 
### Death and Revenge 2

By

G. G. Gregory

Published by

G. G. Gregory on Smashwords

a

Smashwords Edition

Death and Revenge

Copyright © 2013 by G. G. Gregory

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer, and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Pandora's other Boxes

Hill Crest Center

No Bones About It

Little Billy Had a Scab

Last Meal

Pandora's other boxes

John gasped, as did everybody else. "What the hell is that? There is no way the Incas put this here!" They were all staring in awe at a metal framed mirror the size of the four by eight-foot opening.

#

John Miller was fifty-two year old history professor that had an avocation for treasure hunting. His newest quest, locating the underworld tunnel system located somewhere near the ancient capital city of the Incas, Cuzco, Peru, believed to be used by the Incas to hide their riches from the Spanish Conquistadores. The Incas hid the entrance to prevent anybody from finding it, and never found to this day.

John hired a Peruvian guide, forty-two year old Alejandro Garcia, and Wendy Chase, a thirty-seven year old archeologist for their vast knowledge of the Inca's culture. Together they researched the writings and documents of Inca historians, until they came to the same conclusion on the most reasonable location of the entrance.

John hired two more people to complete his team. Ross Green, a thirty-six-year-old six foot tall, dark haired Canadian. He was a professional climber and cave spelunker. Donald Grace was John's helicopter pilot and held a Bachelor's Degree in Mechanical Engineering. He was thirty-eight and just returned from Afghanistan after serving his eighth tour as a helicopter pilot. They all met in Cuzco, Peru, at the Hotel Monasterio before setting out on the quest.

In one of the hotels conference rooms, John smiled as he looked into the faces of the four he hired sitting before him. "Hello everybody and thanks for accepting my invitation." They were sitting on grey cushioned metal framed chairs at one side of a long conference table covered in red cloth. John was pacing back and forth in front of them explaining how they were going to pursue the lost treasure.

Ross had his left arm splayed over the back of Wendy's chair. He was teasing her collar length blond hair and whispering something in her ear. Wendy stood in an instant forcing her chair back with her legs. She spun herself right to face Ross swinging her left arm wide, slapping Ross's cheek with a loud cracking smack.

"You keep your hands off me you stinking pig!"

"Ouch girl, you hit hard." Ross was smiling and rubbing his reddened cheek.

John was looking back and forth at the two of them. "Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah, Wendy and I did some caving together. I just thought maybe she had those same old feelings for me." Wendy reseated and was leaning forward in her chair with her elbows on the table and her fingers intertwined. She had her lips pursed and was shaking her head slowly.

"Is there going to be a problem?" asked John. Alejandro was rubbing his chin and looking down at the table, his eyes showed concern. Don's hazel green eyes were wide. He rubbed his hands over his blonde hair, cut in a crew, and clasped them behind his head. He was leaning back in his chair, pressing his lips tightly together to keep his smile from showing.

Wendy snapped a look at Ross, her blue eyes still ablaze. She sighed and calmly looked back to John, "No, no problem."

"Good then," said John. "Your reputations speak for themselves." He looked at Ross when he said, "Let's try to keep this on a professional level."

Ross looked back at John and smiled, "Like she said, no problem."

John surveyed Ross's expression for a couple seconds before concluding the meeting. "We'll stay the night here and set out after breakfast. We will be taking off at eight AM sharp. Any questions?" The four of them shook their heads. Alright, dinner is at six in the Illariy lounge upstairs to the right of the lobby, I'll see you all there."

#

Don had John's red and silver seven-passenger Bell 429 helicopter parked on the hotels landing pad. The team loaded their packs, tools and enough food and water to last a couple of days. Don fired up the copter after everybody was on board and flew them to a canyon between tall steep mountain peaks covered with pines and brush, with thick jungle growth in the lower elevations, about thirty-miles southeast of Cuzco. He settled the helicopter down on the flattest and clearest area he could find.

In their sandstone colored safari styled clothing and backpacks, they all set out for their first look. The five of them walked through the canyon and studied the base of one mountain. Ross got up close to Wendy as she walked and studied while the rest followed, he began whispering to her. Again, she spun on him slapping his face, witnessed by the other three; her lightly freckled cheeks reddened with anger. Ross turned to the other three for a second, showing a toothy arrogant grin.

The rocks, boulders, and gravel that had fallen away from the mountain made the going rough and slow. Wendy, Don, Alejandro, and Ross were used to this kind of trekking, but John was wearing down quickly. After three miles, Wendy noticed a rectangular rock slab standing erect against the east side base of the mountain they had been circling. It was mostly hidden with fallen rocks, gravel and brush, but its shape was out of place.

Wendy got up on the pile of rubble that covered most of the slab followed by Ross. Together they brushed rocks and dust off the top of the slab, which revealed a small opening. With her flashlight, she peered in and saw into darkness, her light didn't travel far. "There's a cavern or cave here." Her face winced with eyes squinted while she waved her hand in front of her nose. Ross's face was almost touching hers as he looked into the opening. "Christ Ross, is that your breath?"

"Why, did you want a kiss sweetie?"

"Don't call me that." She turned in a huff and proceeded to step off the pile when Ross gave her a slap on her rear. She didn't stop and just stepped down with a look of disgust on her face. Don and Alejandro looked at John, but he was looking at the ground shaking his head. Wendy pointed at the slab, "John, this slab is going to be a beast to move, but I think we may have found what you're looking for. There is a stench coming from in there. It reminds me of a tomb I visited for research in Okinawa. It was filled with rotted bodies."

"I half expected that, places like this were often used as religious burial sites. I brought a supply of masks and mint ointment to wear if we need to." John was rubbing his right hand over the short gray stubble on his head looking at the slab and rubble. Half a minute later, he looked at Don. "Do you think we can move this?"

Don climbed up and spent a minute looking everything over as the rest of the team waited. "Well first we have to clear this rubble away to get a better look," he said while pointing at the gravel and rock he was standing on. "I think that if somebody put this here, we'll find a way to move it. I just need to see how far into the ground the slab is buried. If it's not buried too deep, we should be able to winch it free."

John marked the spot with his GPS locator. "Let's go back to the helicopter, fly back, and set camp here." John and Alejandro were leading the team back to their landing site. Alejandro was talking quietly, almost whispering and passing glances back at Ross. John's voice got loud for a second and sounded as if he were irritated, "It's too late for that."

Ross asked Don, "So what do you think their talking about?"

"My guess is that they think maybe they have someone on the team that could ruin their chances of success. You're already screwing up. I think you should leave Wendy alone, and let her do her job. Nobody needs the kind of pressure you're putting on her during a quest for treasure."

"I was just having some fun with her. I really think she wants some of this. You shouldn't feel bad about it though, we have a history. I know that little cutie pretty well if you know what I mean."

"From the look I saw in her eyes, I'm guessing you don't know the old saying, 'If looks could kill'."

When they got back to the helicopter, Wendy was stowing her gear when Don stepped up next to her. "Is Ross going to be a problem for us or just you?"

"Don't worry about it; he's just an arrogant ass that thinks all women want him."

"Do you want some help with that?"

"No Captain America, I'll be fine. He really is a pro when it comes to caves."

With everybody on board, Don started the helicopter and flew it to the new location on John's GPS. They immediately disembarked, off loaded picks and shovels, and began removing the stone rubble away from the slab.

Eight-feet of the slab was exposed when they found the bottom. Don wrapped the steel cable from the winch with a hook on the end around a large boulder placing the hook over the cable. He then hooked the other end onto the top of the twelve-inch thick, three-foot wide by eight-foot tall slab. After a few ratchets with the handle, the cable tightened and the slab fell with a ground-shaking thud, sending plumbs of dust into the air.

When the dust cleared, they all peered inside with their flashlights. John was the first to reach the opening. He turned for a second away from the opening with a sour look on his face and eyes squinted. "God, that smell is awful. Don, we are going to need the masks and mint ointment. Let's get our gear everybody, we're going in." They all put on hard hats with headlamps, their backpacks and stepped in.

They immediately found 'Macana' spears tipped with star shaped stones, axes with sharpened copper heads, slingshots, and bolas. They knew them to be weapons used by the Incas, according to other finds made earlier in history. The floor, constructed of flat square stones about two feet wide formed a pathway into the tunnel.

The walls were jagged cut, although straight with an arched ceiling, eight-feet at its highest point. Wendy was studying the walls and floor, "It never ceases to amaze me how people without technological means can do something like this," she was shaking her head with a lightly surprised smile.

Alejandro interjected, "The Incas were truly incredible people. Some of the temples they erected would amaze anybody."

Ross was walking deeper in and found a chamber. "I think I found the source of the stink, this chamber is filled with bodies." The chamber was about thirty by thirty-feet wide. The walls had rectangular cutouts large enough for one body. The rest of the bodies were in several piles near the walls, skeletons with their dried skin stretched over the bones. "I hope this is the only chamber, a smell like that usually sticks to you for a while."

They all put on a mask after smearing their upper lip with the ointment as John began to explain. "This burial chamber is probably one of many. If I am not mistaken, we will find one for only the priests, one that holds, or leads, to the lost treasure. They usually put the treasures with their most prominent, but with the Conquistadors on their heels, it's just possible that a secret chamber was cut for hiding the riches."

They continued on passing by other chambers filled with bodies the same as the first. The stone path that they were following was descending deeper into the Earth. The deeper they went, the colder it was, and the smell of ancient rotted flesh seemed to intensify with every step. John was clearly getting antsy.

The next chamber they came to was larger by at least twenty-feet in both directions than the others were. In it were thirteen slabs of stone about four-inches thick, each resting on two three-foot tall square stone columns, two-feet-thick. Twelve of the slabs formed a circle around the thirteenth. Each slab held a body dressed in ornate robes of red, green, and gold, discolored by the secretions of the corpse and ageing. The one in the center wore gold and silver.

Wendy was inspecting the walls and found another slab inserted into the wall. It blocked the possible entrance to what might be another chamber. "I found something guys, it's another entrance blocked by a slab. Look how perfect it is, I almost missed it. I noticed the hieroglyphs carved into the rock first and found the edges."

Don stepped up to have a look as everybody turned to shine their lights at it. "It is perfect John. Look at the sharpness of the edges, the perfect fit into the opening. The way everything else was cut in this tunnel, so jagged, so imperfect, this is different. It is as if it was cut with a laser."

John asked, "What do you think Alejandro, could the Incas have done this?"

"I've seen some amazing things come from their culture, but something like this, never. The writings are not from the Incas. I don't recognize any of it."

John was scratching the back of his head below his hard hat while looking at the detail of the slab. "How deep are we Don?"

"We're about one mile in."

John was still rubbing his hand over the back of his neck staring at the slab. "Wendy, have you ever seen writings like this?"

"Never. Although, they are somewhat similar to ancient writings I saw in Japan, from fifteen-hundred BC."

John asked. "OK Don, Incan or not, we need to get the entrance open and find out what's behind it, what will we need?"

"Let's use our picks first and see if we can move it." With Ross on one side and Don on the other, they worked to get their pick axes into the thin slot around the slab and started prying. It began to move fractions at a time. They kept at it until the six-inch thick four by eight foot slab fell away from the opening with a loud cracking thud onto the rock floor. Everybody looked in all directions at the ceiling, anticipating a cave-in.

John gasped, as did everybody else. "What the hell is that? There is no way the Incas put this here!" They were all staring in awe at a metal framed mirror the size of the four by eight-foot opening.

Wendy approached the mirror and reached out with her right gloved hand stroking down on the one-inch frame surrounding it. Her thumb grazed the mirror and she retracted quickly when she saw smoke. The tip of her glove burned away, exposing her thumb. "Uh, guys? I don't think this is an ordinary mirror." She was about to show what happened when Ross cut her off.

"Maybe this is a two-way mirror, and long lost Incas on the other side are waiting for Wendy to undress and do a little dance for them."

"Christ Ross, why do you always have to be such an asshole?"

"It's just the way I am baby, and you wouldn't recognize me any other way. But screw it, I say we bust the thing and get passed it," as he picked up a fist sized rock.

John showed a look of disgust then surprise, "Put the rock down Ross, NO!" Ross tossed the rock at the mirror. With a shimmer on the surface, like waves on water, the rock passed right through. "Dam-it, what the hell is going on in your head, I should boot you the hell off this team."

Ross blurted, "Did you see that, it just flew right through? If the rock can, I say we can," and Ross immediately headed toward the mirror.

John blurted, "No, stop Ross! We do not know why the rock just flew through, and I did not hear it hit anything. Before anybody else does something stupid, let's check it with something."

