

"Yeah, I miss you guys. We don't hang out as much as we should."

"Oh, Donny. We hang out plenty. Work and school just keeps us busy. Growing up sucks," Chris said as doors slammed.

The truck was thrown in gear and dust filled the spot where it had a moment ago rested. "I know, I just miss all the good times when we played video games together all the time and had no cares."

They had the highway to their lonesome and Chris took advantage by riding the roads rather than the lines. Through the dark night they sped all the way to the campground that was tucked back up in the costal forest.

The fire was going and chairs surrounded the glow when a second car arrived. The new three shouted irreverent greetings as they began to unload their gear and set up their own tent. Beers were cracked, food was impaled on roasting sticks, and the six guys sat around the fire as the night truly began.

"This is a pretty good spot," Dan said. He was the largest of the group, with a big frame and goofy grin. "Its pretty far out though. How did you find out about this place?"

"My dad used to take the three of us out here on camping trips, when we were younger. He said it used to remind him of when my grandpa took him back to where he grew up on the coast of Ireland," Chris said

"That's pretty cool," Matt said and laughed. Matt laughed a lot, which was the best thing about him. You never wanted to see the usually quiet Matt angry, but mostly, he was always laughing.

"So exactly how long have you three known each other? I know you all went to school together..." Steven asked.

The fire was warm in the cool night. Everyone was wrapped in a jacket or hoodie, slouched comfortably in their camping chairs. Jake rotated his stick with a bratwurst on the end and answered.

"Well these two," he said, motioning to Chris and Donny, "Both went to Almond Knoll together from, what, kindergarten?"

"Yeah," Donny agreed. He grabbed himself and Jake another beer as the story continued.

"So they were friends by the time I showed up in sixth grade. My parents thought I wouldn't be able to handle public school, so they sent me there. We were all in the Star Wars nerd group. We used to bring our toys and build bases at recess. We all collected Star Wars cards and I meshed right in with Chris and Donny. The funniest part, is Donny didn't even like me at first!"

That got Donny laughing.

"Yeah! I thought you were a jerk because you wouldn't trade me an R2-D2 and some two other cards. I don't eve remember what they were, they were probably junk, but you had two R2's and I really wanted one!"

"And I didn't even know this until, like three years ago. It had just always felt to me like we've always been friends, so I totally forgot about that part. But I get it, I was probably a bossy little dickhead when I was eleven."

"You totally were!"

"But you guys used to be so mean to me, you would intentionally do stuff to set me off! You guys thought you were so funny. Like the time I almost killed Chris with my sword..."

"Whoa! What? I never heard about this," Dan said.

"So we are all over at Jake's house, and he was playing our favorite video game," Chris began.

"Breath of Fire Four," Donny added in.

"Yeah. So, in this game, you can go fishing, with different rods and lures and stuff. There was this one lure, a really basic lure, that never caught anything good, and I kept saying to him, 'Use the frog lure! Use the frog lure!' I was sitting behind him, right, and I'd keep poking him and telling him to use the frog lure, and Jake looses his fucking marbles! He starts yelling incoherently and out of nowhere pushes me backwards in my chair and I almost cracked my damn skull on the corner of his metal bed frame! He didn't even care that he just hurt me, but kept on playing the stupid game.

"This was back when Donny lived with Jake for a year or so, so I think we were all there. It made me so mad, I peed on his bed."

Everyone was laughing hard at this point. One half in disbelief, imagining the teenage versions of their friends acting crazy, and the other three remembering the situation from their perspective on the past.

"And let me tell you," Jake jumped in. "When I turned around to see why Donny could barely contain himself and then saw Chris covering himself with my blankets in a peeing position, I really lost it. My bed was sacred to me. I wouldn't let anyone on it, always kept it clean and smelling nice..."

"With rose petal squeezings!" Donny said.

"One time dude! Febreeze, mainly," he admitted. "...It was my one sanctuary and Chris fuckin' peed on it!"

"When I saw the rage in his eyes, I just ran! Jake grabbed this sword that he had made and came after me. As I was struggling past all the obstacles and out his door, he has the stupid homemade thing out and is stabbing at me. He totally stabbed right into the wall, narrowly missing me!"

"Yeah, he got out into the main room and I grabbed some spray starch that was in the clutter. Chris had his hands out trying to get me to calm down so I sprayed it right in his eyes. Then I broadsided him with the sword right in the balls and jumped on his back, choking him with my arms and legs. Spider-man style!"

"We did pick on you pretty hard," Donny said. "Anytime we found something that got to you, like your bed, we were totally all over it. But, to our credit, the reason we did all this stuff was cuz were hoping that one day you would just chill out rather than go nuts!" He laughed to himself and went on, "Another time Ryan and I went down to the creek that ran under the highway and caught all those crawdads. Jake was at work and after we ate them we put the plate of shells under his bed."

"It smelled horrible for a week! You and my little brother, man," he said to Donny, "You guys loved to team up against me."

"That so funny," Matt said. "Its so hard to imagine you freaking out like that. You seem like nothing like that would get to you now," he said to Jake.

"Yeah, well, one day I just stopped letting it get to me. I remember making a decision to stop overreacting and they didn't find it so funny anymore," he concluded. "Donny and me messed with Chris really bad too. This one time in eighth grade, back when Chris was going out with Amber, we tried to stab him in the back pretty hard. Chris was just too smart for us."

"Back in eighth grade, all the cool kids switched over to wearing boxers," Chris began, knowing the story Jake was bringing up. "But I still liked the support of briefs. So my solution was to wear boxers over my whitie-tighties."

Everyone was laughing hard at this. Jake and Donny laughed mainly at the disbelieving reaction from Dan, while Matt and Steven thought it a very typical Chris logic. Once it died down, Donny took over.

"So we were on a school trip to Six Flags and we were trying to be cool kids; I just started dating Marie, and you Amber," he said to Chris. "And we were all sitting around this table, a big group of us, and Chris goes off to use the bathroom. For some reason we decide to tell everyone this fact that we had recently found out, totally betraying our best friend. The girls found it hysterical, and when he comes back, they confront him about it.

"He looks all guilty and denies it, and they make him prove it. He is in public, so he slides his waistband down slowly, with everyone watching and there are only his boxers. Jake and I are totally perplexed and look like the jerks we were."

"We ask him about it later and he was so mad at us! He told us he stopped doing that along time ago. But one of us saw them on him that day, or something. Finally, he admitted that he heard us tell the girls as he was walking away and tore them off in the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet before we could bust him!"

Chris sat smugly in his chair with his arms crossed.

"He may not look like much, but Chris is a sneaky devil, sneakier than me sometimes," Jake laughed. There was a pause in the conversation as new beers were passed out.

"And when we weren't all messing with each other, we messed with Ryan," Chris said.

"You met my brother through home school, right?" Jake said to Steven.

"Yeah, we had weekly classes that we went to together. Back when we were the same size."

"I remember little Ryan, back when he was home schooled. He was such a little spaz!" Donny said. "Jake and I came home from school, when I lived there, and we are walking up to the front door, and this skinny blond kid pops up in the front window with his shirt around his head like long hair. He starts making clucking sounds like a parrot or something," he laughed.

"Yeah, we were the two little skater punks in our class. We were like little twins, except for the opposite color hair. Its crazy how big he has gotten since he has been in the Army, I wish I had a late growth spurt," Steven said.

"Its so funny to watch all our old skate videos and see Ryan screaming at us in his high pitched voice!" Donny said.

"Its funny, that's how I know all of you guys," Jake said, speaking of the other three, "through my brother. I just remember coming home from basic training and hanging out with all you guys cuz you all worked at the bowling alley with Chris and Ryan."

"And look at us now, better friends with you even after Ryan left to play Army in Kentucky," Chris said.

"What exactly is he even doing out there?" Matt asked.

"He is in a Pathfinder unit," Jake told them. "They are pretty elite. Teams of six jump ahead of the main force and set up landing zones for the regular troops that air-assault in by helicopter. I have a sergeant in my company that did the same thing before he went National Guard. It sounds like a totally awesome job. They get a lot of opportunities for extra schools and stuff."

"How much longer is he in for?"

"I think he has two years left on his last enlistment. He says he is going to get out, but I don't believe him. He is a lifer. He likes it too much."

The night was moving along nicely. Logs were added to the fire, bratwursts and biscuits were cooked on sticks, and no one was without a cool beverage. The guys were all enjoying reliving the memories from their past, which they infrequently would pull out and share on nights like this. These were the events that shaped their young lives, and they were important because they were the foundation on which their unbreakable friendship was built.

"Alright, what's another good one? How about the time I walked in on you in the shower!" Jake said. Donny was again barely able to begin through his laughter.

"This was also back when I used to live with Jake. So I went to Rio Oso High for my sophomore year, and I left to catch the bus an hour before Jake left for Almond Knoll." He kept laughing remembering the joke before it could be told. "You tell it, man. It's funny when you tell it."

"So, I get up, just like any day and stumble down to our shared bathroom. Just like any morning... I'm half asleep and go in, not even realizing that the door is closed and the light is on. I'm standing in front of the shower and I pull my clothes off. Out of nowhere I hear, 'Jake?'" he mimicked in a crackly voice. "I had never moved so fast! I jumped back away from the shower doors towards the toilet, naked as the day I was born! Donny had fallen asleep sitting in the tub!"

"I just remember waking up because the fan had came on and saw this butt through the frosted glass! Jake ran out of there so fast! The two of us didn't even talk for the rest of the day cuz we were both so embarrassed!"

"It's even funnier looking back on that now because Donny has no problem walking out of Chris's shower, all wet with one hand over his junk, saying, 'Hey, you guys seen my towel?' He always does it like we are really going to find it funny the tenth time. But back when we were fourteen, or whatever, being naked in front of you best friend was traumatizing!

"It also prolly didn't help that I thought that Donny was just the coolest dude, back then. When we were younger, that year he went to public school, he didn't have to follow the same dress code we did, and we just thought he was so hard-core. I remember one time we were hanging out, probably skateboarding, and he was like, 'You know what's a funny thing to say? Sick Fuck!' And I'd just about die busting up laughing. I tried to be cool too and was like, 'Oh yeah? What about, fat Fuck!' It is so stupid now, but we were pretty edgy back then!"

"I totally forgot all about that!" Donny said.

"And Donny would smoke cigarettes he rolled from the unsmoked tobacco he collected from butt trays outside stores," Jake continued. "I would show him some CD I got of a band and he would be like, 'Just play me their hardest song,' and judge the merits of this band based solely on that. Donny drank, and partied. He was the bad kid."

"I wasn't all bad," Donny said. "You were the one who burnt the field down!"

"We should have rolled in it!" Jake said.

"We should have rolled in it!" Donny echoed.

Responding to the quizzical looks from the other three, Jake explained.

"When we were fifteen, Donny and I were up skateboarding one summer day. So, we walked back down the hill from our skate spot and across this vacant lot to get to my house. The guy who owned it dumped a bunch of trash from a burned down trailer his mom lived in, or something. We had sorted through it in the past week or so and this time as we were walking back, I found some paper on the ground.

"To this day, I can't remember what was on it, something I didn't like, like a legal notice or something. So, I balled it up and lit it on fire. I was a total little pyro kid and always carried a book of matches on me. I wasn't trying to burn anything down, I just wanted for it to burn out in the dirt, but the wind caught it and the small fire spot we tried to stomp out just kept getting bigger."

"That's why we always kicked ourselves for not sacrificing our bodies and just rolling on it to snuff it out. We tried to bat it out with our skateboards, but it made it worse," Donny said.

"So we ran for it, all the way back to my house, saying every curse word we knew, and called 911."

"Yeah," Donny said excitedly, "I was like, 'Fire! There's a fire! Down the road! Fire! Fire!' I was so out of breath and scared. The operator kept telling me to calm down. I had never called 911 before..."

"And then, for some dumb reason we went back. The fire engines were all there and a huge column of smoke... We made up this story we would tell them on our way back, that we were just walking by and a piece of glass from the trash must have magnified the sun just right and started it and we were the good guys who called it in.

"But, of course they immediately separated us, and I stuck to the story. I figured Donny would too. But he cracked, and I kept on going even though they told me they knew what really happened. I thought they were just trying to break us, but they already had. I remember this one fire-girl, patting Donny on the head, telling him he was a good kid and glaring at me. I almost went to juvie that night."

"That's crazy. I remember hearing your brother mentioning stuff about that, but never heard the whole story," Steven said. "Whatever happened?"

"Donny had to do some community service and I had to go tell the guy who owned the property what I had done and almost didn't get my license on time. I also had to go to peer court and do some community service...

"I just remember being so mad at Donny. He was the bad kid! He smoked and drank and I was the good kid! I felt like he caved on me for the longest time. But, that's Donny. He tried to be this hardcore dude, but he has such a soft heart underneath. Be not fooled!" he finished.

"Yeah, Donny has a good heart and Ryan has the craziest luck," Chris started his own story. "I went to Australia with Jake and Ryan a couple of years ago and almost drowned. We decided to try to swim out past the where the waves were breaking on our first day there, what beach was it?"

"Some beach south of Sydney," Jake responded.

"Anyway," Chris continued, "It was really dumb, when we got out there and the waves were really hitting us hard and a riptide made it really hard to swim back in. I wasn't used to swimming like that and got super tired. We finally came to the conclusion that it was time to turn around. I was so tired that Jake had to help swim me back in, but I almost drowned him in the process. A lifeguard on a long surfboard saw us and came out to help me, but the funny part of this story was that I got rescued; Jake had to swim himself in, and Ryan! He catches a perfect wave and body surfs all the way to shore, like it was nothing! We all entered to win this big TV in a drawing at the store, this one time, and out of probably a thousand people, he wins!"

"Your right, too," Jake said. "When we were kids, and my mom would make us pick a number between one and ten, to see who would get something, he would always win. My mom began to think that he was just good at reading her face for what number she would pick, so she would make it out of twenty-five or fifty. Still, more often than not, he would win."

Dan agreed, "That's Ryan, when we were in our bowling league, he was defiantly good. Regardless if it was luck or skill, he acted like it was all him, not like, 'Hey look, I just got a really lucky roll.'"

"Its like he has been lucky his whole life and he is just used to it being there," Steven added.

"Yeah, it comes off as cockiness too. That's probably why we gave him such a hard time as a kid. It was too easy to pick on him. And it was okay, cuz my little whelp of a brother just deserved it!"

The conversation started to lull. The guys were all a few beers deep and the fire was warm on all their faces. The night was getting to be late, and Jake settled on telling one last story that half the group hadn't heard. Chris and Donny immediately perked up at the beginning of the last and best story of the evening.

"Like we have been saying," Jake began, "We were hard on Ryan growing up. It's prolly why he is so damn tough now. But this last one, we don't tell to too many people, this last one it a bit shameful and hilariously debasing at the same time. This was the worst thing we ever did to Ryan."

Everyone was listening now. Dan popped a fresh beer, Steven and Matt sat up on the front of their camping chairs. No one interrupted or added critical observations. Jake alone had control over the flow of the narrative.

"So back when we were sixteen, this was the summer after the fire, we all could finally drive, and so we started to find a bunch of new river spots. We scoped out this spot down by the river near Chris's house, and since it was close, it became our main spot. It had some decent rocks to jump off, it was secluded, and most of all, it was our own. We would bring some girls and a couple other friends occasionally, but no one else ever went there, as far as we ever saw.

"So, one summer day, we are down at the river, and it's the three of us," he motioned to Chris and Donny, "and Ryan was there. On the walk down, Donny and I started this weird tradition of pissing ourselves on the way to the water. It was a funny thing because, that is so unacceptable, right? But we were in the water right away and wet, so it was just a gag. I guess that was the gateway prank to this whole mess.

"So, we got up to the spot and began to enjoy the hot day. We would jump off rocks and then climb back up to the main ledge by this one route. This way had another big rock behind it, so you couldn't jump back and into the water if you wanted to bail out. It wasn't that high, but once you started the climb, you went up or had to climb back down to the water.

"Ryan is climbing up the rock, and Chris... Chris decided to just whip it out and piss all over him as he tried to climb up the rock! We are all at the top, cracking up as he clings to the rock and shrieks in his high pitched voice. Chris is laughing so hard he can barely keep his stream flowing! It ended and Ryan's hollering quit eventually. But, unfortunately, it got worse.

"The next level, I brought it to. We were on this wild streak, and I spotted some dog shit. I have no idea where it came from, maybe one of our dogs we brought some other day, but I picked up this old turd, and hucked it right at Ryan! He screamed and leapt into the water, I don't know if I hit him. But it was the concept. I opened the floodgates. And then it just happened.

"I shit in my hand and threw it at my little brother.

"Then Chris did, and so did Donny. I don't know what had possessed us; it was as if we didn't know that we were acting like a bunch of wild beasts. I just clearly remember seeing shit hit Ryan in the chest and it splattering there. He yelled and yelled and I think he had to go a ways up the river to get away from us. We just thought it was the funniest thing in the world."

After the laughter had dried up, the group all called it a night. They left the coals of the fire burning and climbed in their tents. They were full of food and drink and happy after an evening surrounded by friends. Chris brought his five-man tent and he, Jake, and Donny lay shoulder to shoulder in their bags. It felt like the old days when they were in junior high, having sleepovers.

"We should have brought a strobe light!" Donny whispered sleepily.

"Yeah, and watched some 'Air Force One' and then play some Star Fox," Chris agreed.

"Good old days..." Jake said and yawned. "I remember the first time I came over to your house, my mom dropped me of at like six in the morning for some reason. It was raining and I didn't see anyone inside, so I knocked quietly. And no one came so I did again, and turned to sit on the step, to wait for people to wake up. Suddenly your dad opened the door like I was going to be a burglar or something, and I was so scared. He was huge, and you know how he is the first time you meet him. I told him I was supposed to go to the mall with you today and he looked at me like it was three in the morning. He finally let me in and I had to sit on the couch until you finally got up at like nine." A pause. "How is your dad doing?"

"Work is getting stressful. Business is slowing down. He has Clyde and three other on and off workers, but it seems like he is always busy running around to different jobs. He works too hard and has to overdraw the account every month just to pay the guys," Chris said.

"What? I don't get it."

"He gets paid for the jobs after the work and just has to take the hits on the overdraft fees when he has to pay his employees in the mean time. Its such a bad way to run his business, but he says its just until things pick back up again."

"It's like you with those payday loans, Donny," Jake said.

"I don't use those anymore," Donny said, almost asleep. "I was in deep with them for a second. You are going to school for accounting, why don't you take over your dad's books?"

"My dad doesn't want me to follow in his footsteps, running the family business. He would rather me get a good job with a set retirement. I don't blame him. He is having a really hard time these last couple years. He has been really stressed out lately, especially with this guy he is doing some contract work for."

"Donny's snoring. I'm out of gas too, man. Breakfast and a hike down to the water tomorrow?"

"Yeah, night buddy."

"Night..."
Chapter 3- Just a little clot

It was morning, just barely. The sun had not quite peaked over the tree-laden hill behind the McCourtney house. The blue light of this Thursday morning was just like the beginning to any summer day, but this morning would change the life of everyone who knew John McCourtney.

Clots are funny things. They can be formed in various ways; blood, which is usually a liquid, clumps together becoming solid. Usually they form in veins that return blood from an extremity, hemoglobin bunching up because of a narrowing in one of their freeways. The cells bunch together and form a glob that finally gets swept along with the flow of the returning blood.

The big man, sleeping in a groove worn by years of resting in the same spot, turned in his sleep. The clot was freed, heading back to the pump. In the rapids of the right side of the heart, smaller pieces of the clot were ripped free and dissolved. Through the lungs the clot hit the narrowing passageways. The loosely bound aspects of the clump and the build up of pressure shoved the core of the remaining clot past the funnel with the newly oxygenated blood from the lungs. It raced back to the left side of the strong masons heart.

The much smaller clot narrowly avoided being pulled into a stream of blood that flow into the arteries that loop back to feed the muscles of the heart. The clot eddied and swirled blindly through the body and found itself, out of all the various possibility of arteries, feeding into the control center, John's brain. For clots, which happen to occur occasionally, avoiding being dissolved or caught in other systems, making it all the way to the brain, it is very unlikely event.

Regardless of the low probability, the clot, just a fraction of what it began as, moved down an artery in the stem of John's brain. The way narrowed and the pressure from behind the clot pushed it deeper until it could move no further. The way became blocked to all the vital oxygen carrying hemoglobin meant to feed the cells of the region called the Pons.

John woke up screaming. His large mass flapped backward and began shaking on the bed. Out in the foggy woods, Terrance Golden pulled the trigger three times. Mae called 911.

In town, a fire station's tones went off. The voice of the dispatcher echoed around the station, "Medical Aid, seizures," getting the firefighters up out of their worn recliners and bare racks. Three men move with practiced purpose into their apparatus bay and pulled on their turnouts, which were placed strategically outside the door to their place on the engine. The door went up and the monster red diesel emerged from its spot with red and white lights spinning. Engine eighteen was responding.

Not far away, an ambulance crew sat in an empty parking lot. The paramedic, sitting in the passenger seat of the cab, was fast asleep with his head back. Jeff Analogga had been a medic for eight years and had had come close to seeing it all. He worked as a firefighter before going to medic school, and had done his internship in Las Vegas. He was slightly overweight from the inactivity of ambulance life, but enjoyed mountain biking in his off time. His soft snoring stopped as the radio came to life.

Samantha Pallus, the EMT in the driver seat, turned on the engine and dropped the rig into gear after hearing the call go out in their zone. She knew the town pretty well, and knew that if it were engine eighteen, they would be assigned as well. All 911 medical aids were dispatched through the fire department, which then advised the ambulance company to dispatch their Advanced Life Support unit to the call. The ambulance was pulling out of the parking lot in the direction of the McCourtney's when they were officially placed on the call and could then turn on their lights and sirens. Samantha did, and raced through the thin morning traffic on the highway. They soon overcame the fire engine, killing their own sirens, and following the big red truck off the main highway to the call for help.

Within six minutes of the call, the engine and ambulance pulled into the driveway and halfway around the parking loop, coming to a stop. The firefighters went straight in, following Mae, who met them on the porch and waved them in. Jeff and Samantha pulled out their gurney and threw the jump bag onto the pad next to the other gear. Mentally preparing themselves for a seizure, they worked their way into the house and back to the couple's bedroom.

"He's breathing," the firefighter on the side of the bed, reported aloud to the medic entering the scene. John was lying on the floor next to the bed. A blood pressure cuff appeared, and with the tear of Velcro, it was placed on his arm.

"Sir! Sir! Can you look at me?!"

"...He's not tracking with his eyes."

"Ma'am, can you tell me what happened?" Jeff asked as he began to work. "Sam, get him on the monitor."

"I don't know! He just woke up and started screaming. He was shaking all over the place and I called 911," Mae said through tears.

"How did he get on the floor? Hold his neck, we are going to need C-Spine."

Samantha ran out to get a backboard. Time lost its meaning. There was a flurry of action, equipment everywhere. One firefighter with a clipboard asked Mae an endless stream of questions while another began yanking furniture out of the way.

"He is about a hundred twenty five kilos. Lets four-point him over to the gurney. Everybody ready? Head counts... One, Two, THREE!"

"You want a line spiked in the back?"

"Yeah. What hospital is he seen at? Faith is closest," Jeff spoke at Mae as they rolled big John past her. "Do you want to come with us, or can you drive? It's probably better for you to drive, so you have a car there."

A minute later, the house was silent, an eerie contrast to the chaos that the last twenty minutes had held. Mae drove fast behind the ambulance as they went back through town to the hospital, lights and sirens waking up the neighborhoods they passed.

A little clot, just a little clot. A bad little nugget of blood cells, blocking critical blood flow to the brainstem. It was perched down there, letting no one pass; killing for no reason than that was what it was; ruining things for no great reason. There was no justification for why this had happened, no missteps to explain it away. Helpless. Was it helpless?

Chapter 4- Donald Bryte

Donny's alarm went off at six in the morning. He brought himself up to near sitting with one arm and rubbed his nose, clearing out his passageways. He turned off his alarm clock, which sat next to his mattress, both lying on the floor of his messy room. Throwing the covers off to the wall side, Donny got up and went to the shower. Minutes later he returned, climbed into his worn, black work pants and pulled a red Sub Stop shirt over his head. He made his way through the maze of furniture and boxes in the overcrowded apartment that he shared with his two brothers. Grabbing carrot juice from the fridge on the way out the door, Donny began the five-minute walk he took in the mornings to get to work.

As he walked toward the shopping center, just up the road and past a mobile home park, his mind wandered as his feet were set on autopilot. He looked around the town that he grew up in, not quite come to life on a typical Wednesday morning. In the opposite direction, not far down the highway, Donny could almost see the hospital where Chris's dad lay. He had gone there yesterday to visit; the experience still left him feeling awkward and sad. Chris was at work, but told him it would be fine to go anyway.

He had never been in the ICU of the hospital before. It seemed so easy to find and close to the main entrance, not tucked back in some depths like he imagined. The room threw him off as well. Instead of being a large open room with lots of glass doors, John McCourtney was in a small room with a wooden door propped open. Entering he found Mae sitting at John's side, reading. He didn't look at John, not at first.

Donny's relationship with Chris's parents had always been interesting. He had been Chris's playmate since kindergarten, and he felt that he knew them well, even though they didn't really know him at all. He had always been a good kid, respectful and put on a good face, but as he got older and did little innocuous evil things that boys do, all the worst parts seemed to get back to his friends parents. To them he was a "bad seed", "burnout", "looser", but never to his face. Just "silly Donny", and he knew they never trusted him. He remembered staying the night a couple years back, a Saturday night, and the whole family got up for church the next day. They were leaving and Donny had to as well, he couldn't keep sleeping, alone in their house while everyone was away. He would hear their conversations when they thought he was not around, "Why doesn't he get a real job? Is he still working at the sandwich shop?" Smiles on the outside, judgments when he turned.

But he still loved them. They were like a second family, and finally bringing himself to look at big John McCourtney, lying in that bed with a tube helping him breath, made him infinitely sad.

