

### THE PARTICIPANTS

### Book I of The Participants

### Brian Blose

Published by Brian Blose at Smashwords.

Copyright 2013 Brian Blose. All Rights Reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters, places and events are used fictitiously.

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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

#  Table of Contents

Title Page

PART I

Chapter 1 – Zack

Chapter 2 – Elza

Chapter 3 – Zack

Chapter 4 – Elza

Chapter 5 – Zack

Chapter 6 – Elza

Chapter 7 – Zack

Interlude 1 – Hess

PART II

Chapter 8 – Zack

Chapter 9 – Elza

Chapter 10 – Zack

Chapter 11 – Elza

Chapter 12 – Zack

Chapter 13 – Elza

Chapter 14 – Zack

Interlude 2 – Hess

PART III

Chapter 15 – Zack

Chapter 16 – Elza

Chapter 17 – Zack

Chapter 18 – Elza

Chapter 19 – Zack

Chapter 20 – Elza

Chapter 21 – Zack

Interlude 3 – Hess

PART IV

Chapter 22 – Zack

Chapter 23 – Elza

Chapter 24 – Zack

Chapter 25 – Elza

Chapter 26 – Zack

Chapter 27 – Elza

Chapter 28 – Hess

About The Author
PART I

# Chapter 1 – Zack / Iteration 144

Only a few customers dotted the convenience store after the morning rush. From behind the deli counter, Zack observed them. Two men in neon yellow t-shirts and old jeans perused the not-so-fresh meats on display; the first chewed the dirt-encrusted nails of one hand while the second debated whether he preferred greasy ham or dry turkey. Based on their clothing, Zack decided they must work for an excavation company.

The nail-biting first man had dull eyes and a verbal tic that caused him to mumble an affirmation to everything the second man said. The second man had the rugged looks women found attractive and held himself as if he were well aware of the fact.

"It's grease versus saw-dust," the handsome one said.

"Yep," said the nail-biter.

"Either way it'll be on stale-ass bread."

"Yep."

"Gotta love gas station food."

"Yep."

The handsome man rolled his eyes at the continued agreement of the nail-biter. He doesn't like the guy, thought Zack, so why is he putting up with him? He had a theory, but there was no way to be certain without asking a question.

"Does your father own the company?" Zack asked the nail-biter.

"Yep. Err, no. I mean no. I work with my brother."

"Works for his brother," the handsome man said. "Handles a shovel while I run the equipment. I'll take the ham. Put it on the least stale bread you got."

Zack fulfilled the order while he turned his attention to a kid buying a carton of smokes from Maggie at the register. The leather jacket, name-brand sneakers, and self-satisfied smirk provided Zack everything he needed to make his call: a high-school student skipping school. Maggie rang up the order without asking to see his identification.

A woman who looked about fifty entered the store sporting purse, shoes, and clothing worth more than Zack made in a month. The proud manner with which she displayed her articles suggested she was far less affluent than she appeared. Zack doubted she could afford her shopping habit.

In the back of the store, a young couple pawed at each other in a public display. Both were less than average in appearance. Zack imagined that fact contributed to the ardor in their display of affection. For some, the only thing better than being desired was having witnesses to the fact.

As Zack's gaze roved to the wall of windows facing the parking lot and gas pumps, he noticed a rusted Fiat with a missing license plate back into the handicap parking spot by the doors. Inside the car, two occupants pulled masks over their faces. His heart began to beat faster.

Maggie looked at him when he approached the register. She was a nineteen-year-old high-school dropout and still thought she was going places in life. For some reason, Zack liked her irrational optimism. "Kelly wants to see you in back. Said it was serious."

Maggie threw her head like a stallion. "What now? So help me God if she says I'm stealing again. I will flip on her. Seriously, I'm gonna flip." She stalked to Kelly's small office at the rear of the store.

Zack stepped up to the register and smiled at the fifty-year-old woman decked out in clothes she couldn't afford. "Kids these days," he said.

"I can't even remember that age." She handed him cash. "Pump two."

"The two of you might be closer in age than you think."

The woman laughed. "How old do you think I am, kid?"

Two men entered the store behind the woman, ski masks concealing their faces and hands deep inside pockets. They looked at one another before stepping into line behind the old woman. These two are awful polite for robbers. They must be new to their profession, he thought.

"I think you're five years old," Zack said as he returned the old woman's change.

She frowned at him, obviously unsure how to take him. "Funny," she finally deadpanned before turning to leave the store.

The men in ski masks pressed forward to lean ominously over the counter. "Give us all your money," the one wearing a camouflage hunting jacket growled.

The past five years had been an eternity to Zack. Five years observing creatures too simple to grasp the pointlessness of their lives. Five years wishing he had never been created. Five years waiting for the sky to open.

Zack smiled. "Are you trying to rob a gas station?"

The one in camo leaned closer, giving Zack a clear look into wild, bloodshot eyes. Drugs, Zack thought. The second robber leaned in, looked at Zack with tilted head, and smiled with feral intent. The second robber looked like he wanted to shoot someone.

"Hey, idiots, there's this thing called a cash drop box. We put large bills into a slot and the only way to get the money out is for the owner to use his key. At most you can get a few hundred dollars from a gas station. Hell, there's probably less than that in this drawer because it's been a light morning and we've had a lot of people use credit cards."

"Open the register or I'll blow your brains out," camo growled at him.

"All I have to do is push the silent alarm and the police will be here in minutes. You might as well start running now, cause I'm not giving you deadbeats a single dime. Got it?"

The second robber pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at Zack's face. Obscenities began to pour from camo. Zack stared into the eyes of the man with the gun, ignoring the barrel six inches from his nose. "You don't have the balls."

"Last chance, shithead." The man pulled back on the slide action, cocking the pistol. "Open the register or die."

Zack couldn't force a laugh, but he managed to bring his smile back. "You didn't even have a round in the chamber when you put that in my face? Do you think this is a movie where people crap their pants whenever they hear someone load a round? I'm not impressed. If you and your boyfriend run now, you might have time for one last circle-jerk before the cops bust you."

The decision to kill registered in the gunman's eyes. Zack just had time to notice the shift of intent before a tidal wave of thunder hit him. He felt himself hit the floor. His vision was gone, leaving a claustrophobic darkness in its place. Fear and confusion struggled in vain against the encroaching tide of oblivion. Thoughts dimmed and Zack was free.

# Chapter 2 – Elza / Iteration 1

She shuffled her feet with the other women as the brutes who had murdered their men herded them forward. Abduction was a new experience for Elza. The world had grown increasingly violent over the centuries to the point that its absence was more remarkable than its presence. Elza thought that particular observation would be useful to the Creator.

One of the women found the energy to sob. Elza moved away from the noise, sure one of the brutes would charge in to restore silence with more violence. A man shouted for quiet and the woman swallowed her grief. They trudged in stillness once more.

Elza studied the landscape. Trees, hills, and streams dominated. She had determined long ago that the intended subject of her observation was the people rather than the environment. She only noticed her surroundings when she had nothing better to observe or when she had trouble with her nerves.

The brutes had attacked her tribe's camp without warning that morning, murdered men and children, then gathered the surviving women together for their sport. Elza's constant handicap, the apathy men felt towards her, had saved her from all but a little roughness. She didn't how long they would continue to ignore her. Eventually, they would hold her down and take their pleasure. Elza crossed her arms tightly across her chest. As an Observer, it was her duty to bear whatever happened in the service of the Creator.

It might be easier if she didn't struggle. Elza banished the worries from her mind. She should be grateful for the new experiences. The Creator needed to experience everything possible through Elza's senses so that She could have input for the design of the next Iteration of the world. Still, thought Elza, it would be nice if the sky opened before these brutes put their hands on me.

They stumbled to a stop at the edge of a camp. The leader of the brutes, a man called Kallig, raised his gray-bearded face skyward to roar in triumph. "Come look at my trophies! I bring ten women for the tribe!"

Thirteen women, Elza silently corrected him. She suspected Kallig was much better at spearing men in their sleep than he was at counting.

"Who brought the other three?" asked a man from the camp.