Wendy knelt down and pulled her pickaxe from her backpack. "Here's my pick, just don't push it in all the way."

Another toothy smile came to Ross's face, "I never heard you say that before Wendy."

"You're a disgusting ass," said Wendy.

"Thank you, from you, I take that as a compliment."

"OK, here we go, nice and slow." John slowly pushed the pickaxe head first through the mirror hearing a sizzling sound and seeing smoke curl away from the handle. They all stared blankly as John retracted what was left of half the handle, smoke still trailing off the end. "Whoa, look what it did."

"Where's the rest of my pick? That is way, too weird. Let's get the hell out of here John."

Don responded quickly. "Wait, okay? Maybe we can find a way to pry at the edge of the mirrors frame. We'll pry it out so we can get passed or at least see what's behind it."

Wendy blurted, "No way. I am not going anywhere near it. If one of us just slips a little bit they're gone."

Ross sighed loudly but brief, "You're such a sissy Wendy, how did you ever get on this team."

"Okay Ross, I'm a sissy, let's see how brave you are."

"No problem_, Wendy. I found an open edge here between the frame and rock that I can get my pick into." Everyone stepped back and watched as Ross pulled on the handle of his pick. They could hear the steel pick grinding on rock. The mirror began to shimmer like waves in water. They heard metal scraping against rock as the mirror started to give way.

Ross fell backward onto his rear and elbows onto the fallen slab when the mirror came lose. It swung wide like a door, revealing a chamber that was illuminated. The light was emanating from the smooth rock walls, ceiling, and floor. Inside the small bedroom sized chamber were six metal crates and a fine white vapor covered the floor. The crates were about the size of a large suitcase, smooth surfaced with rounded corners and edges. The entrance of the room had a protruding metal doorstop on both sides, top and bottom, for the mirror to rest against.

Four of them stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at the glowing rock and crates. Ross broke the silence and stood up, "I guess the brave man wins the day." Ross strutted like a rooster through the open door, stepping over the bottom stop.

The four other members heard the sound of sizzling, like hamburgers on a grill. Smoke was billowing from Ross's body, the smell of burnt hair and charred meat filled the air. Pieces of Ross began falling away for just a second and then his whole body collapsed, looking like a pile of bubbling seared diamond shaped chunks of meat, bone and cloth. The smoke from Ross revealed light beams emanating from the protruding stop in a crisscross pattern.

John looked paralyzed to move or blink, he just stared at the pile of steaming meat and smoldering cloth. He finally looked up into the shocked faces of the remaining three. Tears were streaming down Wendy's saddened face. She was the first to speak, her voice weak and trembling. "Wow, someone was really trying to keep people out. It's kind of like those traps that are in some of the old temples and tombs in Egypt, only higher tech."

"I think that's exactly what this is," said John. "Those crates must be holding something of value, but obviously not Inca treasure. I have never even heard of technology like this mirror or glowing rock. This must be some kind of vault. We need to get passed this and find out what's hidden in the crates."

"No way John, are you crazy?" Wendy's voice was still wavering. "Even if we were able to disable the lasers or whatever, how do we know that's the last road block or trap? I think who ever put this here really wanted others to stay out."

Don said, "I agree with Wendy, John, look at the technology. I've seen huge advances in weapons tech, but this is way beyond that. Who could do that, and if someone can do that, what else could they do?"

John put up both his hands to stop the protests. "Fine, I get it, but we can't leave Ross in there like that, we need to figure a way to disarm the lasers and get, uh, his pieces out of there at least."

"Well I could leave him there; he was nothing but an arrogant pig."

John was shaking his head looking at the floor, "Yeah Wendy, I get it, nobody liked him, but he had family. You got any ideas about how to disarm something like this Don?"

"Looking at this stop around the inside of the opening I can see where the beams are emanating from. The technology may be different from ours, but as I see it, there has to be a power source." Alejandro remained quiet, his eyes fixed on Ross. Suddenly he turned away and vomited, repeatedly, until there was nothing left in him. Wendy quickly wiped some more of the mint ointment on her upper lip and pulled her mask into place. Don continued, "If I had the winch I could probably hook it on the edge of the stop between the beams, dislodging it may kill the source of power to it."

John lifted his hat, ran his hand over his head, and held it against the back of his neck. "I can't think of a better way. We'll wait here while you go for it. Don, if you don't mind, I need you to hurry?"

"No problem, I'll double time it." Within thirty minutes, Don was back, soaked with sweat bearing the winch and went to work immediately. He secured one end around a pillar beneath one of the thirteen slabs closest to the opening and carefully hooked the other end over the bottom stop. He ratcheted slowly so the hook didn't slide into the path of the light beams. The cable tightened and the metal stop groaned and creaked until the final cracking snap. The stop broke free of the bond that held it and the light beams shut down. They all heard the sound of static and looked toward the mirror as it faded from sight.

Don looked up at John, sweat dripping from his brow, "So far, so good, what do we do next?"

"My best guess is that there will be other traps. If only there was a way to drag the crates to this opening without having to go in."

In harmony, and excitedly, Wendy and Don said, "Yes!" John was looking back and forth at both of them, his brow raised.

Don looked at Wendy but she ushered him on. "If we form a lariat, we can lasso the crates one at a time and drag them out."

"Can you do that?" asked John.

Don answered, "I used to practice that as a kid, you know, because I wanted to be a cowboy, and actually got pretty good at it." Don took rope out of Ross's left-behind pack and formed a lasso. Within minutes, he had retrieved all six crates, creating swirls in the mist covering the floor as he dragged them out over Ross's body pieces.

The crates were smooth, seamless and looked as if they were made of titanium. There were no latches or other discernable characteristics to show how to open them. The four of them noticed the chamber was getting dimmer, the light fading. Don looked in and said, "We must have shut everything down."

The light faded completely and the team left with only the lights on their hard hats. Alejandro rejoined the group after regaining control over his nausea. The four of them were looking at the crates when they heard six distinctive clicks and six hisses. The lids of the crates rose slowly and simultaneously, exposing the contents.

John, Don, and Wendy knelt down at separate crates peering in. Alejandro was backing away, ready to run for the exit. At first glance, Wendy shrieked and Alejandro took more back steps away.

Don spoke first. "Uh, this is filled with a whole bunch of spiders." The three of them looked back and forth at the other crates. They were all the same, filled with hundreds of thousands of white spiders, striped with black like zebras. They had wings, thick legs and were the size of a bumblebee. Their fangs were more like scissors with jagged cutting edges rather than fangs, and pointing straight forward. They were lying motionless in a mist, similar to the mist that covered the chambers floor.

In the center of the spider's thorax was a symbol of red and white in a black bordered rectangle. Wendy looked closer and gasped, "That symbol is a Japanese flag."

John and Don leaned in for a closer look. Don said, "It is the Japanese flag. With this kind of technology protecting the spiders, I am guessing that these spiders are computerized and mechanical weapons, or information gatherers. Those jagged scissor like fangs suggest either weapons or defense ability." His body shook as if he had a chill. "That is just too scary."

John was rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Why would they hide them here like this, with this kind of security? I think we may have opened Pandora's other boxes. No telling how long they have been here. If those are weapons, just think of the human destruction, the hysteria they could cause."

Alejandro, now driven by his curiosity moved closer to examine the find. His movement caused a draft that moved more of the mist out of the crates. "I have never seen spiders like this before. They are definitely not native to South America. The way the spiders were submerged in that mist, the technology, and those hieroglyphs does not make sense."

"What are you trying to say Alejandro?" asked John.

"All I'm saying is that none of this can be explained. None of us has ever seen or heard of this kind of technology. None of us has ever seen a spider of this nature, and all of them with a Japanese symbol. They hid them away with high tech security in place, what could that mean? There is more to this than we can see and..."

In that instant, the spiders came to life. Their wings buzzed as they flew out of the crates and attacked the four of them. They cut into the victims with their scissor jaws, penetrating clothing, and all of their exposed skin, cutting, chopping and crawling inside their bodies. The four of them wailed and screamed, while wildly slapping at their bodies and faces until they collapsed.

Their bodies lay convulsing and quivering as blood spewed from every open wound. The moment their fate was sealed, the spiders crawled back out of the victims quivering bodies and took to the air, flying toward the exit of the tunnel. Once outside as if knowing which direction to go, the swarm of thousands flew toward the closest populated city, Cuzco.

The swarm held close together, as they flew. If their speed of flight were comparable to a bumblebee, the swarm would reach Cuzco in about two hours. An hour and a half into flight, a CH 47 dual propped helicopter, with a Japanese flag and symbol of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force, painted on its sides, hovered over the swarm.

Inside the helicopter was a team of fifteen scientists, five construction workers, and ten armed military men. The scientists were tracking the swarm with an electronic tracking device. One man opened a laptop and began typing in codes. When he pressed the enter button, a bright light flashed from the underside of the helicopter.

The swarm fell from the sky, landing in an open area of desert. The helicopter landed and the crew of scientists disembarked with six metal suitcase sized crates and began to collect the spiders. Once collection was complete, they boarded and flew to the tunnel where John and his team met their demise.

Six of the scientists carried creates into the tunnel, and placed the crates back into the room John and his team opened, along with the old crates. They then dragged the victims out, including Ross, after placing his pieces in a plastic bag. Their bodies were loaded into the CH 47. The construction workers began reconstruction of the security system, sprayed a foggy mist into the room over the crates, and reset the power. They resealed the opening to the room and walked out of the tunnel.

One of the military men climbed up above the opening of the tunnel and placed an explosive charge. After setting off the charge, dirt, rocks, and debris cascaded down the mountain and buried the opening. The construction team attached cables to John's helicopter.

With all teams back onboard the CH 47, they lifted into the air taking John's helicopter with them, and then flew toward the ocean. Once over deep water, they released the helicopter and flew away.

####

Back to Table of Contents

Hillcrest Center

Jeremy Berkshire backed the black cargo van up to the walkway that led to the asylums entrance. Him, his girlfriend Tabitha and three other couples all climbed out. Jeremy reached in through the cargo door and pulled out a black gym bag, zipped it open and began handing out medallions on a heavy metal chain. They were pentagrams with other symbols in each of the points. Everybody carried their own flashlights.

He handed everybody one medallion as he began to explain, "These talismans will help protect you from evil, or any dead person that tries to possess your body. We are going to encounter many ghosts of criminally insane people that died in this hospital. Trust me, they would all love nothing more than to climb into a warm body and take over. This asylum was home to many, even some children that killed for the fun of it."

The asylum closed ten years ago for several reasons, rape of the female patients, theft of drugs, embezzlement. The EPA wanted the hospital closed and torn down, when they learned that the sewage from there went straight into a small lake on the property. Unsuspecting people fished in that lake for food. State inspectors finally closed it when they learned that the entire building was crumbling, and nothing was up to code.

Jeremy was a self-proclaimed warlock. He believed that one of his ancestors from early England was a malevolent magician. Other of his early ancestors were mainly known as healers, although sometimes they had to cast spells, or conjure up dark powers in order to protect a village, castle or king. He was a six-foot tall thin guy; boney, with scraggly brown hair and covered in tattoos, that were considered dark and magical symbols relating to the craft.

Tabitha had a coral snake tattoo on her left leg, spiraled around from ankle to knee, and a pentagram with other symbols in each point above her right breast. She looked somewhat like a hippy out of the 70s, was thin and pleasantly attractive. She had streaks of purple in her blonde hair with deep brown eyes. She was wearing hip hugger blue jeans, the legs hung down just passed her knees, and a loose white halter-top that had been tie-died with purple and green, and black canvas high top tennis shoes.

Kate and Mike Porter had recently hired Jeremy for his sales ability. It was easy for him to get them interested in the things he said. They were mostly unbelievers in anything considered out of the ordinary. Although, if a person told them things in a believable enough fashion, they were on board and ready to see the proof. They ran a small production shop that made steel washers. Kate with her straight collar length sandy-blonde hair, stood no taller than five-foot, dressed in a white blouse, jeans and black leather flat-heeled slip-ons. Mike towered over her by eight-inches, with neatly trimmed brown hair, and wearing a blue and white vertical striped, long sleeved button down shirt, jeans, and brown penny loafers.

One of the other two couples was John and Marie. John was a slightly heavyset guy. He looked like a biker in his jeans and black leather vest, with a wallet attached to a chain in his back pocket. Marie was a slightly taller than John; a little over weight and looked like the kind of person that was just trying to fit in somewhere. She had dark brown hair that hung in waves and curls around her pudgy, rosy-cheeked face, and wearing a grey with green striped sport suit.