In the cool morning air, he couldn't shake the feeling that life was so fragile. One minute you are walking around, and the next in a hospital bed, unsure if you will ever get out. Life felt thin. Looking down at his hands holding his juice, they felt like appendages, not really part of who he was. His head swam and his eyes were all that felt real. The rest was a puppet or machine acting sloppily on his thoughts. Reaching the backdoor of the shop pulled him from his brief slip down that whirlpool of thought.

Donny entered and turned off the alarm. He grabbed a clipboard off the wall and headed into the walk-in refrigerator to pull out prepped dough and tubs of vegetables. It was half past six, and the manager would be in soon to help open the shop and finish baking the bread. Letting his mind go back to its wandering, he went about his morning tasks.

Chapter 5- Christopher McCourtney

He couldn't stop thinking about the time on the couch.

Chris's whole family was in the room; his grandmother standing behind his seated mother, his sister standing beside her father, and himself leaning against the sink. They all sat in silence of the ventilator as they waited for the neurologist. She arrived right on time.

"How is everyone doing today?" the specialist began. "I read the reports from the last twelve hours, and there seems to be no changes."

The family sat quiet. Mae liked this doctor best of all the ones she had come in contact with since this unfortunate incident. She was the most willing to talk to them, taking the time to explain everything. But most of all, her eyes conveyed understanding and compassion.

"So let us recap," the doctor began. "Several MRI's ruled out any seizure activity, as was initially suspected, and showed that John in fact sustained a Pons Stroke. Both MRI's confirm that the stroke was hemorrhagic as well as ischemic. This means that the blood flow to the affected region was both cut off and produced a small brain bleed. We have had him sedated and intubated to ensure that he remains breathing and can rest."

Tears silently rolled down Mae's cheeks. One of the rarest of all strokes, the Pons Stroke. Even if he had had a classic stroke, she was scared that she would have not recognized it. But at least it wouldn't have left him paralyzed from the bridge of the nose down. They made the decision to sedate John, so he would not waste his strength worrying about his family. The tube assisting his breathing came next, from concern that the drive to breath might become compromised from the damage to the Pons region. But everyone kept saying he was so strong...

"Optimistically, we were hoping to see some positive changes in the first three to four days. But, regrettably, the mortality rate for this kind of stroke is very high. The region affected is very complex and deep in a critical area. Now, I am not saying we are totally out of options, but unfortunately, as a family, you have some tough decisions ahead."

The doctor left and tears began to flow. Chris stared blankly at the floor. His concentration pulled in every direction. John continued to sleep.

Chapter 6- Jacob Gates

Jake made his next trip back to the stack of sheetrock. He slid the sheet off to the side of the thick stack and gently hoisted it up to the carry position in both hands and against one shoulder. He let out a slight grunt as he slowly swung himself around to his direction of travel.

"Funny how the ones at the bottom of the stack get heavier than the ones on the top, huh?" his father said with a sly grin, grabbing the next sheet.

"I wanna know who's idea it was to have the delivery guy drop the stack off so far from where we have to bring these things," Jake said crunching across the gravel and into the garage they were converting into living space.

"Well..."

Jake snorted at his father's classic answer to most questions. He slowly placed the edge of the sheet on the ground near the transplanted stack and let the sheetrock drop when he heard his phone go off. Jake hurried over to the ledge where he left his keys phone and water bottle. Looking at the screen, a bright face with blue tongue unintentionally exposed greeted him.

"You'll have to walk up the driveway to get a good signal, its terrible down here," Peter Gates told his son.

"Cool, alright," Jake said, punching answer on his phone as he moved in that direction.

"What's up, Buddy?" Jake said. After a pause, "Chris?"

There were some muffled, odd noises, as Jakes brain attempted to decode what he was hearing. Pocket call? And then it clicked, Chris was holding back sobs.

"Dude, what is it? Your dad...?"

"I don't remember what we were watching, the news maybe," Chris began, "But it was a couple years back, when that lady went into a coma and her husband said she told him that she never wanted to live as a vegetable, but her family wouldn't let her go. Remember that?"

His voice had grown stronger as he continued to spill the words overflowing in his mind. Jake kept walking, devastated at the color to the voice of his best friend. He would always consider both his childhood friends as brothers, but he and Chris had been the closer of the three in recent years. It was their life choices, that was all. Chris had gotten a good job at a bank and Jake was working with his dad while he went to school and did his National Guard weekends. But Donny had stayed at the strip mall where they all held various jobs through high school. Jake and Chris both had tried to spur Donny to leave his comfort zone and make changes, but it didn't work. Donny went through his party phase and got caught up in the low point that followed. The banding together of the other two, to try to rescue their friend, drew Chris and Jake closer.

"Well, we were sitting on the couch together and he reached over to me. I remember this very clearly because it really startled me. He grabbed me by the shoulder...hard...and said straight to my face, 'Don't you ever let me live like that. You put a bullet in by brain before you ever let me live like a lump of lifeless shit. That's hell Chris, hell on Earth.'"

"Dude..." Chris's voice degraded back to being choked up. He fought to hold it together.

"And I had to tell my mom this today. I had to take charge, because it's just me now. I've got to be the one to take care of my mom, sister and grandma."

"So, he is not going to get better?" Jake said stupidly. "There is nothing else they can do? I thought there were drugs to fix strokes..."

"When they figured out it was a stroke, it was too late. I don't know why, but they don't use the drugs after a certain amount of time. Three hours or some bullshit." Chris seemed to regain control as he continued, "The doctors finally figured out it was in the brainstem and that's why he could only blink to us those first few days, he was partially paralyzed from the bridge of his nose down."

"I still don't get it then, why did they put him on a breathing machine and anesthetize him?"

"This specialist said it would be best so he could rest and try to recover. They have him on a ventilator because the brainstem is where the secondary respiratory control, or something, is and they didn't want it to fail."

"Then how do they know he is not getting better if they are keeping him asleep?"

"They do reflex tests, and blood work. They have sent him out for a couple brain images, and they can see its not getting better. Its been a week, he is pretty strong to have lasted this long."

"I can't believe this is happening, man. I wish there was something I could do... So, you are just going to let him go?" Jake felt hot all over saying the last part.

"Yeah," Chris took a deep breath. "That's what he would want. They are going to take him off all the machines tomorrow morning."

"I'm so sorry, Dude."

There was a long pause, a long dead silence. To stop the freefall, Jake jumped back in.

"What is your mom going to do? Without your dad working..."

"He had some life insurance through his business, but I can't imagine he kept paying on them with how tight money has been. We will find out when we go through his papers. Without him, I'm probably going to have to help out. They will have to sell the house, everything. We got a notice that he was behind in Liz's truck payment and that they are going to repossess it. I guess he was counting on his last job, and now it's never going to be completed. The medical bills for this week alone..."

"I'm here for you, buddy. I'll skip my classes tomorrow and come up first thing. Anything you need, you just have to ask."

Another deep breath from Chris's end. "Okay. I'll let you know. I gotta go talk with my mom. Thanks for listening to me. I'm sorry to call you like this..."

"Not at all, brother. That's what I'm here for. We have been through too much. He's like a second dad to me."

"I know. Tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

That night Jake lay awake in bed. He tried to sleep, but he never felt himself truly slip beneath the waves. He tossed and turned, got up to use the bathroom, and again to drink some water. Nothing helped. He checked the time on his phone, and timed creaked by. At thirty-five of ten, he lay on his back and stared into the darkness. Seeing nothing, it was more bearable on his eyes to close them.

We are too young to be loosing our fathers, he thought. That is something you do when you are our parents age, not when you are in your mid-twenties. He thought about the phone call that had started it all. He hoped he had said all the right things he needed to make Chris understand what he felt, and comfort his friend in any way.

He had meant it when he had said that John was like a second father to him. From the age of twelve, when he felt he really made his own decisions and became aware, he had spent all his time with Chris and Donny. John had always been there, taking them camping, on trips, having the boys work for him, giving them advice. His size and imposing personality was all they needed to respect him, not just his position as parent. He was the type of man you knew was a kid like you once. The stories he told of his youth made them know that, and the boys were easily influenced by this type of positive role model.

John had given Jake great advice about getting and using his first credit card. "Buy a little something each month and pay it off right away. That's how they gettcha, you spend too much and get stuck with the interest. Don't play into their pockets. You have to use them to get that good credit score." It was the advice any young person should hear, but funny he was unable to stick to it himself in the hard times. Funny how life turns out.

Jake knew that Chris's dad favored him over Donny, too. Everyone knew of Donny's problems, but John was always hard on the kid. Make smart decisions, John preached. John could be really straight laced at times; he always disapproved of Jakes few tattoos. Permanent ink was on that list of poor decisions, and he made it clear that if Chris ever got one, no more help or living under his roof. Different generation, different ideas, Jake chalked it up to. But on the other hand, he was overly proud of Jakes choice to get in with the National Guard. That was no surprise to Jake, everyone knew how much John loved his country, but the fact that this level of pride came from his best friends father meant just a little more.

The next memory that came to mind, lying in the quiet room, was one from just this year. Jake had crashed at Chris' house one weekend and awoken Saturday morning to the birds singing in the spring sunshine. Chris was in the shower and Jake had heard Liz and Mae leave on one of their weekend shopping trips. The house was quiet as Jake sat up in his sleeping spot beneath the window of the second floor. Outside, John walked out on the driveway, unaware he was being observed. He called for Winnie, the families Jack Russell Terrier. But instead of the big gruff call one would expect, John switched his voice to a falsetto, called and baby talked the dog into coming over where he continued telling her how good she was.

The smile that spread over Jakes face at this image, compelled him to sit up and open his eyes. He was gone from that warm, bright spring morning, back in his hot dark room. Had he finally fallen asleep? It didn't feel like it, but the dull numbers on his phone read just before two in the morning. Without thought, Jake pulled on his jeans and a baseball tee and left his room.

As if he was sleepwalking, he found his shoes on his feet and the key to his motorcycle slipping into the ignition. He came back for a second, Where am I going? But the answer was clear, and he was off in the night.

Up the highway he roared, the big headlight leading the way with his jeans flapping around his legs. Jakes mind was blank, not out of his control, but blank. He stared at one spot on the road as the highway fled before him. Some sort of song was stuck in his head, not quite tangible. The places for the words were there, but they were absent. He reached his turn. He was compelled.

Into a spot in the empty parking lot and the engine was shut off. The young man in the night dismounted and pulled off his helmet, locking it in its place. Jake walked, as if he were on a moving walkway at the airport, right through the front doors of Faith Hospital. Not a soul was in sight as he walked down a short hall and opened the unlocked door to the Intensive Care Unit. No nurses, no doctors, only movable racks of sheets cluttered the hall as he walked up to the closed door of John's room.

A slight shock zapped the fingers of his right hand as he opened the door and stepped inside. Chris stood looking down at his father at the right head of the bed. Donny stood at the left head looking at Jake as he entered. The room was empty, except for the three boys and big John. Jake's place was at the foot, and he took his mark, as if he were a prop on a stage. Jakes eyes were fixed on the man he knew, laying in the bed. Donny turned his gaze to match. The clock on the wall behind Jake read 2:19 A.M.

Chapter 7- The Path of Dreams

When Jake was a child, he had horrible vision. He wore glasses until he was thirteen and was able to get contacts. Once, on a run while in the National Guard, his glasses fell off his face and broke. There was nothing he could do but pick up the pieces and continue to run. The confused exhilaration of hurdling himself along, seeing only a blur of soft shapes as he ran, had made him feel disconnected from the world.

That feeling suddenly rushed back to him now. He could feel the others close, their texture and the shade of their mass, one in front and one behind. He felt like the middle passenger on a rollercoaster, experiencing the ride, but vaguely aware of the other passengers.

He felt enclosed, soft walls very close, extending upwards to an unseen, if even existent, ceiling. Everything was in a haze of purples and violets. White light, perfectly blended as if with pastels, lay ahead. Yet, no matter how swiftly he seemed to move, he got no closer to the light. Slowly becoming aware of himself, Jake looked down at his body. A hand, his left. Nothing else was in focus. He reached out and touched the wall. It was cool and greasy, almost moist. It stretched under his touch and the purple color faded as he stretched it outward. He let go, and it returned to normal.

Suddenly, a sense of urgency came over him. It was as if there were mellow classical music drifting down the slow pulsating hall that had suddenly picked up to a frenetic pace while changing keys. He felt as if his heart (did he have a heart with him?) wanted to leap from his chest. He had to move. He could not idle here forever. He strained himself to move, but with no real body, only his mind could move him. But, wasn't it his mind that did all the moving anyway? The body responds to the mind...

It was like ringing the last drops from a damp sponge. He pushed until nothing was left, and beyond. Finally the light came rushing forward. The walls were gone and a tan-brown color began to blossom beneath him, like watercolor saturating paper.

He was standing in a boat. Chris stood in the rowboat, alone, looking at his feet.

He was there, freed from the narrow passageway, and found himself whole. Chris stood in a small tan rowboat made of flawless wood, with blue trim and white sides. Assaulted by the color and sensory overload of his new surroundings, he looked around dumbfounded. There seemed to be no need to speak, no need to move, and he didn't know if he could, even if he tried.

The water surrounding the boat was not blue; the first color he noticed was a chunk of brown, and then dark green. There was white and yellow, and even a bit of red. The water was painted with oil paints, as was everything he could see. Taking a mental step back, he was standing in the most beautiful scene any human could imagine, surely painted by a master impressionist. There were lilies floating on the calm river that contained his floating craft. He was drifting a ways from the bank and a house that came right up to the edge of the painted water. A large white house, one you would expect to see on a plantation in the south, sat directly on the bank with the porch sitting right on the waters edge. Sweeping weeping willows framed the white giant, their long arms dipping all the way to its own reflection.

A soft wind blew, and the painted representations obliged. The scene drifted back and forth, and so did Chris. Up and out of the boat, and back again. It was three steps forward and two steps back, a pendulum that slowly crept him ever closer to the house on the bank. The door was red; he had not noticed that before as he floated across the painted river. The windows were dark but inviting. He would go through the door, and so his feet finally came to rest on the solid wood. The door's handle was swooping and painted like liquid brass. Chris felt compelled to move at last. He gripped the handle with his right hand and placed his thumb on the opening lever.

Should I knock? He thought. Do I need my key?

But like lightning, the answer came to him, This is your house.

A whisper. The voice of his sister? It seemed to have no gender, but her voice was there. He tried to recall the sound of it, but there was nothing. All that was left was the memory of the words. Chris opened the door and stepped into the darkness.

The red door closed behind Donny as the cold air settled on his skin. He took a tentative step forward, expecting something to guide him. The others had gotten a clear direction, so where was his? He stood in the darkness and listened.

Hissing steam, pops, and clicks echoed around him. A faint gust of warm air touched him, giving him a break from the general cold. He put his hands out and stepped again. A metallic click at his feet struck the grating beneath. Fear began to grip Donny's mind as childhood movies of monsters in space ran across his thoughts. And then a comforting thought: his lighter.

He always carried a lighter, a nice slim Zippo that Chris and Jake had gotten him as a gift. A nice gift for their smoker friend. He reached down into his pocket, finding it funny that he had just assumed he would be wearing his favorite jeans, and felt the comforting grip of the metal lighter. The second it was out and the signature Ching! of the top opening made a smile spread across his face. It ignited on the first go, as always.

Donny hit the floor, his back connecting with the grated walkway; he was able to comprehend the impact to his chest as the flickering light came to life. There was little pain, just the sudden feeling of vertigo as his mind reacted to the sudden change in orientation. He brought his head up to his chest and was petrified by what he saw.

Small beady eyes, shining bright like lights; one blue, the other green. No bigger than a grapefruit, the demon sitting on Donny's chest made his heart skip two beats. In those two beats was a lifetime of pure fear watching the wavering light from his lighter fight against the shadows, exposing the creature hunched over his face, with claws like the Rancor from Jabba's Palace. Instead of a rounded head like the sci-fi beast, a snout like a river caiman and full of shark teeth snapped at his face.

The paralysis broke and Donny smacked the thing away. He leaped to his feet, grabbing his lighter. He fled along the catwalk, stealing glances back to see if the thing was chasing him, but there was nothing. Coming to a halt, he held up his lighter and looked around. He was in some sort of industrial complex. Pipes running everywhere, overpressure vents, gauges, fly wheels, and thin metal handrails circled the complex. To his left, and always to his left was open space. He could barely see around the complex, discerning that the complex encircled the open space. He leaned over the handrail to look down and saw only the same structures extending up and downward, as if he was in a silo.

The creaking of a grate from behind him broke Donny's observation and he turned. Behind him, just out of the reach of the light of his flame, the eyes reappeared. There was no body in view, just the blue and green staring right at him. Donny took a step back, coming in contact with the cold railing. Another set of eyes emerged from the darkness, and then another. Donny's jaw went slack in horror and the railing behind him broke. He fell backward into the void, turning to face the blackness below him.

The Zippo was still in hand and lit the walks he was falling past, faster and faster, gaining momentum. I should not be falling this fast, this is too quick, Donny thought. The darkness before him remained as his sphere of light fell and fell.

In the blackness below, three lights appeared. They were the eyes of the demon again, but this time the green eye had a smaller blue light off to one corner, like a teardrop face tattoo. The eyes remained at a fixed location, much larger than the miniature demons he had just seen. The Zippo winked out and he was alone, weightless in the dark. Like how one can faintly make out the missing part of a crescent moon, Donny could see the face of the large demon below. He fell into its blue eye, and the light engulfed him.

Chapter 8- Welcome

Each boy awoke alone. Chris was on a beach near a lake, Donny was on the bank of a creek and Jake was in tall grass. Each sat up from their laying position with confused looks on their faces and looked around. They had all had similar dreams, one segment each feeling more real than the others. But now something was different. The air was real. The sense of being shadowed by the others had been replaced with solitude. Their surrounding felt solid and so did their perceptions. This was no dream.

Individually, they gathered themselves up and looked around their environment. Why am I here? I was just somewhere... Jake grasped at scattering thoughts. Donny looked at the water flowing into little pools in the creek beside him and strained his thoughts as well. It looked familiar in some way, as if it was important. Chris felt an overall sense of hurry, as if he had a task to do in a room, but if he was to arrive, he could not remember what it was. He moved away from the lake, there were rocks ahead, and they felt like that room he had something to do in.

Donny felt lost, so he let out a shout. The other guys had to be somewhere. He felt them close before he woke up. He decided to walk up-stream; it was as good a direction as any. The creek seemed to follow the draw created by the rocky hill to his right. The tree cover was thick as he tromped uphill and toward the source of the water. He kept letting out shouts, hoping the others would find him.

Chris approached the rocks when he heard the first shout. It sounded like it came from a ways off and slightly to his left. He thought about hollering back, but there was no telling who it was. A second shout made up his mind. He would make his way around the massive rock formation in that direction to see who was calling. He had to find Jake and Donny; they would know what was going on.

As Chris approached the rocks, he noticed that in the grey granite, a gap lead deeper into the hill. Large boulders in crumbling patterns made maze like paths moving throughout the hill. He cautiously walked into the opening, climbing the natural steps and path through the stone hallways. Things got instantly quiet when he entered the stone maze. Little sound made it into the paths except from above where the tops of the rock ended at the sky. Chris could hear more calling, and it got closer. Was this person in the rocks now too?

Donny was in the rocks, finding a similar gap as Chris had and abandoned his original plan of following the creek. He ran his fingers along the moss and lichen covered stone as he walked the path, ducking and climbing up small ledges to find the next corridor through the network of stone. It reminded him of a castle in a childish way, a place he would have loved as a kid. And it was a large place, he had been moving steadily uphill for a while. He let out another yell.

"CHRIIIISSSS! JAAAAAKE!! ANYBODY!!!"

"Donny!" Chris cried from higher up on a boulder that was bridging a gap between two others. "Thank God its you! Is Jake with you?"

"No, I was hoping he was with you. I'm so glad I found someone! What the hell is happening? I had the craziest dreams before I woke up here. How do I get up to you?"

"Come under here, maybe we can find you a way up," Chris said looking around.

"Oh hey, there is a little crack here," Donny pointed. "I'll start to climb and you pull me up!"

Donny wedged his foot in the four inch gap, trying to pull himself up to where Chris was, which was over twice his height. He scampered and scuttled his way up the crack, slipping and grunting until he was high enough to grab Chris's outstretched hand. Chris pulled and hoisted Donny up to his level. Out of breath, both boys sat on the rock dusting themselves off.

"So where do you think Jake is?" Donny asked.

"He has got to be here too, if we are both here... What is going on?" Chris asked. "We are here now, but what were those dreams? Did you see that house on the water?"

"I remember the colors, all the bright colors. We were all there, weren't we?"

"I think so. And it was you when we fell in the dark. Those eyes..."

Donny shuttered. "That was crazy, dude. I don't even want to think about it."

Lost in their own recollections of the fading memories of the dreams, Donny looked uphill. Beyond what appeared to be the summit of the stone formation was a column of smoke. He stood and pointed it out to Chris.

"That's gotta be Jake," Chris said. "That is totally something he would do. Come on!"

The two took off in the direction of the smoke. They wound around natural passageways and up ledges, helping each other whenever necessary. Dark clouds began to roll in and the wind began to pickup. Leaves from oak trees, left dwarfed and twisted by lack of soil pockets in the stone hill, were pulled from branches by gentle gusts of wind. The small column of white smoke from the distant fire became larger as the pair got within a quarter mile. The air became crisp as snow began to fall in tiny fast moving flakes.

A boulder the size of a small house became the last obstacle between the two and their destination. Unable to climb over, they began to take a path that lead around when Jake suddenly appeared. He tossed a small rock, hitting Donny in the backside, making them both turn. Before Donny could express his surprise, Jake brought a finger up to his lips silencing the two. He crouched down in the path and motioned them over.

"You're okay, dude! What's going on?"

"I went for the high ground when I woke up and saw the smoke. I figured either you guys would be there or come to it," Jake whispered. "But I just checked it out, some dude is over there standing by the fire."

"What should we do?" Chris asked

"Let's just go over and say hello," Donny said. "It's starting to get really cold. Maybe he can tell us where we are."

Jake yielded. "I guess, but we got few other options. You guys notice the cold too? I can tell this is not a dream like the others. It feels real. Real enough..."

"Alright, Donny, you go first," Chris said.

"Yeah, your better with strangers than us."

The three, now reunited, walked like ducks in a row around the final boulder and into the clearing. A fire, roared away inside a typical ring of stones. On the far side of the fire stood the man Jake had seen. He was average height with pale skin. As the boys came into his view, they noticed two striking things about the stranger. The first was his hair. It was a dark crimson, swept back from his forehead, and from his temples down was shaved to the skin in a Mohawk fashion. The second was his olive green jacket. It appeared to be made from jean material, with a Chinese collar, vertical breast seams and looked to fit perfectly.

When the boys walked into view he motioned them over, pointing to the area between the fire and boulder. Donny put up his hand and began to speak when the stranger stunned them all.

"Chris, Donny, Jake, have a seat. Warm yourselves by the fire."

The feelings of being compelled along a path seemed to grip the boys again as they obeyed and took up seats on small rocks around the fire. The stranger continued to stand.

"How do you know our names? Were you waiting for us here?" Chris asked. "You were, that's why you had the fire going. You knew we'd come to it! Who are you?"

"Christopher McCourtney. You always have to be the detective. You can't leave any stone unturned between you and the truth."

Chris was taken back. This strange man had spoken the truth, but as if it was not his place to want answers. This made Jake jump in.

"Whoa, dude. Who the fuck are you to treat Chris like he is some asshole for wanting to get to the bottom of what's going on?"

"Jacob Gates. The foul mouth that jumps before he thinks."

Jake started to stand up when Donny put out his arm to have him sit down.

"This wont get us anywhere guys!" Donny said. "We are sorry, thank you for letting us get warm."

"Donald Bryte, too sweet for his own good. Places trust in complete strangers and assumes that he will be treated the same way."

This time Donny was even taken back. The stranger smiled and Chris finally knew what to say.

"So it seems you know us, even our worst faults, but we don't know you. What is your name?"

"I am Renault, and I will be your guide."

"Our guide? Where are we going?" Jake said.

"You came here to fix something, did you not?"

The boys looked puzzled and so Renault continued.

"You have not forgotten, it is buried in your thoughts, the subconscious desire to fix the unfixable, to undo what can't be undone, to correct this injustice. It has drawn you all here, that, and your bond. You must journey together, as each of you has strengths and weaknesses. You work like a triangle, all three parts must be present for you to be sharp."

"And you? What is your role? Are you going to help us? Where are we going?" Jake questioned.

"I am here to guide you along, like a compass or a star. I will help as much as I can, that is my task, but you have your own."

"And the task?"

The fire raged. The boys sat on one side and flickering light danced over the face of the red-haired man across from them. The heat from the flames bounced off the rocks behind them and created an envelope around the three. Night had fully arrived and the snow seemed to be falling outside the sphere of the warmth of fire and light. Renault appeared to be twice the age of his guests, but the smooth skin from his face suggested something different. Distance.

"You will go north. There is a man hiding in the redwoods who has been attacking and killing people. There is a manhunt underway, but so far, he has not been able to be captured by the lawmen of this country. If this man is not stopped, he will continue to roam free, killing any who cross his path. This is your task, he must be stopped."

"The cops can't stop this guy and you expect us to be able to?" Donny asked in disbelief.

Renault stood passively, as if the question was rhetorical.

"Why don't they just call for re-enforcements or something? Get some people with some specialization to deal with it?" Chris asked.

"Where the hell are we anyway?!" Jake cut in. "Is this even the real world? We are not in California, are we?"

"Not quite. This is another land, similar to where you are from, but not the reality you know. Your father, Chris, is the subconscious creator of this place. But like so many lands, if it can be imagined, it can be real. One of the countless realities."

"What happens then if we get shot or hurt?" Donny asked. "It felt real enough climbing through those rocks. This fire feels warm..."

"This isn't going to be like one of those movies, where if you die in the game, you die in real life, is it?" Chris said.

"The laws of nature are in play here, for the most part. You will see where they are not. But to die, I don't think would be binding. Think of it as the end of life in this land. A death would send you back to where you came."

The boys sat in contemplation at the things they were just told. Donny's mind was stuck on the notion of death, as Jake and Chris thought about the shooter. After a moment, Jake lifted his head and asked a final question.