"I brought all of them, coward," Kallig said.

The man who had spoken walked towards the captive women until Kallig barred his way with a spear. "You don't get any of the women because you are a coward."

The man smiled up at the taller Kallig. "I'm not afraid of your spear and I already have a woman. Let me pass or I will send you to meet your uncle."

Kallig lifted his spear. "We'll have a feast to celebrate my victory!"

Elza ignored the women's restless movements as the man approached. While neither tall nor muscular, he strode confidently, sizing up the situation with a steady gaze. Elza froze for a second when his eyes met hers.

"My name is Hess," the man said. "I know this is probably the worst day of your life." His brilliant blue eyes met each of theirs in turn. "You will have time to grieve later, but for now you need to be smart. Resisting these men will only make them crueler. Try to please them as best as you can."

A woman held out a hand to him. "Protect me," she said. "I will do everything to please you if you protect me from them."

Hess sighed. "Sorry. I don't involve myself in these things." His gaze caught Elza's for a third time. He frowned. "What is wrong with your eyes?"

Elza's face flushed hot. "Nothing."

"Only one points at me." Hess scrutinized her.

"Perhaps the other objects to your looks."

Hess stepped close and pitched his voice low for her ears only. "Watch yourself in this tribe. You speak too boldly and watch too openly. The men here like to break stubborn women."

Downy chest hair peeked free of Hess's furs, different from the smooth chests of the other men of the tribe. Combined with his uncommonly pale eyes, it suggested he was an outsider by blood as well as temperament. "Why do you care what happens to us?"

"Wrong question, woman."

"And what is the right question?"

"The right question is why no one else cares." Hess stepped away, then hesitated. "If you aren't noticed, the men may forget you and tire themselves out on the others. You are smart. Do whatever it takes."

Elza watched Hess cross the camp, collect an attractive woman, and disappear into a tent. In spite of her situation, she found herself intrigued. Hess was, without a doubt, the most fascinating man she had ever met.

# Chapter 3 – Zack / Iteration 144

The sirens were the first thing to reach him. Their strident wails pierced the haze of his mind, drawing him back towards full awareness. Zack opened his eyes to find himself in darkness. Immediately, he began to thrash his arms, striking at the space above him, wordlessly snarling in a kaleidoscope of emotions. Rage, fear, and weariness swirled within him in a corrosive solution, burning away the veneer of sanity.

"Oh my God, he's moving!"

Zack's movements dislodged a jacket from his face and the return of light banished the shadows within him. "He's moving, Kelly! Do something!"

He sat up. And then Zack remembered the robbers, the gun, and the thunder that pronounced the end of his life. But death had rejected him. Or, more accurately, his nature had rejected death just as it rejected every other harm inflicted upon his body.

Maggie was trying to climb Kelly like a pole, staring and pointing at him in horror. Zack momentarily pondered the psychology of her response. He decided the sense of revulsion had its origin in the proof that an essential assumption was false. Horror was the panicked realization of ignorance. Realizing a stick was in fact a snake forced an individual to recognize that they were not able to identify the threats in their environment. Seeing a dead body revive introduced a much greater uncertainty and therefore a correspondingly greater revulsion.

The intense curiosity which had seized him upon witnessing Maggie's reaction released him when he realized the spectacle he had made of himself. He was interfering with the events he was supposed to watch; violating the sanctity of his observations. The repercussions of his actions could ripple out to taint every aspect of his interactions in this world.

Kelly backed towards the door. "Shit, he's alive."

Zack said the only thing that came to mind. "I can't believe that guy missed me at that range. He must have been smoking something."

"No way he missed. Your brains are all over the cigarette display," Kelly said.

Zack glanced over his shoulder. As expected, no bodily fluids stained the merchandise. They had returned to where the Creator intended them to be, just as they did when he got a paper-cut or nicked himself shaving. "It's not there, Kelly. Maybe you girls just had a little too much excitement today and imagined things."

Maggie shook her head. "I swear to God I saw you dead. I threw the jacket from the lost and found on top of you it was so nasty."

"Then why are my brains inside my head right now?"

Paramedics loped into the store with medical kits, shouting questions about who was in charge and where the body was. Kelly glanced back and forth between the medics and Zack, then threw her hands in the air. "I need some fresh air."

One of the men approached him. "You hurt, kid?"

"No, sir," Zack said.

"Is anyone here hurt?"

Zack shrugged. "The women went crazy for a bit. Does that count?"

Not long after the ambulance departed, a state trooper arrived to gather evidence. Zack re-enacted the scene for the female officer, claiming to slip and fall whenever the gunman cocked his gun. The officer took each of their reports, then asked to see the surveillance video.

Zack's stomach dropped. There were three cameras inside the store. One pointed directly down at the register to prevent employee theft, another sat where it caught the face of every customer walking through the door, and the third was pointed at the deli counter. Zack turned to look at the third camera. He was almost certain that the background of the shot would show a perfect side profile of the person at the register.

They crowded into the manager's office while Kelly brought the camera feed up on the computer screen. At the officer's direction, Kelly showed the door camera from earlier. The rusty Fiat backed into the spot directly before the door and two men got out. There was no license plate. The two men had their masks on before they came into view to enter the store, then retreated to their car empty-handed a minute later. The officer made notes of everything, then asked to see the other cameras.

Kelly brought up the register camera and they watched events unfold. The front of Zack's face bobbed in and out of the picture from one side of the screen throughout the conversation. The officer muttered something about stupid macho men. When the gun came out, Zack wasn't in frame. They saw the gun fire without learning anything.

Zack held his breath as the feed from the third camera came onto the screen. In perfect clarity, it showed Zack abandon customers at the deli counter to kick Maggie off the register, taunt a gunman, and take a bullet to the head. The stream from the exit wound sprayed matter onto the cigarettes and the body collapsed.

At the same moment, Kelly, Maggie, and the police officer turned to look at him. Zack presented his best scowl. "Is this some kind of hoax?" He pointed a finger at his coworkers. "Are the two of you trying to mess with me?"

They stared at him until the officer cleared her throat. "I can't write this up as a homicide when the victim is still walking around. My report will say Mr. Vernon fell to the ground before the gun went off. I'll let the three of you decide for yourselves if this was a miracle or what not."

Zack returned to register duty once things were settled. There was a line of customers waiting to pay for gas and hear some gossip about events in the store. Zack downplayed his involvement and took cash as quickly as possible. Ideally he would leave after making himself so conspicuous. Unfortunately, he had made commitments which would keep him in western Pennsylvania for a while.

When a customer mentioned he heard from the radio that some guy died in a shooting, Zack pulled out his cell phone. There were no missed calls, but it would only be a matter of time before one of Lacey's coworkers told her the news. If he didn't contact her soon, she would call him in a panic. No matter what he did or said at that point, there would be a fight tonight.

Getting involved had been a mistake. He should have remained at the deli counter and observed. Zack's glanced to the corner of the store where Maggie was texting her friends. He knew her well enough to be certain she would have complied with any request of the gunman, but he couldn't be sure how a sociopath jonesing for his drug would react. The ambulance might have been necessary if Zack hadn't interfered.

Zack felt a flash of guilt at the thought. The divine command, a wordless understanding instilled within him by the Creator, demanded observation. It was open to some level of interpretation, but any dictionary ever compiled would list participation as the antonym of observation. Sometimes Zack found himself sympathizing with these creatures too much. They were nothing more than figments of the Creator's imagination, temporarily granted existence for a purpose Zack did not know.

When he finished with the last customer, Zack walked over to Maggie. "I have to make a phone call. You're on register."

Maggie kept a safe distance from him. "Lacey's gonna flip when she hears what you did. I went to school with her, remember, and Lacey's one mean bitch."

"It would be nice if Lacey heard my version of the story first."

Maggie smirked at him. "Too late. I texted her a pic before I tossed the jacket on your head."

I didn't think she had the guts to do that, Zack thought. "Let me see your phone," he said.

"No way. You just want to delete the evidence. You're too late, anyway. I sent it to like a hundred people. My friend Jess knows people. She's going to get it on the news for me."