Then there was Phil and Jessica, they called her Jessie. Phil was a kind of wormy little dude; long scraggly dark hair, greasy complexion, and sunken chest. His blue jeans were baggy looking on his thin frame. He was wearing a black AC DC tee shirt, leather army boots and carried a large brown leather wallet, chained to his side.

Jessie looked like she could have been a model or beauty queen. Her perfectly placed facial features made her look sort of angelic, with face nested in flowing light blonde hair. She was wearing light yellow cotton shorts, a pink sweatshirt, and white jogging shoes with white cotton sport socks.

Jeremy said, "I need you all ready before we go in. In a vision I had a month ago, this is what I saw. As soon as we get inside, we'll be in a long corridor. To our right, are the administration offices. To our left at the end of the corridor we'll see two apparitions, a man who's just looking for a warm body to live in, and a women, she's insane and all pissed off and is looking to get into another body, so she can get revenge on her family for putting her in this place." He was smiling devilishly, looking back and forth at all of their faces for a reaction. "Someone behind me is going to scream, it's one of the guys but I don't know who yet. We're going to encounter a lot of people, some of them dangerous and others that don't even know they're dead. If we all stay together, we'll be a lot safer and I'll be able to control them. I don't want anybody to get possessed if you know what I mean."

Mike asked, "How will you able to keep us safe from them?"

"There are words, spells that I'll use that will form a barrier around us; one they won't be able to penetrate, unless one of them happens to be a witch; and if that's true, the talisman will protect you. It's a big place so we're going to have lots of time to look around. Everything is the way they left it after it was closed down, including the medical wing where they did the lobotomies." Mike looked at Kate, and she was looking at him, both looking a little squeamish.

Mike said, "I heard that this asylum is going to be torn down next year and new homes built on the same spot."

"Yes," said Jeremy, "and I'm real curious about what they're going to do with all of the bodies buried in the graveyard behind the hospital."

"What bodies?" Kate asked.

Tabitha answered, "A lot of times the relatives wouldn't come to claim the dead, because they were mostly too ashamed to even have somebody in their family like that. They probably never brought the subject up in conversation because of the embarrassment. You know how people can get about someone else if they find out that they had an insane person in their family. If they died here and were never claimed by the family, they were buried in the asylums cemetery."

Kate spoke, "I know how I would feel if I met someone and then found out that their brother, mother or anybody in their family was insane, I would be like, get me out of here!" Everybody chuckled a little and completely agreed with her.

Jeremy said, "It should be easy to protect you all. A couple years back when my woman and I were riding the MTA, a guy got on and started harassing a woman. When I asked him to back off and leave her alone, the man got in my face and told me to mind my own business, so I cast a spell on his ass."

"What did you do to him, Kate was asking?" Tabitha was standing next to Jeremy with a confident smile; she looked like she was going to stand by her man no matter what he said.

"I made him sick, his face turned white, and as soon as the train stopped he ran off and lost his lunch. I made sure he would be sick like that for a week." They all looked at him as he looked back and forth in the eyes of all of them; he was smiling a devilish smile, proud. Kate looked as if she believed in him more than Mike, by the expression of awe on her face.

"Okay," said Jeremy, "Put the talismans on and let's go in, and see some ghosts." He turned and headed toward the door with key in hand. Everybody hung the chains with the talisman around their neck except for Phil. Jeremy turned to us before he opened the door, "There hasn't been anybody in here for ten years." He opened the door that made a squealing scraping sound as it dragged on the concrete. As they entered, Mike looked down at the drag marks in the concrete; they were deeper and fresher than what they should have been. Mike had a curious concerned expression. He passed another worried glance at Kate.

Once everybody was inside, Jeremy relocked the door and said, "I'll tell ya, this is the perfect place for a murder!" Tabitha's head jerked up quickly, her eyes fixed on him and looking agitated.

Mike asked, looking alarmed by what he said, "What?"

"I'm just saying that if you wanted to murder someone, this would be the best place for it, don't you think?"

"I guess" Mike said, passing a concerned look at Kate. Tabitha was still looking at Jeremy, her lips pursed, her eyes showed tense uneasiness.

"I think it would just seem kind of apropos, the kind of place that it is and to find someone murdered in here."

Tabitha finally broke her silence, "Shut up Jeremy!"

It was tense and quiet for a few seconds. Jeremy was looking at Tabitha; the look on his face was saying, oops. He looked down and then back up at her apologetically, then he said, "Don't worry; it's going to be fun!"

Mike began showing real worry in his facial expression. Kate whispered to him, "Just say the word Mike and we will walk out." They didn't know much about Jeremy, other than what he told them, and having only recently hiring him. He was always showing that they were all just out for some cheap fun, and maybe a story to tell afterward. Mike was looking back and forth at the other two couples, people he never met before today. He looked as if he were trying hard to keep himself together. He took hold of Kate's hand and held it tight.

Jeremy smiled in a sinister fashion, "What if ghosts were real and one of us got possessed in here, put in some asylum and lobotomized. Now that would be disconcerting."

Tabitha said with a stern raised voice, "Shut up Jeremy." She looked at Kate and Mike, "Don't worry; he is just playing with us."

Some of what Jeremy said was true, but there were no apparitions at the end of the corridor. They all started heading down the corridor away from the administration offices, Jeremy said, "The medical wing is in this direction."

Mike asked, "How do you know that?"

Jeremy smiled without looking at him, "The friend of mine that got me the keys also had a copy of the floor plan."

Mike asked, "Where are the apparitions, the ghosts?"

Jeremy looked at Mike, "You can't see them? They are right there, he said as he pointed at the end of the corridor. Jeremy jerked his face back toward the end of the corridor. He looked back at Mike and Kate with eyes wide, raising his arms and pushing them back, "step back, she is coming." Nobody noticed that Tabitha had taken off her talisman and was holding a torch lighter to it to heat it up.

Phil screamed a blood-curdling wail. Everybody turned to see him on the floor convulsing, his talisman gripped in his hand. Jeremy grabbed Tabitha's talisman, leaped to Phil's side, and ripped his t-shirt open. He laid the talisman on Phil's chest. Phil wailed in pain as smoke billowed from the talisman. Jeremy looked up and away as if he was following the movement of something. "That's right, leave us, I am stronger than you."

Jeremy lifted the talisman from Phil's chest and stood. Phil raised himself up on his elbows and shook his head with eyes closed and breathing heavily. Jessie knelt down beside him, took his talisman, and hung it around his neck. Jeremy said, "Why didn't you put that on when I told you to?

Phil just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sorry, I didn't think it was real." Jeremy had already taken off his talisman, giving it to Tabitha when nobody was looking.

"Well maybe I should have just left you with that crazy bitch inside of you. Phil looked at the reddened and blistered pentagram burned on his chest, and then they all turned away from him. They were moving very slow and cautiously, pointing their flashlights in all directions. Mike was holding tight to Kate's hand, she also had a white knuckled grip on him.

After ten minutes of walking very slowly, looking into rooms, all they saw were rooms that had beds with yellow stained mattresses. By the expressions on their faces, Mike and Kate were getting disappointed and bored. There were no ghosts, apparitions or whatever, and it seemed Jeremy was only interested in getting to the medical wing. The corridors smelled of stale urine and the dampness of the rotting building. Ceiling tiles had fallen to the floor exposing wiring and rusted steel beams, coated with years of spider and cobwebs. Paint was peeling off the walls and covering the floor with chips. All along the edges of the floor were urine stains and rat droppings. Mike and Kate kept quiet regardless.

There was the sound of a girl crying, and pleading, "Please let me go home, I promise I'll be good. I promise I won't try to kill anybody. Please let me go, I'll be good." There was a shrill scream from a woman. A naked woman was running in the group's direction. She kept screaming and acting as if she were trying to tear her dark and tangled hair out. They all stepped quickly out of her way as she ran passed screaming and tearing at her hair. After she disappeared around a corner, it was silent again.

Mike and Kate looked at the others with a horrified expression, and saw everybody sharing the same expression. Jeremy said, "Well that can get a persons heart rate up." Again, he turned heading in the direction of the medical wing with everybody following.

A man's deep and resonate voice sounded out, loud and echoing, " **What are you doing in here**? **WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE**? **I told you I was going to kill you. I'LL RIP YOUR HEART RIGHT OUT OF YOUR CHEST**."

Kate turned to Mike, Let's get out of here, please, I don't want to see any more." There was another loud sound, like a sledgehammer striking an anvil.

Mike said, "Come on Jeremy, this is too much, we have seen enough, and we are ready to leave."

"Just wait, we are almost there. This place is just haunted, but nothing can hurt you if I am protecting. Trust me, it will be worth it."

There was the sound of another man's voice, "Please, help me. They are coming back. Please help me to get loose before they get back," he was bawling.

They made it into the medical wing and Jeremy was looking for the surgical rooms, he said, "The morgue is supposed to be at the end of the hall after surgery." Again, there was the sound of a sledgehammer striking an anvil. Mike and Kate both stiffened with eyes wide and baring clenched teeth. They headed down the hall until Jeremy said, "Here we are," and that's when Phil wailed some crazy rough unintelligible words.

Mike's body jolted from Phil's loud wail as if electrocuted, and Kate shrieked. Phil hit Mike in the head with his flashlight and sent him crashing to the floor. Phil straddled Mike's back holding his arms behind him as john sat on his legs. Kate screamed and then wailed, "No," when Tabitha and Jessie grabbed her by her arms. Mike tried to look up; Phil held his head to the floor.

Mike yelled, " **What's going on**?'

Phil punched him in the side of his head. "Shut up!" John hand cuffed Mike and helped Phil stand him up.

Mike saw that Marie was cuffing Kate's hands behind her as well. Jessie and Tabitha had her by the arms, smiling at Mike with proud looks on their faces. Mike's breath came only in short gasps, "What's going on here Jeremy?" Phil punched him in the mouth and almost knocked him to the floor, John held him up, kept him from falling.

Jeremy never answered and ordered the rest of them to get the two of them inside the room. Kate was crying and Mike struggled to get free. However, both John and Phil were holding his arms tight, and forcing him through the door followed by Kate, forced in by Tabitha and Jessie. Marie was like a bystander. Along all of the counters, candles illuminated the room.

Racks with old tools like bone saws and hand powered drills, hung from the walls. There were probably twenty other people in the room already waiting. Mike's eyes were wide with a horrified expression. He probably guessed right then that they were about to be murdered in some kind of ritual fashion.

Kate threw up and Mike looked just as weak. There were two tables in the center of the room, set foot to foot. Others came to aid in subduing Mike and Kate, removing the cuffs and their clothing. They strapped Mike and Kate down on the tables, with their heads propped up so the two of them were looking at each other. The people secured them with the old straps and braces used on the patients here that once occupied the hospital, and then gagged them with old yellowed pillowcases. Mike squirmed and fought as much as he could, Kate doing the same.

Jeremy said, "Let us begin." He leaned over Mike, looked in his eyes, and smiled his ghoulish smile, "I must prepare you." Kate was screaming, her screams subdued by the gag. Jeremy turned from Mike and came back holding a butcher knife in one hand and a live lime green snake in the other.

Mike's eyes went wide again at the horrifying spectacle. All of the people started humming a single low tone. Jeremy used the knife and sliced open the neck of the snake, its blood spewed out. Jeremy began to chant while dripping some of the blood on Mike's bare chest and went to Kate, doing the same. He used the snake to draw something in the blood on Kate's chest then used his thumb dipped in the blood to draw something on her forehead. It was a pentagram.

Jeremy went to Mike and did the same, the entire time saying over and over some kind of chant while the others continuously hummed that single low tone. When Jeremy finished, he raised his arms and began to chant louder and everybody in the room started doing the same. They were saying the same Latin type words in unison repeatedly, and kept getting louder. Jeremy dropped the dead snake to the floor looking at Mike's eyes as he continued to chant.

Jeremy put the tip of the butcher knife against Mike's chest and dragged it down over his belly, leaving a reddened line. He then placed the knife between Mike's legs holding the sharp edge tight to his penis and scrotum. There was the sound of a single gunshot, and Jeremy staggered back, almost falling. Blood began to soak his shirt from the bullet hole in his right shoulder.

"Stop, don't even move." Several police were filing into the room with their guns drawn. They ordered everybody away from Kate and Mike. Police held the assailers at gunpoint, while others un-strapped the near victims from the tables. As soon as they freed Mike, he ran to Kate and held her tight.