"Who are you? Where are you from?"

"It is truly not important. I am from another land, on my own quest. I know the players and the rules, but not how the dice will fall. We will talk more later. But until then, you boys should begin your trek. The north calls."

With that, Renault turned and walked away, into the short pines that began where the rocks ended. The snow continued to fall and the fire to burn. The boys sat for a while longer before leaving the clearing in the direction the stranger had taken.

Chapter 9- Means of Conveyance

The boys walked through the night, but it was a bright night. The moon appeared to be several times larger than it should be and it lit up the area like an old movie shot through a dimming filter to simulate night. The three walked out of the pine forest, onto a paved path that was wide enough for a single car. Eucalyptus trees lined one side of the road, with rolling cow pastures beyond. The snow had stopped as they left the pines and all traces of its presence in the ground had melted away.

"North," Jake said, "...looks like this heads in that direction."

"I wonder how far the redwoods are..." Donny mused. "We should find out so that we can get a ride if it's too far..."

"Something tells me, this is going to be more than just a walk up the way," Chris said. He looked at the other two, walking on either side of him up the road. He began to say something, paused, and tried again. "I think you both have a good idea why we are here, so, thanks. Thanks for coming with me."

"Anything for you, buddy," Jake replied, straying from their collective path. Stapled on a tree trunk was a white piece of paper, standing out in the pseudo-dark.

Jakes feet crunched dried leaves as he stepped off the path to pluck the poster from the smooth bark. A corner ripped where a staple refused to give way, but Jake came away with the paper mostly intact. The other two stopped and waited for Jake to show them what he had found. Jake turned his back to use the moonlight and read the boldfaced type aloud.

"It's a wanted poster... 'Reward. Wanted dead or alive, for the armed attacks on of two sheriffs' deputies, and the murder of a county selectman, one Terrance Golden, the Redwood Reaper.' Holy crap! This has got to be the guy that Renault was talking about!"

Jake showed the flier to the other two, who read the brief headlines and looked into the face of the man they were meant to stop. The photo appeared to be an old mug shot of a skinny white man with a shaved head and ears that pointed away from his head. One eye was bloodshot and his mouth was set in a slight sneer. He had the look of a typical dirt bag. The boys continued to walk as Chris read the small description below the photo.

"'Golden is considered armed and dangerous after shooting a selectman and two sheriffs sent to remove him from his illegal occupation of preservation land in the Jenner Redwoods. Golden is an ex-Marine and described by his ex-wife as a 'survivalist' and 'deranged.'"

"Great, so this guy isn't just some yahoo, he knows what he is doing," Jake said.

"He has been shooting a lot of people," Donny began. "And it sounds like they have been hunting him up there. 'Dead or alive'? Are we going to have to kill this guy?"

"He has already demonstrated that he doesn't care about innocent people. And he's obviously a crazy dude," Chris argued. "He is just going to hide out there and hurt more people if we don't stop him. I don't have much of a problem with it."

"I don't know, dude. I don't think I could kill anybody."

"What if this guy broke into your house and was going to rape your wife? Would you kill him then?"

"Yeah, but this is just some guy trying to be left alone in the woods. Us going up there and just... blasting him, would be too cold-blooded. He has to pay for what he did, but why are we the ones to be another man's judge? I don't even know if we alone are going to stand a chance against a guy like this." Donny had a serious look of doubt on his face.

"Jake has military training. We go shooting all the time. Your dad had you shooting since you could hold a rifle. We are good in the woods... It's too bad Ryan is not here, but we can get this guy!"

"Stop, both of you," Jake said. "First of all, Donny is right. We should try to stop him before we make a harder decision. Talking about shooting some psycho and actually looking down the sights at him when you pull the trigger is another thing all together. All of that is despite the fact that I don't think this whole place is even real. Any people we might run into might just be fantasies anyway. So, Donny, we are not going to make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with. We can cross all those bridges when we come to them. Shit, we have only been here a couple hours and met our so-called guide once. Who's to know if that is even the whole story?"

They walked in silence, again considering their present and future. Chris brought himself to agree with Jake; in principle, he could shoot a man who deserved it, but when actually faced with the act, could he do it with no hesitation?

Donny could not get the phrase dead or alive out of his head. He began to dread the endpoint of the path they were on. He didn't want to be stuck with that kind of decision, even if this place wasn't real like Jake thought. He had been haunted by decisions he had made in the past, he didn't need more little demons with different color eyes chasing him.

Jake held on to a small thing Chris had mentioned. He wished Ryan were here as well. He knew he could depend on both his friends, but there were doubts. Chris knew what had to be done, but was he as capable as he let on? Donny was full of doubts but most always came through when you needed him. Was there going to be any issues with reliability there? If his brother was with him, all he would have to deal with was his cockiness. In everything else, it would be like having another one of himself around. Maybe even better.

Jake's thoughts were broken off by a cry from Donny.

"You guys here that? A waterfall!"

Up ahead, the sound of roaring water became clearer as they quickened their pace to the top of the next rise. Ahead in the darkness, they could see the road winding upward to a high pass. The river traveled down the mountian, and suddenly found itself in freefall, crashing into a pool at the point where the road began its climb. Hidden in the trees on the opposite side of the road from the water was a dark structure, immediately noticed by the boys as they came closer. A mailbox stood at the edge of the road, and a wide driveway created a gap in the line of trees. The farmhouse and big barn stood close to the road, casting moonlight shadows, no electric lights showing. The three stopped at the edge of the drive and stared.

"Looks abandoned" Donny said in a whisper.

"No need to keep your voice down, we could use a ride, or at least directions, we have been walking for hours," Jake said.

"HELLOOO!!??"

"Are you sure about that?" Chris questioned.

"What's the worst that could happen?" he said to Chris. "Anyone home?!! Anyone at all?!!!"

Jake walked into the middle of the driveway, halfway between the barn and small house. The other two cautiously followed. Jake began looking around and pointed at the barn.

"Lets see if there is anything we could use in there. An old car we could borrow, maybe."

Chris walked to the barn and pulled the big front door open as Jake went the opposite way to the house. The closest door facing the barn opened easily, revealing the smell of mildew and garbage littered across a dirty linoleum floor. Looking around through the side entrance, Jake noticed the window above a big sink was broken, and no signs of everyday household supplies could be found.

"The kitchen," he reported to the others. "And I was right, no one lives here. Looks like it was abandoned a while ago."

"I got a quad over here!"

Jake and Donny joined Chris in the doorway to the opened barn, looking at the vehicle sitting in the rectangle of moonlight.

"Oh! No, it's a three-wheeler!" Donny said, forgetting his feelings of breaking and entering. "Looks in good shape. We had one of these when I was a kid. One winter it sat for so long we couldn't get it going the next spring, and we just never used it again. I bet it's still sitting in our shed at home."

"Pull it out and lets see if it works!"

Donny walked around to the side and placed both his hands on the handlebars. He set his feet and used his body weight, but nothing happened. He tried again, this time letting out a little grunt.

"Hold down the clutch, maybe it's in gear."

"Let me try," Chris jumped in.

Chris traded out with Donny and took hold of the bars, this time pumping the clutch a few times as he rocked it back and forth to get it moving. But the wheels did not budge.

"I don't know why that thing won't move," Donny said. "They don't have parking breaks... This thing looks like it should move, but it just won't. Feels like the wheels are stuck."

"Oh well," Jake said looking around the rest of the barn, "it wouldn't have been a comfortable ride anyway. Here we go!"

Walking into the shadows Jake lifted a bicycle from a hook on one of the main beams of the barn. It had thin wheels covered in cobwebs and dust, but dropping it down onto both wheels, the bike appeared intact.

"Take a look back there and see if you see any more," Jake said, putting his hands on the handlebars and swinging his leg over to a riding position. "If we could find one for each..." Jake stopped mid sentence as he attempted to push off and harshly began to fall over. "What the..."

He caught himself in a whirlwind of flailing movement, recovering clumsily off to one side of the road bike. "What is going on?"

"What happened?" Chris asked, looking around outside the barn rapidly.

"I went to go and it just wouldn't move! What the hell?"

Chris knelt beside the bike, taking the forks in one hand and attempted to spin the front wheel in the other. The wheel turned slightly underhand, but on its own, it came to a stop.

"Really, dude, really?"

"Well that was a good idea, but it looks like a dead end. Wheels don't seem like they want to cooperate," Chris said.

"We are going to have to walk," Jake said to himself. "I knew it. Would have been too easy if we just got a ride." He let the old bike drop and walked out onto the driveway. The other two felt his defeat, and stopped what they were doing to follow. Donny started to move to close the barn door, but changed his mind and ran to join Chris and Jake who had posted up at the end of the drive.

In his hands, Jake had the wanted flier for a one Terry Golden. He stood staring out at the waterfall beyond, folding the paper. When Donny arrived, Jake spoke.

"So, it looks like all transportation is out, and we at least have a hike over this hill before we get to the forest," he said waggling the filer which had taken shape. "Who's to know if what we saw in the barn is going to be the same everywhere else. 'The laws of physics are in play here, for the most part.' I guess we were warned."

Jake let the paper airplane go. The bright white paper sailed from his hand and surfed away on a wave of moist air traveling away from the cascade beyond. It lifted and dipped, drifting away gracefully.

"No point in putting it off boys, lets get moving."

Chapter 10- Falling Water

The waterfall they saw from the road was further away than the three boys expected. Chris couldn't decide if it was the luminescent night or the enormous actual size of the waterfall that made it appear such a short distance from the farmhouse. In fact, the whole landscape took on an unnatural look as being much larger than previously thought. Chris felt small in size compared to it all.

After twenty more minutes of walking together, Donny broke away and made it to the edge of the water. The pool that was created was almost perfectly circular, with a single spillway directing the overflow along its way downhill. Donny crouched along the edge, taking a double handful and splashing the water over his face and raking his wet fingers through his longish tangled hair.

"I bet you this is where the creek that ran next to the rocks comes from. The water is really refreshing!"

"It must end in that lake that I woke up next to," Chris agreed.

"We have been walking forever, I think I'm going to soak my feet for a second." Donny had his shoes off in no time and was rolling up his pants as he walked deeper into the cool pool.

"You may not want to do that," A voice boomed from up the road near the waterfall.

All three stopped as they looked to find the very obvious figure of Renault walking down the path toward them. He did not seem in a hurry, but he continued to bellow as he walked.

"Strange things can lurk in the water. I feel the need to especially warn you away from pools of this kind, you never know how deep they are," He said, coming to a normal speaking distance.

"'Strange things?' What are you talking about? Fish?" Chris questioned. The roar of the waterfall droned on in the background like a brutal rainstorm focused on a single point. The slapping water sounds made it hard to hear.

"Yeah, I thought you said the laws of nature were good here. Why did we find that wheels aren't moving the way they should? Now you warn us away from going for a swim?"

"It is why you three are here. Something has changed in this land recently. Men have gone mad, beasts have awoken and transportation has come to a halt. Sanity and coherence are breaking down. That is why you must hurry," Renault said. "Donny, please," he motioned for him to exit.

Donny agreed and began to wade out when the water broke. Jake and Chris fell backward to the grass surrounding the pool. Donny looked back paralyzed. Through the misty air a ribbon of musculature arched over like a bullwhip before it cracks.

In the silver moonlight, the serpent gleamed and struck, without pause to look around. The doglike head wrapped in a mane of black blades struck at the body standing in the water, effortlessly lifting him up high into the air, and retracting as if in reverse motion, back from where it came. Donny was gone in a blink of an eye, leaving nothing but the ripples from where the beast disappeared.

A half a beat later, both Chris and Jake were up and scrambling for the waters edge. Jake had yanked off his shirt and began to kick off his shoes as Chris plunged fully clothed in toward the spot they had last seen their friend.

"Stop! Leave him!"

"What?" Chris managed to shout in Renault's direction. He scanned the water, as if he may be able to see below the surface. "We need him! We need him!"

Jake joined Chris in the water in the same frenzied fashion, moving forward with confidence, until the bottom dropped out from under him and he had to tread water in his jeans. Chris reached a hand out and pulled him back to the shallow ledge.

"Why should we even trust you?" he shouted in a rage at the man in the green jacket. "You have not helped us one fuck'n bit! All you have done is insult us, give us vague-ass directions and you just got one of our friends killed!"

Renault was gone. Standing on the edge of the road one moment and then not, like a trick of a stop-motion effect. It took a heartbeat to settle in the boys that they were alone, and they climbed out.

"Dammit! Just great!" Jake shouted.

Chris flopped down on the grass and began to cough until he threw up a small amount of unrecognizable stomach content. He spit and spit as Jake pulled his shirt on.

"He is not dead," Renault surprised them. He was back in the same place he had previously occupied, standing the same way.

"Where did you go?" Chris croaked.

"What the hell, Dude?" Jake said walking towards him. "What are we going to do about Donny?"

"He will be fine," Renault began. "You two must go on, I will do what I can. Should the shards fall in place, you will join back up with your friend."

"I don't know what the hell all that is supposed to mean, but how are we supposed to believe that he is okay after we just saw him get snatched like that?" Jake looked up at the man standing passively by. There was a confidence and distance on that face. A worn face, topped by the stupidest haircut that just seamed to fit him so well. Deep down both he and Chris knew Renault was right. After all, this place was so strange already. They had passed through trippy dreams to get here, but despite the comparative clarity they now enjoyed, this was still somewhat felling like one.

"Fine, listen," Jake said letting the rage diminish, "That kid is a brother to us. We will get nowhere without him. You will do everything, everything, to find him and get him back to us. I blame you anyway, for not warning us sooner. Let's get out of here, Chris."

Chapter 11- Through The Dark Places

Up and up they walked, following the narrow road up the side of the hill. A rock slope faded upward to their right, and the view below to the waterfall and farmhouse on their left. Pillars of rock sporadically positioned along the path threw shadows in the bright night. Chris and Jake both walked without talking, both fighting down internal rage, anger and frustration at loosing their friend so soon into this strange journey. Chris felt upset with himself but knew there was nothing they could have done; Donny was taken so fast. Jake was right to drop the point of argument with Renault, Donny had his own path.

Theirs, on the other hand, had finally begun to level out. The lower ground from where they had come had suddenly disappeared, replaced with a face of rock matching the opposite side. The sound of rushing water had also disappeared. Only the sound of their echoing footsteps were left as they made their way through the narrow pass that appeared to lead over the summit.

"It's getting narrower as we go," Chris pointed out. "I think I see something tall and dark ahead."

"Yeah, I see it too. A gate, maybe?"

Upon getting closer, a tall house stood in the middle of the road, leaving no room on either side, completely occluding the path. The house was dark, not a light shone from within. The windows matched the outside color, a mahogany blackness in the shadowy night. Tall, skinny features and an odd twist on Victorian architecture dominated the roadblock. Black turrets sat at the corners of the various islands of mansard roof. The central portion of the house rose far into the night sky, looming over the boys as if a gust of wind would make it crash down before they had a chance to flee more than two steps. But instead of fleeing, the two walked into the shadow of the house and stood at the portico's edge.

Jake ran his hand down the black ridges of the clapboard siding and brought his hand quickly away. "This place feels weird."

"It got a couple degrees cooler once we got closer, too," Chris said. "You figure this whole place is going to be abandoned like that farm?"

"I don't know. And I don't think we could climb this rock to get around," Jake said, taking a look at where the house seemed to melt into the coal colored rock. "It figures, though, that this house is going to be our only way to get to the other side."

Just then, a loud but muffled boom came from the depths of the black house. Jake and Chris both took a step back and stared at the front door as the decorative roof fencing rattled from the after shock. A second after the boom, a warbling tonal screech jumped to near deafening levels, and slowly faded down to a whisper over the span of several heartbeats.

"Great, it's creepy too. If a water dragon got Donny, who's to tell what is waiting in here for one of us."

"We do not need to get picked off one by one! Is this our only option?" Chris asked. His body posture telegraphed he was not thrilled about going into the sinister building before them.

"Aren't you the one who likes horror movies?" Jake said, trying to lighten the mood.

Chris shook his head and grinned as the two mounted the steps to the porch. The wood beneath their feet creaked and groaned, loudly announcing their intentions. Chris reached for the knocker, an ornate sculpture of a long nosed man, reminding him of a story told to children around Halloween, when Jake flung the front door open, out from under his hand. Chris looked startled at Jake who took his first steps inside. Chris joined him.

A long dark hall, paintings and sculptures standing along both walls, met the boys as they entered the house. The only illumination to guide their way came from odd colored lights set in dissimilar fixtures that lit the art from above. The floor was lined with a close cut red patterned carpet, like you would see in an old hotel. Chris and Jake continued to drift in, looking at the peculiar scenes and likenesses. On the left, Jake checked out a painting with a carved golden frame depicting a group of children standing in an above ground pool, all watching another child jump from the deck in ag strange pose. Dismissing the Rockwell style scene, he moved on.

Chris was walking past a bronze sculpture of three razor sharp beasts holding halberds, advancing upward upon two more similar beasts, obviously defending a small square machine at the top of the sculpture. Chris reached out to touch the machine when something large brushed past his leg. He spun in surprise and let out a weak sound from being startled.

"What happened?"

"I don't know! Something just knocked into my leg!"

"Well, I didn't see anything. Let's just get moving, this hall goes on for a long way," Jake said.

They walked, not bothering to inspect any more of the adornments, and Chris kept his eyes on the floor. After passing another ten lights, there was a break in their regularity, on the left where Chris walked. Without needing to communicate, they both turned to the opening. A staircase led to an intermediate landing with an oriel window letting in bright moonlight. What they saw next was much more surprising. Seemingly from out of nowhere, Jake and Chris were pelted with tiny slimy fish. Throwing up their hands to block their faces, the two slowly reacted to the unexpected barrage. Finally, Jake and Chris rolled to opposite sides of the doorway and out of the hail of wriggling fish. Without a target, the onslaught ceased, leaving two pairs of wide eyes and flopping fish all over the ground. Chris opened his mouth to speak when another building-shaking boom sounded from beneath the house. Instead of the warbling sound following the boom, as they had heard the first time, a bone-chilling laugh came out suddenly, and faded quickly.

"Great, this place is haunted, as well," Jake said, head back against the wall. The light from the art dimly lit his face.

Chris looked deeper down the hall and made up his mind, "I guess we just have to go down further."

Making a run for it, they escaped the torrent of fish and dashed deeper into the house. Another opening on the right appeared similar to the first, but also yielded similar results. The two ran on, passed two more identical openings that were impossible to enter. The smell of fish oil was strong in their noses when they stood on the far side of the fourth passage.

"Have you noticed the statues and paintings? They are the same," Jake said to Chris as they caught their breath. "How many more should we try before we give up?"

"There has got to be something we are missing," Chris said. "Think of this like a dungeon in a video game. I'm not ready to call it quits yet."

"Lead the way then."

This time they walked, past the same statues and paintings, lit with odd colors emitting from strange angles. The next opening came into view, just where the previous interval suggested it would be. But this time, the opposite wall was a dark shaggy mass. As they crept closer, the stuff on the opposite wall became clearly identifiable as some sort of climbing ivy. Before investigating the strange growth that seemed to come out of the floor, Jake and Chris popped their hands and then heads past the edge of the opening, confirming that there was no flying fish to meet them this time. Chris was first to step fully into the moonshine of the opening. The perpendicular hall and stare case looked exactly the same as the others. Jake went to the ivy.

"Solid wall behind it. I don't see any passages or switches or anything."

"Well, this must be the one we go through, no fish stopping us. Yet."

"After you, then," Jake motioned.

The large oriel window at the top of the stairs let in long rectangles of moonlight, leaving a grid work of shadows from the cage-like windowpanes. The two stole across the room, coming to an abrupt halt as they realized what materialized in front of them. Floating circular membranes of white came into focus in their path, drifting across the room and absorbing into the walls. The steady stream did not slow, but Jake took the lead dodging between the smooth floating specters and reaching the other side.

Chris felt himself swallow in a dry mouth, his Adam's apple feeling huge and sticking as it bobbed up and down. Jake stood on the other side, looking a football field away, waiting. Chris told himself that he wasn't afraid of some strange orbs of light. They had an eerie quality to them, the way they drifted by like waves. What could they do to him? He considered reaching out and touching one, but then laughed at his own stupid idea. Chris finally brought himself to move and matched Jake's maneuver exactly. He felt the temperature drop significantly as he passed through the stream, and the returning warmth on the other side.

"That was weird," Chris found himself whispering to Jake.

"Yeah, let's move," Jake whispered back and turned.

Jake had just taken one step when Chris noticed that the phantoms had stopped their transient motion across the room. Like basketballs slowly spinning, formless dark spots in the transparent membranes of lights turned toward Jake. On each, three previously unseen dark spots rotated in Chris's direction, two small spots above one large spot. Before Chris could get a word out, the spots took up a solid shape and the entire room grew cold.

"Ghosts!"

Jake turned to see the tear drop eyes and grinning mouths of round ghosts coming toward him at a slow but menacing pace. As he turned to face them, they slowed to an unnatural stop. Chris came skittering up the stairs backwards, half leaning on the handrail when he let out another shriek.

Chris had advanced up one stair above where Jake had stopped, and his left foot had sunken down much lower than it should have. Both boys attention were taken away from their first threat as Chris yanked his foot free from the false stair. Jake soon realized why he had trouble bringing he foot away as the rest of the stair giggled and reacted to the loss of volume. Chris's foot was covered in viscous goo from the ankle down and slopped onto the solid step below. Jake looked in horror at Chris and Chris looked in horror at the advancing ghosts that had taken the opportunity to move forward while no eyes were on them.

His mind flooding with panic, Chris bolted up the stairs with Jake in pursuit, skipping the fluidic stair and looking out for another, but going too fast to do anything about it if there was. Chris squashed up the last twenty feet and threw a quick look backward over his shoulder. The ghosts were still there and coming fast. One leg heavier than the other, he tromped his way onto the landing and was about to take the next flight teeing off to his left when the world dropped out from beneath him like a bolt of lightning. Everything was dark for a second then he violently hit a hill of sand. His velocity was gently taken away but still at a speed that knocked the wind from his lungs.

The trap door that took Chris was part of the landing in front of the staircase that led right. Jake standing on the left, looked down and saw that he was safe. Chris just made the wrong choice, but I am still in danger! The ghouls had not increased their speed but now refused to stop even as he remained looking upon them. A quick glance down the hole showed only darkness. Confirming with his gut that he would not loose everyone, Jake made up his mind to escape the oncoming phantoms by throwing himself down the trap door. Coming to terms with the fact that whatever injuries might befall Chris, he would rather endure a similar fate than abandon his best friend. Jake jumped.

In the black weightlessness, one thought ran through Jakes mind, the impact. In that single moment, he remembered back to a conversation he had had with his younger brother, on the subject of jumping out of airplanes. Ryan had gone to jump school right away for his job as a pathfinder, and he had told Jake all about it. Jake had always been interested in the specialized training, but doubted he would ever get the chance, merely being a weekend warrior. The one piece of advice Ryan had given, the interesting part that stuck with him, was the trick to landing.

"Anyone can jump, that's easy. You just toss yourself from the aircraft. Landing is where you could get hurt. But there is one trick, and if you forget it, your legs go all directions and you will snap a femur, easy." Ryan paused for effect, "The main thing you got to remember is, keep your feet and knees together."

"Keep your feet and knees together," Jake whispered to himself, and hit sand.

Chapter 12- The Silver Cave

He was a rat gripped by a falcon, helplessly dragged through the air. Darkness hugged Donny tighter and tighter the deeper he was dragged into the depths. His midsection was in a giant clamp, with no room for movement. There was no view of what was doing this to him, only a powerful aura latched on to his body. And then it was gone.

Instant freedom was granted to Donny's flailing movements. The serpent dissolved into a storm of air bubbles replacing its existence, the laws of physics taking over and forcing them upward. Donny twisted and turned, seeing nothing in the darkness. He swept the hair from his face and began to panic as he became aware of the lack of air in his lungs. He looked up and saw a faint light and frantically kicked for the surface. The pressure on his ears eased back as he felt himself rocketing to the surface, surrounded by the gale of tiny bubbles dancing along with him. His lungs cried out for oxygen as he burned what little he had left to reach the only light visible in the void of darkness that he had been sucked into. Strangely, it was his throat that seemed to betray him as he fought to keep from taking a breath before breaking the surface. He swallowed hard and scrunched his face as he passed the final moments of this horrible test.

Donny broke the surface with a gasp and took in the sweetest air he had tasted in his life. His eyes blurred from the water dripping into them and Donny ineffectively brushed his longish hair off of his forehead. He treaded water for a moment and went for the solid surface in front of him. Coughing and with little thought but to get out of the water that had nearly killed him, Donny pulled his wet body onto the stone ground of the cave he had surfaced inside.

Donny coughed and dripped, lying on the ground. A little chunk of black gunk came out and he spit it on to the stone. I gotta quit smoking, Donny thought to himself. After he felt better, he rolled over and sat up. Raking his hair into a semblance of its place, he looked around the silver cave.

It was the best way he describe the cave area he was in, and obvious as well, with the veins of silver metal running through the rocks like zebra stripe. It was everywhere too: running along the uneven ground, the walls, the graphic ceiling, and even veins showing in the stalagmites and stalactites. In fact, it seemed that the light that was allowing Donny to see all these features was coming from the metal itself. He looked around, knowing something strange was going on, but was happy to be on solid ground nonetheless.

Donny turned back around to look at the circular pool that he had come up through, wondering if he could see a way out, back to the waterfall and his friends. The light giving metal seamed to begin where he was standing, and anything further back in the cavern was darkness, as was the pool. This worried him, but not overly so, as getting back into the water to backtrack through giant serpent infested waters did not hold any power in moving him that way. That thought made him walk backwards from the edge of the water to a safer distance.

Donny stood for a second, listening to the sound of dripping water. The absence of any waterfall noises made up his mind that he must have been pulled far from his friends, and would have to find his way out of this cave as fast as he could. They had a mission to accomplish; something Chris was counting on him for help, and he need to be there for the two of them. Whatever help he could give, that was.

He picked his way though the cave, finding the caverns' exit in the back. That lead to a hallway, and another cavern was ahead. He could feel a breeze, and knowing from everything he had watched or read, that this was a good sign for finding the exits of caves.