She must really hate Lacey. And my spooky revival did nothing to endear me to her. How did I miss the fact that she was so cold-blooded? Zack resisted the curiosity that rose up within him. He needed to perform damage control right now. There was no time to study Maggie's psychology. Maybe he could remind her of the reason she was still alive. "Did Kelly have anything to say to you this morning?"

"I don't know what that was about. When I got to her office, I told her that if she tried getting me fired she would be sorry, then she got up in my face asking what I did. After that, you went and got your brains blown out."

No good deed goes unpunished, Zack thought. That kind of perverse incentive seemed a flaw in any sane world, but who was he to judge the Creator?

"Did you ever think that you were supposed to be on that register?"

Maggie nodded towards the door. "Your wifey just showed up."

Lacey stood there, mascara running down her face, frizzy straw-colored hair a ragged mess from raking her fingers through it as she did when nervous, one hand cradling a protruding abdomen wrapped in stretchy maternity clothes, staring at him in shock. Then she had the worst reaction Zack thought possible. Lacey ran forward and seized him with both arms, burying her face in his chest.

"I thought you were dead!"

Zack looked down at the mess of Lacey's hair and pondered the impulse that made this woman love him. They barely spoke except to argue. Physical chemistry was nonexistent. There wasn't even respect between them. Lacey's previous boyfriend knocked her up right before a judge sent him to jail for burning down a co-worker's house. Lacey hooked up with Zack at a bar and claimed to be pregnant with his child two days later. All these months later, Lacey still continued the charade. After every checkup, she dropped hints that her baby was growing fast and might come early. Lacey believed him to be an idiot, which he thought only fair as he had the same opinion of her. The only reason he could imagine for her devotion to him was desperation.

Zack patted Lacey's back and cleared his throat. "Let's talk outside." Where Maggie couldn't contradict his story.

"There's video of it all," Maggie volunteered. "Want to see it?"

"Stop this," Zack said.

"Zack got his brains blown out, then ten minutes later they grew back. When he started moving, I freaked out. I think Kelly might have shit in her Depends."

Lacey released him. "I want to see it."

"You don't want to watch the video." A flash of inspiration struck Zack. "Too much excitement isn't good for the baby. We should get you home to rest."

Lacey's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I need to know what happened."

"I thought the guy was bluffing and he shot at me, but he missed."

While less than intelligent, Lacey's limited powers of deduction were bolstered by intimate familiarity. "You were asking for it. You wanted to die."

"Come on, Lacey, you don't believe that."

Her skin began to flush bright red until Zack could imagine steam shooting from her ears like a cartoon character. "I am pregnant with your baby! How dare you do something like this? You're an asshole, Zack, a fucking asshole! What would I do if you died? Move back into my mom's place? You know I can't stand her."

"You could move into section eight housing. There are programs to help people in your situation. It wouldn't be the end of the world."

Lacey threw up her hands. "I ain't living in some welfare apartment so my neighbors can give my kid drugs."

"Actually, they drug screen applicants for the housing assistance program, so your neighbors would be clean. But go ahead and assume people you never met are going to slip crack into your baby's bottle."

"Oh, I forgot how damn smart you are. Well guess what. You just admitted you were trying to get yourself killed!"

Zack glared at her. "I never said that. I just want you to stop the drama."

"Drama? You don't know shit about drama, honey. I lived with drama for eighteen years so don't talk to me about drama."

"So screaming at me in public doesn't count as drama?"

Lacey folded her arms. "We'll talk about it later. I need to go back to work now because we can't live on your paycheck. Just do me a favor and don't kill yourself when I'm eight months pregnant."

"I thought you were only at seven months." Zack regretted the words the moment he said them. Lacey's face went white. "Seven months and change. I'm just rounding up," she said. As she waddled past the door, Lacey raised both hands to her face.

Proposing to her had been a mistake. Not because of the frustration it caused him – Zack suspected he somehow deserved that. It had been a mistake because Lacey expected things from a husband he couldn't provide. She wanted love and Zack wasn't even sure such a thing existed. The best he could offer was pity.

"You should've stayed dead, Zack," Maggie said.

I wish it was that easy, he thought. Aloud he said, "I'm on break. You handle the register." Zack went outside to the employee break pavilion and sat on a picnic table, watching his wife cry in her car and wondering why the Creator needed an Observer. He did nothing about the former and came to no conclusion on the latter.

# Chapter 4 – Elza / Iteration 1

Half of the women abducted with Elza were claimed on the first day. Kallig, the leader of the brutes, granted each claim after a dramatic pause. His men seemed to have a good sense of their place in the social order and none made a selection before his betters were done. The division of spoils was handled in a solemn fashion by the brutes. The women all wept quietly in acceptance of their fate except for one who chose to struggle. That one was held down while her new man claimed her before everyone. The others were too numb to resist.

Hess watched the proceedings from a distance, scowling his disapproval. Kallig shouted for Hess to leave several times, but the other men pretended not to notice their witness. Elza already had a good feel for the group dynamic of this tribe, but Hess did not fit into the system. The tribe was ruled by fear and intimidation. The strongest and fiercest men commanded great respect. The weaker men endured the abuse of their betters. The women born into the tribe presented a meek face to the men but had a parallel power structure among themselves. The only person who didn't fit was Hess.

She didn't understand why Kallig constantly berated Hess, nor why Hess ignored the insults and commands. Kallig would not tolerate disobedience from someone he could kill. Affection obviously did not exist between Hess and him, so fear must hold his hand. But if Hess was superior in battle, why did he restrain himself? Did his status as an outsider mean that the other men would not follow him? Or did he object to the brutality of the others? If so, then why did he stay?

The puzzle of Hess was a welcome distraction from speculating on her fate. When the selections were done that first night, the un-chosen women slept fitfully on the bare earth while their relatives and friends were taken into the tents of the men. Elza noted the condition of her unwanted companions that night: gray hair, rotted teeth, unsightly blemishes, and sickly frames. Despite her apparent youth and health, in terms of attractiveness men grouped Elza with the old and disabled. She liked to think it made her more objective, but tonight she worried that the rejection of the men would come to cause her greater pain in the morning.

All of the women knew their future was grim. Being taken tonight would be bad, but being taken tomorrow would be worse. They had no future in this tribe of brutality but to suffer. If Elza could not slip away soon, the men would discover that her wounds vanished in moments. Given their sadistic streak, that could lead to a rather long torture session.

Elza spotted a sentry the moment she sat up. His outline turned towards her movement. She lay back on the ground. They were waiting for someone to attempt an escape. Throughout the night, she periodically checked to see if the sentries were awake. They always were. Morning dawned without her sleeping a single moment.

The camp came awake slowly, first children bringing the embers of the previous night's fires back to life, then women grinding acorns into meal for bread cooked on hot stones. The men ate smoked meat and bread before separating into hunting parties and guards. The unwanted women huddled together as the camp went about its normal activities. They remained unmolested unless they tried to move beyond the circle of earth where they had been left.

When Hess approached at midmorning, the women were grateful to receive a visitor. The guards averted their eyes when Hess passed. One of the old women asked what would happen to them. Hess knelt in their center. "Do you have a skill? You may be able to save yourself if you can tan hides or braid rope or mix medicines." Hess's normally firm gaze darted to the scenery as he spoke, and Elza knew his words were lies.

The women began to throw out useful skills they knew. Hess deliberated on each offering before agreeing it would be nice to have someone in their tribe who could weave fish traps and knap flint and work clay. The mood rose as the women latched onto the hope Hess provided them.

Elza pondered the question Hess had posed the previous day. Why did no one besides Hess care about the condition of the women? It was the question of a child too young to understand that concepts such as fairness and justice were a fiction created by doting parents. People always did what provided them the most benefit in their circumstances. They raised children with affection to ensure care in their old age. They cooperated to maximize food and safety for all. They fought strangers to preserve their own lives. In some tribes, like this one, they brutalized one another to avoid being the victim.

But Hess did not fit into this tribe. He violated the natural order and survived. She waited until his gaze crossed hers and spoke. "Do you have an answer to your own question? Why is it that no one else cares what happens to us?"