Police officers led Mike and Kate out into the corridor, and their clothing handed to them. There must have been 30 cops split up into two groups at both sides of the entrance to the room, securing the only exit.

Mike and Kate waited outside by a police car, as other police officers filed all the members out into waiting arrest wagons, and watched the wagons drive away. The officer in charge told them, "This group was being sought after for the last five years, always disappearing before an arrest, wanted in connection with several other ritual killings in three other states. They called themselves 'The Metaphysical Society', although, they were really a satanic group doing the work for the one they served, Satan. You two would have died if we had not been watching this place. That group has come here several times preparing for what they were going to do to you."

#

At home, Mike said, "We should never tell anybody about how stupid we were to go with those people."

Back to Table of Contents

No Bones about It

"Their Bones turn into a rubber like consistency and their joints begin to dissolve. We need help with this." NASA scientist and Hindi translator, Dharma Jaskaran, was speaking to NASA's research board to gain outside help. "Dr. Avinnash Phani runs a clinic in Kanpur, India. His research revolves around osteoporosis and its cure. He and his two assistants are working on the accelerated symptoms astronauts suffer from time spent in a weightless environment. Dr. Phani, Doctors Vasuman Divit and Alopa Rijul were the researchers who discovered that weightlessness accelerates the process. I am requesting we contract him to aid us. I've looked at his research and he seems to be the best candidate for this work. I spoke with him and he has specific tests to conduct."

"What is the nature of the tests Dr. Jaskaran?" asked the board's director. "Because if we can conduct them ourselves here, there wouldn't be a need for an outside contract."

"We could do that testing ourselves, but we'd be starting from the beginning. Dr. Phani is already out in front with his research, and I think that we could concentrate on other matters while he finishes what he's started."

The board members discussed the idea and resumed talks. "OK sir, we see your point and see that an outside contract of this nature could benefit us. What is he requesting?"

"These tests must be done while the astronauts are in space. He'll need to see individual brain wave patterns from all of them, this can be done while they sleep. Secondly, he needs to continuously monitor the chemicals that are removed from the body in their urine. He needs to analyze it for alterations from them going from a weighted state to weightless. And third, he needs blood samples taken from them to verify the results in all categories." The research board agreed and supplied Phani with the requested data and samples.

The three of them dug into the new data and samples. Alopa moved easily around her plump coworkers like a dancer in top form. More than once, she caught Vasuman eyeing her with a casual desire. Dr, Phani never showed interest. He was too much into his work for him to care as far as Alopa could see. Alopa showed some disgust every time she saw Phani or Vasuman bent over a microscope, their bulging bellies supported by their lab coats. They could see her thin framed build but not the muscle she tried hard to maintain on her time off.

One particular brain wave pattern was singled out for every one of the astronauts. It showed that weightlessness altered the way their bodies functioned. New chemicals were present in a weightless state, which was not present in a weighted state. As most humans get older, the production of hormones and the ability to retain nutrients slowed naturally, although, what was happening to the astronauts only occurred in a weightless environment. However, old people lost bone and astronauts lost bone, the difference was that the astronaut's bones also began to soften to a pliable state, like hard rubber.

The scientists first isolated the chemical that aids in keeping bones hard. It was a chemical, which has to have the support of nutrients, like vitamin C to work; they labeled it BH-139. Then they stumbled onto the one responsible for softening the bones and labeled it, BSA-1846. The next step was to use the findings in lab trials with rats, mice, and monkeys.

The older animals suffering from osteoporosis, were given a synthetic version of BH-139, but that alone was not enough to stop degeneration. They then devised a compound, which forced the animal's body to manufacture the chemical on its own. That compound together with BH-139 combined with a host of nutritional support was highly successful. Suddenly there was new hope that much suffering was going to end. WHO, the World Health Organization praised them for their effort and human testing was to begin within the year.

Dr. Phani drew his team together in the conference room. "I am curious why the body would manufacture a chemical that softens the bones in people while in a weightless environment. I think we should to try BSA-1846 in concentrated form in a second and secret set of trials, on the monkeys and rats. What do you to think?"

Alopa said, "I agree. We need to know why the body makes this chemical when humans are in a weightless environment."

"I agree also," said Vasuman, "and think we should try and stop it from being formed in the body. I also think we should look into the foods the astronauts eat to see if it is coming from something else." Dr. Phani smiled at their acceptance.

The monkeys and rats tested all showed the same result. Their bones began to soften to a rubber like state. They then took BSA-1846 to a more concentrated level and labeled it BSA-1950. In all tests the animals bodies first reaction was collapse, the drug weakened them temporarily. After several hours, the animal's bones became so gelatinous and unsupportive that they became more like a common slug with useless appendages.

The animals had to feed on pureed food from a tube. However, their bones became so soft that breathing was nearing impossible without bone support. The conclusion was that the lack of bone support would kill the test subject unless they were in a weightless environment.

"Dr. Phani," said Alopa. "Vasuman and I were checking on the animals and found something we thought that you should see." Alopa led the Dr. into the animal quarantine area of the lab in an excited haste. Vasuman could hardly contain his excitement as the Doctors entered. He began to explain before Phani reached the stacks of cages.

"The rats are showing that they are completely dependant on us in their condition. Without our aid they would starve, but watch this." Vasuman used a scoop filled with mashed banana and placed the blob just out of reach in front of one of the monkeys. The monkey pulled the backside of its body tight and extended forward, resembling the movement of an earthworm, moving closer to the food. With one of its appendages that used to be an arm, it pulled the pile of mashed banana to its mouth, sucked and swallowed.

"How is it that they are still alive, breathing without bone support?"

"Alopa and I did a physical examination, their bodies adapted by forming a fibrous shell around their lungs. It is allowing enough support to breathe. That shell is still forming, and will soon support the entire body."

Dr. Phani's face brightened with a wide and amazed smile. His expression changed suddenly turning serious. "There is no way we can let this information out into the world until we have exhausted all testing directions we can take this in."

Alopa looked at him curiously. "This was a successful experiment, and they are adapting to their bone loss. What could anybody possibly do with this knowledge?"

Dr. Phani calmed himself and looked into the eyes of both his assistants. "Look, we know that most people living in a weightless environment will suffer from bone loss unless they are taking the chemical therapy we designed. But what if the bones were a limiting factor?" Both assistants now eyed Phani curiously. "What if the bone loss and softening meant that bones are not necessary in a weightless state? What if humans could be placed in the space station for life, working endlessly for the good of mankind with no adverse effects?" Vasuman gasped and took a step back from him.

Alopa looked startled at first, but her eyes wandered as she pondered the reasoning. "But we already found a way for them to keep their bones intact." And the astronauts only experience bone softening, not complete bone loss."

Phani nodded, "Yes that's true, but what about long term travel in space? The medicines work for the men and women that go up, and then come back home. However, what about long, or indefinite terms? I can't stop thinking about the true necessity for bone structure in space, or why the body develops a chemical that actually softens bone. I believe it is a normal adaptive reaction. I think that in time, because of the way the body reacts to weightlessness, it would end the same way. Eventually the bones would become completely gelatinous. We need to take this testing to trials that would conclusively show the effect BSA-1950 has on humans."

"You're suggesting that we should take this to human trial?" Alopa asked. "You can't possibly think that any government or medical organization would allow that?"

"Maybe not right away, but after we have the actual results documented, we should begin to see interest and cooperation." Dr. Phani stood confidently and looked to Vasuman whose face showed the expression of alarm.

"I agree." said Alopa.

Vasuman took another step back from them. "Are you two insane? What could you possibly be trying to achieve? There is no way this could ever be allowed. Without bone support of any kind, the subject would become incapable to work any kind of controls or tools. They would be as useful as an earthworm. You two sound as if you belong in a horror movie. Where do you think you would find any humans to test this on? If you just test it on one person, they would become useless to anybody. And then what would you do, put them down like the animals we test?" He turned and stormed out.

#

Dr. Phani and Alopa were sitting on padded wooden stools at opposite sides of a stainless steel table with their papers and journals spread out before them. Three days passed as they worked and struggled over all the possibilities and ramifications of human trials.

"He's right you know." said Alopa. "There is no way we could get anybody to agree to anything like this without a completely rational purpose. I can't even conceive one myself other than the benefits it might have for space workers. It still sounds like a hard sell to me. We need ultimate proof that this has a benefit, and that benefit has to be shown in a weightless environment. If we find some subjects and the therapy works the same as it did on the monkeys, what do we do next?"

"One step at a time my friend. First, we need at least one human subject. If we can get one person to agree to be tested, the next thing would be training them." Phani rested his chin on his hand and thought deeply. Vasuman came in without looking or acknowledging his coworkers. The distressed look on his face showed clearly that he wanted no part in their thoughts. He began feeding the animals and cleaning the cages. Both Phani and Alopa frowned. Their expressions showed little remorse or respect for him. "He disgusts me. I thought he was perfect for this position when I hired him, now he just fights me. If only there was a way to get him to work with us."

Dr. Phani and Alopa went to him to appeal their need for human trials. Phani said, "Please Vasuman, you must understand. Nobody else has discovered what we have. We have to pursue this to human trial. This is a science, no person has ever seen, and you are a part of it. Imagine what this will do for us all if we succeed. Also realize that you will become so wealthy, you could open your own lab and pursue the research you want."

"I have thought it through, and as barbaric as it sounds, you're right, it needs to go to human trial for a complete analysis." Alopa had a light smile on her face with her head tilted while looking at Vasuman, seemingly detecting some irony in his answer. Phani was desperate to see it through to the end. Vasuman's acceptance made Phani so happy; he dove into him and hugged him tightly.

Alopa spoke up. "I know of a way we can get human subjects to test. I'll make a phone call and we will be able to start by weeks end."

Phani's face showed astonishment. "But how? How will you be able to get us subjects to test?"

"I know some people in the prison systems, I will get the subjects we need and it will cost you nothing." Vasuman turned away from them and continued cleaning and feeding. Alopa saw it, but Phani missed the look of abhorrence Vasuman wore. By the weeks end, they had two men that were brought to them. Both were convicted murderers and were going to be put before a firing squad. They were brought in anesthetized and shackled.

The two of them were undressed and placed in separate cages that were strong enough to contain a gorilla. When they began to regain their coherency, one of them was injected with the BSA-1950, while the other was fed food with an ingestible form of the compound mixed in. Within thirty seconds, the one that had been injected collapsed, and two hours later his bones were like stiff rubber. It took six hours for the same effect on the other, although, the results were identical. By the next day, they looked like blobs spread out on the floor of the cages. Phani and his crew could see that if the men adapted and learned to move like the monkeys, they could easily escape through the bars. Vasuman wrapped metal screen around the bottom of the cages and secured it with wire.

"Alopa," said Phani, "I need to see if it has the same effect on women as it does on men. Can you get me female subjects to test?"

"I believe I can. I'll make the call."

While she was in her office calling, Vasuman approached Phani. "It seems that she has some strong and questionable contacts. Have you ever asked her about that?"

"No, I saw no need for it. We're getting what we need. Why are you so concerned?"

"Because of the ease of how she did it. Think of the kind of person that can pull strings like that. Only certain kinds of people come to mind when I think of that kind of ability. She has to have some powerful connections. If you ask me, I think that you and I are in grave danger.

"Grave danger? You cannot be serious."

"I am very serious. Just take a moment and think. How is she getting those people by making a simple phone call? If you were to upset her, maybe all it would take is a phone call for her to take over your lab and dispose of you. Also, I think that you already have a female test subject and should take advantage before it's too late. Too late for either of us. I think it would be easy for us to disguise a lab accident." Phani was looking at Vasuman with horrified disbelief. But his expression turned to grief and concern as he looked away and pondered the words.

Phani sighed and looked down, "We were getting what we needed. I can see that you're right. I looked away so I could go on with the research. You have my attention. What do think we should do?"

"We'll test her with the BSA-1950 and then give her a drug overdose. We have a variety of animal tranquilizers. We'll test her but only long enough to see early stage results, give her the overdose and say that she was a junky. She made a mistake and injected herself with the BSA-1950, and then took her own life. Get her into the conference room for a meeting, I'll be waiting."

Dr. Phani was slowly shaking his head as he filled a syringe with the BSA-1950 and handed it to Vasuman. Vasuman waited in the conference room for the other two to enter. Phani opened the door out of respect to his female colleague and allowed her to enter first. As soon as she stepped into the room, Vasuman stepped forward and thrust the syringe toward her neck. Alopa side stepped, grasped Dr. Phani's lab coat and pulled him into the path of the needle. Vasuman in his haste injected it into Dr. Phani, at that same moment; Alopa pulled a syringe from her lab coat pocket and thrust it into Vasuman's stomach, as he stood there open mouthed from the mistake he just made. She then dashed to the opposite side of the conference table for protection.