The fact that he knew that made him smile. Maybe he would be some help for the other two. So far he had done nothing but get himself lost, not to mention the doubts he had about what was going to happen when they caught up to the man on the wanted poster. Despite how much he loved them, Chris and Jake could be so irreverent toward life sometimes. The two of them seamed to gang up on him a lot, taking the hard line and feeding off each other. They would give their best arguments, which made sense most of the time, and would try to convince Donny that any apprehension he felt was just him being tenderhearted. But he knew what was right to him, and being tenderhearted sometimes wasn't a bad thing, it was who he was.

The more Donny thought about it, the more he realized how much the two of them really did gang up on him. He knew their hearts were in the right place, 'Donny quit smoking. Donny get a real job! Donny your place is a wreck. You need to stop partying so much,' but stuff like that grated on him. He knew he needed to do better, but things take time. Changing big stuff wouldn't just happen overnight because you want it to. All that subtle nagging made him want to push the two of them away instead. It was hard being around those two, who thought they had it all figured out, when they constantly try to change a guy. But then again, he was the one stuck alone in a cave.

The next cavern opened up. It was smaller than the first and had less cave-furniture, but the ceiling was higher. Three steps in to the room, he saw the pedestal. The veins of silver grew thicker at the base and took over the rock by the time it reached the top. But the most interesting part, Donny saw as he walked closer, was the item lying on top.

A pan flute, he recognized the instrument at once. It had nine, thin wooden pipes in a single row, tapering from big to small. Donny stood idle for a moment and after looking for something resembling a booby trap or pressure switch, he picked up the flute. He turned it over and looked down the pipes. The flute looked to have been tuned by poured wax in the base of each pipe, and there was nothing he could see that lashed the pipes together. It was as if the instrument was carved from one solid piece. Impulsively, he put the flute to his lips and blew across the top of the center pipe.

Throughout the cave a perfect 'C' note filled the audible space and felt like it instantly added ten degrees of warm air. The void produced by the ending of the note left a slight ringing in Donny's mind. He played it again. Up and down the scale he played, feeling the power of each note, the echo of each fleeing in a whisper. Donny smiled. He was brought out of his glum mood, and was reinvigorated.

There was no thought in his mind that he should replace the instrument. The fact that this was now his flute was as true as gravity to Donny. He walked away with his treasure, now feeling somehow more complete. As he walked deeper into the cave, following the flow of fresh air, Donny played notes at random, taking pleasure in the taste of each. He walked out of the cavern and into a tunnel where the light from the walls became less as the silver veins contracted.

Totally absorbed by the music, he began to hash out a tune. He had an ear for music; He could play a tight guitar and loved to fiddle around on a keyboard. Though he had never played a pan flute like this before, Donny picked up the mechanics quickly, stabbing at a jazzy tune as he ambled along. Before he knew it, his feet began to make a beat as they slapped the ground. It was getting dark now, but there was a light ahead, so he just continued playing along with his feet-slappin' beat. Donny felt fine as he approached the yellow light at the end of the tunnel. And that's when he noticed it; he was no longer in a cave, but a round brick tunnel. He slipped the flute in his back pocket.

The sound of water hit his ears in the absence of his song. He crept the last few yards to the end of the tunnel. Donny took to his belly and crawled over the corroding red bricks to the edge. He was in a water works of some kind. Brick and steel structures ran around the large room that was lit by buzzing yellow fluorescents. He felt as if he was in a different world, wondering how far he had come since he was separated from his friends at the waterfall. There was a thin wrought iron ladder anchored into the wall leading to his position, high up on a wall. Seeing no one, Donny swung his feet over and began to climb down. He went hand over hand, peering down past his feet, and shortly reached the ground.

But, before he could turn away from the ladder, something blunt poked him in the back. A voice spoke, making him jump.

"Stay right where you are, Songbird."

Chapter 13- Deeper into Dark Places

Jake hit the incline of sand and rolled, legs like a pinwheel down to the basement floor of the haunted house. Spitting and brushing away the sand, Chris startled Jake by putting his hands on his back in the darkness.

"You okay, Buddy?"

"Yeah man. You?"

"Just got the air knocked out of me. I wasn't expecting that at all."

"You scared the shit out of me. I'm glad you're alright," Jake said, not quite ready to get to his feet. "Those things up there took off after me as soon as you fell. So it was, woop, right after you."

"Really? Looks like they didn't follow us. I wonder where we are."

"In fuckin' trouble is where we are..." Jake said. The disappointment was clear in his voice and it brought Chris down from his excitement of coming out unscathed from the last few minutes. "We lost Donny, we almost lost each other, and now we're stuck down in the pitch black of the bottom of some stupid funhouse. How the hell are we supposed to stop some maniac killer who has been shooting anyone who tries to stop him when we can't even get through this place?"

Any comfort that Chris might have came up with was instantaneously forgotten when the booming they had been hearing, leapt upon them without warning. Previously unsure of the layout of their surroundings, a bright orange light erupted from one end of the long basement and began to grow larger. Realizing the orange light was flickering and coming near, rather than growing larger, Jake and Chris jumped to their feet. Now fully realizing they were seeing a fireball streaking towards their position, the boys dodged away from the sand pile, keeping their eyes open to memorize as much of the passageway as they could while the light was on it. The fireball closed the distance and exploded into a spray of sand when it contacted with the wall just behind where the two had dropped down.

"So, that's why all that sand was piled up there," Chris observed.

"Well, we might as well get down to that end. I didn't see any doors or anything on the walls. But, lets feel our way down there just to be sure.

They walked in the darkness, hands skimming along the walls. They were concrete in texture, but felt odd somehow. Chris took his hands away and rubbed his fingers together, noticing the lack of texture of the smooth cold stone. He had expected the usual roughness or chalkiness on his fingers, but got none when he pulled his hands away. It was as if he was running his fingers on cotton t-shirt materiel, but completely solid. It felt slightly disturbing for no particular reason, so he put his shoulder to the wall in order to avoid touching it with his bare skin. He saw a faint light ahead.

A tiny candle burned at the end of the long basement. In the flawless dark, it burned as bright as a sun. "Look at all this," Jake broke the silence.

An old fashioned cannon stood at the end of the hall, right up against the wall. The teacup candle stood as a rear sight, close to the vent. As they stood and inspected the long solid gun, Chris noticed a bit of fuse pop out of the vent hole. He pointed it out to Jake and the crouched to watch the fuse inch out, growing toward the candle like a plant to the sunlight.

"Lets get out of here before it goes off again."

"I'm sure it will be a while with how slow that is going, but look over here.

Chris pointed out a small rectangular hole in the base of the back wall, off to his left. It seemed to be a trick to both the boys' eyes until they got closer and looked at it. The crawl space was painted in diagonals, lighter colors deeper inside to offset the lack of light, effectively camouflaging it from casual observation. "It's the only thing I've seen so far," Chris said.

Chris got down on his hands and knees, feeling his way deeper into the passageway. "It feels like its going down hill, or it could just be a trick of my mind. The colors are so crazy, I can't tell..."

Jake joined, putting them both in the tunnel when Chris piped up again. "I think it ends," Chris panted. "I really can't tell, it's getting so dark..."

"Well, check for sure. I can't imagine the only thing here would be a dead end."

"I'm sure of it now," Chris said, dipping his head back behind him. "It is getting smaller. I wasn't sure at first, but now I definitely am. It's getting narrower."

Jake pressed the top of his horizontal back against the top of the passage. He could feel it too. He had never had problems in tight spaces, even once went on his belly thorough a passage in a cave, but this seemed different. It was the concern for whom he was following.

"Stop for a sec, buddy," Jake said in his most calming voice. "We have got to get to where you think it ends and be sure. I've never asked you this, but you don't get all panicky in tight places, do you?"

"Naw, Naw, uhh... I'll be okay. I just need to stop for a second," Chris answered. He took a big breath and made a long noise letting it out, "Never thought you'd be crawling around behind me in some trick house when you woke up this morning."

"Dude, I can barely remember this morning. This whole thing is weird. Really weird."

"Alright, I'm only about ten feet away. I'll just slide down there on my belly and check it out. Wait there."

Jake watched the form of his friend, now on his side, one arm up and one down, slide himself down to the bottleneck of the tunnel. After a few grunts and squeaks of his shoes on the walls, Chris stopped and laughed.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said to himself. "They used the same trick on the opening, they matched the paint to a sharp right turn. It goes out and... It widens," He reported back finally. "I see some light."

"Well, then, squeeze your lop-sided ass through there. I'm not happy with mine hanging out in the wide open of this room."

Chris struggled himself through the tight turn, contorting his body with his single arm, as the other was pinned beneath his stomach. It was uncomfortable, the way a shoe, laced too tight can be on a hot day, but he popped through and relief spread over him like he it had never happened.

"Put both hands above your head," Chris called from the other side, "It makes it much easier."

Heralded by bumps and the sound of dragging clothes, Jakes two arms emerged, closely followed by the young man himself. They were through. Their new surroundings consisted of a square room with tan colored smooth walls. The floor was covered in checkered black and white squares. The tight fitting tunnel came out near one corner of the room and centered on three walls were metal ladders mounted to each wall and extending upwards. On the opposite wall from where the boys emerged was a large sectional wood door. In red letters centered at sight-height was the bold word 'EXIT.'

Dusting himself off, Jake pointed and went for the door. "There we go!" Chris also turned and followed.

"You might not want to touch that," a child's voice froze them in their tracks.

Turning around quickly, backs nearly up against the wall, Jake and Chris looked wide-eye at where they had just come from. Standing there, swinging his arms around like they were floppy noodles was a young boy made of blue light. The cannon on the other side of the tunnel went off.

The child laughed a paranormally loud and encompassing laugh. The boy had short raggedly hair, a red and white striped shirt, very short shorts and white socks under black loafer shoes. Chris was taken back by the specter for more than obviously being a ghost, he had a striking resemblance to himself.

When he finished laughing, he spoke to Jake and Chris in a crisp British accent. "Take another look at the handle. I recon you'd not get far without some gloves."

They both looked down at the round doorknob and noticed what the child was referring to. Thin needles an inch long extended from the surface, blocking any grip with a sharp point, much like a cactus guarding its fruit. Jake gripped the front of his cotton baseball tee and tried to wrap the cotton around the spikes in an attempt to open the door on his own. The thin needles sunk through the thin material as if it was tissue paper. It appeared the ghost was right.

"So, kid, any suggestions on where we can find some gloves to open this door, or another way out?"

"I don't know, I've never left!" the boy said sounding happy like it was his birthday. "But, you could go up these ladders!"

The boy sprung up the one that went the highest and stopped half way. "When I finish school, I'm going to be a Navy man, I am! Navy men slide down ladders like this! Weeee!" The ghost slid down the ladder, hands and feet on the outside of the rungs, friction slowing his fall.

"So, which one is it, little dude?" Chris asked.

"Hmmm... That one!" he pointed. "Or no... That one! I can't remember," He contradicted himself in defeat. "I haven't left this room in so long."

"That's alright. We will try them all," Jake consoled him.

"Fair is! I'm going to go play with the cannon!" the boy shouted and ducked into the tunnel. "Just like a Navy man..." The voice trailed off.

"That was really weird, dude," Jake said when the boy was defiantly gone. "He looked like you."

"He looked like pictures of my dad from when he was a kid," Chris said.

"We at least one of us didn't impale a hand. Which ladder should we try first?"

They settled on the ladder that went highest and began to climb. There were no lights or windows to the outside, but the room was decently lit, as if from nowhere. As they approached the formerly shadowed ceiling, the light continued to follow them and they could see that the other two ladders terminated at inset platforms that had skinny doors leading away. The route they took, though, did not. A wooden hatch was set into the ceiling and the two threw it open, reveling night sky. Jake went through first, followed by Chris.

The two climbed out onto the flat roof of the central portion they had seen from out front. Thin wrought iron railings encompassed the crow's nest that gave to boys a great view. Past the canyon that the house blocked, onward north in the direction they traveled, they could see for miles. The mountain they had just climbed led out into flat land, the river that fed the waterfall wound away to the west. Small buildings and a smattering of tall ones clustered where the river bent. A very tall building stood to the west of the town, looking like large clock tower. It was comforting to see where they were headed; that there may be people somewhere in this place other than the guide they didn't know enough about to trust, and now a ghost of an eight year old. After a brief look around, and becoming sure there were to be no thick gloves to help them open that impossible door, Jake and Chris climbed back down the ladder to try the other two options.

"Left or right?"

"I don't think it matters," Chris said. "We should look at both, who knows what we might miss."

Jake laughed. "Just like you are playing a video game, gotta check out every bit of a dungeon. Except when you run into the non-friendly ghosts. Then its just, 'move outta my way,' right?"

"You know me too well. Let's try left."

Jake again took the ladder first. The climb was half that of the last. It was impossible to tell how many floors they were climbing; the short distance could have been a story and a half or more. The general direction seemed funny here, especially after just getting that topside view, so who was to know the internal layout? When they both stood on the inset landing, it was Jake who motioned Chris to go ahead first. This door was absent of the impossibly sharp needle defense the door below had on its handle, so Chris opened the door fully before either stepped through. The boys braced themselves for a surprise, but found an almost ordinary hallway on the other side.

They ventured inside the hall, dressed similar to the first hall they encountered in the main body of the house, yet the corridor was narrower and the floor was covered in a black hardwood. The door they came through was situated at the right end of this hallway and a big window to let in light. Openings to a great room on the left, forward of where the boys entered, were wide and quite different from the openings to stairwells they had seen. They felt secure enough to forget about the fish.

"I'll go recon the other end," Jake said, leaving Chris to the room.

Furniture was covered in white linens, and the ceiling had pressed decorative silver paneling inside a perimeter that was made by crown molding. When Jake walked back in the room, Chris was already staring at the passageway to the attic in the middle of the room. Jake looked up, captivated as well, and gave his report.

"It ends at stairs, like the ones we fell down. What is going on here?"

"I know, it looks like water..."

The square gap where a tile should have gone was emitting light like a fish tank, and the very obvious surface of water wavered.

"That makes no sense," Jake said walking around the hole, getting a better view of the inside. "It looks to be full of water up there, but if there was a gap in the bottom, water would rush out, not sit there like this was the top or something."

"Messed up physics..."

"Grab me a chair, I'm going to stick my head up there."

"Is that the best idea? With our track record so far, there is going to be piranha up there, or something."

"It's crystal clear and fully lit. Just a look. I go surfing in the ocean all the time, I'm not afraid of a few little fish."

With good friends, there is usually little debate, and a high backed padded leather armchair was dragged over. Jake mounted it, placing feet on both armrests and pushed a finger in the water. It was room temp and the surface tension acted just as one would imagine poking water from the top.

"Are you sure about this?"

"There may be something important up here. Now, hold the back."

Jake heaved himself up, griping the dark wood on either side of the hole. Using the chair back for balance, Jake pulled himself up, held his breath and stuck his head into the water filled attic. Expecting a blur from the distortion of water on his bear eyes, Jake opened them first to a squint. Surprised at the perfect clarity, he opened his eyes all the way and tried his best to look around from the position he was in. The room was well lit, as if from ceiling fluorescents, and looked like the typical house attic. Poorly packed boxes were stacked along the walls, along with some furniture and a workbench. Jake pulled his head down.

"Give my foot a boost, I'm going to go for a swim," Jake announced to the near empty room.

"Are you sure about that? I don't know if you should..."

Jake smiled reassuringly down at his partner as he positioned himself for the upward entry. "Don't worry, Big C. This'll be no problem. Something in my gut is telling me I need to check this out."

With one foot on the back of the braced chair and his lead foot poised on Chris's outstretched arms, Jake pulled himself by either side of the hole and sprung with his legs up into the water. His upper body entered first, braced by locked out arms, and with a few kicks of the legs and the weight reducing properties of water, he slid the rest of the way in. It was suddenly still in the dark room below and Chris turned around to get a better view of the water filled attic.

Jake popped his head back down into the air filled room without delay and took a few deep breaths. "You alright?" Chris asked.

"Dude, that was the strangest feeling ever," he took a few more breaths. "It's like I have stuck my upper body down into a pool. But now try to imagine the pool above you, with the gravity the same. This is a total trip!"

"Alright. Now, see what you need to see, it's creepy down here alone."

"Gotcha," Jake said with a grin, took a deep breath and ducked back up into the attic.

Swimming forward in his clothes and shoes Jake began to poke around. The room was a lot smaller that he would have thought, and although the ceiling of the attic was normal height, it seemed short to him underwater. The attic was only twenty feet long by about eight feet wide and the lights were brightest over the access hatch, casting shadows down to the end of the room. Jake floated around the space as if he was weightless, peaking into boxes and opening desk drawers. Nothing seamed interesting to him except his nagging lungs, so he went for a quick breath.

Drifting down to the far end, a light brown trunk, patterned with white African animals and palm trees, sat on the back wall. A Christmas tree stood on top before Jake knocked it aside. Knowing this was the thing he had came for, Jake manipulated the center latch and opened the lid. Inside, sitting on a pillow padded green tray were a pair of black gloves. Jakes eyes went wide as he kicked to keep himself face-first hovering over his treasure. Looking before touching, the gloves were made of very thin, soft-looking leather, expertly made with many seams, fourchettes and quirks to fit a hand exactly. There was no cuff extending below the palm.

Part of Jakes brain screamed, These are too delicate to be the gloves that the Boy-John-Ghost mentioned, while the other compelled him to take them up before he ran out of breath. Before he knew it, Jake scooped the pair into his right hand and felt himself sliding backward at a natural, but heart-halting pace. He looked up and it was as if the trunk shot away from him and he remained in place, until his legs preceded his body in a downward arc. Jake squeezed his eyes shut.

A square shaped torrent of water suddenly dropped from the ceiling, making Chris jump backwards. It rushed down from the hole into the attic with astounding force and volume that the runoff took Chris from his feet. On his butt, Chris threw a shielding hand up in time to see a figure taken down by the water, land in sitting position, in the heavy leather chair they had placed under the attic access. The water finished draining with Jake's expellation, leaving him soaked, sitting in the chair and coughing.

"Dude!"

"Got 'em," Jake held the gloves in the air. "Got the gloves we need."

"Are you alright?" Chris clapped Jake on the back several times, fruitlessly trying to dispel water from his friends' lungs.

"Just fine," Jake said slowly getting to his feet. He felt a bit shaky, but he did not let on. "Look at all this water. Its up to my shins."

"There was a lot up there. What did you do to make it all come down?"

"I don't know, I found these gloves in a trunk, and as soon as I touched them... Woosh! Gravity, it's a sonofabitch."

Walking to the door they entered, the water was draining out onto the small landing and down the walls to the tiled ground below. Jake and Chris looked at each other, shrugged, and made their way back down the ladder with their found prize poking out of Jake's back pocket. When they reached the ground, Chris grabbed Jake by one shoulder before he could go for the exit.

"There is still that ladder. We should check it out too."

Jake looked up for a moment, and back at the exit door. He was ready to get out, not wanting to risk looking behind another door in this trick house, but something in Chris's eyes protested. "Let's do it then."

The ladder climb was quick and Chris took the lead, being it was his room to examine. Jake climbed at his usual pace, slightly slower being soaked and soggy. Chris climbed faster the higher up he went, and was on the landing, opening the door by the time Jakes head popped up over the ledge. Chris passed through the narrow door and entered the room beyond, with very little pause, leaving Jake to catch up.

They had entered through a secret door, hidden in the bookshelves of a small library. With shelves lining the walls and every vertical surface, the room was sweet-smelling of old books and dust. In the middle of the room, five paces from the large dark wood double doors that presumably served as the primary access point, was a round, freestanding, decorative entry table. Jake began to examine some of the books from the shelves when Chris called him over to the center point in the room.

"What do you make of that?"

"It's pretty," Jake said, running his hands over the carved wood, noticing the concentric rings and groves. There was obviously a design in the dark carved wood, with bits of white painted on carved shapes. "Why is there a crank?"

"That's what I was wondering," Chris said, fingering the small crank under the edge of the table, facing the door. "I'm going to turn it."

"Be my guest. And by the way, it looks like none of these books has any writing in them, all blank," he said, showing Chris the empty pages of two of the hardbacks.

With a confused acknowledgement, Chris turned his attention to the tabletop and turned the arm clockwise. The rings on the table turned, each in a different direction than the one encircling itself. In less than five seconds of slow turning, Chris stopped and stood back. The white shapes had spun around the table and matched up with others, leaving three numbers clearly visible.

"Whoa, dude."

"Six, eleven and two..." Chris read. "What do you think they are for?"

"No idea, but this seems to be the only thing worth looking at in this whole room. Maybe it will be important later in getting out of here. Who knows? You ready to bounce?"

"Yeah, yeah," Chris said, dragging his eyes away from the numbers. He followed Jake, who was out and down the ladder, must faster than he came in. Chris took his time walking out, taking effort to limb down the ladder and break eye contact with the table. When he made it to the ground, Jake was pulling on the gloves.

"You ready to give this a try and get out of here?"

"Are you sure those are going to be enough to open that door, they look more like fancy robbers gloves than cactus petting gloves."

Jake flared his eyes at his friends joke and slowly made his move. His covered hands both reached out and gingerly enclosed the dangerous knob. He looked back to Chris. "Nuthin'."

With a nod from Chris, Jake turned the handle and slowly swung the door back. They discovered a tunnel, leading out toward an arch and the clear dark night beyond. Fresh crisp air rushed to them and all the trials of the past night were momentarily forgotten. Jake held up his gloved hands.

"These things are pretty sweet, it's like they are impenetrable or something!"

Ghosts materialized in the tunnel, with horrible faces, round and transparent. They moved towards the two boys standing in the doorway in their constant slow pace. Jake looked down at his hands. "Get behind me."

Jake advanced forward, a grimacing frown on his face. He swung his fist in an arching haymaker, striking the first ghost. It was like hitting a balloon; the phantom bopped away and dematerialized. Jake continued his onslaught.

With arms flying like pinwheels, Jake, followed close by Chris, ran down the tunnel clearing their way to the exit. When the last Ghost stood between the boys and the stone archway leading to the clearing, Jake stopped and quickly pealed off his right glove. He flipped it to Chris and ducked behind his friend. Without any conversation, Chris pulled on the glove and laid a direct punch square on the final obstacle, forcing it out, to disintegrate into the night.

They were free of the haunted house.

Jogging away down the path leading from the back of the house, the canyon opened. The sun was just beginning to rise, shedding its first rays of orange light across the wide-open land. They had survived the long night, and they were glad. Chris took one last look back at the house, then he and Jake continued northward, on to find Donny.

Chapter 16- Saint Anne

The walls were papered with scenes of early settlers and the ceilings were low. The single window let in morning light that was filtered by the sheer curtains, and the solid red tapestry companion set was held to the sides by hooks. The room was still, until the mattress creaked as the tall, lanky man swung his feet down to the warn hardwood floor. He stood, ignoring the ancient pressed metal alarm clock on the nightstand, and creaked his way over to the bureau. Inside contained a pair of tan slacks and a starched uniform shirt. Black long-toed cowboy boots were polished and his gun belt hung on the back wall. Sheriff's deputy Bob Kirkwood dressed himself for work.

Kirkwood stepped out of his single room, taking a pouch of chewing tobacco out of is back pocket. After depositing a large chaw in his upper lip, he turned and locked his door. He walked down a set of wooden stairs and out the front common door of the lodge. Finding himself on the concrete sidewalk of Main Street, Bob looked both ways and hitched up his lawman's belt. It was early, few souls were in sight, but the diner across the way was open, sure as the sun was to rise. He made his way across the street, as he did most mornings, and took a seat at a booth along the picture window.

The diner was typical of a small family owned operation. Picnic print tablecloths and flimsy chairs, paper napkins and worn utensils, thought provoking signs reading, "Free beer tomorrow," hung on the walls. The vinyl moaned as the deputy sat and flipped over the coffee mug in front of him.

The middle-aged waitress came over, plopping down a newspaper and simultaneously filled the mug. The pouch of tobacco came back out and the half used dip was sloppily placed back inside.

"Any word from Brad?"

"Notta yet," Bob Kirkwood answered. His hair was now mostly gray. His nose was long and hooked like a beak, while untrimmed nose-hairs reached down to join up with the mustache beneath. Bob extended a lanky arm to pick up the newspaper as he sipped at his hot coffee.

"I hope they get that bastard soon. You never would think something like this would happen in our back woods."

"Well, you know ol' Brad..." the lawman sneered sarcastically, "He will do just fine bringing that lunatic to justice."

"It's just so strange with all that's been happenin' lately," Darla said, looking around the rest of the diner with little interest. "With all the wheels suddenly not turning and people acting strange all over the place. It seems like Golden was the start of it all..."

"Don't you worry, I'm sure it will all sort itself out. It's just a matter of time."

Darla was turning to go when another deputy, this one short, out of shape looking, and slightly impish, came through the door and went right for Kirkwood's booth.

"Parker said I'd find you here, boss," the deputy said, sliding into the other side of the table. Bob Kirkwood continued to read his paper as if there was never the interruption. "And I never want to interrupt your breakfast, but I figured I aught a come over here myself and tell you... So last night, I was on the roster for guarding the water plant, ya see, and everything was fine the first..."

"Get to the point, already!" Bob interrupted. He set his paper down and stared right at the junior deputy, causing his concentration to once again falter.

"There was a trespasser. A kid. Well, not a kid-kid, he is in his early twenties. But he came sauntering down one of the old overflow tunnels that lead into the hills, playing some deafening whistle."

Bob tossed his paper aside and rose, leaving Deputy Monahan scrambling behind. He pulled a couple bills from his wallet and laid them down on the front counter and got Darla's attention from across the room.

"Something came up, box up my usual and run it over to the station with the prisoners. If you can't spare anyone, just call over and I'll send Monahan here over for it."

The lawmen left the diner, one following the other, down a few blocks to where they worked. Kirkwood questioned the young deputy most of the way.

"So, he is in a cell now, right?"

"Just like you instructed we do with any suspicious individuals. We put him right next to Daniel," Monahan answered.

"Just what the hell did he say he was doing in a restricted area of town in the middle of the damn night?"