"I've been thinking about you, woman. What is your name?"

Her cheeks burned as she answered. "Elza."

"You don't fit in with your people, Elza. You are smart. You notice things." His eyes darted to the other women. "Don't you think things are better now than before? Imagine if every person tried to make the world better. Life does not have to be the way it is."

Elza noted the firmness of his voice contrasted with his hunched posture. There was some conflict within him. "You didn't answer the question."

"I guess I didn't. This probably won't mean anything to you, but the answer to my question is that He made this world wrong." Hess placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, but the only help I can give is false hope. You would make a fascinating study under better conditions."

After he departed, one of the women spoke to her. "I think he may choose you as his woman." Another nodded. "This is a good time for a man to like you, Elza. He can protect you from the others."

She tried to support their delusions with a hopeful smile. They didn't know how to watch people. Hess didn't see a woman. He saw a subject to study, the same as when she looked at people. Elza had never expected to see it from one of them. What caused such a thing to develop in a man? If she survived, maybe she would have a chance to ask him. Of course, her observations would be contaminated once she survived her execution.

One of the guards came over to them. "What did Hess say? Is he going to kill Kallig with his powers?"

A woman hastily responded that Hess only wanted to know if they had useful skills for the tribe. The guard pondered that. "No one knows what Hess will do. The men are frightened."

Elza frowned. "What powers does Hess have?" This was something she had never encountered before.

"Hess is older than my father's father and cannot be hurt by weapons. They say he knows your thoughts just by looking at you."

Elza stood slowly and faced the direction Hess had gone. He sat on a rock nearby, looking in her direction. His last words echoed in her ears. You would make a fascinating study under better conditions. Everything turned surreal as she realized something completely unexpected. Other Observers existed –she was looking right at one.

# Chapter 5 – Zack / Iteration 144

Zack turned off his cell-phone when reporters discovered his number, which was towards the end of his shift. By the time Zack got home, the news had run not only the picture Maggie snapped with her phone, but also the damning video from the store camera, which someone had uploaded to the internet. The confrontation with Lacey began the moment he walked through the door and lasted for over an hour, only ending when Lacey began to cry. Zack uttered false assurances that he was happy, did love her, and thought life was great.

They ate a dinner of tater tots and chicken nuggets microwaved to a soggy mess while they watched the local news. Zack listened to a segment on road construction around Pittsburgh while Lacey pushed food around on her plate. "One of us needs to learn how to cook before the baby gets here."

"I know how to cook," Zack said.

"Microwaves don't count, hon."

"I cook food at work every day."

"That thing at your work is just a big toaster. I'm talkin' about real food."

The news anchors began discussing a recent crime spree targeting hubcaps. "Real food, huh? Don't you think it's hard to define real food when no one is certain what is real in the first place?"

"Real is when you can see and touch something. It's not complicated, Hon."

"It's not just seeing and touching. It's perceiving and remembering, which are unreliable mental processes. Let's give a hypothetical situation where the world began five years ago."

Lacey snorted. "World's lot older than that."

"How can anyone really know the age of the world? If the world sprang into existence five years ago, fully formed with a complete but false history, no one would know. Fake memories would match fake records."

"And Santa Clause has a magic sleigh too," Lacey said.

Zack smiled. "Who knows, right?"

"Pretty sure I know."

"You think you know."

"I know what you do at work ain't real cooking."

"How about making candy bar milkshakes? Is that real cooking?"

"Hell no. And you still owe me a new blender for that."

"It tasted good, though."

"Not as good as Dairy Queen."

The news returned to the story of the shooting. "Today in Sarver, a robbery goes bad and an employee loses his life. Except he's completely unharmed. Watch the security footage and decide if this is a miracle or a hoax." Zack turned off the television. Seeing himself on the news drove home the realization of how bad he had screwed up.

"Wow," Lacey said, "I didn't think anything could make you skip the news."

"Just make sure the baby comes at a convenient time."

"You watch the news in the delivery room and I'll put the remote where you don't want it."

After they finished dinner, Zack washed the mismatched dishes in the sink and replaced them in the cupboard while Lacey painted her nails at the table, filling their cramped trailer with fumes that couldn't be healthy. Zack grabbed a Penn Dark from the fridge and sat across from his wife. Cue a comment about the cost of microbrews.

"Y'know, if you didn't have to buy fancy Penn Brewery beer, we could get cable."

"Cable costs a bit more than that, Lacey." Next she'll mention texting.

"We could at least get texting on our plan. I'm the only person at work without it."

Zack began to peel the label, watching Lacey from the corner of his eye, waiting for her to mention Kelly Green, a former friend and compulsive label peeler whom Lacey despised.

"You know that annoys the hell out of me," she said.

Zack grunted. Usually he could direct her side of the conversation for at least five exchanges. Once he got twelve in a row, but he hadn't managed a roll like that in over a month. Instead of becoming more predictable with familiarity, Lacey grew increasingly temperamental. Zack thought that was his fault. His intimate influence rendered Lacey a contaminated subject. Instead of observing her behavior, he was observing her reactions to him.

He turned his attention to the bottle in his hands. The brewery was half an hour south, on the north side of Pittsburgh. It produced a range of beer varieties, but Penn Dark, their version of a German Dunkel, was his favorite. He thought it might be nice to visit the place one day, but his daily routine already demanded too much energy from him.

Zack wondered if he would have been happier under different circumstances. When this world sprang into existence, he was given the identity of Zack Vernon, twenty-year-old heir to a recently deceased business executive and owner of an investment portfolio worth seven million dollars. In his first day of life, Zack had contemplated his options. The money afforded him the ability to travel, live an extravagant lifestyle, pursue an education, or walk the world without the requirement of working.

In the terrifying darkness of his first night, Zack resolved to get rid of the money. The rash decision survived into the light of day and Zack arranged for everything he possessed to be donated to helping orphans. Zack had been surprised by how little transgressing the Divine Command bothered him.

Faced with the requirement to work, Zack took the first opening he could find that would allow him to observe people. Five years later, he still worked at the same gas station convenience store. The only significant change to his life had been the appearance of Lacey.

Zack threw the empty bottle in the trash and prepared for bed. He changed clothes, washed his face, brushed his teeth, checked the nightlight was plugged into the outlet, and climbed under the covers. He stared at the cheap glow-in-the-dark star stickers he had plastered to the ceiling and imagined the aftermath of his death. People screaming, robbers running, Maggie snapping her photo, Lacey crying, paramedics racing, and him in a puddle of blood and brains, feeling nothing. Tears slipped free of his eyes. He had almost escaped.

# Chapter 6 – Elza / Iteration 1

I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. The mantra ran through Elza's mind on a constant loop. She stared at Hess, unable to order her chaotic thoughts. For seven hundred years, she observed creation under the assumption that she was the only agent of the Creator. Suddenly, she wasn't alone. It made her a hell of a lot less important.

Another thought came to her. How many are there? Just the two of us? Ten? A hundred? There was no way to answer that question. Elza didn't understand why this knowledge had been withheld from her. At the moment of creation, Elza knew her purpose, understood the memories implanted in her mind were fabrications, and recalled the knowledge that one day the sky would open so she could leave existence to make her report. There had been no indication that other Observers walked the Earth.

"Look at her. She likes the idea of having a man."

The whispers of the women bothered her. "I don't care for Hess," she said. The women chuckled and went about their gossip. Elza scowled at their levity. Hess had done this to them, exchanged their terror for hope. He should not have interfered. His actions were inexcusable. The Creator was greater than all of creation. How could an Observer ever justify placing some tiny bit of creation above the Creator?

Elza felt a fire grow in her chest. She had endured beatings and humiliations in service to the Creator, while this man set himself up to live in comfort and indiscriminately altered events to his fancy. He didn't even switch tribes to avoid revealing his unnatural lifespan. Hess leveraged his nature into personal power.

She opened her mouth to tell the women that Hess had lied to them, then hesitated. Harsh words would not return them to a state of ignorance. One interference would not cancel out another – they were already contaminated. Anything she said would only inflict distress upon the women for no cause.