Phani gasped. "What the hell did you just do to me?"

"I'm sorry Dr., it was meant for her."

"You two are idiots," said Alopa. "You forgot about the intercom, I've been listening to you. Now you'll witness for yourselves what our creation is best suited for. And who better to have as test subjects than someone who knows the effect of the drug, and how it will affect you?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Phani.

"Just look at the destructive nature of it. Look at what kind of potential it has in the hands of the right administrator." Phani collapsed to the floor and Vasuman soon followed. "Can you imagine what would happen if this was placed in this cities water supply? This is a weapon, designed by us. You tried to use it on me. You were going to use me as a simple unsuspecting test subject, you disgust me."

Phani struggled to speak from his position on the floor. "You're trying to stop me? What are you going to do now, destroy it?"

"No, I'm going to sell it and retire."

"I'll never let you get away with this Alopa."

"Get away with it? What do you think you could possibly do to me now? You're too weak from the drug to stand. You're powerless over me. In a matter of hours, you will be as useful as a worm. You won't even survive unless I feed you." Phani and Vasuman struggled. They grunted, strained, and stayed firm to the floor, panting and perspiring. Alopa walked to the phone, pressed numbers into the keypad, and waited. Seconds later, the Doctors heard something they would have never suspected. She spoke in a tongue they recognized, but it was not Hindi.

"Rahim, it is done, bring your team in. I want to be ready in forty-eight-hours; the meetings are already set and Dr. Jaskaran should arrive here tomorrow. I chose Jaskaran because he is just another Indian working with the Americans. He needs to know that he does not deserve respect. Yes, I have scheduled them to video conference at noon, forty-eight hours from now. Can you do this? Good, I'll be expecting you. You have the gate code I sent you? Then I'll see you in four hours." Alopa hung the phone back into its cradle.

"As you may have guessed, I'm not Indian." Dr. Phani once again gasped and tried desperately to get up. "My name is Malika Hasni. I was born in Pakistan and am true to my country." She smiled as she stepped around her disabled coworkers and left the conference room.

Rahim arrived with a three man video crew and immediately began to connect the equipment into Dr. Phani's computer system. The four men dragged Phani and Vasuman by their collars into the quarantine area. Using scissors they cut their clothing loose, rolled them off, and then disposed of the clothes.

The next day Dr. Jaskaran arrived and greeted by Malika. "Welcome Doctor. I hope that you had a pleasant flight."

"Yes it was pleasant, although, I was a little more than concerned when you called me to set up a meeting with Dr. Phani. Why was it so necessary for me to come all the way to India?"

"As I told you, this is an experiment that you have to witness first hand. Dr. Phani was hopeful that you became a part of it as all of us here hoped. The world needs to know about this and you could help with that and profit from it."

Jaskaran raised an eyebrow with an accepting smile on his face. "What has the good Doctor come up with now?"

"I am not at liberty to say. Dr. Phani wishes that he be the one to divulge the nature of the experiment personally. I'll take you to his lab and we'll get started. This way Doctor, this is the quarantine area where we keep the animals that we use for testing. These two gentlemen, Rahim and Rishi will be assisting us."

"What is that horrid smell, and what is that trail of slime on the floor?"

Malika smiled, "Sweat, urine and feces. Two of our test subjects are having a little trouble controlling themselves." Malika walked along one of the slime trails that led behind the stacks of cages and pointed. "There is Dr. Phani, and by the look of his reaction, he is very happy to see you."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Jaskaran moved closer and saw a huge blob of brown flesh spread out on the floor. Phani rolled his gelatinous head in a sideways tilt to allow him to gaze at Jaskaran with one bloodshot eye. Jaskaran gasped when he realized that blob was a man and knew that it was Dr. Phani. In that instant, Rahim and his helper grabbed Jaskaran by his arms.

He struggled to free himself. "What the hell is this? You let me go this instant." He looked back and forth at his captures still struggling to free his arms. "Release me. Alopa, tell these goons to let go of my arms, right now." Malika stepped up to him, swung her right arm wide and back handed Jaskaran's cheek with the sound of a smacking crack, hard enough to bruise her knuckles. "My name is, Malika Hasni. Undress him, tie him into that chair, and keep watch on him. We still have twenty-four-hours before the show."

"Yes Malika." said Rahim.

Malika said, "I hope that you took the time to relieve yourself of bodily waste before you came here Dr. Jaskaran. You won't be leaving that chair for twenty-four-hours. If you must, just soil yourself, there is no shame considering your situation." Malika observed the two men securing Dr. Jaskaran to the chair. She watched as he vomited on himself. Malika picked up the hose used for cleaning the cages and sprayed the vomit off Jaskaran, then sprayed the floor to wash the slime trails into the floor drain.

#Twenty-four-hours later#

Rahim said, "Malika, we're ready to begin. We have Ajmal Kasab and Nadeem Muhammad online in the conference room. We've also moved Jaskaran into the conference room."

"Thank you, Rahim." Malika entered the conference room and immediately began. "I thank you both for taking this time for the demonstration. I hope you received and read the documentation that I sent you." On the split screen on the conference room wall, both men acknowledged that they had received the information and were completely amused at the thought of changing people into worms but also very interested.

"I know that we have used bio-weaponry in the past and some with horrific ramifications. This new non-bio weapon that I myself have helped develop has a specific purpose, and I have given you a list of the many ways it can be administered. A small amount if in concentrated form will have the same effect I have outlined for you. But this is different from the bio's we have used in the past, it is much safer to handle. This compound can be released into the blood stream, or simply ingested for it to be effective. With it, we can turn entire cities of people into harmless blobs of flesh by putting it in the water supply. We'll first show the condition of the first test subjects and then our demonstration will begin."

Rahim and his aids took the remote camera into the quarantine lab and filmed the two doctors as well as demonstrating the eating ability of the monkeys. As Jaskaran sat and watched from his chair bound and gagged, Malika's senses were assaulted by the smell of feces and urine as the bound doctor was no longer able to hold it back. As the cameras were brought back into the conference room and set in front of Dr. Jaskaran, Malika could see the interest on her video guests faces.

"Rahim, please be ready to release the doctor from his bindings when I instruct you to." Rahim waited behind Jaskaran with a knife.

"I will now inject the compound into our subject." Malika placed a syringe against Jaskaran's neck and pushed its needle in. He writhed, and protested and then gave in to what happened with sobbing. She squeezed the syringe slowly and purposefully, with an easy and confident smile. After withdrawing the needle, Malika lifted her arm and studied her wristwatch. After thirty seconds had passed, she told Rahim to cut the bindings.

As soon as Jaskaran was released, he stood and staggeringly advanced on Malika. She stepped back a few steps smiling until Jaskaran collapsed to the floor. He crawled in her direction for only a moment and went still, panting and perspiring.

We won't take the cameras off of our subject until I can show you the effect first hand. It will only take three hours; that's why I recommended that you be ready with food and drink so you would be able to stay and watch the show. Her video guests enjoyed the meals and drink while watching their monitors. Three hours had passed.

"I am ready to show you the beginning results of the drug." She knelt beside Jaskaran and lifted his left arm. She pulled the top side of his forearm against her knee with both hands as if trying to break a stick, but his arm bent like rubber. "In just a matter of hours, his bones will be completely gelatinous." Everyone sounded with applause and praise.

"Rahim?" one of the video guests said, "We need you to finish there. Bring us some samples, the equipment to manufacture, and then clean the rest up. We will see you all in two days time. Thank you Malika, this was a very good demonstration." The video feed ended. Malika showed concern for not knowing what, finish there and clean the rest up meant.

Rahim approached Malika with a wide smile. You've done very well Malika." Malika returned to calm and gave a wide and genuine smile in return. Rahim reached out to her and placed his hand on her shoulder to draw her close, and kissed her forehead as he jammed a syringe into her neck. "You should not have put a price on this."

As Rahim and his team drove away from the lab, he pushed a button on a remote he held. The lab exploded, completely destroying everything.

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Little Billy Had a Scab

I remember that time as if it happened yesterday, and it started September, twenty-fifth, nineteen-seventy-eight. It changed me, I was ten-years-old. It was Saturday night in the early part of fall. Mom, my dad, sister, and I had just finished dinner in front of the television watching Happy Days. Mom was telling us to pick up our TV dinner trays and empty them into the trash, when we heard a girl scream followed by a loud crash. The house shook and pictures on the walls danced and swayed for only a moment.

Shaken and startled, my mom, Kathy, and Ron, my dad ran to the front door. Dad got there first, twisted the knob and jerked the door open. Mom turned in haste and said, "You two stay in here." They hurried through the door onto the front porch and stopped. I peeked around them and saw a white two-door Mustang Fastback crushed into the old oak tree in our front yard. The tree was very large around and I saw later that it suffered little damage. Teenagers often used our street, for racing their cars, with the starting line at a quarter-mile stretch, with nothing but forest on both sides, and our house set on a corner as the finish line. Police never got there in time to catch any of them if there was a complaint called in.

My eleven-year-old sister Cindy and I could no longer contain our curiosity, and started to creep out to see what was going on. "Get out of my way you stupid dirty boy." Cindy pulled me back into the house so she could go first.

I heard women that were standing by the car crying while others just kept repeating, "Oh my god." Some people were panicked and yelling out for someone to call the police and an ambulance. I first saw a girl stretched over the hood of the car, half out of the windshield. Her blood was running in a stream from her dangling arm onto the ground. Cindy shrieked and ran back into the house and just watched from the front door.

People from all over the neighborhood had already begun to gather, horrified at what they were seeing. The car struck the tree dead center so hard, it forced the engine through the firewall and into the front seat, and knocked both doors open. The driver was pinned between the steering wheel and the seat back, his knees trapped between the dashboard and the steering wheel. The girl's legs, trapped inside the car with the engine, seat and dashboard. Down the street, I could hear screeching tires as another car sped away from the scene.

I heard the sound of someone puking and turned to my right. Mr. Tuner, one of our neighbors, was on his hands and knees throwing up in the bushes alongside of my house. I made my way through the bystanders to the other side of the car. The driver looked all crumpled up between the seat and steering wheel, his blood was running off the seat to the floor of the car and out onto the ground. His face was a purple-red, and blood was coming out of his mouth, nose, and eyes. I could not really tell if I knew him. Someone grabbed me roughly by the arm and I nearly screamed. It was my mom and she started dragging me back to the house, "I told you to stay inside!"

Being only ten, there were things I did not understand. How did they crash, how did that guy get so folded up and why did their blood run out like that? Rubbing the itchy scab on my arm, I was remembering when I got the cut, seeing my blood running down my arm. Were those two people dead or were they going to be okay, and why was Mr. Turner throwing up in the bushes?

A couple of hours later it was time for bed. I had so many questions to ask my mom, but she just told me to go to sleep and we would talk about it later. Although, I was just too curious and it kept me awake for a while, picturing over and again the blood pouring out of the two people, making big puddles on the ground. Again, I thought about the way the blood came out of the cut on my arm and the way it ran down in a stream.

The next day there was knocking at the front door. I was at the dining room table on a chair with my legs folded under me, as I worked on my homework. From the sound of her voice, I knew it was Mrs. Smyth, my Sunday school teacher. I looked up from my homework and saw her standing at the door.

"Hello Lydia," mom said, "What can I do for you?" Mrs. Smyth was a very stern and dispassionate person, I thought of her as mean. She was a tall thin woman; her dark brown hair, always pulled back in a bun. She was in a white dress with tiny yellow flowers all over it, hanging down to her ankles and drawn tight at the waste. She always had a serious look on her face and never smiled.

"Funeral arraignments were made for the accident victims, Nick Watts and Amy Fischer. I am gathering donations for their families and was just wondering if you could help out?"

"We don't have much, will five dollars help?" With a hesitation, she said, "I'm sure it will; funeral cost can be so burdensome! Most of the other families gave twenty but I'm sure this will do!"

"I do wish I could donate more, but we're having a bit of a time with our finances right now! When is the funeral set for?"

"It's set for tomorrow, 10 am at St. Paul's for the girl, and the following day for the boy, also at 10. Will you be able to attend?" Mom turned and looked inside at me sitting at the table; I was looking at her curiously.

"We'll try to make the service, the kids will be in school then, although, I'm not sure Ron will be able to get out of work on such short notice."