"That's why I thought I should cage him and make sure to come find you. No ID, just wet clothes. He seemed lucent enough, but he had no clue where he was and started off with some story about being separated from friends and a sea monster that grabbed him then burst into bubbles..."

"Good God. That's why we are stepping up security around here with all the strange stuff going on. It seems like crazies are coming out of the brickwork past couple of days. We are not going to take any chances," Bob said, more to himself than his subordinate. "Until Zale comes back from the north, I'm in charge of this town, and I will keep things safe. I'm not going to have any more lunatics causing problems."

They stepped onto the curb and sidewalk on the corner of the Sheriffs department, walking past the side of the brick building. There were window archways built into the brick at a man's shoulder height, with vertical steel bars preventing the prisoners from much more than a view. Donny heard only the clicking of boot heels at the two walked past and into the front office.

Bob Kirkwood walked in the station, past the duty desk, and back into the squad room. The station was set up like any small town sheriffs office, front desk with a thick frosted glass separating the general public from where the real business was conducted. On the left, facing in, was a long glass window that gave visual access to the holding cells. The back of the room had a large chalkboard and doors leading to equipment storage and the locker room, while the right side had offices for the Sherriff, a conference/questioning room and bathrooms. Overhead ceiling fans circulated the stale air and fluorescent lights buzzed. The deputy on front desk duty pulled his book out from beneath the desk after Kirkwood and Monahan entered to his left. He thumbed through the pages, settling back into his place. The waiting room was empty anyway, save for the portraits of past Sheriffs that hung on the wall with their unsmiling, serious faces.

Bob took a quick scan of the room, noting only one other uniform present at a desk, as he breezed into the first private office. The name on the glass read- Bradley Zale, Saint Anne County Sheriff. Bob plopped back into the worn black leather chair and put his feet up. A picture on the desk of a round, white haired man supporting a thick mustache, curled at the ends, was holding a fish with a young girl who shared a family resemblance. They both beamed back at Bob. He snatched up the framed photo and placed it face down in the pencil drawer of the oak desk and slammed it shut. Now he was comfortable.

"Now, numb nuts, I want you to tell me the whole story, from the beginning, before I go back and question this kid."

Monahan, fingering his gun belt at the buckle, took a deep breath, slightly bending forward, and began to give his report. But, before a word passed his teeth, the man on the duty desk opened the swinging door to the back area of the station and called out. "Bob, there is someone here to see you!"

"Ahh, hold on, must be my breakfast. Send him on back!"

Moments later, without a sound Renault walked into the interim Sheriffs office. Monahan took a step to the side, surprised by the look of the newcomer, who was without doubt, not a breakfast delivery boy. Bob Kirkwood, boots still propped up on the desk, cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He asked, sincerity absent from his voice.

"I know you can," Renault began. His speech was even, and his gaze heavy. "You have someone locked up in here. Donny Bright, he goes by. I would like him to be released to me."

"Whoa there fella. I don't have the slightest clue who you are and you come into my office and demand I just release someone in our custody? What the hell is this, a joke?"

Renault stood firm.

"No. Not a chance. I haven't even spoken to this kid yet. He was caught trespassing in a restricted area of this town's waterworks," Bob Kirkwood said, getting to his feet as he really began to pick up steam. "Who knows what he was up to down there... No ID? That's another infraction. We have laws, here in this town. We may be even putting him on a psych hold from what this deputy has told me. So, you will just have to bring your yuppie ass back down here after he has been fully processed."

"Under Sheriff, I urge you to reconsider," Renault said flatly.

"Get out of my station! Get out, and watch it mister. I'll have my eye on you! Play your cards right and I'll have you in a cell right next to your little boyfriend!"

Renault turned and walked out of the office before Kirkwood could finish his rant. Following him out of his usurped office, the Sheriff's second in command found he was speaking to thin air. Bursting through the swinging door into the front lobby, Bob Kirkwood found it to be empty as well.

The muffled sounds of the tall man berating the man at the duty desk reached back to the holding cells, where Donny had been holding on to the cell bars, watching the exchange through the glass. Sitting on the desk closest to the glass, Donny noticed his pan flute. He wished the deputy hadn't taken it away from him, and he didn't know why he had. It wasn't like it was a weapon or something...

"Donny," Renault softly called through the bars leading out to the street.

"Renault! I saw you in here just a second ago. You found me! Are Chris and Jake with you?"

"They are on their way. It seems as if you will have to remain put for the moment. The Under Sheriff is not going to budge on your release, of that I'm sure."

"Well, do what you can... Oh crap, here that guy comes," Donny said, jumping away from his window and onto his bunk. The rattle of the cells welded metal furniture was answered by the door to cells being thrown open.

"One of your buddies just came in here looking for you," Bob said to Donny as he and Monahan entered the room. "That one with the dye job and punker haircut. Looks like you keep good company..." He looked around the cellblock, finding only the prisoners that were expected.

"How you doing over there, Daniel?" Bob said. Realizing he was not the one being spoken to, Donny looked behind him and noticed another figure occupying the cell's bed, which he had not noticed before. The big round man curled away from all eyes and made an acknowledging noise, but did not move. "Well, if you still haven't decided to talk to me yet, I'll just give you all the time you want."

"Now you," Bob said, leaning back against the glass partition, focusing on Donny. "I want your story..."

Chapter 17- The Key

The crisp air in the early morning would have made Jake shiver had he not been so warm from walking. His clothes were almost dry as they walked down along the tree-shaded roads next to the river. Houses were becoming more frequent, being seen at a distance, covering the area. Dirt and gravel roads ran away from the main river road as they got closer and closer to the town.

As the river began its bend, a strawberry stand sat with its back against the rivers edge. The boys approached and they caught a glimpse of two people, the first they had yet seen, apart from their guide. They approached with open, staring eyes, watching a little girl throw a big pink ball against the whitewashed side to the strawberry stand. And the girl fit right in. She was right around kindergarten age, with curly strawberry blonde hair, her backside was stained with dirt. The girl's mother was inside the stand, a spitting image, tall and thin, but with straight hair unlike her daughter. It was no question that they were related.

As they approached, another thing caught their attention. The huge bones of a concrete monster stood about a half-mile down the road, also on the bank of the river. Unfinished and apparently not currently under construction, the several story building had a sad look about it, as if it could feel how close it was to being buttoned up and usable.

"You guys wanna buy some straw-berries?" the little girl asked, running over to meet the boys.

"Lanie! Lanie, come back here!" The girls' mother scolded. "I'm sorry about her."

"Oh, not a problem," Chris said to the woman. "How much are your strawberries?" He said, kneeling to the little girl's level.

"Three bucks a basket," the girl recited, holding her ball in both hands.

"Well, I'm afraid we don't have that much money right now," Jake said.

"That's okay. How about a sample!"

"Here, you guys can try one each if you like. Where are you headed?" The mother asked.

"We are headed up north, to the redwoods," Jake said trying his berry. "Mmm, this is good thank you."

"We pick 'em ourselves," the girl said.

"I don't know if you guys have heard, but you may want to stay out of those woods. There is a bad man up there picking people off with a rifle. I don't know what the world is coming to. The Sheriff went up to stop him, but ever since, all the cars stopped working. We haven't really heard much in days." The woman looked truly concerned. Finally she added, "The Sheriff is my dad."

The added fact hit the boys and Jake, who was staring off at the unfinished building, turned back to the woman. "We are on our way to help. This is Captain McCourtney, and I'm Sergeant Gates. We are in the 104th with the National Guard, Long Range Reconnaissance. We were sent to give the Sheriff a hand."

"Oh! It's about time they called in some backup! You two look so young to be soldiers, but I guess I only think that from watching too many movies. Have you two walked all this way?"

"We have. What is the best way to cross the river? We didn't bring a map."

"No map? Well, the only bridge is on the west side of town. You will have to walk through town to get to it. But, you will know when you get to it, because you will reach the clock tower first. You can't miss it."

"Perfect, thanks so much!" Jake motioned to Chris to go.

"Where in the woods were you told they would be?" the woman asked.

"Oh, what was that place called again, Captain..." Jake drew out.

"Redwood Cathedral?" The woman provided. "If that's where you were told, I would go straight there. Dad is smart; he knows that those whole woods are Golden's home field. He might not stay in the same place for long. It's already been two days..."

"We will keep that in mind," Chris said.

"When you see the Sheriff, tell him Donna says to be safe."

"We will. And thank you again for the strawberries!"

They were just out of earshot when Chris finally had to break the silence.

"A Captain, huh? Where did all that come from?"

"Well, I had to tell her something. And it worked didn't it? Now at least we know how to get across the river. A bridge on the other side of town."

"You may want to stop on your way through and collect your friend."

Renault was leaning against the chain link fence surrounding the building where the two were walking the past. They stopped and waited as their guide joined them. The three of them stood facing each other, Chris the tallest, Jake and Renault at the same eye level.

Back at the strawberry stand, Lanie threw her ball against the wall and missed the catch. Chasing after it, she and looked down the road and saw the three men talking. She watched as they exchanged a few words and saw Chris and Jake slap each other on the back and take off from the third. The man in the green jacket crossed the street, and she lost him. But she didn't loose sight of her ball. Snatching it up, she went back to the side of the shack and continued her game of catch.

Bob Kirkwood had finally left, leaving Donny to himself. He sat against the back of the cell, butt on the cold concrete floor, knees tucked to his chest. He felt on fire, mad, ashamed, and as if he was going to explode with rage at the situation. He was being treated like a potential presidential assassin when all he did was try to find his way out of a cave. Even more frustrating was the way that the older sheriff questioned him. It was more than just the questions; it was his way of handling a complete stranger that really burned Donny. And now here he was, stuck in a cell after getting pulled away from Chris and Jake, who could be anywhere by now.

"You did good, kid," came the deep voice of his neighbor. "You didn't tell him anything that would get him excited, except for the part about wanting to go to the redwoods. But he seems to think he stopped you from doing that, so it all lies where it should. You have gotta make him forget all about you. They can't keep you in here forever. And as soon as the big sheriff makes it back, we'll just walk on out of here and say thank you for the hospitality. No point in makin' a fuss at all."

"I just can't believe this. I've done nothing wrong. How can cops get away with stuff like that? Just because, 'strange stuffs been happening,' gives you no right to be that way."

"I know boy, I know. But you know what," Daniel rolled off his bunk and walked to the bars separating them, "I did nuthin' either." He was a short black man, slightly round, with short hair and matching goatee. His hands were large and they wrapped easily around the bars. Donny had a momentary flash of crazy hope that they would be strong enough to tear the metal apart. "You know why I'm in here? A couple days ago, my brother-in-law decides to shoot a bunch of people and take off into the woods like some damn mountain man, shooting at everyone they send to stop him. So then, yester-dee, that man, Sheriff Kirkwood, calls me in and starts questioning me, like I know somethin'. 'Where is he at?' and such, like I know! I married his sister, not like I'm a best friend with the guy. I've never gone hunting with him in my life. I don't even talk to the man much. I tell all this to him, and he don't even believe me! He throws me in here and tells my wife I'm inhibiting an investigation, so I gotta sit in here and cool off a while. She came over to my window after that and told me he tried the same thing on her."

"This can't be legal."

"I ain't no lawyer. But that man is right, some strange things have been happening. So I'm sure he will use that as some excuse. And you know what, I'm not going to get in his way. I've got nowhere important to go. Live to fight another day. Things will come down, you'll see."

"But, I do have somewhere important to go," Donny said aloud, more to himself. Regardless, he was answered.

"Damn right you do," Jake said from above him.

"Guys!" Donny said, jumping to his feet.

"Hey there D.B.,"Chris grinned. "Is it safe to talk?"

"Yeah, just me and my fellow prisoner," Donny said.

"I'm Daniel." The two boys on the outside of the brick building bent their heads closer to the bars and nodded at the man next to their friend.

"We gotta get you outta here, buddy. Any chance they will let you out? Renault seemed to think that would not be the case."

"No, dude. The guy in charge is a total dick. They are all on high alert cuz of the stuff up north. I don't know how you guys are going to get me out..."

"Sounds like we have no other choice but bust you out," Jake said seriously.

"I don't know. I don't know how you could," Donny said, grabbing the solid bars and demonstrating with a whole body tug. "And I don't really want to get in trouble. Breaking out of jail..."

"Dude, I don't think you will get a police record for this particular break out," Chris said, then motioning to his left, "Is he cool?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, then. We could wrap a rope or cable around these bars and yank them right out of the brick..." Chris thought out loud.

"With what? Tires won't turn here," Jake said.

"Uhh, dynamite? Just like in a old western," he tried next.

"Where do you suppose we get dynamite?" Jake shot back.

"I am not letting you guys blow down this wall with me in here!" Donny hissed. Frustration was quickly escalating.

"In through the front, somehow..."

"What, past three or four guys with guns?"

"Fine, then what is your plan, Jake, since you don't seem to like any of mine."

"I don't know, man... Let me think."

"They were just starting points anyway..."

"Maybe a diversion or something..." Donny began, but was cut off.

"I have an idea," Daniel said. "You just need to get the right key." The feeling of being on the verge of an argument disappeared and the three boys listened to the town local.

"There is a special key up in the clock tower, out near the bridge leading out of town. It's been a symbol of this town for as long as I can remember, and I guarantee you; it could get your friend out of here. All you have to do is go get it from the tower where it is on display for safekeeping, and bring it here. I can show you how to use it."

"Yeah, yeah," Jake nodded. "We can do that, not a problem. Not a problem."

"Oh, son. I'm not done yet. The key is only half your solution. Once you break this guy free, you have to get away. These sheriffs are not going to let you go without a chase. And if you boys are really going up north, he will follow you all the way like a hound dog. They got men watching the bridge, too. So when you bring back that key, bring a plan for escape with you."

Across the cellblock, through the glass, Donny saw movement. A deputy holding two Styrofoam to-go boxes was walking toward the cells. Donny warned his friends, and they took off from the jail before they could be seen taking with the prisoners. The two men received their food, and when they were alone, Donny popped back up to look out the window. But, Jake and Chris were gone from his limited field of view, leaving only the sunny morning empty street.

Chapter 18- The Clock Tower

The streets we unnaturally empty. It wasn't as if the townspeople were avoiding them, but few were seen outside as they made their way to the clock tower. Through windows of the small downtown, owners of businesses could be seen, looking back at the two young men. They didn't look out of place, but the feeling that everyone else was on edge was clear. Within a few blocks of their departure from the Sheriff's Office, they were into a more residential part of town. Single-family homes on small lots dominated the streets, with one-lane driveways leading to the back of the house where the one car garage/shed was built away from general street view. This seemed to have been a town built all at once, about forty years ago and maintained well, but never updated. They were soon able to see their destination, a tall structure with no real competitors. Even the whitewashed church a block down seemed to just be another pawn beneath the bishop.

The clock tower sat beside the road that became a bridge and crossed the Saint Anne River. The area looked like most historical monuments; paved groundwork surrounding the area with benches dedicated to past citizens. Close to the tower were a few shops and a gas station, taking advantage of the traffic that came across the bridge. The boys stopped at the edge of the nearest building, a small warehouse sized sporting goods store, and took a look around.

The first thing they noticed before even looking at the tower, was the tan shirt across the road, sitting under a big sun umbrella, looking out across the bridge. The deputy had a shotgun across his lap and appeared to be dosing rather than watching for people coming south across the bridge. They watched the man for a few moments and glided deliberately to the base of the main tower.

The architecture of the clock tower felt very different from the rest of the town's classic sufferings. There was the main body, which was the largest of the four spires, and it held the three large faced clocks that could be seen from every direction. Three smaller spires, similar to the main, sat on an opposing triangulation from the clocks, their peaks just shorter than the bottoms of the clocks. The outsides were made of a smooth stone that looked as if it could withstand anything Mother Nature could throw at it. High up, below the clocks, three matching archways facing the small spires were visible, built smooth tower.

"Look at this," Chris whispered to Jake. They stood at the base of the main tower, looking at a steel riveted door. It was painted in a cream color to match the stone, with a house door style deadbolt holding it securely shut.

Jake put his back to the tower and kept his head swiveling as Chris played with the lock. "I don't think we can get up this way. We'd need the keys and to..."

Without a word, Jake took three steps over to the spire that was out of sight from the snoozing deputy. A similar but smaller version of the riveted steel door was situated at the base of that spire as well. There was no lock on this door and it opened after the rust on the inside of the hasp hinge was broken free. Jake turned to Chris and flared wild eyes. Fingers wrapped around the free edge, he slowly began to pull the door open. Groans from the steel halted his progress and Chris bound over to join him.

"Spit on the hinges, quick."

They spat. Jake tried again, and got the door open with no noise, and the two ducked inside. They were on a spiral stone staircase, but they were off the street, and out of any possible eyesight. Jake pulled the door closed.

"That was good. How did you think of that?"

"A book we read in high school. Some kids do it to go through a squeaky gate at night. I've just always remembered that part," Chris said. What are we doing in here anyway," he said looking up. "How is this going to help us get the key? Its gotta be in the top of the main one, right?"

"Gotta be. Why hide something in a tower and not put it top center? But if the main is locked, maybe we could jump from this one or something. I don't know," Jake said starting to climb, "I guess we can see how it looks up there."

"That might be a long jump," Chris breathed, continuing to climb after his friend. "Man, I'm outta breath."

"Yeah, me to. All that adrenaline," Jake said. "But you notice something funny, how long have we been awake? How long since we last ate something more than a single strawberry? Are you tired or hungry at all?"

"I'm getting winded climbing all these stairs, but exhaustion? No, I guess not. That's really weird, it never even occurred to me."

Jake peeked out one of the fist sized mini arch windows cut into the stone. The walls of the tower were thick, at least six inches to the outside. Ambient light mixed and fresh air came through, ventilating their tight winding space. "I think we are almost to the top," Jake said. Chris was sweating, but nodded in response.

Twice more around the tower, they reached a small landing. An archway opened about the same size of the one at the base of the tower they entered, facing the main clock tower. Chris and Jake held up on the stairs, just before the opening, and considered their options. Looking across to the main tower, one of the three archways that Jake saw from below, gave him a view into the center of the clock tower.

"I think I see the key," Jake whispered. "It's in a glass bell dome, right there."

"On that pedestal? Yeah, I think that's it too." Chris looked around, "It's a long way across, and I don't think we could jump it."

"And look," Jake pointed, "We are in direct view of the deputy down there. If we make too much noise, he could look up here and see us. So how are we going to do this?"

"Look at that. A cable above your head."

Jake edged out to the threshold, and looked at the wire at the peak of the archway. The wire was thin and copper color, not surprising they hadn't seen it from below. Jake ran his fingers over the taut wire that connected the two archways.

"I think it's a ground wire for lightning strikes or something. But we will lose fingers if we try to shimmy across it..."

"Your gloves, man! If they can open that doorknob..."

"Yeah! Yeah!" Jake hissed, pulling the black gloves from his back pocket. Slipping them on his hands, he looked around the surrounding area below, to confirm that the area was clear. Jake tested the wire with the gloves. Finding it felt fine to place all his weight on, he turned to Chris.

"I'll go first, and then you follow?"

"Do I need to? You are better at this kinda stuff. Can't you just swing over there and get it?"

"I want you to come over, too. I got the gloves. This key can be your find. Come on man, you can totally do this. I won't take no for an answer, here I go."

Jake started out both hands on the wire, letting his feet dangle. He looked down at the pavement below him, not frightened by the height, but feeling it was important to get a sense of where he was in space. His arms wrapped around his head, slightly choking him, until he let go with one hand and swung it forward. Feeling that the momentum he gained from the first movement was similar to that of children's monkey bars, and not wanting to loose any, Jake did not pause going across the wire. It took less than ten seconds for him to cross the gap and reach the key room of the clock tower.

Jake took to his knees, to avoid being seen and removed the finger saving gloves. He looked at his hand and was mildly amazed that there were no pressure lines from the thin cable. The whole way across the gap, it hadn't even occurred to his senses the narrow gauge of the wire. He wadded up the priceless gloves, and tossed them over to Chris.

Chris put on the gloves, and also tested out the wire. Finding it at least possible, he began to inch out on the wire. But, leaving his feet on solid ground for as long as he could, the shock of total dependence on the wire was great. He had kept his arms flexed as he climbed out but found it hard to maintain with all his weight supported this way. Wishing he had the confidence and upper body strength of Jake, Chris struggled with his legs, his body tensing up in fear. He considered going back.

"You are doing great. Just relax!" Jake hissed from what seemed a hundred miles away.

Chris turned with the wire, in a flailing move, rather than facing it as Jake had. He slid one hand in the direction of travel, and forced the other to follow. His arms began to feel week, a sharp burn developing in his shoulders. He moved again.

"Don't fight it man, just keep going."

Chris wanted to shout at his friend. He was doing the best he could and now his heat was racing as he tried to climb across a piano wire in the sky. He moved closer, moving his head around his arm to see how far more he had to go. Sweat poured into his right eye, causing blurriness and burning, causing him not to get a good look. The voice was closer now.

"Almost there, one more time dude."

Chris flailed his whole body in the next attempt and felt hands find his clothes. He was hauled from the cable, crashing down onto wooden planks next to his best friend. He was across.

Down below, at the bridge, the deputy on guard duty looked around. He thought he had heard a noise, like a door shutting, and it roused him from his sleep. He blinked a few times, and looked all around him. Noticing nothing out of place in the deserted mid-morning town, he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes once again.

"You cool?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I think I just psyched myself up too much because of the height," Chris said.

"You going to be alright going back across?"

"I don't know. I just need a minute."

"Not a problem dude. Not a problem. But, look here. The key!"

Sitting atop of a round wooden table in the middle of the tower, was a dull bronze color old-fashioned key under a bell jar. Both boys climbed to their feet and examined their find.

"Look at this table," Chris said in awe. "It's just like to one we found in the house. It even has the rotating rings with numbers..."

Jake went to take the bell jar from the key, but found it held solidly in place.

"We could break it and take the key, but I suppose that's the hard way. You think it takes the same numbers..." Jake said, looking for a crank.

Chris began sliding the rings by hand before Jake could finish his thought. They slid around making slight clicks, first the inner ring to the number two, then the middle to eleven and finally the outer to the six. He lined them up with the direction the teeth of the key faced, and the final click was more substantial. Jake removed the bell jar.

He set the glass aside and motioned to Chris.

"You wanted to go up the other ladder. You found the numbers in that library. This key is yours, just like the gloves are mine. Now take it and let's go."

Chris stared at the key for a moment. It was an unassuming key. Brown and small, the size of a half used lead pencil, it looked like it was meant to open an old fashioned door that had the keyhole you could see through. He wondered how it was supposed to help them get Donny out. Maybe it was magical like the gloves and would form to any key slot and open any door like a universal key. Then they could unlock the cell doors and...

Chris took the key from its place and stuffed it into his pocket. Jake nodded to him resolutely and pulled the gloves back on his hands. Checking on the deputy below, Jake swung back across the wire with the same swiftness as the last time. Turning back towards the clock tower once he reached the other side, Jake began to remove the gloves when he noticed the strange look on the face of his friend.

"Hey!" he hissed, getting Chris's attention. "You okay? Ready for the gloves."

"No, I don't think I can go back that way again. I felt like I was going to slip the whole time. I'm not doing that again."

"Then what are you going to do?"

It came to Chris all at once. "I'll go down this way!" he said pointing to the stairway leading down to the base of the clock tower.

"But that door was locked... Ahh," Jake interrupted himself. "Test out your new key. Good thinking. I'll meet you down there."

Jake and Chris parted ways, both descending stairs, heading in the same direction. Jake put his shoulder to the wall and spun round and round in the tight area all the way to the bottom, making himself dizzy in the process. Chris took his time going down his staircase, which was identical to the one in the smaller spire, but had much more room, as the central tower was larger than its subordinate companions.

When Chris finally reached the bottom he pulled the key from his pocket and inspected the steel door keeping him inside. He had to run his hands along its surface to find the lock, and was surprised by what he found. There was no slot to use a key like on the outside, but rather a latch that clicked to the left, unlocking the deadbolt manually. The door squealed as he opened it enough to slip out, and Jake was right outside, facing away from him.

"Oh dude, that one woke him up for sure. Shit! He is getting up and coming this way!"

Chris gripped the edge of the door and lifted up, best he could, and pushed the door back in its place. The tension on the hinges stopped the door from screaming until the last inch, but the damage was already done. The Sheriffs Deputy, shotgun cradled across his body, was walking in their direction, curious to find out what had made the noise that awakened him.

"Keep the tower between us and him, we gotta run. Come on, over to the edge of that building!"

Jake lead the way, running on the edge of his feet, making little noise as he crossed the distance. Chris was close behind, also making almost no noise as he ducked behind the edge of the building, and out of the view of the inspecting patrol. They kept their backs against the wall and caught their breath, as they waited for the blood to stop pounding in their ears. After 30 seconds, Jake got down on all fours and peaked his head out around the bottom of the corner of the building. After a quick glance, he pulled back and stood up.

"He is going back. I think we made it. So what happened? How did that key open the lock? It looked like there was no way it would fit."

"I never got the chance," Chris said. "The door locks from the inside, I just walked out."

Jake shook his head in disappointment. "I hope we didn't go through all that and it turns out the key is for something else, and that guy was just using us to get it."

"Donny said he was cool..."

"Yeah, but Donny would say anyone he just met that was nice to him was cool, and then they would turn around and rob him blind."

"What about the numbers?" Chris said, still catching his breath. "No coincidence we found the combination to unlock the key on our way through that house. Think about it. The gloves; if we didn't have them, we wouldn't have even gotten to the key in the first place. And now we have to use this key to get Donny out. I don't think anyone is trying to trick us. It's all falling into place too well."

"Yeah, I guess you are right," Jake admitted.

The clock tower bell went off, startling the two. Twelve long triplet tones played, indicating the time. It was noon and the boys seemed to have everything they now needed to break their friend out of the town jail, except for one critical thing.

"The escape plan," Chris said. "What are we going to do?"

"Yeah, that guy Daniel was right. If we break them out, we have to get away clean, or they are going to be chasing us all the way up north."

"So we just need to be really quiet when we do it. Use our famous stealth. Create a diversion and slip away."