They do not deserve my anger. He does. Elza folded her arms and glared at Hess, willing him to come speak with her again. She intended to make him regret his interference. That he tainted his own observations was bad, but compromising her work was unforgivable. Elza was about to have the worst experience of her life and it would be useless to the Creator because this man had contaminated the entire tribe.

Noon came and went. The brutes, their women, and Hess ate smoked meat, figs, and pine nuts. The captive women had nothing to eat but dandelions they picked from the same ground that they relieved themselves on. Elza ignored the hunger pangs. Her body was prone to fatigue, but she could ignore that infirmity when necessary. What she could not ignore was the fact that these men were going to brutalize and violate her in front of that man. Elza ground her teeth until her jaw sent stabs of pain all the way to her temple. Because he was an Observer for the creator, she couldn't even bring herself to request he not watch.

Glaring at the impassive Observer did no good. Elza finally plopped her rear to the ground. The good spirit of the other women had departed. They could fool themselves for only so long. That their captors denied them food and water and shade proved a lack of regard. These women were accustomed to hardship, but their resilience did not include trusting the brutes who had murdered their men and their children. Elza wasn't sure just when the change of mood had happened. She had been too busy trying to bring Hess back.

"You are a very odd woman, Elza."

She spun at his voice. He had waited until her attention was elsewhere to sneak up on her. "You are participating," she said.

Hess raised one brow on his handsome face. Why is one such as him given an attractive form and made a man while I must be ugly and endure the touch of brutes? Her best glare brought only an amused smile in response.

"I have nothing to do with what the men of this tribe do. You can blame me if it makes you feel better, but I am not involved."

"You are participating." She emphasized the word.

Hess narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"The Creator did not send you here to bed beautiful women and tease Kallig."

The man sucked in one cheek as he pondered her words, but gave no other clues to his mental state. Finally, he spoke softly. "How many of us are there?"

"It doesn't matter. You are violating the Divine Command. This entire tribe is contaminated because of you. My observations are ruined." She spoke firmly, but kept her volume low to avoid a spectacle.

Hess sucked in his cheek again. "We participate just by existing. You can claim that I participate more than you think right, but you can't say I am wrong to do it. The Creator made us in this form. He obviously intended us to interact with people to make our observations."

She climbed to her feet. "These people fear you. That is manipulating, not observing. You said this world is wrong. That is judging, not observing. You comforted these women. That is interfering, not observing. She didn't place you in this world for your own enjoyment."

"She?" Hess flashed a smug grin. "You think the Creator is a woman?"

"Do you really think a man would create a world?"

Hess gestured around them. "Does this look like a world created for the benefit of women? Clearly the Creator must be a man."

This conversation is ridiculous. The Creator doesn't have flesh. Gender doesn't apply to Her. Then Elza saw the conviction in his eyes and stiffened her resolve. "What do men make? Nothing. On the other hand, women make everything people need. Clothes. Tents. Rope. Pottery. Children." Her legs wobbled beneath her.

"I have yet to observe a woman who could make a child by herself." Hess looped his arm through hers just before she dropped to the ground from exhaustion. "We can argue some more after you eat." He pulled her arm over his shoulder.

"Let go of me," she hissed.

Hess hesitated. "I don't know what good you think you're doing here, but I know what will happen to these women. You want no part in it."

"I don't interfere in events like you," Elza said.

"Don't make this about your pride. The Creator doesn't require this of you."

"Let me go."

"You said that I contaminated this entire tribe. If you believe that, then there is no reason for you to observe anything further here."

"Let me go."

Hess released her. "If you think enduring pain proves something, then go ahead and flatter your pride. All I see is stupidity."

Elza knelt to relieve her shaky legs. "As for me, I see a coward." The pity in his eyes burned her. "Get away from me. You are interfering with my observations."

Hess returned to his rock on the other side of the camp. She intended to glare at him for the remainder of the daylight, but hunger and lack of sleep conspired against her. Her eyes drifted closed.

# Chapter 7 – Zack / Iteration 144

One day after the incident, a reporter from a Pittsburgh station came to the convenience store. Zack spoke to her briefly, explaining the video was a prank by some of his coworkers. The reporter asked him if he believed in miracles, Zack told her he wasn't religious, and she went on her way.

That same day, Kelly called him into her office so the store's owner could yell at him over the phone for escalating the situation with the robbers. Zack insisted he didn't think the man would shoot, apologized for making the gas station look bad, and begged to keep his job. The owner berated him for fifteen minutes before conceding Zack could keep his job.

Maggie didn't show for her shift and Zack learned later that she had quit. Kelly, never close to him, now spoke to him only when necessary. The other employees watched him constantly when they shared shifts. Many of the customers recognized him from the news and had questions or wanted to make comments. It tainted his observations and distracted him at the same time.

Zack decided he would give things two weeks to settle down. If he was still being scrutinized at the end of that time, he would get a job somewhere else. Provided he could find the energy.

For three days following the shooting, Zack went nowhere but work and home, skipping his customary trips to the library for internet access. He skipped the nightly news as well. He spent the time freed up from those activities laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and forcing his mind to stillness.

The fourth day, a Saturday, he wasn't scheduled to work. Zack spent the day with his wife, preparing the second bedroom of his trailer for a baby that was not his. The jobs Lacey assigned him were assembling a crib and changing table while she organized baby clothes, baby toys, and two hospital bags – one for her and one for the baby.

She prattled about the prices of everything until Zack made a throw-away comment about the cost of paying for college some day. That idea took hold in Lacey's mind and she insisted they immediately stock up on children's books. When they finished book shopping, Zack listened to Lacey's plans for the delivery. He rewarded Lacey for her productivity by ordering a pizza that stretched their budget more than was prudent, then was receptive to her advances later that night.

The fifth day, Sunday, his shift started at five in the morning. Zack worked the deli counter and watched the customers without any great interest, pondering happiness. Not the fleeting happiness that briefly accompanied success. The other kind. The kind that appeared when it shouldn't. In an elderly man whose every proud step brought pain. In a shy, obese woman who gambled away two dollars every morning at the lottery machine only to declare tomorrow must be her lucky day. In a long-haul trucker who announced he was single after catching his wife in the act.

As tempting as it was to diagnose these individuals with stupidity, Zack resisted the urge. They were functioning adults. They understood the circumstances of their own lives. Were they delusional? Did they intentionally lie to themselves in exchange for the taste of happiness? Zack gained no insight into the enigma despite devoting the entire morning to its consideration.

The arrival of a voluptuous blonde interrupted Zack's thoughts. Something caught his attention the moment she crossed the threshold. He studied her appearance and her mannerisms as she perused the shelves. The woman wore fashionable off-brand clothing, a conservative black blouse whose contours subtly suggested things to every man in the room and tan skirt that emphasized the movements of her hips. Her calm, curious inspection of her environment suggested intelligence, self-confidence, purpose, and situational awareness. Her appearance was a remarkable coordination of an outfit, a body, and an attitude.

He had no idea how to categorize this woman. If she were better dressed, he would say she was wealthy. If her movements were less seductive, he would guess she worked in law enforcement. He dismissed roles in rapid succession. Criminal? No; too relaxed. Celebrity? No; too natural.

She looked directly at him when her path through the store came closest to his counter. Her rapid assessment of him was obvious from the manner in which her eyes leaped from one feature to the next, pausing for brief inspections. Zack leaned forward. Who is she?

The woman smiled and swayed up to his counter. A tilt to her head told him she was about to slip into a less-than-honest role. He lifted his chin a hair and narrowed his eyes for an instant. The woman's demure shrug said she knew he could see through her and apologized for the act. Zack let out a slow breath. We just had a whole conversation without a single word. Who the hell is this woman?

"I saw you on the news the other day," she said.

Zack cleared his throat. "That was a hoax."

The woman's eyes darted towards the camera mounted to the wall beside him – the same camera that had caught the damning video. "You were sloppy."

She knows. "Who are you?"

"Call me Bridgette. I believe you go by Zack?"

"That's my name," he said.

She waved her hand in dismissal. "Names don't matter."

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am, Zack?" She leaned forward in anticipation.