"Fine then, if you make it I will see you there," then she abruptly turned and walked away.

"Goodbye," said my mom, but there was no response from Mrs. Smyth. I rubbed the itchy scab on my arm and again thought about the blood.

Later that day, my friend Paul came over to play. The two of us headed for my sand box and nearly dove into the sand with our GI Joes and tanks, very eager to get set up for the battle we were about to have. We played for a while killing each other's men and faking big explosions like we saw in movies about war or Bugs Bunny cartoons.

My mom called out to me, "Billy, it's time to come in and get ready for dinner."

"Okay Mom. I got to go." I picked up my GI Joes and tank to put them back in my bedroom.

"Paul, I called your mother and told her you were on your way home."

"Okay. See ya Billy."

When I got back into the house, my mom noticed a drop of blood running down from my knee.

"How did you cut your leg?"

I looked down at it, shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know."

"Well come into the bathroom and we'll clean it up. Mom used a wet washcloth and washed off the blood, when she touched the cut I winced a little. She then sprayed Bactine on the cut, and again I winced, but this time it stung longer. Mom began blowing on it to cool down the burning feeling, and then she placed a Band-Aid over it.

"Why do we have to do that?"

"To stop the blood from coming out and to keep the sore from getting infected." I shrugged my shoulders still not really understanding what she meant, and it didn't hurt until she put that stuff on it.

After dinner, I ventured into the storage room we had in our basement. Not allowed to go in there, my curiosity got the best of me. It was a big room with lots of boxes stacked up. There were Christmas decorations, some old stuffed animals, and some books. I was nervous about being somewhere that I wasn't supposed to be. My belly felt funny, as if full of butterflies. Suddenly I thought it was time to leave, and began heading out to go back upstairs.

Brushing by some boxes that were stacked, I didn't see the chest with the broken hinge hanging out. The sharp corner of the hinge caught my arm. In my haste, it was too late to stop. I felt the scratch, and heard a light ripping sound but, it didn't really hurt. When I looked to see what had happened, there was a large layer of my skin in the shape of a football, that had been dug away leaving kind of ditch in my skin. I found my skin all wadded up on the corner of the hinge, and was actually able to unfold it and place it right back into the scratch, but it wouldn't stay.

Blood started welling up from the scratch and ran down my arm. Not knowing what else to do, because I didn't want mom and dad to know I went behind their back, or have that burning stuff sprayed on me, I just kept wiping the blood away on my blue jeans. In a very short time the bleeding stopped. My mom was busy in the laundry room and didn't notice me coming up out of the basement. I went into the bathroom and washed the blood off my arm.

The days of the funerals for the victims came and went. My parents did not attend. Paul had to go because his mother wanted him to. Two days later when Paul got back to school, he told our friend Michael and me all about seeing the dead people.

I asked, "You saw them when they were dead?"

"Yeah, they weren't breathing or nothing. They just looked like they were sleeping. They were dressed real nice and laying in big boxes that looked like a nice bed inside. Then we had to go to the grave yard and they put the boxes in a big hole."

I was confused, "A big hole?"

"Yeah, a big square hole someone dug in the ground." That brought back a memory from when I had to go to my grandma's funeral. Mom was crying a lot that day. All my questions came back from the accident in front of our house and I needed answers.

When I got home, I walked through the door and yelled, " **Mom where are you**?"

"I'm in the kitchen Billy." Mom was washing the dishes and I went right in and started asking the questions. They were not easy questions to answer to such a young person but she tried to be as helpful as she could.

"Paul had to go to see the dead people that were in the car crash, he said they were in big boxes that they put in a hole in the ground."

"Yes, that's what they do with dead people; then they put all the dirt that was dug out of the hole over the boxes. The boxes are called coffins."

"They buried them in the ground_, why?"

"It's just what they always do with dead people."

"Well why did they die?"

"They were in a really bad accident Honey, they got all broken and badly cut up, they lost a lot of their blood, and they died because of it!"

"Well why did all of their blood come out?"

"Because they were cut up so badly."

"How much do you have to lose before you die?"

Mom looked at me and sighed, and then said, "A real lot before you die!" I did not know how much a real lot was, but then pictured in my mind the puddles of blood from the two that died in the crash, and looked at the new big scab on my left arm.

My mom looked at my arm, "Where did you get that?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "What made them crash their car?"

"I guess they were just going too fast and accidentally went off the road and crashed into our tree. They just made a really big mistake and they died."

Somewhat satisfied, I stopped asking questions and went to my bedroom to think. I pictured the girl's blood running off her dangling arm. I then pictured the blood pouring off the guy's seat, and then remembered seeing the blood running down from my knee and out of the scratch on my arm. Rubbing my hand over the bumpy feeling scab, I wondered if the blood I lost was a lot. I'm still alive, so it must not have been. When I realized that, I felt a lot better. However, I wanted to know how much a person would lose before they die.

#

It was early Saturday morning, one week after the crash. I awoke to the smell of bacon with the underlying aroma of toasted bread, and wondered if I should get out of bed now or wait for my mom to call for me.

"Billy, Cindy," mom called, "It's time to get up"! The bed felt warm and comfortable, but the smell of breakfast made my belly rumble with hunger. I was already pushing the blankets off myself, with my blue and white vertical striped pajamas twisted all around, when mom stepped into my room. "Get up sleepy head. I want you to go into the bathroom to pee, and then wash your hands with soap before coming to the table."

"Okay," I said with irritation in my voice, because I hated that she was always reminding me to wash my hands.

The whole house had wood floors and off-white walls with pictures everywhere. Standing in the hallway looking toward the front of the house I could see into the living room, the dark wood front door, and the picture window to the right of it, the dining room and kitchen was just to the left. My bedroom was the front bedroom behind the kitchen. I had to walk down the hall to the bathroom that was right across from Cindy's room. Mom and dad's room was at the end of the hall. They had the biggest room, although there was only one bathroom.

I walked down the hall toward the bathroom glancing up at the pictures of grandma and grandpa, two people I never met on my father's side, and Jesus. Jesus looked sad, his head had a glow around it and his hands were out, his right hand was holding the world, in his left lay a cross.

I looked into Cindy's room, she wasn't in there, and the bathroom door was closed. Grasping the knob to the bathroom, I twisted it quickly and opened the door wide. Cindy was sitting on the toilet, her knees spread wide, her hand between her legs and she was looking down into the toilet bowl. She instantly gasped, closed her knees and tried to cover herself with her nightgown that was pulled up around her waist. She turned her head quickly toward me, her long blonde hair whipping around and wrapping over part of her face. Her grey-blue eyes blazed as she yelled, "Get out of here you little brat! Mom?"

I jumped back, acting startled and with eyes wide, knowing I had to get out of there, apologize and close the door fast. "Oops! Sorry," and closed the door, with a brief smile on my face. I heard my father's voice from the living room; he was sitting in his big brown recliner reading the morning newspaper, "Did you forget to knock again son?"

"Sorry dad."

"Don't say you're sorry to me; you have to say it to your sister!"

"I did, but I think she's still going to be mad at me!"

"Just remember to knock next time, okay?"

"Okay," I said solemnly, still feeling the victory of making her mad.

At ten-years-old, I did not like my sister much because she always treated me bad. She was mean and unforgiving. Her hate for me went back as far as I could remember. If I tried to play with her, she would slap my face and say, "I hate you, leave me alone." Or, "You're a stupid dirty little boy," if she was mad at me. She had to be first at everything or she would stomp her feet and yell at my mom or dad for treating me better. I cannot even count how many times my mom slapped her face. I cannot even count how many times my dad put her over his knees and swatted her until she cried.

Cindy came out of the bathroom storming down the hall.

When she reached the living room, her voice was shrill. "Dad, can't you stop him from walking in on me like that?"

"I've already talked to him about that, and he's going to try harder to remember next time, and I think it would also be better if you would remember to lock the door."

Her voice came out of her roughly, "Ohhh" she said. She looked at me, her eyes still ablaze, "You're a stupid dirty little boy!" I looked at her and smiled. Fury burned in her eyes as she raised her hand to slap me.

Dad looked at her, "You hit him, and I will hit you." She looked at him with eyes ablaze, turned back toward me, and slapped my face. Dad pulled her right down across his knees, raised her gown, and spanked with three hard swats. She was sniffling and crying all through breakfast. "Stop your crying or go to your room."

"But it's not fare. He is just a stupid dirty little boy." She stood and stormed into her bedroom.

Later after breakfast, I thought about playing with one of my friends. Going into the living room and looking out of the picture window, I saw Michael playing in his front yard across the street. "Mom, can I go across the street to play with Michael?"

"Yes, but stay close to home so you can hear when I call you home for lunch."

I went outside and up to the edge of the road and called out to Michael. "Hey Mike, what are you doing?"

"I'm playing with the ants, can you come over?"

Michael was a good friend and we usually had fun playing and climbing trees together. Our favorite tree to climb was in Michaels's back yard. It was easy to reach the branches and pull ourselves high enough to see over the roof of Micheal's house.

I said, "I can see my house." At that moment, Cindy was looking out the picture window and looked at me high up in the branches, shook her head, pointed at me mouthing the words, "You are so stupid."

Michael's mom called him to come into the house. "I'll be right back Billy." He was climbing down quickly as I watched from up high. Near the bottom, he slipped off the branch and landed on his belly. He did not make a sound. I thought he was going to cry. He stood and staggered a little. Blood was jetting from his neck in thick streams, soaking his shirt and spraying on the grass around him.

I yelled loud, "Mrs. Taylor," and louder again when Michael collapsed face first into the grass. I began to climb down as Michael's mom came running out of the house. When I got to the ground, Michael's body twitched a couple of times and then he went still. I stared in awe at puddle of blood near Michael's neck, knowing he lost enough to die.

His mother reached us, she was crying hysterically. "What happened, what happened to my Michael?"

Through wavering voice, tears streaming down my cheeks I said, "He fell out of the tree and cut his neck on that sharp rock." She rolled him over. I looked at the gash in his neck and then looked at his dead eyes. I cried hard and felt stupid for putting myself in danger, knowing that it could have been me, and then I wished, it should have been Cindy.

That night I lay crying into my pillow when Cindy came in to talk to me. She sat down on the edge of my bed, "I know you are hurting right now, losing one of your best friends. I really didn't like Michael that much." I raised my head and looked at her. She was looking at me apologetically. I rolled over onto my back wondering what she was going to say next. "He was just a stupid dirty little boy like you," she slapped my face with the sound of a cracking smack, her eyes blazing with contempt, "and you killed him. I wish that it was you that fell instead, cut your neck and died."

She stood and stormed out of my room. I stopped crying when she hit me, my sadness washed away and replaced with an utter desire. I wanted to know how much blood would come out of her if I cut her neck. I never said anything about her slapping me.

Two days later, my mom, sister, and I were waiting in the car for my dad. He was going to drive us to Michael's funeral. I could not stop my tears, but managed to contain my crying, as long as everybody left me alone. My dad climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. As soon as we began to back out, we heard a crunching sound.

My dad stopped the car and climbed out looking under the car. He walked around to the passenger side front and back tires, and picked up three of my toys, my now flattened metal army tank and my two GI Joes, both in several pieces. He didn't say a word; he just showed them to me with pursed lips. I always kept them in my room. He looked through the window at Cindy, I looked at her too; she had her head down looking at her hands with a light gratified smile on her face. I looked back at dad; he bared his clenched teeth, and his face reddened. He turned away and tossed my toys in the trash.

My mom looked at Cindy, her eyes blazed, "That was not nice young lady."

Cindy looked up, "I didn't do anything. He just doesn't know how to take care of his toys because he's stupid." My mom shook her head and turned away.

#

Paul and I stood next to each other at the side of Michael's coffin. Michael looked so peaceful. I broke down crying hard. Paul put his hand on my back and walked me back to the chairs, guiding me into one. He sat next to me and started crying, covering his face with his hands. Cindy never shed a single tear. Paul's sister Beth was crying as Cindy did her best to console her. I was looking at the two of them wondering what Cindy was saying to her, because they were never friendly with each other. Beth looked at me, and I could see a burning hatred in her expression, her eyes red and wet with tears.

On the way home, my dad stopped at a toy store and went in by himself. He came out bearing a single bag, opened my door, and handed it to me. Inside were two new GI Joes and a tank, just like my old one.

Cindy gasped and said, "Why does he get that? Don't I get anything?"

Dad looked at her, "Yes, you will, as soon as we get home." When we got home, he took Cindy by the arm, pulled her into the kitchen, and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. He pointed to a spot next to him, "Billy I want you to stand right there."