Jake considered this, but had bad feelings. If it were just himself breaking out of somewhere, he wouldn't worry about it. He thought he could evade some trailing lawmen on foot in the town and especially in the woods. But it was the other factors he had no control over that gave him pause. Who was to know how the other two would perform under the worst-case scenario? And then they had Daniel. He was not with them. Jake considered everyone he met in this place, other than the two others he arrived with, to be like road signs. He didn't want to make their party any larger. He would have to establish the other prisoners' intentions before they made their run. He had to factor the possibility that he could be captured and spill their escape route to the Sheriffs.

No, the plan had to be simple and brilliant, with only he and Chris in on it as they got away. And it had to account for the worst-case scenario, that way, even if things went great, they had all their bases covered. A plan was forming in his mind, and the best way to work out the kinks was to bring the structure to Chris and let him fill in the gaps that he couldn't. But, first he had to make sure that they were both on the same page about what they were building.

"We can't rely on stealth alone. We have to outsmart these guys. We have seen that they are not that bright," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bridge guard, "but we also can't totally underestimate them. They have the home field advantage and the numbers."

"But, we do have the element of surprise."

"Yeah, and that is going to help us immensely. But, you know what we have that is just as good? We have at least six hours to scout and plan the route we should take. We also have the fact that you and I are standing here thinking this out rather than running off half-cocked. We are going to thoughtfully plan this thing out until our plan and element of surprise outweigh any reaction or chase they can give. It's why we stand a great chance of pulling this off."

"So where do we start?" Chris said, letting it all sink in.

"Look in there," Jake said, moving over to the picture window of the building they had hidden behind.

"It's a outdoors store," Chris answered. "What are we going to use in there?"

Jake pointed in and up, making Chris turn to him with a skeptical look.

"So, tell me what you think about this..."

Chapter Nineteen- Breakout

"...Think of it this way, your whole life, all you are ever told is how people are going to have it out for you. Your great-grandfather was treated like a dog, and your grandfather not much better. They had to work to gain the respect of everyone else. They had to fight for their rights, literally in some cases. It gets passed down, each generation, the stories of oppression and hate. And then you experience this first hand. Maybe it wasn't outright racisms; maybe it was just some white asshole. Assholes are everywhere and that's just their nature. But it sticks. So its no wonder that it's the blacks who are the first to bring it up. We are more aware of it because we know its face too well."

"I guess I understand it when you say it that way," Donny said. "It's just, I feel no animosity against any other race. I just take everyone at face value. Skin is just skin. It's just hard to believe there is still racism in our country when we fought a civil war and now everyone has the same rights."

"Oh, don't bring up the Civil War, son. That was about states rights and keeping this country together. Not just about freeing slaves," Daniel said. "It is the fact that young white boys like you don't believe there is still racism that is the problem. You can't just forget all we have gone through."

"But you weren't a slave. And I wasn't a slave master. I was just born, how am I at all responsible? My family came over from Germany only a hundred years ago."

"Like I said. It's the stories you were raised with. As a people, we carry them. It's in our blood. You don't think racism exists the way we do because your perspective is not ours. Let me show you. You grew up in a small town, right. Like this place, not like a big city."

Donny agreed.

"And you had middle class parents who did well for themselves, probably even went to college. They had you when they were ready, after they were married?"

"Yeah, except for the college part."

"At least they had to have finished high school and were off drugs. Well then, you got more than ninety percent of this country, probably ninety percent of this planet. In the race and status lottery for becoming a member of this planet, you got very lucky, son. So you can't even fathom the outlook that a young black child faces, growing up in an overpopulated, under served city, with parents who were probably young themselves. They were probably under-educated themselves. It's a vicious cycle and it creates the problems we see in our communities. You can't tell me that the reason why this cycle continues is not because racism is alive in this country. It is under the surface, hidden from the front thoughts, but it's there."

"Then why don't these people just leave the big cities? Get out of the cycle. You are obviously smart and live in this small town. You must have done something right or got lucky, or something. I just don't get it. I just don't believe that once you are a peasant, you are always a peasant. If you want to become a knight bad enough, background shouldn't matter."

"But it does. Attitudes have to change in a major way to get the oppression of the minorities to end so that we can break the cycle. It's this cycle that holds you down. Without proper education, the youth won't know any better. Without social programs to give opportunities, the smart ones will never get out. I was a lucky one. I'm not special, no more intelligent than anyone else. I just got lucky, like you."

Donny sat in silence for a moment and let the ramifications of the argument sink in. He was lucky, he guessed. He always considered himself poor, working minimum wage jobs and living in apartments, but compared to the rest of the world, stuff didn't seem that bad. He started to feel bad about himself, the way he had just put the least amount of effort into bettering his life when there were others out there that didn't get close to the same opportunities he was given. Instead, he complained and wasted his able body and mind on menial tasks and having a good time.

A light was now beginning to shine on a corner of his brain that had been in the shadows too long. Excuses seemed to become irrelevant. The man sitting in the cell next to him had made him think about more than the topic of their time passing conversation. He felt like he was acquiring so much, so he didn't let it go.

"My problem is, I've heard stuff like this before, never as to the point, but it is always lacking a solution. You can tell me all day that this stuff is happening, but what is the answer? How do you break the cycle? How can you know all this and not do something?"

"I'm no prophet or public leader. I do what I can. I live my life, not adding to the negative, but to the positive, in my own way. Making people aware of the problem is the best solution for someone like me. Becoming aware is the first step."

"But that is so passive. It's almost not a solution at all. Shouldn't you..."

"Hey, Donny! Is it safe?" Jakes voice whispered from the other side of the wall.

"Yeah! Finally you guys are back. I was starting to get worried! What took so long? Was the key hard to get?" Donny said, meeting his friends at the barred window.

"Naw, man. Not too bad. We were just doing as Daniel suggested. We planed our ex-fill route very carefully," Jake said.

"Lets see it, then."

Chris held up the key for Donny to see, and slipped it back into his pocket. The look on his face became serious.

"Hey, man," he said to Daniel. "I appreciate you telling us about this thing, but we need to know something before we start. Cuz, once we spring you guys, we came up with a plan, and well... we need to figure out how you are going to fit in to it."

"Awe, kid. Don't get all nervous. You have nothing to worry about. I ain't going to slow you down, in fact, I'm going to sit right here until Sheriff Zale comes back. I have done nothing and I ain't getting my self in any deeper. You boys can do as you please, but I plan on having Bob Kirkwood's badge for this mess. I gotta do the long suffering thing to do what's right. I know you boys have business up north, now listen up, and I'll tell you how to use that key."

Chris and Jake both looked relieved, nodded to each other and went to Daniel's window. They started to hand the key across when he put up his hands.

"No, no. You are going to use it, not me."

"How can we use it out here, your cell door locks are in there," Jake said.

"You have it all wrong. That key can open doors, but just not in the way you are thinking. When you are ready, go over to the wall of your friends cell, and press the key against the wall. But be ready, I only think I know what may happen."

"So, we are not going out front? Okay, that makes no difference, we will go right to checkpoint two," Jake said to Chris.

"Whoa, Whoa! Checkpoints? What is the plan, guys?"

"Don't worry, Donny. We will fill you in as we go, we don't have time to explain it all right now. All you need to do is run as soon as you are free. Follow Jake and me. We will lead the way. We have got some tricks up our sleeve," Chris said, ending the questioning for the time being.

"Son, it has been great talking with you. But right now, you might want to step away from that brick," Daniel said to Donny.

Donny complied and backed up against his bars. Jake stood back from the outside wall and gave Chris the nod that the coast was clear. Chris swallowed hard and rotated the key in his hands. Taking a deep breath, unsure of what to expect, he pressed the toothed end of the key against the wall, as if a keyhole was waiting.

The ground shook. Vibrations traveled up Chris's arm and rattled his teeth. The ground rolled, but Chris stood firm with the key in his hand. The old red bricks seemed to hold for a moment, but after the mortar that held them in place turned to sand, the wall collapsed inward, leaving a hole the size of an elephant.

Donny was wide eyed and covered with dust, having wilted to the floor during the quake. Hardly believing it, Donny sprang to his feet, ready to run when a thought struck. "I have something! My flute, they took it!"

Chris, looking down at the powerful object he held in his hand, looked back up at Donny. "Where is it?"

"Right there," he pointed to the desk on the other side of the glass windowed wall. "Use that thing again, and I'll grab it! I can't leave it behind."

The same feeling of compulsion that had swept over Chris many times before came on again. He took a single step inside the ruined cell, dropped to his right knee and jammed the earthquake key into the ground. Chris concentrated on the cell door and the ground again shook. A violent cracking echoed around the room as the bars separated from each other and the dividing window shattered to kernels of popcorn safety glass.

Donny kicked hard on his cell door, which had been separated enough from the jam to be opened, and ran over to the former window. He reached across the waist high wall and snagged his pan flute that was still sitting on the desktop. With his prize in hand, Donny ran back into his cell and followed Chris out the hole and to freedom.

The first quake awoke the deputy on the watch desk, causing him to look at the clock. Being almost midnight, he was the only one in the station and expected to be flooded with calls by the town citizens, wanting to know what happened. He got up from his desk, and was about to take a look outside when the second quake hit. He felt the vibrations much closer and heard the window looking into the cell room break. Running back to check on the two prisoners, he was shocked to see all the damage that had occurred in such a centralized area of the structure. And that's when he saw the figures felling from the hole in the side of the building.

Running into the rubble in the cell, the deputy attempted to see which way the figures were running. After they disappeared from view, he turned and was surprised to see the remaining prisoner sitting in his cell. With part of the collapsed wall in his cell, he could have escaped, but rather sat on his bunk, back against the bars.

"What the hell? You stay put!" he shouted, lopping back to the duty desk where his radio was located.

"Attention all units! Attention all units! We have a prisoner that has escaped. I say again, there is a prisoner on the run. Be advised, the escapee has at least one, possibly three accomplices. They were last seen heading northwest onto Carter Avenue." The deputy paused to catch his breath and think. "Whoever is on bridge watch, keep your eyes open. All other deputies, recall to the Sheriffs Center immediately. I say again, all deputies, recall!"

Four blocks away, Bob Kirkwood was awoken by the second tremor and sat up in bed. Getting up, he walked over to the window and pulled the curtains and sheer back, to look out on the moonlit streets below. Down the street, he watched three silhouettes go running past his building. Beginning to think it was just kids excited by a little earthquake, his thoughts were interrupted by the crackle and frantic message of the sheriff's radio he kept on his nightstand. Bob yanked on his pants and jammed his gun belt around his waist. He snatched the radio off the charging base and thundered down the stairs. Lights from other residence switched on as he keyed the radio transmit button.

"Negative, Negative! This is Kirkwood! Jerry you fool... All units! Suspects sited now moving on foot east on Conifer. I am in pursuit! Fall in with me, I will give location updates," Bob transmitted and was on the street.

"Halt!" Bob shouted to the figures in the distance. "Stop where you are and get on the ground!"

He pounded after the three down the middle of the two-lane road and watched them turn left on a side street. Bob rounded the corner and pulled up his radio when he received a shocking surprise that brought him to an abrupt halt.

"Shit! Well, there is the tail we expected. I guess the double back worked pretty well!" Jake heaved after they heard the command from the Sheriff to stop.

"What are we going to do? What is the plan? We can't just keep running like this forever!" Donny said in a panic. His heart was racing faster than the time he and Jake had ran away from the fire they had accidentally set. Never in his life did he think he would be in this situation, running from the law with his two best friends, in a dream world that felt so very strange. He looked over at Chris and saw him grinning.

"Oh we have a plan. We told you, a great plan. Jake and I thought this all the way through. All the way. It's going to knock your sox off. That's why it took us so long to get back with the key. We had to check out the whole town, plan the route, get some supplies and set stuff up. Here is checkpoint three!"

They came around the corner and the two planers in the lead stopped. Donny turned around, nervous about stopping, peering down the street at the approaching authority. When another came to join him out of a side street, he turned back around to warn his seemingly oblivious friends.

"Step back this way, D.B.!" Jake hissed. "You ready, Chris?"

"On three! One, two, three..."

From either sides of the street, walls of flame came and met in the middle, throwing an orange glow on the already silver night. Donny's eyes went wide and he took a few more steps back. A second and third wall went up, right behind the first, cutting the street off from passage. The roadblock was set, and the two grabbed Donny and took off running once again.

Deputy Monahan ran up on the stationary Bob Kirkwood, again shouting over the radio. "Suspects northbound on Evergreen. I need a fire squad out at Conifer and Evergreen to put out a surprise they left for us!"

"Sheriff! Who are those guys? That kid I caught down in the waterworks?"

"Looks that way. Probably his rooster-haired friend with him, too. He said he was meeting people up in the redwoods," Bob spoke, more to himself than the recent arrival. "But, they are going the wrong way to use the bridge. They must have a raft or something waiting..."

He got back on the radio as another two sheriffs deputies joined him beside the flames. "All units! My contingency is continuing northeast in pursuit of suspects. At this point, don't count on them using the River Bridge, over."

"Come on boys, lets move!"

"This is one hell of a plan!" Donny half-shouted to Jake. "Care on filling me in? Where the hell are we going? How many more of those 'checkpoints' are there?"

"Yeah, I told you we got this. It's a pretty straight shot to the last checkpoint, why don't you fill him in, Chris."

"Well, we had to count on the worst case scenario. We thought the key would open your cell or something. So we made a series of diversions, just incase we got chased. And it turns out it was a good plan; look at us running now." They turned down another street, southeast in direction, and the huge cement frame of the unfinished skyscraper was ahead in the darkness. "That is the last checkpoint!" Chris breathed.

"What? That? Are we going to hide out there till tomorrow?" Donny guessed. He looked behind them and saw the light from flashlights. "I was thrown in a cell by these guys, and they are paranoid as hell. I don't think they are going to give up so easily."

"We figured as much. That's why we are going up the building. We checked it all out, it's perfect for our escape," Jake said. They were close enough to the building now that Jake pealed away from Chris, who motioned to Donny to follow him. They climbed a chain link fence and onto the unfinished building grounds when Jake hit the power switch on a metal junction box. The three met up at the front entrance to the building, which was now illuminated by buzzing yellow florescent construction lights. "Come on, to the roof!"

"We are going to be trapped up there! They for sure know where we are after you turned on the buildings power! It's lit up like a lighthouse saying, 'come find us!'" Donny said.

"Donny," Jake said, grabbing him by the shoulders, "Trust us. We got this. We planned this all out."

"Did Renault give you this idea?" Donny said.

"Actually, no. We haven't seen him since this morning when he told us where you were. I wonder where he is... oh well, we gotta move. Time to climb some stairs. Chris and I have already done this twice today. Thirteen flights of fun!"

"Alright then, what are we going to do when we get to the top? I thought we were going to go across the river. Daniel said the main bridge was not going to be an option, but I figured you guys would come up with another way."

"Okay, Okay," Chris said, getting tired of hearing Donny whine. "We figured we'd tell you last minute so there was no backing out or changing of the plan. We also had to make sure this route was only going to be used by us three. Three is the max. Here is the deal," Chris paused, breathing hard going up the stairs. Jake took the lead, followed by Donny and then Chris. After two flights, they were forced to walk, exhausted from the chase that had lead them here.

"So we got the key from the clocktower..."

"They just turned on the lights to the Sisko Tower, Sir," The youngest deputy said to Under Sheriff Kirkwood.

"What the hell is wrong with these kids," Kirkwood said to his group. There were now fifteen deputies in the group pursuing the boys across town. Off-duty men answered the radio call for assistance and now their number was many. They all jogged, big flashlights in hand, metal equipment jangling on pistol belts. They were hot under the collar, and determined to stop the madness that had been seemingly infectious the past few days.

"Dumbasses will be trapped up there!" one deputy said.

"No one said criminals were smart," another replied.

They reached the chain link fence and found the gate. Bob pulled his service revolver and aimed it at the padlock. "We don't have time for any more of their games. Stand back!"

A shot rang out from the base of the tower, making Donny's eyes bulge.

"Don't worry about it," Jake said. "But that means they are almost on top of us."

The night air was pleasant as the boys picked up the pace up the stairwell. Large unfinished openings where glass would be installed let a breeze in, and with it the smell of blackberry bushes. The summer night would have felt so calm and relaxing had the three of them not know that armed men were chasing them. Chris continued his story.

"...So we got the key from the clock tower and then had to make an escape plan. Jake said the element of surprise would not be enough, because they had home field advantage. So we came up with a route that made it look like we were going for the main bridge, but then turned away from it, in case we were being trailed. That's when we set up that napalm roadblock."

"Gas and Styrofoam work wonders!" Jake added.

"Then we decided we would go up this tower. We saw it on the way in and it was perfect. If we were followed, they'd come up after us and have to climb all the way down before they could come after us across the river. If we made it here alone, it wouldn't matter, its still a good place to take off from."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'take off from,'? We aren't using boats to cross the river?"

"Well you see," Chris continued, "When we were making our plan, we happened to be outside a sporting good store. They had all kinds of useful things inside for escape. They had rafts, but they also had other stuff. Like rock climbing gear, kayaks and..."

"Wait," Donny interrupted. "So we are going to repel off a thirteen story skyscraper and then cross the river by kayak? I don't know about that. And how did you get the money to buy that stuff?"

"Oh, its worse than that," Jake grinned.

"Would you believe the ol' wait-in-the-bathroom-till-they-close trick actually worked? Jake here kept trying to convince me we should just tie the shopkeeper and his employee up! But they had no alarms and we could unlock the doors from the inside. The place was ours by nine!"

"Hold on!" Donny said. "What do you mean by worse?"

Jake reached the door leading to the roof and stopped. He again had a crazy grin on his face as he flung the hollow-core metal door open. The moment that Donny saw it, he knew what it was. He was stunned.

The gaggle of lawmen reached the lobby of the building and stopped, circling around their leader. Going the construction area, they had seen figures ascending stairs. Bob Kirkwood laid out their plan of assault. With confidence, sensing a panicked and trapped prey.

"You two, go down to the rivers edge, make sure there are no boats waiting, incase by some miracle, they slip by us. Everyone else, we will split into a group of two and each take a stairway. One man split off at each floor to clear it. My group will start on the second floor, and the other group takes odd floors. Once you quickly clear a floor, get your ass back up the stairs with the rest of us. I have a feeling they are going to the roof, so lets take 'em down quick.

"Alright boys! Lets get these little pricks!" Bob re-drew his pistol and took off for the nearest staircase. The group split and the tower was alive with movement.

The dark green hang glider sat near the edge of the roof like a gargoyle. Its lightweight parachute fabric rippled with the gusts of the cool night air. Donny took two slow steps out onto the roof and stood still staring at the large delta wing in bewilderment.

"They had a hang glider? In a sports store?" he said.

"Yep. Hanging from the roof like a display," Jake said running past him and grabbing stashed bundles from under the frame. "Here, put this harness on. Chris will show you how it works as he puts his on." He threw the clump of nylon to Donny, which got him moving.

"You actually weren't too far off our original plan. But when we saw this thing was built for two, it just hit me. They will never expect us to be totally gone and across the river this way," Jake said.

"Wait, two person?" Donny said, almost fully strapped up with the help of Chris. "What about you?"

"See, this is why we waited to tell you. If we spilled the whole plan down at the station, you might have protested or made a fuss. So we kept it from you for all of our good," Chris said.

"That's not cool! You guys treat me like a kid. I can follow a plan!"

"I know, D.B., and I'm sorry. But we are rescuing you, remember? We just decided it would be best to do it our way."

"Fine, Jake," Donny said hotly. "But still, what about you?"

Chris and Jake lead him over to the hang glider and started hooking up the harnesses to the frame.

"Listen, buddy. We read the weight specifications on this thing. It can carry all our weight, not a problem. But there were just two harnesses, so one of us was going to have to hang on. It's not ideal, but I'm going to do it."

"Are you sure?" Donny asked.

"Not a problem," Jake replied. He pulled his gloves from his back pocket and slid them on.

"You think you are going to need those?" Chris asked.

"No, but it can't hurt," Jake replied.

"I think it's a good idea. Keep your hands from getting rope burn or something," Donny said.

"Oh, they can do a lot more than that..." Chris said, finalizing their rigging.

Donny gave Jake a questioning look. "Long story, we need to get in the air."

"Right! Now, these bags that are hanging off our butts, we stick our legs in them as soon as we get situated in the air. As soon as we are airborne, we have to go vertical. Jake is going to be hanging on in between us on our mid-body straps, so we have to go flat to give him room," Chris instructed. "I'm not sure how to steer this thing, but I think we have to turn this control bar and probably shift our weight. When it comes time for landing, your guess is as good as mine."

"Just pull your feet out of the bags and I guess we will try to walk it off," Jake added. 'I guess I'll drop free first to avoid getting you two tangled. Are you guys ready?"

"I guess so... I just wish we knew what we doing on this thing. Lessons or something..."

"We can take lessons after we take care of Golden," Jake said, standing behind the other two. They faced the river side of building and would have to take a six inch step up to the ledge that encompassed the roof. Once the construction was complete, there would most likely be a rail, but for now, the roof gave way to the open air just beyond. "Now, lets keep the wing level, and run. Let's GO!"

Renault stood on the edge of the building, giving the launch plenty of distance. In fact, the boys never even saw him appear and watch their brilliant escape. As they sailed away, the wind hit their ears and they never even heard the door to the rooftop kicked open. Bob Kirkwood came running out.

The Sheriff was baffled by the sight of the cluster of bodies beneath the enormous green rippling monster, sailing away from the artificial light of the building and into the moonlight. When it came to him that he had been tricked, evaded by a young delinquent, he grimaced and raised his pistol.

The yet-unnoticed Renault turned toward the Sheriff and the emerging company, launching himself at them. His clothes changed as he blinked in and out of existence, each time appearing closer and closer to the gun wielding man. Sensing the impossible movement out of the corner of his eye, Bob Kirkwood instinctively turned his aim toward the incoming missile. A second after he began his movement, Renault, now wearing the uniform of a sheriff's deputy, came to a halt about two paces from the barrel of the gun.

Startled by the quick movement the whole group cringed backward. Renault widened his eyes and let out and unexpected sound.

"Boo!"

"You son of a bitch..." Bob grumbled and let a bullet fly at Renault's uniformed chest. Shocked by the sudden offhanded violent display, all the deputies lowed their guns, forgetting all about the escaping aircraft. Their tunnel vision was now all on the man still standing after the shot.

Renault laughed, and was back in his original clothes. He walked right toward the stunned men and passed through them as if he was nothing but an illusion. Reaching the doorway to the stairwell, he simply disappeared, leaving the posse alone on top of an unfinished concrete building in the middle of the night.

Chapter 21- Landings

The three heard the faint sound of a shot as they soared above the river in the silver night. The roar of the wind and the flapping of taut wing fabric almost drowned out the sound of Chris's voice.

"You guys ok? I think they are shooting at us!"

"I'm good!" Donny yelled back.

"We have got to be way out of their range anyway," Jake said.

Below, the river looked like a silver highway running through a thick band of trees. Jake did a slight pull-up, readjusting his hanging self between the horizontal Chris and Donny.

"How you doing over there Jake? You hanging on okay?" Donny asked.

"Once, in basic training, I had to hang from a bar for five minutes before they let me in the chow hall. That was no problem," he shouted back.

"Feels like we are dropping quick!" Chris observed. "Push forward on the bar with me, Donny!"

"Look to our two o'clock! There is an open space we should shoot for!"

"I don't know if we will make it! We are loosing altitude fast!"

"I thought this thing could hold three people," Donny said.

"Well, I lied. We were right at the maximum weight range. I just figured I'd drop off into the river if you guys really needed it."

"What! Are you crazy! We are too close to the bank now!"

"It was the best option, Dude!" Jake shouted back to Donny.

"Forget it!" Chris cried. "Keep angling left!"

The gliders shadow passed over the bank of the river and began to flutter over the dark trees. Jake's feet were the first thing to hit the treetops and they were pulled up reflexively. The very tops of the trees, thin branches and twigs, started in on smacking the boys as they fell deeper into the canopy. No one said a word, but all were tensed for some sort of terrible impact when they were unexpectedly clear. The brief brush with the trees led to open air once again and landing was now imminent. The ground rose up to meet the boys and Jake let out a yell.

"Geronimo!!" and Jake was gone.

Struggling to free their feet from their harness bags, Chris and Donny got vertical just in time to attempt to run off the landing. On the left, Chris tripped, pulling Donny and his own side of the wing down with him. The hang glider reached the weed-covered field in a sideways crash, but the frame remained in shape.

Jake ran over to the downed delta wing and flipped it off of his friends. Donny was thrashing about trying to unclip his harness from the frame. Jake freed Donny from his carabineer as he checked on the state of his friends.

"That was awesome! Are you guys okay?!"

"Never again, dude! I am never going hang gliding with you two again!" Donny said, back on the ground, face to the sky. "I can't believe we just did that. Off a building and across a river... Now that was an escape."

"Yep, it sure was. Told-yuh it would work. We had a minor brush with some trees, but what did I say? We came up with a perfect plan!"

"Almost," Chris said, unbuckling himself from his harness. He reached down and felt his ankle. Realizing they had been chatting while their friend was hurt, Donny and Jake went to his side.

"Shit, buddy. What happened?"

"It's the topside of my ankle. I must have rolled it when we landed. It is throbbing and hurts really bad... Damn!"

"Oh yeah," Donny said looking at Chris's leg when they had the shoe off. "It's already starting to swell. This is exactly what happened to me one time when I was skateboarding. I landed funny and the front, here, was all messed up. I could barely drive home. Turned out I stretched the ligaments really bad. I could barely walk for a week."

"Shit. If it's swelling, we need to wrap it up now," Jake said. "We can use the fabric from this thing. I doubt anyone will use this thing again anyway."

"What are we going to do?" Chris said. "We still have a ways to go up north. I don't know if I'm going to be able to walk..."

Donny and Jake were ripping strips of the glider's material, leaving an uncertain silence hanging in the air. "Well, we don't have any ice, and we have a hike ahead, no way around that, so we won't be able to elevate it. But, I guess at least one of the three is better than nothing," Donny said, very serious now, bending down to Chris's side. "We are just going to have to do this. It's not going to be easy. I didn't think it was going to be easy as soon as Renault told us what we had to do. We have come to far to give up now. I'll wrap this the best I can. I remember the way I had to do this when I hurt my ankle..."