Zack's eyes traced the outline of her face. "A model? Maybe a reporter?"

She shook her head. "My job is a lot more important than that."

Job. That suggested she was an employee and not an employer. "Professional manager, secret agent, scientist, preacher . . . . No? None of those? I give up."

Bridgette blinked and stepped back. "You're serious. You really don't know what I am."

"Why would you expect a complete stranger to be able to guess your job?"

Bridgette looked into his eyes as she spoke. "Hess, it's me."

Zack glanced down at the counter before responding. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

"No, Zack, I don't. I know exactly who you are. Who you have been for a hundred and forty-four iterations."

He cleared his throat. "Why don't you tell me who you think I am and I'll let you know if you're right or wrong?"

"You're an immortal Observer for the Creator."

Zack took a deep breath. How does she know that? It's an impossible guess. There's no way anyone could know about me. Not unless . . . . "I'm not the only one." He blinked, then spoke in a rush. "You're an Observer. Are there any others?"

Bridgette stared at him. "You're not this convincing of an actor."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. Can we talk outside?"

"Sure. There's a pavilion off to the side."

"I spotted it on my way in."

Zack laughed. "Of course you noticed it. I would have." He abandoned his post at the deli counter, trying to suppress the giddy excitement within him. Other Observers existed. It lessened the guilt he felt over his deficits to know that he didn't bear the entire burden of witnessing creation. It meant there were others who understood his problems. Others who might know how to deal with things. It meant there was hope for him.

He asked his first question before they reached the pavilion. "Do you have any idea how many of us there are?"

"Eleven," she said.

"That's awful specific. How do you know?"

Bridgette sat on the picnic table. "Because in a hundred and forty-four iterations, I have only met ten others. In case you hadn't noticed, it's pretty easy to spot our own kind. Even easier if they get themselves on the national news."

"Why eleven? It seems an odd number."

"Well, Zack, that's a very old question. Everyone has their own theory. Personally, I think the Creator is messing with us. People always have ten fingers. Twelve is almost always a holy number. But It makes eleven of us because numerology is a joke."

Zack frowned. "It? I always thought of the Creator as a He."

Bridgette smacked her knee. "Right. Well, I say the Creator is a woman."

He shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter either way. Do you really think the Creator jokes with us? Doesn't that seem a little . . . irreverent?"

Bridgette shrugged. "Why not? We don't actually know anything about the Creator. For so many worlds, everyone thought there was a twelfth Observer in hiding. But some worlds are much smaller than this one. It would be impossible to avoid detection by all of us for this long."

"You talk as if this isn't the first world."

"This is number one-four-four, Zack."

"And all of you are the same age?"

"All of us."

Zack shook his head. "Not me, Bridgette. I only go back five years."

She took his hand in hers. "Hess, it's Elza. You're safe."

He retracted his hand as gently as possible. "I'm telling the truth. Maybe the Creator needed a twelfth Observer. Maybe I'm supposed to be a joke: a clumsy Observer who gets caught."

Bridgette sighed. "If this is your first life, then we should probably have a long talk. I'm sure you have a ton of questions. I rented a house just ten minutes from here." She pulled out a set of keys.

"I can't go now," Zack said. "But my shift ends at two. Does that work?"

She smiled. "Sure thing, honey. I'll be here."

# Interlude 1 – Hess / Iteration 143

The darkness was everything. Hess lay as if dead, listening to the heartbeat that would not cease counting eternity. Ragged breaths sawed through his parched throat at irregular intervals. Hunger gnawed at his middle and weakness wrapped him like a blanket. A tenuous peace existed in those moments of passivity. The weary emptiness was the state of least pain and he embraced its refuge. Hess forced down the memories struggling to rise within him. There was nothing but the darkness.

Time passed. Whether it passed quickly or slowly he did not know. Such concepts didn't exist in the darkness. There was only now, one torturous moment stretching to infinity. Hess did not contemplate time. He did not contemplate anything. He simply existed in the darkness.

He existed in the darkness until the echo of his gasping breath in the tiny space sparked a constellation of recollections. The violence of the memories triggered a physical response. Hess swung his fists at the darkness, striking stone surfaces above his face and to each side. "Elza!" Some part of him recognized the hoarse voice as his own. Another part reacted to the sound, imagining rescuers spoke to him. "Help me! Let me out of here! Please help me!"

Yet another part of him observed everything from a distance, chronicling events even though nothing new happened, even though nothing new would ever happen. Panic attack triggered by perceived noise. "Elza? Can you hear me, Elza? I'm sorry! So sorry! Please forgive me!" Fragmented thought processes. "Someone help me! Get me out of here! I will do anything!"

His fists, invisible in the dark, were made of pain. He struck harder and harder at surfaces he could not see, ratcheting the pain higher. Blood began to spatter, raining down on his face. Hess licked the tangy liquid from his lips, desperate for moisture. Animal responses remain strong, instinctually seeking sources of comfort.

"Why?" he demanded of the darkness. That question was everything, but no part of Hess was sure what it referenced. Why did the others do this to him? Why would the Creator allow his suffering to continue? Why had he violated the divine command in such a drastic fashion? Why would the Creator make a world where such suffering was possible? The question could be any one of those, or all of them together, or maybe something beyond words and logic, something born of the darkness that could only be sensed and never defined.

As Hess continued to pound his mangled fists, the objective portion of him continued its narration, repeating a story he told himself often. The healing response restores as much moisture and calories to the body as necessary to support life for a short length of time. It appears likely that the atmosphere is being scrubbed free of carbon dioxide, but this is impossible to verify. Likely the products of respiration are reclaimed in the same way as blood. Hess snarled wordlessly at the part of him observing his plight.

The rage that boiled up dwarfed everything that came before. Hess coiled his entire body and launched himself forward the eight inches to the stone ceiling, driving his forehead into it. The rebound struck the back of his head against the stone floor of his crypt. Hess struck upwards again. The impassive narrator vanished with the other aspects of his personality, all of them absorbed into the all-consuming emotion of the moment. Hess struck again and again with as much force as he could generate in his tiny prison until he died.

When Hess woke once more in the darkness, he began to weep, eyes burning but too dry for tears. His body was whole and undamaged save for a touch of dehydration. "Let me die! I don't want to live! Please, Creator, unmake me! I don't want to live! I don't want to live!"

He wept for a time he could not determine but which felt significant. Then emotional exhaustion brought a blessed return to the living coma that was the state of least pain. Memories bubbled beneath the surface, but Hess ignored them.
PART II

# Chapter 8 – Zack / Iteration 144

The rest of his shift flowed as slow as molasses. Zack hardly noticed when an inebriated man dropped a gallon of milk onto the floor, sending a white flood out to wash away the dust. His mind buzzed with the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He wasn't sure why he hadn't gone with Bridgette. Lacey needed his paycheck, but Zack had never let that fact influence his choices in the past. Otherwise, he would have upgraded to a more profitable career months ago.

As the day passed, a vague uneasiness began to bother him. He couldn't eat anything on his lunch break. What am I worried about? That she won't come back? That she won't like me? That I won't like her answers? The more Zack probed at his uneasiness, the worse it became. The slight shadows throughout the room seemed to grow deeper as he dug into his suspicions, pooling together and flowing towards him.

Zack squeezed his eyes shut and emptied his mind. When he looked again, the shadows were gone. The darkness rarely threatened him during the day – only when he let himself become emotional did it become a problem. Should I mention the darkness to Bridgette? Does she see it too or is something wrong with me? Am I insane?

Several years previously, Zack considered admitting himself into a psychiatric ward on the hope that he was delusional and doctors could cure him. The prospect of becoming a medical experiment if he wasn't crazy hadn't been enough to deter him. In the end, the only reason he decided against it was because he couldn't be sure the staff of a crazy house would let him have a nightlight.

When two o'clock arrived, Zack updated his handwritten timecard and went to the parking lot. He looked around, but couldn't see Bridgette anywhere. Zack let out a breath. Maybe he could just go home and worry about the other Observers another day.