He pulled Cindy between us, reached up her dress, and pulled her underwear down. She began to cry, "I didn't do anything."

Dad took her by the shoulders to face him, "Then explain how his toys were perfectly placed under the tires."

She cried harder, "I don't know."

He bent her over his knees and pulled her dress up over her back. I was staring at her bare bottom when he swatted her with a loud crack. She wailed. Dad said, "Tell me that you put them there." She said nothing and continued to cry. He started swatting her and kept at it as she wailed with each smacking crack.

Her butt was deep red. I counted twelve smacks until she wailed, "I'm sorry."

Dad pulled her up standing next to him. Pulled her underwear back up and shoved her toward mom. "Get her into bed." Cindy held her hands over her eyes as she bawled. Dad stood and grabbed her arm, "I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning, and you are going to apologize to us all." He swatted her again and let go. Mom led her to the bathroom, and then to her bedroom. Dad looked at me and sighed, "You should get changed out of your church clothes and go play with your toys. I'll tell your mom to call Paul's house and see if he can come over, okay?" I was sniffling, tears running down my cheeks and just nodded and walked away.

For the next week, I could not help smiling every time I saw Cindy sit at the table with us to eat, gasping and clenching her teeth from the pain. Then she would look at me with a malevolent expression. One thing I noticed about her was that she did not smile anymore, even when we watched comical shows on TV. She always seemed to be thinking about something else, chewing on her thumbnail. If she caught me looking at her, her eyes would darken and I could see the hate she had for me.

Three weeks after Michael's funeral, Paul and I were playing in my sandbox. Cindy came out of the back door and looked at me. Her expression was strange and showed uncertainty, and then her eyes darkened and she walked behind the house. My mom called to me from the door, "It's getting dark you two, and time to come in and get ready for dinner. Paul, your mother called and wants you home."

We collected our toys and said goodbye to each other. I went into the house and put my toys in my bedroom. I heard a loud thud and went into the kitchen to see what happened. I heard the sound of a struggle. I heard Cindy grunting and my dad was yelling, "Let go of it, let go." I stepped around the corner in time to see dad punch Cindy in the mouth. She fell to the floor. The knife she was holding flew from her hand and slid across the floor, leaving a long red streak.

My mom was also sprawled on the floor, her body convulsed as her blood jetted from her neck. Cindy's clothing was soaked with blood. Dad had a scratch on his neck that was bleeding. My mom stopped convulsing as dad and I ran to her. Cindy was trying to get up. I jumped onto her back and started punching her in the head. Dad was checking on mom and then wailed, "KATHY."

Dad pushed me off Cindy, rolled her over, and punched her again, knocking her unconscious. I was crying hard looking at my mom's lifeless body when we heard a scream from outside. Dad called the police. I weakly stood and went through the front door outside to see who screamed. Several people were gathered a short ways from our oak tree. Women were crying and everybody was looking at Paul, lying on the sidewalk in a pool of his blood, his neck cut, gashed. Now my sister lives in the Richland Asylum.

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Last Meal

People can be cruel. I remember that clearly in the jungles of Columbia as a medic in the Marines. Guerillas captured my team, and tortured us one at a time. They had us all tied spread eagle between trees, with our pants cut open, while being asked questions. They let my comrades bleed to death after cutting off body parts, if their questions went unanswered. My turn was coming.

I remember hearing the sound of birds singing, bugs buzzing, men crying, and the interrogator screaming at the next man in our line. He wanted answers to why we were there. He had his hand gripped tightly around a private's penis and scrotum, with his knife in place ready to cut and remove. The jungle erupted with the roaring clap of many machine guns. The guerillas tried to fight back but were outnumbered and fell quickly to a platoon of Seals.

Released from my bonds, I ran to the last man cut and tried to stop his bleeding. I saved three out of eleven, and eight bled to death. I could not imagine what the lives of the three I saved, would be like after a loss like that; that was seven years ago, and now I live in Seattle, Washington.

In my family, everybody was pretty much the same when it came to another person in need. Beth, my niece, was no different. If she heard someone scream, or yell out for help, her automatic reaction was to go see if she could help. Even when any of us came across a homeless person with their hand out, it was just impossible to say no.

We should have learned our lesson from when Beth's father took a bullet for a complete stranger, during a robbery in a convenience store. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Later, he stopped a thief from stealing some little old women's purse, while in his wheel chair. What's right is right, and victims have the right not to be victims.

#

It was a foggy evening. Although, being dusk, with the streetlights already burning, it looked mistier than it was. The city of Seattle, is well known, for the heavy amounts of rain and fog it received. I was walking out of Albertsons market, heading back to my car. My wife Sheryl, asked me to stop for some things.

I always parked in a space that was far from the store, believing it was better for me to walk the distance. This night left me with uncertainty. Through the misty air, I saw a couple struggling. The woman was crying and trying to break free of the man she was with. He was a big guy, heavy set, and pulling her close yelling something in her face. I watched for a moment until the guy slammed the back of his hand across her face, sending her sprawling on the asphalt.

Running hard, I rushed to her rescue. I pushed him backward and yelled, " **You back off asshole**."

The women got back to her feet, still sobbing and had one hand to her face where the man struck her. She was looking at him. Her expression showed that she recognized the look in his eyes; she turned to me and yelled in a shrill voice, " **Mind your own business**." The man surprised me with a punch to my nose. It knocked me back, falling onto my rear.

I was shocked, and could not believe what just happened. As I held my hands to my nose, I said, "I thought you were in trouble."

The women turned to me, pointed her finger and kind of bent forward as she cried out. " **Just mind your own business,** _asshole_!"

"Come on baby," the man said to her, and they climbed into a minivan, pulled out, and drove off.

I saw her face, the expression of fear. After thinking about that, it was probably the fear of both of us, pulverized by him. She knew him better than I did. I started thinking; it's probably the way they fight. I asked myself while looking at my blood in my hands, "Lesson learned?"

The dinner Sheryl prepared for us could have been much better if I didn't have to breathe through my mouth. Nevertheless, what do you do when your nose is broken, swollen, and stuffed with gauze, although the wine helped with the pain, and discomfort.

Sheryl said, "I told you that this was going to happen sometime, didn't I."

"Yes, but I thought that guy was really going to beat the tar out of her."

"Was she pretty?"

"What?"

"Was she pretty?"

I knew Sheryl well, and the right answer was crucial or I was going be explaining and apologizing all night, while nursing my broken nose. Looking at her, forcing an expression of disbelief I said, "Are you kidding?" but then saw the true concern in her eyes.

She crossed her arms and said nothing; she really was waiting to hear what I had to say next.

"No actually, she was hideous. Troll comes to mind. Her hair looked like a rats nest and her ass was the size of..."

"That's enough you liar."

"Sweetie, seriously, I'm not lying."

"Yes you are; I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not." I sang the words, "I love you!" Although, it sounded more like, "I lub boo," with my nose pugged like it was. I stood and went to her, took her hands in mine urging her to stand, and took her in my arms, kissed her gently on her cheek trying to avoid contact to my throbbing nose.

"You know you really are an asshole Mark." She was smiling a half smile, but it was a reassuring smile of love.

"What? Sweetie?"

As she tried to pull away she bumped my nose, it was like a jolt of electricity. I gasped and retracted quickly, letting go of her and surrounding my nose with my hands; eyes squinted and filled with tears.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Her teeth clenched; her shoulders shrugged and her hands were on her cheeks, as if she could feel my pain.

She reached out to me. I held one hand up in a gesture to stay back. She stopped, and I said, "I'm going to bed as soon as I get done eating the whole bottle of Vicodin the doctor gave me."

"Yah, ha-ha. You know this wouldn't have happened if you weren't out trying to save pretty girls."

I looked at Sheryl out of the corner of my eye, still covering my nose as I left the room for the bathroom medicine cabinet, her expression was apologetic.

Sheryl was pretty. She had straight shiny dark brown hair, with deep blue eyes, and a slender athletic build. I always thought, for a woman of thirty-eight, she was as fine as fine could be. The jealous streak in her drove me nuts.

I met her the day I got home after retiring from the Marines. She was recently divorced from a man that could not control his urges with other women. A year later, we married and moved into a home on the west side of Seattle. I rented an office and started my own practice as a physician.

#

A month and a half had passed and my nose, nearly completely healed. On my way home, I decided pick up some sherbet for Sheryl. The easiest place for me to stop was at Albertsons. I parked this time, at the side of the store.

Finished and outside the store, I slipped my keys in the door and stopped. I thought I heard a woman crying, convulsively. I put the groceries in the car, and moved toward the direction of the sound, it was coming from the back of the store. As I got closer, it became more distinct. It was a woman's voice, she was crying, wailing and pleading out the words, "Stop it, let me go." She said those words repeatedly through relentless convulsive crying. I began to run to the backside of the store. What I saw horrified me to my marrow. I saw a man raping a woman. He was on top of her, furiously, pounding his body into hers. Running toward them, I yelled out as I ran, " **Hey** , **what the hell are you doing**?"

The man jumped to his feet, his reaction was swift, and he ran off in the opposite direction. I caught a glimpse of his face before he ran off. I wanted to pursue him but had to stop and help the woman. Helping her to stand, she was weak and crying uncontrollably. There was a droplet of blood running down the inside of her thigh.

" _Help me_!" she cried.

"It will be okay, I'll help you! I am a doctor"

I helped her pull her panties and jeans up, then, took her hand, and led her to the front of the store while using my cell phone to call 911. "Yes, my name is Mark Schroeder. I was shopping at the Albertsons on fifth and Sanders and caught a man assaulting a young woman behind the store. No, he got away but the woman needs help. I'll ask. What is your name miss?"

"Carey Pickering," she said with sobbing voice.

"Her name is Carey Pickering. I am a doctor. I will keep her safe until the officers arrive. The left side front of the store. Thank you."

Police and an emergency medical van arrived, and questioned me while loading her in the van on a gurney. They asked that I come to the station to go through pictures, mug shots. In the police station, I picked out two possibilities, because I had only gotten a glimpse of the man. At home, I could barely speak, telling Sheryl what had happened.

"I'm glad that you were there to help that poor girl. I can't even imagine what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

I felt nothing but utter sadness for her. The fact that I couldn't conclusively point the man out was even more maddening. I kept seeing in my mind, that trickle of blood on the young woman's inner thigh. Thoughts of what I could have done coursed through my brain. What if I had just been quiet until I reached them, then maybe, I could have grabbed him and then it would be over, But no, I had to scare him off and now he might get away with what he had done.

We heard on the news a week later that DNA samples collected from the woman gave them a suspect, and Carey identified his picture, a sex offender out on parole. There was a picture of the man, and the news reporter said that the police identified the man as Ricky Schmitt. He was in violation of his parole before he assaulted the woman, and sought by law enforcement officials. If anyone seen him, they were to call the sheriff's hotline and report it, a reward of $5000 offered to the person with information leading to his arrest.

Sheryl was asking, "That is so horrible, how can they just let a man like that back out into the world?"

"I don't know sweetie, but that was the guy I saw, I'm sure of it.

A couple of weeks passed, and the trail of Ricky Schmitt was getting cold, as if he just disappeared. A flood of sightings flowed into the police, but they always came up cold or unsubstantiated. Everybody that cared was growing very impatient with the police, accusing them of not trying hard enough.

Soon the story and requests from police stopped being newsworthy. Until the police could come up with solid leads, everything went stale. The police kept trying to keep it in the news, to keep people looking for the man. They were waiting for him to make that one mistake that would lead to his arrest. They even posted pictures of what he could possibly look like if he had changed his appearance in some way, but that didn't help.

My niece Beth, still in college, spent a lot of her time with her friends when she wasn't studying. She was twenty-one, stood about five-foot-eight, with long curly blonde hair and light blue eyes. She had an innocent appeal to her face. Some regarded her as weak or fragile. She was, nowhere near it. She trusted me and called me to pick her up at the hospital. She was crying, but I did not ask why, being in a hurry just to get to her side.

I raced to the hospital thinking the worst. When I got there, she was bawling, "Tell me what happened Beth."

"I and my friend Rachel went out to a bar, one of the local hangouts, 'Randy's'. A man came up and sat next to Rachel, offering to buy her a drink, asked her if she wanted to dance. Rachel said no to both requests and the man left. Rachel left her handbag in the car and went to get it. She said she would be right back. When she didn't come back, I went to find her. In the parking lot, a man was straddling her, punching her face. I ran to them screaming at him to get off her. I kicked him in the chin. He stood and staggered back. I charged and kicked him in the balls, and then he ran away clutching himself. Rachel was bleeding and unconscious, so I called 911. That fucker raped her, and then broke almost every bone in her face."