Donny went to work and Chris and Jake looked, surprised, at each other. That type of speech was very un-Donny like; full of hope and resolution. Chris looked down at his old friend and had a flashback from them both being very young. "Thanks, D.B."

"And, if we are going to be hiking on it, we should splint it too. My leg always felt so much better when it was solid and not able to flop around. Will you go get some sticks for a splint?" Donny said to Jake, in a tone that suggested that Jake should have anticipated the need already. "And keep your eye out for something we can make into a crutch."

"Yeah, man," Jake said, impressed by the leadership rather than offended. "How long do you want 'em?"

"At least forearm length. And, about as thick as your thumb."

"Cool, I'm off. Be right back."

When Jake had gone Chris was still looking at his friend in slight amazement. "So what happened with you after we lost you at the waterfall?"

"It was nuts. The serpent-thing disappeared and I surfaced in this cave that was full of silver. It was like, the perfect place to set up a mine. If you were after silver... Anyway, I found this awesome flute," Donny said, showing it to Chris. "It's like something Peter Pan would use. So, I was playing it and trying to get out of the cave and I must have stumbled into the towns' waterworks and this guy arrested me. Then you guys found me and now we are here."

"You found a flute, huh? Jake and I each found something special too. He has those gloves you saw. They seem to totally protect the hands from anything. And you saw the key that I got. So, its like we each got something to help us."

"Mine is just plays notes really loud. See..." Donny blew an encompassing single tone. "Where did Jake get the gloves from?"

As Chris began to answer this question, clouds drifted out of nowhere and began to darken the night. "We had to go through this crazy haunted house at the top of the mountain where the waterfall dropped from. There was this attic room full of water that Jake had to swim through. It was weird, but we had to get the gloves to get out the exit. There were ghosts inside and everything."

"Looks like it might start to rain," Jake said, coming back to the other two holding a bundle of sticks. "I brought a few, just in case. And... look at this. What do you think of this as a crutch?"

Donny inspected the thick, long branch that Jake had brought back as well. It was nearly four feet long and made of dead driftwood, presumably from the river's edge. "I don't think that will work. It's too short and he is going to need something perpendicular to lean on."

"Yeah, I didn't think so either. We will have to help you walk I guess."

"No, you won't," Renault said, appearing next to the boys. "Here, use this." He tossed a cut branch, an elongated 'Y', over next to Chris.

"Damn, man. You really startled me. Where have you been?" Jake said, taking the extended stick from the ground. He put it under his arm and it felt just a tad too long for him to use as a crutch, which was good for Chris. "I thought you were supposed to be helping us, instead you have been nowhere to be found when we could have used you the most."

"I'm sorry it has seemed that way, but I have been around. You just haven't seen me. In fact, I have recently overstepped my role as guide, and now this will be the last time I will be able to meet with you."

"What? Why? How?" Chris said.

"I was on the roof just after your escape. It was a trivial matter, but my punishment is that you must now go on from here without my guidance. I was permitted however, one final moment with you and to bring you that item. The rest of the journey is up to you."

"So this is it? We don't get any more help?"

"Yes. It is as distressing to me as it is to you, for my success in my own quest now rests with the success of yours."

"I don't get it... Who is behind this all? Who is making the rules?" Chris said.

"Christopher McCourtney. I once accused you of being too curious for your own good. But it is your thirst for the way things and people work that makes you so well liked."

Chris looked up at the crimson haired man they had only know a short time, and felt a strong familiarity between them that he doubted he would ever forget. It was as if the man really had watched their lives and had come to know them, the way one knows their favorite characters on a TV show. He nodded to Renault, who moved on to the next of the trio.

"Jacob Gates. Your strong tongue is indicative of the harnessed emotion you have inside. And it is obvious you care deeply for your friends that you would march blindly off on a quest to help them."

"Donny Bryte. You have progressed far beyond the point at which I first became aware of you. You have a pure heart and I urge you to continue staying true to yourself and your friends, as they depend on this in you."

Everyone paused in reflection of what the man from another land said. It had cut to the core of who they were and it was something they all needed to hear. For Jake and Chris, the words were more affirmation of how they subconsciously viewed themselves. But, for Donny it was another beam of light added to the one now brightening the dark corners of his mind. Donny was beginning to feel invigorated in a way he never had before.

"So north into the redwoods?" Jake said. "Anything else you can tell us before you go?"

"It is not far," Renault said, the first drops of rain from the dark clouds began to fall. The field that had been well lit on their landing now became a dark moonscape. "Follow the trails into the redwoods. You will assuredly find the true Sheriff by sunrise. From there, you will know what to do when the time comes."

A wisp of cloud covered the final sliver of the exposed moon, shutting out the light to the darkest it would be. Renault winked out of existence, startling the boys who had a constant gaze on him before he disappeared. They each blinked as if their equipment was malfunctioning, and internally accepted the things that should have been impossible.

"The laws of nature really don't exist in this place, do they?" Jake said rhetorically and went back to helping prepare his friend for the hike ahead.

Chapter 22- Do shadows still exist in the dark?

It began with a slow walk across the grassy meadow in the drizzle. The woods began, smaller oaks acting as greeters before the larger pines began. Jake and Donny took turns walking ahead of Chris, looking for the best way to take to get to the rumored trail. The crutch helped Chris quite a bit, along with Donny's expert splint job. In the canopy of the forest, the darkness got worse. Jake was in the lead when he almost walked into the marker post.

"Hey! I think I found it! This looks like a trail..."

Donny and Chris caught up and they read the sign together.

"'Jenner Redwoods,' and an arrow pointing that way. Looks like we are in the right place," Chris said. "I guess we just need to keep taking this north. What was the place the Sheriffs daughter said that they might be at?"

"The cathedral redwoods." Jake replied.

Donny turned, startled by the crack of a twig deeper into the woods. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this place, guys. We don't know where this guy Golden could be. And the wanted poster said he has been shooting anyone that he comes across."

"I doubt he will be shooting anyone in this darkness. We will be fine Donny. There are all kinds of little critters in these woods at night; they are bound to make some noise. Just give it a little while too, our eyes will adjust. I heard that your eyes get used to the dark sixty percent in the first five minutes, and take almost a half an hour to get the other forty percent. So give it a little longer and we will be right at home."

"Yeah, dude," Chris added, "even Renault made it sound like we'd have to make it decently far into the woods before we would find this guy. If he can appear anywhere he wants and watch what is going on, he probably has seen where we need to go."

"Yeah, you are probably right about no one shooting at anything in this darkness. At least the trees are keeping us from getting totally soaked. We should still try to keep the noise to a minimum as we walk down the trail. No point in letting that guy know we are here, in case he is around." Donny agreed.

There was a distant rumble of thunder as Jake suggested Donny take his turn at the lead. "Give a whistle if we need to stop." Donny agreed and began his walk down the trail and into almost total darkness.

Alone with his thoughts, the soft sounds of his friends movement just behind, Donny watched himself walk past the faint silhouettes of large trunked trees. From what he could tell, the path was wide enough for a car to drive down, but passing another would be a problem. The ground was packed dirt and rotten asphalt with a thin layer of pine needles spread about that made the path slightly slippery when it angled downhill.

Thunder sounded in the distance. The near distance, Donny thought. His footsteps were very audible to him, even over the gusts of wind that stirred up some of the ground coverings. To the cadence of his footfall a tune came to his head. He considered pulling out his flute and flushing out the notes that continued to coalesce in his head, but thought the better of it. For now the orchestra was confined to his imagination. As if on queue, a crack of thunder sounded on beat off to his left. The storm was getting closer, but Donny was far from worried. His eyes were doing the final adjusting Jake promised and he was feeling more at home in the dark woods.

A sense of déjà vu swept over him as he started up a gentle grade of the trail. The feeling was so strong, that it almost forced Donny to stop in his tracks. The next few feet, all he could do was search his memories for the time in his past that must have been linked with what he was experiencing now to cause this feeling. And then it came to him.

As a kid, it must have been back in his early high school years, he had gone camping with Chris and his family. Perhaps it had been a church thing, but it really didn't matter. They were camping near a lake, in pinewoods similar to the ones he was in now. The event he remembered happened in the daytime, as he walked with Chris and his dad in the shade. The circumstances were not clear, nor anything other than what big John McCourtney had said that day. They were on the topic of school, and what they learned in science class at Almond Knoll. The dark path was gone and he was like a bird, far away, watching a new scene.

"We got Mr. Davison talking for almost the whole class about how Adam and Eve didn't have belly buttons! It was so funny," young Donny said.

"He taught you that in science class?" John asked.

"Yeah, usually we learn stuff like that in Bible class, but Mr. Davison likes to talk about why evolution is bogus too, sometimes. We ask him funny questions all the time and get him derailed!"

"I got out of my element presentation one day cuz he was answering a question about where all the water in Noah's flood came from," Chris added to the conversation. To the boys this was a funny topic, how they could get out of work because their old teacher would skew from topic so easily. But John picked up on something else.

"Just because they teach you one version of the Bible at that school doesn't mean that it is the only way it can be," John said in his watered down accent. "Let me tell you boys something, when you get to college, or out in the real world, you are going to find that what they tell you in that school is not the way that everyone believes. There are plenty of Christians out there that don't believe in a lot of that stuff. They should be teaching you real science instead of his own personal fantasies of the way he thinks things went."

The boys were quiet, still in the young age where they were prone to agree with whomever's presence they were in that gave a strong opinion. Donny felt a bit of panic at saying something that seemed to fire up Chris's dad.

"Oh, he teaches us lots of real science, too. And he tells us the other theories about creation and stuff. Like the long day theory or that continents shifted around and stuff. He even tells us that evolution isn't a bad word or something, just that there is no way that is the way it happened."

"Listen to me," John began. John often began arguments this way, leaving little room to argue back, though he loved a good argument. He just liked to open with a strong position. "There are lots of good Christians out there that don't buy all that shit. I love God, but I tell you that stuff doesn't matter. In the big picture, it doesn't matter if the world was created in six actual days, or each day was a million years and we did evolve from monkeys. I tend to think that it happened the second way. Men have devoted their entire lives to science that supports most of those ideas. But that doesn't make me a bad person or not a Christian for thinking that way. It's about Jesus, not what version of the creation story that you put your whole faith in. Remember that when you go back to your science class. Just don't eat everything they try to feed you, or when you get to college, you will be in for a great shock."

The conversation ended there for Donny, and he was back in the dark. A flash of light and rumble of thunder brought him back to the present. He remembered that one point in time much clearer than anything else about the trip. He was blown away at such a young age that a man, someone's dad, would say such a thing. This was the first time in his life that someone of high authority questioned the very well established norm. He had grown up in a strict home and to question something as fundamental as God creating the Earth was electrifying. If he ever expressed an opinion like that to his own father, a man who required that he and his brothers sing along to the hymns at church, he would be looked at like the devil had just crawled inside him. So, to hear this from Chris' dad was the first real taste of true descent he had felt.

At the time, this kind of thinking, that the whole world did not play by his parent's rules, emboldened him to rebel drastically. It subconsciously gave way to not finding it that big of a deal to have a drink. As a kid, his father described taking a shot of hard alcohol as the same as drinking eight beers, and that sort of dangerous behavior was foolish and sinful. Taking his first shot turned out not to be even as close to as bad as he was told. More and more 'truths' were thrown off and replaced by experiences. This was in no way the fault of one minor speech, but a general principal of questioning his reality, which took a brief turn down a bumpy path on Donny's search for meaning.

Now, much closer to being an adult, the way John was, it made him look back with admiration at the man. He had had his differences with Chris' parents in the past, fighting against veiled disapproval, but now in the darkness, things became somewhat more vivid. Lightning struck again and he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

While Donny led up front, Jake walked with Chris. It was a slow walk for Chris, using the crutch and unable to flex his foot at the ankle. Now with the splint, it felt like a dead weight on the end of his leg that he had to swing along with him. The darkness made his mind wander as well since there was not much visual input to stimulate his mind. The monotonous crutching motion added to the boredom as he followed Jake out of the corner of his eye.

A couple of years ago he had shared rent of an apartment with another guy. He would have preferred to rent a place with Jake, but with him gone to basic training and not having much income while going to school, Chris settled for another guy he had know through work. It had gone well for six months or so. He and Mike had gone in on some cheap furniture and things for there new place, but then it went south. Mike was dirty, never did his share of the work, and seemed to bring random people over at all hours of the night. Jake would have never done that if they had split a place and it slowly wore on his nerves.

Finally, after eight months, he had had enough. Jake was back from training and was applying for good jobs so that he could get a place of his own. The two conspired to rent together as soon as Jake had the income to co-rent with his friend. In the mean time, Chris called it off with Mike and moved back into his old room at home. But over one item, there was a point of contention, a TV they had bought together. Mike insisted on keeping it, and as he kept the apartment, Mike and his new roommate stood with arms crossed and told Chris to get lost, it was theirs. Hearing this from Chris, Jake was not pleased.

"That is total shit, dude. But that's okay. This is what we are going to do. First, give it a week or two, let the heat die down and let them think they've won. Then we go in, while they are gone at work or something, and take the TV. This dude forfeited his half when he tried to keep it for himself like that. Those dickheads don't know who they are messing with."

Two weeks later, they did just that. The two jumped the back fence to the half of the duplex that Chris and Mike formerly shared. Both silently shaking their heads in disgust at the condition of the backyard in such a short time, they crept over to a side yard window and waited.

"Mike used to always leave this window open," Chris whispered to Jake.

"No cars in the driveway, and I see no movement. You ready?"

With the nod of Chris's head, Jake slid the blade of his pocketknife next to the screen, removing it from the frame of the window. Pushing the vertical blinds to the side, he boosted himself up and went head first into the room. Chris followed and they were in the apartment.

Despite the fact that Chris had lived here just weeks before, the place now felt completely like someone else's home. Chris led the way into the living room and went right for the TV. He began to unplug the cables and looked back for Jake who was checking all the other rooms in the house for occupants. He came back with wide eyes.

Chris' heart leapt to a gallop and he threw his hands up in question. Jake, in response, put his hands in a praying position and moved them under one side of his tilted head. He pointed to the room Chris used to occupy and then made two handed swooping motion from his hair and then outlined invisible bumps on his chest. Chris showed his teeth and flexed the auxiliary muscles in his neck. He turned and finished the disconnect job, hands shaking and trying to be quieter than he already had been.

When Chris gave the signal he was done, Jake slipped out the front door and Chris locked it after him. He then went back to the TV, stuffing the power cable in his front pocket, and took the flat screen in both arms to the back sliding door. He opened it an inch at a time, wincing at each squeak it made until it was open enough to get through. Chris set the TV down on the patio furniture and went around to their entry point to replace the screen. With it put back the best he could without using a knife or screwdriver, he went back to the prize and waited for Jake to drive the car around to the back fence.

Listening with wide eyes for any sound of movement, the thought donned on him that he would need something to step on to make it over the fence. About to move from his crouched position to place a patio chair against the six-foot vertical board fence, he heard movement from inside. The clap of a cupboard and the sound of running water stunned him. How did he not hear her sooner? Just then, Jake drove down the back ally and stopped on the other side of the fence.

Would she notice the TV was missing? Will she look out the sink window and see it sitting out on the patio? Chris waited, petrified, for a full minute until he decided he had to do something. Jake would be getting worried too and he didn't want to risk his accomplice coming back over the fence looking for him and getting them both caught.

Chris peaked his head back in the sliding glass door and saw the kitchen was clear. Listening for a second longer, the unmistakable sound of a lighter being struck and air being sucked thru water came from deeper in the apartment. Chris smiled and grabbed the closest patio chair.

Placing it against the fence, he popped up to find Jake grinning up at him from the front driver side tire, inspecting it like there might have been something wrong. "Ready?" Jake nodded.

Crossing the yard for the final time, Chris grabbed the TV and rushed it over to the fence. He hoisted it up and over to Jakes waiting hands and climbed the halfway to the top himself. Giving his stool a violent kick back toward where it came, Chris dismounted the fence and dove into the passenger seat of his own car. Jake was in the driver seat, having apparently already stowed the TV. They took off down the ally and were out on the main road before anyone said a word.

Jake dropped the cars windows and Chris rotated the volume knob on his radio. Words were said and boasts were made. They had pulled off the operation faultlessly. Consequences were nowhere in sight. Two days later, Jake received a frantic phone call from Chris driving home from work.

"A detective called me at work! I had to go in to his office on my lunch. Mike called the cops on us, dude!"

"Slow down, tell me what happened."

"I didn't tell him anything. I think we are okay. But he was trying to scare me really bad. He said there were two uniformed officers at my house, right then. About to search it, so I had better tell him the truth now."

"Fuck, man. Slow down! Tell me it all, from the beginning."

"Okay, okay. Apparently this guy was from major crimes or something. He said because the missing television was a thousand bucks brand new, it was considered grand theft."

"Damn, I can't believe he called the cops!"

"Yeah. So he said that Mike accused me specifically of stealing the TV. I told him I didn't take anything; yeah we had a disagreement about it but that I had another at home, so I just wrote that one off. I'm glad I wore my fancy shirt and tie to work today, cuz I think he thought I really was rich enough to afford to do something like that. But I was good too, dude! I kept going up and to the right with my eyes before I answered a question. I really think he bought it!"

"Well it's a good fuckin' thing we took that thing to my house instead of yours. That was a close one..."

"What about fingerprints? You think they will find our fingerprints in the house? I knew we should have made it look like a real robbery and messed the whole place up..."

"No, we did nothing wrong. That was your TV, we just got back what was yours. We were totally justified. And they are not going to call CSI in over some stupid TV. We're fine, dude."

"The detective did seem young, like this was pawned off on him. He didn't ask me too many questions and it seemed like he thought it was a waste of his time. I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to my parents."

"Just don't tell them anything. Tell them the same stuff you told the cops! You don't even know if he actually sent anyone to your house."

"I called my mom. She doesn't work on Wednesdays. She was home. They came and looked through the whole house for it."

"Oh, man... Like I said, just tell them what you told the cops."

"I can't lie to my parents like that," Chris said.

"Why not?" Jake said, confounded.

"Cuz I just can't. They are my parents. I gotta go anyway. I'm pulling into my driveway. I'll call you later if anything changes."

"Yeah man, I'll talk to you later. Don't worry, we will take that thing and pawn it up in Reno and you can buy a new TV with the money. Just lie, dude."

"Yeah... later." Chris hung up.

Chris didn't remember how exactly the conversation began, but both his parents were waiting for him in the kitchen when he got home. The lights were off in most of the house, except over the island in the kitchen, where they stood waiting for him. His mom was immediately on his side, believing that it must have been a misunderstanding, but his dad was not on the same track. He knew his son.

More than anything, Chris remembered his dad seeming taller and sweaty that night. He had the look on his face that Chris associated with frustration. He had seen it on his face many times when his dad was dealing with work stuff, but now it was directed at him. He tried to spin the same story he had told the detective, but in the end he admitted that he and Jake had took the TV. His mom was just glad he was not in any trouble, but again, his father was torn.

"I hate having to choose between the law and my son. I should make you go turn yourself in and deal with the consequences."

"But it was basically my TV, Dad. I just went and got it back."

"That's not the point. Do you see everything we have? I worked hard to get all this stuff. You don't take shortcuts. When someone screws you over like that, you learn your lesson from it and don't make the same mistake again. You are lucky I place you before the law."

And that was the end of that. No long speeches, just disappointment from his father. You are a man now, his look said, so act like it. Everyone went to bed that night and Chris laid in his bed thinking. He was back in the dark woods now, reliving the thoughts. It was a stupid youthful stunt. It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time and he was even quite proud of what he and Jake were able to pull off. But, in the lights over the kitchen island, they were nothing like the high from the days before.

It was his dad's words that hit the hardest. The idea that Chris still had so much maturity to learn from his dad, even in his early twenties when he thought he had it mostly all figured out. Chris had a good job at a bank, had almost finished getting his degree at night school, and until recently he had lived on his own. He was better off than most of his friends due to sound decisions. But then he would do something he thought was sound, only to have his father point out how it was totally foolish.

Chris still had so much to learn from the man that he couldn't bear to loose him yet.

Another bolt of lightning struck, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the present (whatever it was). Up ahead, Donny had stopped, and Jake caught up to him. Chris crutched the rest of the short distance, making the huddle three.

"I keep seeing something in the woods," Donny said. "It's stalking us. I see it in the flashes of lightning."
Chapter 23- The Shadow

"What, do you think it's the shooter?" Chris asked.

"Donny, man. I know its dark and kinda creepy out here, but are you sure you aren't seeing something? Are you sure its not your imagination?" Jake said.

"No. I swear I've been seeing the same thing every time the lightning lights up the woods. I think it's a tiger, or some sort of big cat..."

"What makes you think it's a cat?"

"Are you sure? Come on..."

"Yes, damn it, Jake! I'm sure. I know what I saw. It was just the shape of its shoulder blades and I saw a tail. Its eyes were like one of my dogs when you shine a light on them in the dark. There is a mountain cat out there. A cougar."

The other two didn't know what to say. If Donny had been seeing something out there, whether it was something or not, they might as well get out of this area as fast as they could. But, they had Chris to worry about, so he was their pace.

"Let's walk together from now on," Jake said. "If it is some kind of big animal, we should stay in a pack to look like a larger target."

"Yeah, that's smart. We wouldn't want it picking off Donny, the lone zebra."

"Thanks..."

"Do mountain lions even live in the redwoods?" Chris asked.

"Well, they feed off deer, which I could totally see living here," Donny said. He had been a boy scout as a kid, so he seemed to be the expert. Lightning struck close again and the area was momentarily lit with a flash of white-blue light. The storm was still overhead and the wind had picked up. Leaves blew from left to right.

"There!" Donny shouted, pointing ahead. "I think it just crossed the trail ahead of us!"

"Shit... I think I saw it too. A tail. At least," Jake said.

"I didn't see anything!"

A second strike of lightning in the span of a few breaths again illuminated the area. They were on a downhill stretch of the trail, with big trees all around except off to their left, where the area looked as if it had been logged in the not so recent past. On a stump that was cut six feet off the ground, sat the backlit form of the cougar.

"Crap! I see it now! Its eyes are lit up!" Chris yelled over the wind.

It was big, bigger than any of them thought a cougar would be. It let out a throated growl that went from barely audible, to a full-vocalized scream. The noise was paralyzing, sending a shiver down the spine of each boy. "That sounds like a bigger version of a pissed off house cat," Chris whispered to the others.

"Like a house cat on steroids... Lets just keep on walking like this, real slow. Maybe it will let us pass," Jake said. Even in the dark, they could now see the unmistakable figure of the big cat perched on the trunk. Jake prodded his friends to move.

But, another few steps and the cat launched itself in the boys' direction.

Lightning again struck, this time in a flurry, creating a strobe effect in the dark woods. The flashes of light gave the effect that the cat was almost teleporting closer and closer with each pound of the lightning. The cougar went from its perch to the road in one frame, and the next he was slinking down the trail in slow motion, legs bent, preparing for the assault.

Chris shoved his friends to the side and used his crutch like a helicopter prop. He began to yell at the top of his lungs, which was not much compared to the wind and thunder that stole his voice away. Regardless, the cougar kept to his advance.

The strikes stopped for a moment, and the boys were again left in the dark like insects in a shoebox. Chris's heart was racing, seeing the big cat's form within a few car lengths. He stopped swinging his crutch and was preparing to launch it like a missile at the oncoming attacker when the sound of Donny's flute stopped him.

The sweet sound of the airy tones was all encompassing. The sounds of nature around them fell away and were replaced by a simple tune. Chris and Jake could, at first, not keep their eyes off Donny. He was captivating, playing his simple resolving tune, hair flapping around his face. It was like time froze.

And so had the cougar. They could see the bearded beast's gaze locked on Donny, head cocking to the right. The wild look had gone from his face, and no one was afraid. Donny ended his tune, and the big cat gave out a huff.

With wide eyes, Jake and Chris watched the cat walk up to Donny and head butt his upper leg. With a flick of its tail, and an almost audible purring noise the big cat finished its inspection of the maker-of-sweet-noises. Almost as fast as it came, it turned around and was gone, back into the darkness of the woods.

The storm had broken while the boys' attention was elsewhere and now the big, luminous moon was fighting its way through the clouds. The path deeper into the redwoods was now much more clear. Without a word, the three sons of John McCourtney traveled onward to the main goal of their quest, armed with a new confidence and resolve to see things through. They went.

Chapter 24-The Jenner Redwoods

Morning in the redwoods comes on slow. The terrain is usually mountainous, and the trees extend high into sky. The birds wake up well before the sun rises and begin to wake up the forest, heralds of the coming light. Their chatter is incessant, and sleeping through it can be impossible. The sky shifts to a pale blue and stays that way for an eternity. The tall trees block out the sun and delay the normal sunrise for nearly an hour. It is a very active time for the redwood forest.

When you spend time in the woods, really spend time immersed; it is not the silent place it first seems. The sounds of traffic are replaced by the softer sounds of water finding its way down a creek bed. The chattering of squirrels and knocks of woodpeckers replace the sounds of playing children and shouting adults. The hum of insects begins to pick up just before full morning arrives...

The golden rays of sun finally spilled over the three travelers as they reached the true beginning of the redwood forest. Smiles lit their face as they had finally reached the end to their third long night in this strange land. Though none of them felt tired or the need to sleep, the warm beams of light filtering through the trees invigorated them after a long, wet, dark night of walking.

"Here we go! Look at this, you guys!" Jake said, breaking the long silence. "Southern boundary of the Jenner Redwood Wildlife Preserve," he read the sign. The letters were carved into a redwood plank and painted yellow to stand out. The neglected asphalt trail that had brought them to this point ended, but a roofed map board stood twenty feet up the dirt trailhead. The three studied everything the map had to offer.

"It looks like we are only about a mile from the redwood cathedral that you guys were talking about. What makes you think the Sheriff will be there?" Donny asked. He pulled off a wanted poster that had been taped to a post. It was the same one they had see two days earlier. The face of the madman was as strikingly creepy as it had been before.