An African-American man with hair in cornrows stepped out of a pickup truck and walked towards him. "You want to see Bridgette?" the man asked him. Zack backed away from the man in the direction of the store. The man raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm just here to give you a ride, friend. Let's go see Bridgette now."

Someone clamped a hand on his shoulder from behind and pressed something into his back. A deep woman's voice whispered in his ear. "Just walk forward, Hess. We have the girl. If you don't come talk to us, she's going to spend some more time underground. You don't want that, do you?"

"I'm not who you think I am," he said.

"We'll talk later. Now walk." When the woman prodded him in the back, Zack moved forward. The black man grabbed his arm and the two escorted him to the pickup. When they opened the passenger door, the woman jabbed something into his neck and Zack's entire body convulsed. When he stopped shaking, his arms were already twisted behind his back and shackled. They loaded him inside and were on the road before Zack managed to speak.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The black man shook his head. "Playing stupid won't help you, Hess. We're going to do a replay of last Iteration. Two hundred years in a stone box just wasn't enough punishment for the stunt you pulled. And you didn't learn a damned thing. I turn on the news and see an Observer flaunting the Divine Command and you know what I think? I think we didn't do Hess good enough last time. That's what I think."

"I'm not Hess."

Zack jumped when the taser crackled in the woman's hand. She waved it in front of his face. "Might want to keep your mouth shut. Once we get to the farm, the fun is going to last for a long time. Just sit back and enjoy your last moments without pain."

"Put the taser away while I'm driving, Laura," the black man said.

"I have had enough of your paranoia."

"Have you noticed I'm a black man in a white country? People notice minorities. If anyone gets busted when Hess disappears, it will be me. So put the damn taser away."

"I'm a woman and I still have bigger balls than you, Drake."

The man slammed his fist on the steering wheel. "I'm going by Weston!"

"Sorry, chica, but Hess will know who did this to him. He's Drake; I'm Erik. Griff and Ingrid are waiting for us at the farmhouse."

Drake shook his head. "We should lock you up with him, Erik."

The woman named Erik snickered at that. "Don't let the tits fool you, Drake. I'm still more than you can handle. Even if you found the balls to make a move against me, the others wouldn't back you. No one wants me as an enemy."

"You are a psychopath," Drake said.

Erik laughed. "We're all psychopaths. When one of us starts caring for people is when the trouble starts. Just ask our bleeding heart here about how he wants to change the world."

"What I meant to say was serial killer," Drake said.

"You have no idea what kinds of things I discover for the Creator," Erik said. "The way people react to extreme situations reveals a lot about them. You wouldn't believe the things they will do to avoid a little pain. I can break the strongest in forty-eight hours. Some people crack without a single touch." Erik scraped her nails over Zack's face hard enough to draw blood. "I didn't get enough time with this one last Iteration. We had to be quick that time. But you're a nobody in this world. I can have all the time I want."

Drake shook his head. "You get twenty-four hours and then he goes in the ground. That's it."

"I'm calling the shots, Mr. Minority."

"We've been considering an intervention for you. Murder counts as participation if anything does."

Erik leaned forward to look across Zack's body. "You want to make this personal?"

"None of this is personal."

"Oh no, Drake, this is nothing but personal."

Drake didn't respond. After a minute, Erik grunted. "Just remember what I'm capable of and you won't be tempted to do something stupid."

The truck pulled off the road onto a long dirt drive. Drake spoke quietly. "For the record, Hess, this isn't personal for me. This is just driving your lesson home."

Zack stared out the window without thinking, forcing his mind to stillness. Whatever was about to happen to him was going to be bad.

# Chapter 9 – Elza / Iteration 1

Rough hands startled her awake. An old woman knelt beside Elza. "The hunters are back."

Elza sat up to assess her situation. The captives huddled together while the returned brutes harassed the assimilated women and wrestled with one another. A chill crawled across her flesh as she watched them stir one another towards violence. Suddenly, she understood the purpose of the captives. The bonding ritual of the brutes required victims.

She instinctively sought the refuge of the herd, grasping at the other women, seeking a sanctuary from the wolves circling their perimeter. The barbarity of the tribe made sense to her now. Their culture reinforced violence through the deliberate dehumanization of the weak. The words of Hess came to her. I know what will happen to these women. You want no part in it.

Elza hardened her heart. Pain was fleeting and there was no injury her body would not heal. She would endure whatever the brutes did to her. Experiencing creation first-hand was her purpose.

The rowdiness of the camp increased as the sun's angle descended. Meat roasted on spits until hungry men carved charred, bloody slivers free. Women cooked squash and made fresh bread from acorns while in their midst captives starved. The tribe was like a fire escaped from its pit, consuming everything in its path as it spread death.

A woman assimilated the previous night screamed in the distance. Throughout the camp, the brutes released a chorus of laughter at her distress. Elza buried her face in the back of another captive. I just need a moment to compose myself. Just a moment of peace. I can face this.

Kallig's voice boomed from nearby. "Tonight we have our way!"

She flinched when the brutes roared in anticipation.

"Why do you do this, Kallig? Are you so afraid of helpless women?"

The roar died out, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Kallig's deep voice responded to the challenge. "Go away, coward! You are afraid of the women! I deal with them like a man!"

"I fear nothing, Kallig. Nothing. Everyone knows I am no coward. I let deadly snakes live when they cross my path. You fear women more than I fear vipers!"

"We fear nothing, coward! We want our fun!"

Elza held her breath, waiting for Hess to respond.

After a moment, Kallig spoke again. "Sit on your rock and watch real men, coward!"

Elza looked up as the men surrounded them. There was over an hour left in the day for their ordeal, assuming sunset marked its end. If not, then she could only imagine how long it would last. All night, maybe. Longer if they discovered she did not stay dead.

Rough hands seized one of the captives, a woman covered with pox scars but possessing a shapely figure. She squealed and tried to slip free. A man with a pronounced limp slammed his fist into pox-scar's belly, then pushed her face-first to the ground. Before the prostrate woman could recover enough to scream, the limping man drove his spear through the back of her hand into the ground.

Hands seized Elza's hair. She found herself forced onto her back with a man's knee pressing on her middle so that she could not take a breath. The man on top of her spit directly into her face, then slapped her without warning. As Elza struggled for air, more hands began to rip at her clothing.

Screams and dark laughter came from all around. Elza swung her arms and legs. In that moment, all that mattered was escape. The man above her shifted his weight, letting her fill her lungs with a gasp, then a fist smashed her nose flat. Her arms and legs were pinned in rapid succession. Elza released the precious air into a raw scream. Meaty fingers grasped her jaw and shook her head.

The ordeal was more real than she had believed possible. It was happening and she had no control over it. She didn't even have enough air for a second scream. Every touch of the brutes inspired fresh revulsion. Her every sense became raw, highlighting the experience.

And then the weight was gone from her. Elza rolled into a ball, covering as much of herself as possible and hiding from them. The volume of the jeers dropped. "Touch her again and I kill you!" Elza flinched at the hands on her, then recognized the gentle touch of compassion and latched onto them. Her chest heaved rapidly and she couldn't see through her tears.

"You can't take her," one of the brutes said. "You didn't go to fight."

"I will kill you, coward, " Kallig roared.

The voice that responded snapped with an authority beyond the bravado of the others. "Don't you dare touch me. When I die, I come back angry. If I decide to kill you, no one can stop me. Not your whole tribe together."

"Fight him, Kallig!"

"He can't take a second woman! He didn't fight!"

"Quiet," shouted Kallig, silencing the other men. His tone was milder when he spoke again. "You know the rules. You only get one woman. That one is ugly and fat. Go see Dalana."

Elza squeezed his arm tighter. Hess sighed. "I will give up Dalana."

"You trade Dalana for this one? No. You will take Dalana back and have two women."

"Yes. I give up Dalana forever and you let me have this woman."

"Do you trick me, Hess?"

"I give up Dalana. I promise."

"Take the ugly one, then! You are a stupid one, coward!"

Hess squatted and transferred Elza onto his shoulders in a rapid movement. They were away from the brutes in twenty steps. Hess paused to tell Dalana she had to go see Kallig, which sent the beauty into a panic. Elza rode passively on his shoulder until they reached his rock, where Hess dropped her to the ground.