I hugged Beth tightly, "You did the best you could Beth. She is still alive because of you." My words were not enough, and she bawled convulsively against my chest.

Rachel spent the better part of the next month in a drug-induced coma while the bones in her face healed. She was going to have to go through several therapies to teach her mouth to form words correctly. She had gone through many surgeries to reconstruct her face, and gave her tooth implants in an attempt to make her look close to the way she used to look. It was mostly about the broken bones and bruising, not cut up too badly.

The DNA taken from her was a match to the man that raped the young woman I had saved. Now Ricky Schmitt was back in the news and the search for him once again fueled. The description Beth gave the police was closer to one of the pictures of what he might look like if he had changed his appearance. He hid that way, in plain sight and different face. I had been so close, Beth had come so close, and again he was loose, out there looking for another victim. It was going to take a major stroke of luck for police to find him.

#

It was early Saturday, five weeks after the attack, Beth and I headed home after a visit to the hospital to see Rachel. We stopped at Albertsons for a few things. Beth went in with me. We were fumbling through the oranges, filling a small bag when a man walked up.

"Hey, ain't you that guy that was on the TV?" he talked with a southern drawl. Tennessee maybe, I mused.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Beth looked up from the oranges, looking not too excited to be talking to anybody.

"Yeah, you are that guy; the one that saved that woman now ain't cha?"

"Yes that was me." I said without smiling, not feeling in the mood to talk about that.

"Well good going chief, you done a real heroic thing there!"

"Thanks!" I said nodding my head once, and watched as he walked away.

"Uncle Mark, that' was the guy, the one that raped Rachel!"

"What? How can you be sure?"

"It's his voice, the way he talks, the way he walks, but mostly his eyes. Yeah he looks different in the face, the color of his hair, but that is the guy!" she was looking serious.

"You can't be serious?"

"I'm dead serious!"

"Beth, you have to be sure."

"Yeah, I'm totally sure!"

I looked at her eyes, studied her. She was stern, and positively confident. "Then we need to nab this guy, will you stick with me?"

"Why, so they can just put him in some cell, so we can pay for his room and board? I have a better idea for that creep."

"I know what you want Beth. Trust me; I have a better idea if we can pull it off. I'm just hoping you have the stomach for it."

"Are we going to kill him?"

"Nope, I have a better idea; although, we have to get a hold of him first, so follow my lead. We need to walk out of the store just before him. After we get him, I need to make a quick stop at my office."

"Why?"

"I need some tools and a pile of drug samples, pain, and sleeping pills."

"What are you going to do, some surgery on him?"

"Just a little something cosmetic."

"Cosmetic?"

"Trust me Beth; I believe you will appreciate what I have in mind."

"You can't tell my dad about any of this."

"I'm not even going to tell your aunt Sheryl, we need to keep this to ourselves! We're going to hurt him bad, and can't get caught doing it!"

"What are we going to do to him?"

"There's no time for that right now, we need to get a hold of him first. Let's invite him for a ride; you take the back seat behind him. Do you remember the baton I hide under the seat?"

"Yes."

"Ok, when you get the chance, hit him right here on the side of his head, it will knock him out."

"Okay, but what makes you think he's going to take the ride?"

"If that's really him, when he walked up to us like that, he was testing us to see if we recognized him. Let's see how far we can push his arrogance. I saw him walk in, he's not driving; I'm going to offer him a lift."

#

I saw him come out of the store and purposely walk close by Beth, looking over and tipping his head in our direction.

I nodded back with a friendly smile. "Can I offer you a lift?"

"Well, that's mighty nice of ya, but I can walk it, it's not far!"

"It's no problem, come on I'll give you a lift."

I was smiling in a friendly and calm fashion, so was Beth. She didn't really know what I had planned, but one thing she did know was this guy wasn't going to get away. Beth crawled into the back while the man slid into the front seat and set his bag between his feet.

"Hi, my name is Mike!" said the man holding his hand out to me. I could see that he was wearing makeup and a wig.

"I'm Mark, this is my daughter Liz!"

"Glad to meet ya!"

Mike turned his head reaching for the safety belt and Beth slammed him as hard as she could with the baton in the side of his head knocking him unconscious.

"Wow, good job, I guess you weren't about to wait."

"Wait, and give him the chance to get away? No way!"

After we stopped at my office, I handed Beth the bag of drug samples. "Take five of the valium samples out right now and crush them anyway you can into a powder and pour the powder into his mouth."

After she crushed them, she tilted his head back, opened his mouth and poured the valium in, and then held his mouth closed and his head tilted back for a while.

"Where are we going?"

"We're taking him to the cabin!"

"But that's two hours from here!"

"Yes I know, however, we need to take care of this as soon as possible! After we get him to the cabin and finish, I'll drop you back at school."

The cabin was in a secluded area, and that made it easy to unload Ricky and get him inside. I dragged him into the bathroom, laid him into the shower, and then took a catheter out of my medical kit.

"Beth? In the medical kit, there is some tape and gauze; I want to cover his eyes. If he wakes up, we'll tell him that he is in the hospital, and that he has been in a car accident. Crush up five more of those pills with two pain pills, we'll give that to him in one hour, and hopefully he won't wake up until we're through with him."

"What are we going to do?"

"Remove his tackle!"

Beth's eyes went wide for half a second. A half smile formed on her face and she looked down at Ricky lying in the shower stall.

Beth got the things that I asked for. When she turned back, I had taken Ricky's pants off and was situating him in a position that would make it easier to work on him, spreading his legs wide apart. Beth went to the kitchen.

She brought back a plate with three equal piles of crushed tablets. I looked at her with a questioning gaze.

"There are five tablets crushed in each pile with the pain pills," she tilted her head, "So we can be ready." I smiled at her.

I put on latex gloves and inserted the catheter tube into Ricky's penis, and settled the other end toward the drain on the shower floor. Then, I wrapped the gauze around Ricky's head several times to cover his eyes and taped it down. Walking into one of the bedrooms with my scalpel, I cut a piece of nylon draw cord from one of the horizontal blinds and went back to the bathroom.

"Beth I need you to take a hold of his penis and balls in both hands and pull them hard away from his body."

"Is this good?"

"Whoa. Yes, just like that."

I placed the cord as close to his body as I could, wrapped it around Ricky's penis and balls pulling it as tight as I could after wrapping several times around, then tied it in a knot. Ricky began rocking his head slowly back and forth.

Beth passed a concerned glance at me. "He's waking up!"

"Ok, go to the freezer, there is some frozen concentrated orange juice there. Open one up and use a spoon to scoop out a tiny bit. Mix the drugs in it and put it in his mouth, the flavor will probably get him to swallow."

We waited for another half hour; Ricky didn't stir. His penis had turned deep purple-black, so I knew that I had cut the blood circulation off effectively. We went back to work. I took one of my scalpels and began cutting around his penis and scrotum, close to the cord. Being careful not to cut the catheter, I was finally able to slide his penis and testicles down the catheter tube.

I slid them off the tube and carried them to the sink, rinsed them in cold water to wash the blood away, then took them to the kitchen. I placed them on the cutting board.

"What are you going to do with them?" Beth asked.

I smiled back at her, "Last meal!" Her mouth fell open with eyes wide, and smiled a devilish smile. "Ok, that's that, let's get him into a bed, and secure him to it." Beth helped me get him into bed. I retrieved some rope and a bucket from the broom closet. We tied him to the bed and hung his catheter in the bucket. Going to the kitchen, I took out a butcher's knife and sliced his penis and testes into smaller pieces.

"How long has it been since we gave him his last dose?"

"About four hours."

"Okay, we need to get this stuff cooked up for him before he begins to wake. Give him two more pain pills in the orange juice concentrate, so he won't feel much pain when he does wake. And then come back and help me finish making his meal."

In a frying pan, I melted some butter. Beth was chopping onions and garlic. I took the pieces of his meat and placed them into the frying pan. It smelled just like pork. The onions and garlic went in next and I sautéed it all together. We heard him waking and mumbling in the bedroom. I took seven more of the valium and crushed them up in orange juice.

The two of us went into the room and together we pulled him up into a sitting position. He was awake, although very dopey. He sounded drunk when he spoke.

"Where am I?"

"You are in a hospital. You were in a car crash with two other people, and were cut up pretty badly."

"So when do I get out of here doc?"

"It will be just a couple of days and we'll be able to send you home. You're very lucky and you've healed nicely!"

"Always been a quick healer! What about my eyes?"

"Your eyes are fine; I'll be taking your bandages off later today!"

"Hoo-rah."

"The nurse here has something for you to eat so you can keep your strength up, so be nice and eat up."

"Is she pretty?"

"Ah, um, yes she is, very pretty!"

"Well the food smells good! Ok pretty lady, I'll let ya feed me!"

Beth smiled a smile that I had never seen on her face. It was almost like evil satisfaction, and then she fed him until he finished every bite.

"Here, drink this," she said. She swirled the glass to make sure that the valium mixed well and put it to his lips.

Ricky was back to sleep after about an hour. I untied him, bent the end of the catheter and placed a rubber band around it to keep it crimped. I did not want his urine sinking up my car. With Beth's help, we got his pants on with the crimped catheter hanging down one leg.

"Oh, I almost forgot the icing."

Beth looked at me curiously, but watched me as I took his shirt off, and then cut two more cords. I placed the cords up high on his arms near the shoulder; drew them tight and tied the knots. Beth still had that questioning look on her face.

I smiled at her confidently, "He's never going to hit another person for the rest of his life!"

The expression on her face told me, she knew what I meant. When I finished wrapping his arms with the cords, Beth helped me put his shirt back on. I slipped a note in his shirt pocket.

Beth asked, "What was that?"

"It was a note explaining where the police could find his dick and balls. I want Ricky to hear that he swallowed and digested himself." Beth shook her head smiling. "Your aunt Sheryl is going to ask where I have been all day. I am going to tell her you needed some comforting, and I took you to the zoo for the day. Do me a favor and call her to apologize for keeping me."

"I will as soon as you drop me off at school."

We strapped him into the front seat of my car and we drove back to the Seattle. Beth said, "I am so relieved to be going back, and glad it's almost over, although, this has been really satisfying. Thank you Uncle Mark." We pulled into an ally-way about two blocks from a hospital; propped him sitting against the wall of a building, took the rubber band off the catheter and drove away. I was shaking; looking around every corner, studying every car we passed, and asked Beth for one of the valiums to calm down. She took one too.

One week later, I was watching the news waiting to hear the amazing and shocking story of the capture of Ricky Schmitt, they promised at the end of the show.

The news anchor said, "Hello everybody. We have a story tonight that may very well shock you. In an amazing twist, the police now have Ricky Schmitt. If you recall, Ricky violated his parole, and sought by police. He was a sex offender released by the state and was allowed once again to walk our streets. Ricky is a predator and we know him best for his most recent and horrific crimes.

The assault and the rape of a twenty-year-old woman, the rape and beating of a college student that still remains hospitalized and is just now, out of critical care. Her journey isn't over though, as she will have a series of plastic surgeries to repair the damage done by this monster. These were the types of crimes they originally jailed him for in the past. Now everybody asks why they released him.

By a stroke of luck, our prayers answered, police found Ricky Schmitt wandering the streets of Seattle just one week ago, but did not know at that time whom he was. Someone found him before the police and must have guessed who he was.

Ricky was good at disguising himself, changing his looks enough to be able to hide in plain sight. Whoever it was that found him, got revenge for every one of Ricky's victims. When the police found him staggering in the street, they realized he needed some kind of medical attention, and took him to the Memorial hospital.

His arms were black and dead. Someone had tied nylon cord around his arms cutting off the circulation until dead and needed amputation. However, that is not where the story ends. While the doctors were getting ready to remove his dead arms, they found other parts missing. His private parts. That's right, whom ever found him before the police, removed everything. I guess you can call that, real justice.

We here at this station have come up with a new name for Ricky, but we are not allowed to say dick-less on the TV. Now authorities are searching for the people that did this to Ricky. Although, the police have absolutely no clues to whom they might be.

In yet another twist to this story, there was a note found in Ricky's pocket. We are not at liberty to divulge what was in the note on TV. However, if you go to our web site, you can read the full story, labeled, 'Ricky's Last Meal'. From all of us here have a good night."

I smiled and let out a sigh of relief.

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