"We ran into his daughter. She said that's where he was planning on setting up a patrol base," Jake said.

"I wish this damn wanted flier was more specific," Chris said. "That means this guy could be anywhere. And, if he has already shot a bunch of guys, including the first two deputies they sent up after him... This guy knows the woods, and we don't."

"Yep. A deranged survivalist, I can read the flier too. But, think about it," Jake said to the other two. "They probably made this flier specifically to scare people away from this area. I'm sure they didn't expect people to come from miles around to hunt this guy back. And when the Sheriff brings him in, he will be the hero that against great odds stopped the madman."

"But he has killed three guys already! That doesn't sound like something you print on a flier if he wasn't serious," Donny said.

"Well, as I remember, it did only say, 'shot.' Nothing specifically about killed..." Chris said, taking the flier from Donny and searching the small print..

"Either way," Jake said, "This guy can't really be as smart as you guys think. He shot important people. He probably doesn't have a very thought out game plan. We, on the other hand, outsmarted nearly a dozen deputies, who were hell bent on stopping us. We just have to do this the same way we did down there, think it through, play it smart, and leap headfirst into the fight."

"All right, Jake," Donny conceded. "Even though Chris is hurt, I find myself agreeing with you. We have to get this done. And plus, so far we make a pretty unstoppable team."

"Not to mention we have these things," Chris said, spinning his key between two fingers like a drumstick. Jake bobbed his head.

"Word."

The three continued on, up the trail leading to the ring of redwoods they were told would contain the camp of the Sheriff of Saint Anne.

Some people do not share much resemblance to pictures kept of them. For some, hairstyles change, for others, pictures just cannot fully capture the real person. This was not a problem for Bradley Zale.

Sheriff Bradley Zale was a perfect fit for the picture he kept on his desk of himself and his granddaughter. A short and round man, now wearing OD green fatigues with his sheriff patch and nametapes, the Sherriff was stuffing the contents of his tent into its bag. His three-day pack rested against a tree and an assault rifle rested against that.

In the past two days, he and his four and selected deputies had been out in the woods patrolling for the murderer Terrance Golden. It had been slow going, picking through tiny portions of the huge woods, constantly keeping a roving patrol guarding camp while they rested and ate... But they had gotten lucky a few times; if by lucky you could consider coming under fire by the madman. Yet every time they had returned fire and attempted to call out to the man to surrender, he had disappeared, which required slowly clearing the area and starting the search all over again.

And then last night, he had attacked their camp. After firing into the dark tents and grazing a deputy, Golden shouted out a warning to his hunters. Mostly disjointed, grandiose, and lacking cohesive leaps in reasoning, Zale had realized Golden had really lost it. His ex-wife had told them as much. Golden had been acting erratically for the last couple months, abusing substances and acting paranoid. Finally he had disappeared and took up residence in the remote reaches of the wildlife preserve. After shooting a hiker, who happened to be one of Saint Anne's selectmen, two deputies were sent to apprehend the man. It was that morning that the wheels stopped turning. When only one deputy, severely wounded returned, fliers were printed and the Sheriff set out to take control of the situation personally.

Now, the camp was compromised, food and ammunition was running low. Sheriff Zale had come to the conclusion they had one more day, at the most, left in them before they had to go back to rest and resupply. The next time he came into these woods after the madman, he would be sure to bring more men. If only the chopper was working so he could direct the search with thermals...

A commotion to the south of camp prompted the white mustachioed Sheriff to snatch up his rifle and move to a defensive position nearest the shouting. Seconds later, the patrolling deputy walked into the clearing inside the ring of large redwood trees leading three much more colorful dressed individuals. The Sheriff lowered his rifle and slung it on his back, standing his ground to meet the youngsters that were being lead into their camp.

"We are not going to try the same trick we used at the fruit stand, are we? I doubt it will work on this guy..." Chris whispered to Jake before they got in the older man's earshot.

"Doubtful."

"What can I do for you boys?" the Sheriff began. "Can I offer you a map and point you in the opposite direction, because I am pretty damn sure you could not have gotten this deep into the park without seeing at least a half dozen of the posters explaining the situation."

The remaining three sheriff's deputies joined the group. They all wore similar green fatigues as well as pistol belts and black ball caps. Two carried carbines and side arms, while the other carried a large caliber long-gun. The man with the scoped rifle had a bandage on his right upper arm with a blossom of crimson in the center. They all looked like serious men.

"We were sent to stop the shooter," Donny said, before Jake or Chris had a chance to spin a tale. Donny stood tall and defiant, wile the other two deflated, feeling they were already sunk.

"Sent by who? You realize that there is no reward, correct?" Sheriff Zale looked astounded. When Donny stood his ground, he shook his head and felt it was necessary for some education. "This is no joke, son. Look at my deputy here! Golden is not playing games with us. He has killed one man and shot two others! This is a highly skilled woodsman that is out to hunt us, and we are hunting him. I doubt his foggy brain would even consider showing the three of you any mercy should he find your ripe heads in his crosshairs! No, I'm taking you kids out of here now."

Jake saw a glint of something unnatural out of the corner of his eye while the white haired man finished his speech. He slipped on his gloves as he and Chris stood behind their friend, who once again took on the older mans authority.

"You don't understand, this is why we have come. We three alone are the only ones capable of taking care of this problem. Nothing you say will turn us back. We have come too far and overcome..."

Jake lunged, cutting off the conversation. He threw his hands up to the face of the shocked lawman just as a thunderbolt split the air in the daylight. Jakes gloved hand bounced back and smacked into the back quarter of the sheriff's head. Everyone hit the ground as they realized what had happened.

The deputies reacted faster than their stunned leader did. They began to return fire in the direction the single, well-placed shot had come from. Jake, shoulder in the pine needle ridden dirt, looked down at his left hand, finding flecks of lead powder scattered on the palm of his glove, save for a single clean circle. The Sheriff snatched Jakes hand from him and looked at it in disbelief. He pulled off the glove and gave the same look to the face of his savior.

Meanwhile, the sudden storm of deafening reports from various firearms had the other two civilians hiding behind cover with their hands over their ears. The two had never experienced the insanity of a bunch of pissed off cops firing in the general direction of their target. Gleaming brass bullet casings streamed from rifles, littering the ground. Donny lay flat, shocked at the sudden violence until a piece of hot brass found his shirt. At first he thought nothing of the spent round casing, until the stinging heat made him jump as if a hornet had stung him. Donny found temporary safety sitting against a trunk of a nearby tree while he looked at the burn mark on his stomach.

Unable to tell if anyone was actually shooting his direction, Chris rolled over to his belly and crawled to the trunk of one of the redwoods that made up the ring. He snapped his head in Donny's direction as he saw his friend buck and brush a piece of brass from his shirt. Realizing his friend was not shot; he began to look up and down the firing line that had formed, to get an idea of what was going on. The fire began to die down and Chris was able to peak his head around the trunk, looking for signs of their attacker. Drawn by a distant spurt of movement, Chris trained his eyes on a dark figure, bounding away from the violent response he had provoked. This was his first glimpse of the man they had come for.

The Sheriff called a cease-fire, and the deputies took the time to reload. Two went off to patrol while the other two continued to pack the rest of the gear, this time with a nagging purpose. Donny joined Jake and Sheriff Zale who were sitting at the base of a tree. The older man was still stunned, having come that close to an unfortunate end, and baffled at how he had been shielded.

"I told you. I told you that we were the only ones who could stop this guy. Did that convince you? And that was only one of us. You should see what he can do," Donny said, jerking a thumb at Chris. With skeptical eyes the Sheriff looked a tree over at Chris with his one leg in a splint.

"You should listen to him," Jake said. He was impressed by Donny's sudden air of authority. It made him want to grin like a proud new father, but instead he kept a serious face and went with it. Donny's words seemed to be working. "Anyway, it looks like you guys are being run ragged here. I heard one of your guys say they were really low on ammo now. You should probably head in, come back after a day or two. It will be long over by then." Jake thought for a moment, and added.

"Donna and Lanie are worried about you. They miss you very much."

At the mention of his family, Bradley Zale buckled. He pursed his lips and nodded, acknowledging the fact that his time in the woods was done. For now.

"Alright, you guys win. I don't know who you are, or who sent you, but the woods are yours. My men and I are pulling out to refit and restock. I pray you fools know what you are doing..."

"You are making the right choice," Donny said. "Leave this to us, we know what we are doing."

Bradley Zale got to his feet, dusted off his pants and went back for the tent he was packing. Jake suddenly got hit with a minor panic attack and had to jump back into the conversation. He loved Donny's enthusiasm and canned patts-on-the-back, but they were going to need a lot of information before they were left to this task all alone. "I do have a few question for you though, Sir. Since we did just get up here and all..."

The Sherriff turned and Jake flew forward with the first question he could call to mind, being put on the spot. "You have been up here two days; any idea where Golden is holed up?"

"I don't suppose you boys have a quality map of the area, do you?"

"No, Sir. We are not super familiar with these redwoods."

The Sheriff pulled a folded map from his pack and knelt to the ground with a huff. He pulled out a black waterproof grease pencil and started making marks. "We are here, cathedral redwoods. First time we came across him, we set off some homemade large animal trap that didn't work so well. I think he was trying to take down a dear. Anyway, that was here. He started shooting as soon as we identified ourselves.

"Next contact was almost a mile east of that. He just started taking shots at us out of nowhere. Had a couple land inches from me, that bastard. Then he was just gone. We chased him northwest, coz that was the direction we thought he was moving in, but then found nothing of him. Then he attacked our camp from this side last night, and just now from here. Right here and here," Sheriff Zale said, making two more X's on the map, "was where Whittaker, our county selectman, was shot, and where my first two responding deputies were attacked.

"All of this, as you can see, has led me to believe he is holed up here," Bradley Zale said, thumping a thick middle finger down on a spot on the map marked Owl's Nest. "Now the reason this is such a great spot, and there is no doubt that even a person gone as crazy as Golden would recognize it, is that it was a old lime mine. Miners dug deep into this hillside, making a gradual climb out of a crescent shaped draw. There is only one way in, up a hill and steep high ground on either side of the entrance. Golden has got to be camped out back up in there, only coming out for water and food. It's a very defendable spot.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

"We got a map, his movements the last few days..." Jake muttered to himself. "Guys, you got any other questions?"

Donny shook his head. Chris, who had been studying the map, raised his head. "This map is good, but what is up here?" he said pointing to the area north of where the map left off. "More woods?"

"No. North of the redwoods, about a mile north of where the map ends, you hit the ocean. It's a climb to where the edge of the map is, and then it's a gradual downhill to cliffs at the edge of the water. The forest ends about half a mile from the cliffs."

Chris shook his head in acknowledgement. The boys seemed to have all they needed. But the Sheriff had one more thing. "Sit down young man, lets have a look at that leg."

Chris undid the field job Donny had done splinting his ankle. The Sheriff called over his deputy, the one carrying a deer rifle, and handed him a small medical bag. The deputy was about as tall as Jake and slightly thinner. He had black hair and light skin. Without a word, he fished out a compression dressing and expertly wrapped Chris's foot. After that he added a semi-ridged foam board, which wrapped around the bottom of his foot and up the sides of the ankle, acting as further stabilization. The Sheriff then handed him a single large boot and it fit Chris as if it were sized for him at a store. The medic/deputy got up to leave, and quickly glanced at the boys. Each noticed something off about his eyes, but he had turned away and the Sheriff started talking before they had a chance to take in what they had seen.

"How does that feel? Just as stable as those sticks you used? At least with that boot giving the leg support, you can probably make some attempt at walking normally. It's not much, but it is the best we can do."

The other deputies had finished packing their backpacking packs, and were holding their rifles slung high, scanning the woods. The sheriff shook each of the three boys hands, and wished them luck. Without the normal complement of four wheelers they would normally take on a task like this, the men carried their weight on foot and tromped down the path heading south out of the forest. Donny, Jake, and Chris were left alone in the middle of a ring of giant redwoods, a psycho with a gun somewhere close by.

Chapter 25- Terrance Golden

Chris, Donny, and Jake moved at the quickest pace they could all manage, up a trail towards the area on the map marked Owl's Nest. Before they got too close to the entrance to the area the madman occupied, they turned off on a deer trail heading away from the main dirt path. After a couple hundred feet, they stopped and crouched. After looking around to see that they were unobserved, Donny was the first to speak.

"I feel good about this, but damn do I wish Ryan was here right about now."

"Yeah," Jake snorted, "Ryan would be a good help right about now. He is great in the woods; great at this kind of fight."

"So a plan. What's the plan?" Chris said. "Draw him out or go in after him?"

There was a pause, but Jake spoke up. "Draw him out. That way we can always go in after him if we need too, once we have him shaken up. Better to go in after him when he is off balance and on the run." Then Jake turned to Donny and said some things that no longer sounded crazy. They were no longer in the real world. Here the laws of nature only worked for the most part. Here, you were compelled to do things you would have never considered. Here, you were following a path.

"Can you play that same tune for the lion again? Can you call him to come join us?"

Donny nodded and said something else that sounded perfectly reasonable, there in that place. "And I have been thinking about another little song. This one is even better than the lion song. I have this feeling about it. I can hear it in my head and I just know you will like it."

Jake nodded and smiled. He couldn't wait to hear it. He turned to Chris.

"You can't move around like Donny and I are going to have to. Having three targets will be hard enough, and the two of us will be moving in on him. So you get to where you can see, and use that key when we need for it. You use the key, Donny will play his song, and I will try to knock his ass out. You kid's ready?"

"We are both older than you Jake," Donny smiled.

"Yeah, yeah. I don't know what is about to happen, but if I don't, see you on the other side."

"Thanks for coming with me," Chris said. He had to stop speaking. He could feel himself becoming choked up.

"The best two friends I'll ever have..." Donny slapped the other two on the shoulders, sprung to his feet and started back on the deer trail to where they made their brief detour.

Golden was back at his camp, muttering to himself about the success of his last attempt to send the unclean away. His mind was clouded. All humanity had left him. He was the husk of a man that has not yet realized he is gone. Terrance Golden was no longer home.

Sweet notes floated through the trees. Golden's head shot up and he snatched up his rifle. Wearing camouflage pants and a dark green tank top, the skinny man's head started to dart from side to side. He could not tell the distance or direction the music was coming from. It was all around him. It had to be stopped.

Golden snaked his way down the path towards the entrance to his hole in the hill. He hid behind sharp rocks that had been blasted or fallen from the side of the limestone cliffs. Bundles of sticks, arranged in odd patterns by his warped logic, adorned the flat area in front of the opening to the rest of the woods. The music still played. He looked around, up in the trees, along the steep ridgelines that protected him, but still no source could be found.

In a moment of impulsive decision, Golden shouldered his rifle and shot the Sheriff of Saint Anne through the heart, he stood at the mouth to his sanctuary. Golden blinked and no one stood where he has just fired. Sweat dripped from his eyebrows, close to his eyes. With a dirty arm, he ground the sweat away. His thin hair was plastered to his skull except for the wisps' around his ears. The music was beginning to drive him mad. And then came the roar.

It was more like a scream, and it made Golden spin around in place. From up on the ridge, a huge yellow cat stood silhouetted in the sunlight. The music stopped and the beast leaped after the man downhill. The big cat took fast, short strides right for Golden who fired off a stray round in the animal's general direction and ran for escape.

The brave man who had shot an unarmed backpacker, burst out of the protection of his hiding place, stumbling backward away from the lion. The big cat let out another loud call, prompting another wild shot from the madman. The cougar appeared at the chokepoint, the entrance to the Owl's Nest, with sure, heavy footfalls. Golden sloppily manipulated the bolt on his wood-stocked rifle and aimed directly at his attacker. Looking over the scope and down the barrel, he squeezed the trigger.

The firing pin dropped on an empty chamber.

Golden let the rifle drift from his shoulder in disbelief. The cat gave a huff and licked its lips. Its eyes were locked on the man in front of him. Golden went for his front breast pocket, clumsily pulling four long bullets. He wrenched the bolt back open and jammed each round individually down into the internal magazine. One round slipped from his trembling fingers, making his count three.

The ground shook.

A directed pressure wave rippled through the ground, growing in spread, knocking Golden from his feet. Chris was crouched a short way down the hill from the opening to the Owl's Nest with the earthquake key pressed to the ground. Dirt and rocks smacked against the madman's back as he bounced from the undulation of the surface waves.

Chris pulled the key back, ending the storm. He peeked up higher to see the results of his handiwork. His vision took a second to adjust, as they were still jarred from the teeth-rattling effects he had just unleashed. It was only his third time using the key, but it still felt like using a one of his dad's very powerful power-tools for the first time. The mountain lion had gone and it looked as if Golden was still off his feet.

Chris continued to look, becoming emboldened by lack of visual contact, when out of the left side of his field of vision, he saw Jake streaking across the forest floor towards where he had seen Golden last. Black gloves covered his hands that pumped back and forth as Jake moved.

The flute began to play, and to Chris's right he saw Donny come out from behind a tree and march forward with his instrument to his lips, like a drummer boy marching forward with the infantry in the Revolutionary War. The tune was something new, bright and fast; very different from the calming song that helped them befriend the big yellow cat. Chris turned his attention back to center, and that's when he saw it.

Their foe was lying prone, just under and behind a fallen log, aiming his rifle down at Chris. For a second he was petrified and his mind was screaming for him to get back behind a tree. And then reality tore open.

Jake sprinted forward, seeing the former Marine taking up a familiar position in a clearing. Donny's song changed; Jake could hear it perfectly clear despite the sprint he had just burst into. This is the song he had been saving. Fifty feet in front of him the air cracked in a purple lightning bolt pattern. As the tune progressed, the rip expanded and burst into a cloud of light purple. It looked like a fog, but solid, lighter shades to the center. It was the fog he had walked though to get to this world.

He reached the cloud and grabbed a handful, still in full leaping sprint, and threw the ball at the man on the ground. The snowball of purple haze hit Golden in the left arm, turning it to stone. Jake landed, still at least ten paces from Golden, as Donny came into view. Golden writhed in pain from the attack, twisting his feet towards Jake, and the rifle's business end towards Donny.

Donny was shot.

Donny felt no pain. He knew he was hit by a bullet, sure, but there was no pain. He missed the beat of the tune and the lack of music was deafening. He looked down and saw no blood or gore, but knew he was slipping. Keeping the time of his tune, he blew the final two notes to complete the measure...

And he was back in the hospital, looking at John McCourtney lying unconscious in bed, wires and tubes connected to his body. The light was different, as if a filter had been added to his vision. He looked up at Chris and Jake standing like statues

And then...

Chris limped as fast as he could, the key held in his fist, ready to slam into the ground on a seconds notice. Donny reeled backward, blew into his instrument and was gone before the pan flute hit the dirt. He watched as Jake jumped back to the rapidly shrinking cloud and grab a final handful of the purple with his gloved hand. Jake spun like a hurricane as Golden arched the barrel towards Jake. The ball of pink hit golden in the right leg, turning his upper extremity to solid grey stone like a spreading disease.

Golden ignored the incapacitating blow and jacked his second round into the chamber. Jake seeing what was coming cocked his right arm back and committed his whole body into a final blow to the face of Terrance Golden. The madman's eyes gleamed as he pulled the trigger with his one usable arm, sending the round into Jakes chest. By the time Jake reached Golden, there was nothing left but black gloves fluttering down on top of the sweaty, dirty man.

Chris walked now, forgetting the torn ligaments in his foot. He was the only one left, but was not afraid. This felt like a chess game he was destined to win; loosing pieces to make the final kill was to be expected. The man before him tried to crawl away on his back, but with one arm and one leg now useless stone, it was futile.

Golden grabbed his gun and fiddled with the bolt. He was much less efficient at loading the next round with the tall boy bearing down on him. Holding the long rifle with one shaking, skinny arm, Golden tried his best to aim his final shot. But, Chris dropped to one knee, touching the key to the ground and sending a circle of a shockwave outward from his position. It hit Golden like a speed bump at thirty miles an hour. The rifle fired off in a random direction. Chris stood and took two steps closer to the man.

For a moment, they stood there, looking back and forth at each other. Chris had nothing to say, no cheesy catchphrase like in the movies, no final sentiment to pass on. Instead, he did what he knew he must. Taking a final step, Chris jammed the key into the Redwood Reaper's left eye. Chris squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the agonizing scream of Golden grow like electrical feedback. The woods fell silent.

The shooter in the woods disintegrated to grains of sand, spilling across the floor of the redwoods. The sand was off white in color, and it stood out against the tan-brown of the needle-covered ground. After a moment frozen in time, Chris stood up and looked around the woods. They were quiet in a way he had not noticed before.

With black gloves stuffed in his back pocket and a pan flute in his other hand, Chris walked into the Owl's Nest, leaving the barrel of Golden's rifle sticking into a patch of ground covered with light colored sand. He walked north, into the warm sunlight, past the dirty camp without stopping, and over the top of the hill.

On the other side of the redwoods, on the downhill side devoid of big trees and only populated by grey brush, Chris walked to the roaring ocean. The clouds covered the sun and cold sea air replaced the warmth. Following a winding path, Chris reached a cliff overlooking the crashing waves below. This could have been the spot they had pulled off to take a leak months ago, on their way up north to the campground. The only difference was he had never seen that spot in the daylight. Chris pulled the gloves from his back pocket and admired them one last time. They had fit so well the two times he had worn them; completely comfortable and totally insulating from the things he had touched. They were Jake's, not his, so he tossed them into the sea. The wind caught them on the way down, blowing them in a wild direction. He never saw where they landed.

Next, he blew an unsuccessful note on Donny's flute. It sounded hollow and weak compared to the command its former owner had. He tossed it into the sea as well, listening to it cry a final goodbye as the wind hit it just right. An incoming wave passed right into the flute as it reached the water, taking it to the soundless depths.

Finally, he held his key in his hand, not looking at it. He felt the smooth texture of the metal in his hands. Before he could stop himself, he wound up and launched the powerful key solidly into the air so hard he could feel a twinge in the back of his shoulder. Chris tracked his throw as far as the horizon, but as soon as it passed above the dark sea, it was gone. A moment later, a faint vibration tickled Chris's feet.

Chris stood for his final moments on the edge of the windy cliff, looking out at sea. He knew the task was complete and he felt relieved. He had done what he had needed to do, with the help of his friends. Content with not knowing what was next, Chris let out a deep breath, and was gone.

Epilogue

Chris opened his eyes and looked at his friends. Both had tears streaming from their eyes as they stood around the hospital bed. Chris reached up and found his eyes were wet as well. Jake nodded to Chris, who had just came back a second after he had, and Chris nodded back. Donny smiled, despite the tears. The clock on the wall read 2:22 P.M.

The three friends filed out of the hospital room, Chris last, lingering a moment longer to look at his father and close the door behind him. They walked through the white walls and generic paintings, unobserved, though automatic sliding doors and into the night. It was a dark night, but none seemed to mind. The three boys split, Donny walking off to the right toward his nearby apartment, Chris to his truck in the visitor parking lot, and Jake to his motorcycle parked in a regular patient spot. Each took off in their own directions to find their beds, to deal with the mental exhaustion they all felt. The three-minute visit left them feeling like they had crossed an ocean.

Three months later, Jake was on his motorcycle again. It was getting cooler out now with the changing of the seasons, and he rode with a hoodie over a long sleeve shirt. He glided into the parking lot for a large park and parked his bike. After locking his helmet next to the seat, he walked across the green grass to a path that circled a pond. Ducks swam in armadas around an island dominated by a weeping willow. It was not long until he happened upon the group he was there to meet.

Two picnic tables were full of food and drinks and a handful of people buzzing around to set things up. Jake walked up and got a bright smile from Chris, who was helping load drinks into a cooler for his mother and sister. After saying hello, Jake was shocked to see Donny walk up right behind him carrying balloons, also early for the event.

"Who is this dapper fellow? On time and with a sensible gift? You're making me look bad, man!" Jake said to Donny. He punched Donny in the arm and offered him a beer he had snagged from the cooler Chris was filling.

"Well, the new job requires me to be on time, every time. I guess its just creeping into the rest of my life!"

"Oh, yeah, Donny," Chris said, "Your timecard was off this last week by two hours. I adjusted it so that you will see it in your next paycheck."

"Yeah, Clyde has been really stressed lately with his contractors exam coming up. I asked him if he wanted to take over timesheets, but he said no."

"I'll talk to my Dad about that," Chris said.

At that moment, Jake turned, hearing something from behind him. And there he was big John, walking up the slight hill to his celebration. He had seen John several times before this moment: a day after they took the breathing tube out and John continued to breath on his own, a week after he had woken up, and Jake was there the day John McCourtney went home from the hospital. His recovery had been nothing short of a miracle. Only ten percent of patients had any positive recovery after a stroke of John's kind. And here he was, walking on his own and back to a modified work schedule after only a few months.

John had lost weight and kept his head shaved, the way they had done for him at the hospital. Overall he looked healthy, if not a couple years older. Upon awaking from his medical induced coma, John had been a slightly different person. He had a talk with his son, Donny and his long time worker Clyde the day he went home from the hospital. John was no longer the young man he had been and decided to start planning his future in a different way. He had hired his son to take control of the financial side of the family business. With Chris's formal schooling on the subject, he was able to correct past flawed practices and guide his father's hard work in a stronger direction.

To Donny, he offered a job. He could start from the bottom while he went to school and earn real money. Should he like the work, John was going to need licensed foremen in the future. Even more, the opportunity was better than working in the food industry. Donny accepted on the spot.

Clyde was given an ultimatum. Get your contractors license in six months or get a new job. He had been a valuable worker for John for too many years to waste his experience on slinging individual bricks. It was time to step up.

John stepped back from his role as foreman, designer, and moneyman. The stress was too much. He had worked hard enough in his life, and after his recent medical problems, it was time to take it easy. He had earned it.

And now, three months later, Chris had a rewarding job that he deeply cared about and Donny had a new sense of drive in his life and goals he wished to reach. Big John was back on his feet and the whole big family could not be more content. The ominous air of coming hard times had passed faster than fog dissolving under the bright sun. All was well in the world as the extended McCourtney family celebrated with their friends that November day in the park.

The End