She took a moment to compose herself. "I told you not to interfere."

"You're lucky I don't follow your orders."

"You ruined my observations."

"You're welcome."

"This isn't a game! I have a sacred duty!"

Hess pointed to the gruesome scene. "I will let the Creator know all He needs to about what happens here. Those men don't have to touch you."

"I could have endured it without your interference."

Hess spun to face her. "Stop it! I don't care what you can or can't endure! The purpose of an Observer is not to endure torments. You think my participation interferes with my observations, but what value does the viewpoint of a victim hold for the Creator?"

"You are a horrible Observer."

"Stop talking to me, woman."

"I don't follow the orders of a coward."

"In this tribe, a woman obeys her man."

"You are not my man."

"I just traded Dalana for you. The least you can do is shut your mouth."

Elza glared at him. "I don't like you."

"I never asked you to like me. I just want you to stop making noise."

"You are going to regret interfering."

Hess stood up. "I hope you're quiet when you eat."

"Where are you going?" She scrambled to his side before he made five paces.

"Someone was interfering with my observations on the rock, so I'm done watching for the night. I'm going to eat and sleep and pretend you're not beside me."

Elza ignored the screams as she shadowed him to the cooking fires. "I really don't like you."

"I miss Dalana already."

# Chapter 10 – Zack / Iteration 144

Zack struggled as he was forced face-first into the tub of water. His hands were cuffed behind his back and rope bound and lifted his feet into the air. There was no way to prevent the inevitable, but Zack struggled with instinctive passion to avoid inhaling the water.

The woman named Erik pressed her knee onto his shoulder blades, forcing his nose beneath the water. With a herculean effort, Zack managed to arch his back and neck enough to pant through his nose. Then a playful tap to the back of his head made him suck down a shot of water.

Involuntarily, Zack's lungs spasmed in a cough. The cough was followed by a gasping breath of water. His body spasmed in a wild attempt to find air, accompanied by laughter from Erik. His exertions triggered the impulse to inhale and Zack obliged his reflexes despite the fact that he was submerged.

Inhalations become an autonomic function once a certain point is reached. Uncertain whether the trigger is determined by lack of oxygen in blood or carbon dioxide levels. Zack recorded everything as an Observer without intending to do anything of the sort. He didn't know if the impulse to observe was another autonomic function or if he was trying to escape the experience through depersonalization. If the purpose was escape, Zack didn't think it was very effective.

He gasped several breaths of liquid and relaxed into the cold water. Death slowly enfolded him, allowing the welcoming warmth of nothingness to engulf him. Zack let it take him away, wishing his death would last this time.

Zack woke wet and shivering on the bathroom floor.

"How did you like that one?"

He turned his head to look at Erik. She appeared pudgy and weak, but possessed a maniacal strength. "I prefer the chainsaw."

Erik laughed and clapped her hands. "Me too! I think we really bonded over that one." Her false cheer faded, leaving only the predatory aura behind. "Death doesn't bother you. I need to focus more on the torture."

Zack shivered. So far, Erik had stabbed him to death, beaten him to death with a golf club, sliced him to death with a chainsaw, and crushed his skull with the blunt end of an axe. The dying really didn't bother him. Time and again, it was a welcome release from circumstances he would give anything to escape.

The other Observers had lectured him, each in turn, when he arrived. They didn't participate in any of the festivities. Erik had been disappointed by her colleagues' restraint, insulting their dedication to the Creator's work.

Erik dragged him from the cramped bathroom of the farmhouse using the rope binding his feet. They made it to the front porch before they encountered anyone. The man named Ingrid waited on the porch swing. "I think you're enjoying this too much, Erik."

"Watch yourself, Ingrid, or I'll put you on the naughty list."

"No you won't," Ingrid said. He studied her over his steepled fingers. "You are loyal to the Creator in your own perverse way. Hunting, tormenting, and murdering people is work to you, no matter how much you enjoy it. Doing the same with an Observer is just playing and you know it."

"Do you really want to risk being wrong?"

"I'm not wrong," Ingrid said. "You despised the relationship between Hess and Elza. If you focus your particular fetish on other Observers, then you would be committing the same sin as them."

"For what Hess did in the last Iteration, he deserves the worst I can do to him. Don't interfere with that, Ingrid. I will make you my enemy."

"And deprive the Creator of another Observer?"

Erik pointed at Zack. "This and the other have been useless as Observers from the first. The Creator won't miss their input."

"I think you're wrong, Erik. I've been man and woman, tall and short, dark and fair, thin and heavy, weak and strong. Every variation of human possible. We all have. Every Iteration sees us inserted into random identities. Except them. Hess always a man. Elza always a woman. The Creator must have a reason for that."

"And I have the urge to torture this man for eternity. Maybe the Creator has a reason for making me like that." Erik dragged Zack by the rope, sending him tumbling down the front steps. "Nice talk, Ingrid, but I got lots of torturing to do. We're going to play with electric next. Ciao."

# Chapter 11 – Elza / Iteration 1

Despite her anger, lingering fear, and the horrible cries of the women in the distance, Elza dropped into a sound sleep once wrapped in the warm blankets formerly used by Dalana. She didn't wake until midmorning, by which time Hess was gone.

She found him peeling a vine on top of his rock. "What are you doing?"

"Making rope," he said.

"Why?"

Hess shrugged. "I thought the Creator would like to know what different kinds of work feel like. I never imagined there were women Observers, so I learned how to do women's work after mastering the men's."

Elza looked towards where the women had been held.

"They're dead," Hess said. "I saved some breakfast for you."

The bodies were gone. "I won't cook for you," she said. "No matter what you said to this tribe, I am not your woman."

"I'm starting to think you don't like me," Hess said.

She picked up the bread and meat resting beside Hess on the rock. "You are a horrible Observer."

"No I'm not." Hess began weaving the strands of vine together.

"You participate!"

"So do you."

"How do I participate?"

"I saw you talking to the other women yesterday."

Elza glared at him. "It's not the same as what you do."

"It is the same. I just do a little more of it than you." Hess met her glare with a curious expression. "Can you see better or worse with your eyes pointing different ways?"

"How am I supposed to know?" She turned away from him to eat.

Hess kept his mouth shut until she finished her meal. "I am serving the Creator in the way I think best," he said. "You think my long presence in this tribe is for selfish reasons, but I hate what these people are. I stay because this is the best example of what is wrong with the world. The Creator sent us here to observe for Him. I think He means to use our input to make a better world." His next words were almost too soft to hear. "I hope He does."

"You care about them too much," Elza said.

"I'm sure the Creator cares too. He made them, after all."

They watched in silence from on top of the rock for most of the day. Elza thought the distance weakened their observations, but at least the contamination caused by Hess was limited. The tribe was lazy after the previous night's ritual. Men lounged about, receiving food from their women.

When Hess cooked bread, the other women laughed. Elza positioned herself to overhear their conversation. "Hess traded Dalana for that one. She doesn't even cook for him. Chase says Hess grows weak. He wants to challenge Kallig."

Hess contaminates everything I observe here, Elza thought. Still, she couldn't help but be fascinated by the circumstances. I'll stay until they kill Kallig. Then I'll leave this tribe.

The remainder of that day was uneventful. Hess completed his length of rope and used it to replace a worn one on his tent. Elza studied the elaborate construction of the shelter. It had a boxy frame of poles bound together with rope. Rushes padded the floor. Deer hides draped over the frame, then tucked under where they met the ground. Inside, heavy rocks held the hides tight, sealing the tent against drafts. The design was unique in her experience.

She slept soundly for a second night, then followed Hess through the woods while he attempted to hunt. "Chase is planning to kill Kallig," she said.

"Kallig is the father of Chase."

"They don't seem to like each other very much."

"That's because Kallig killed the uncle who raised him. Kallig knows how the tribe works. The same thing he did when he was young will be done to him."

"I have this idea," Elza said, "that groups of people are a system. Like how mountains have different kinds of trees than valleys." She struggled to find words to explain the concept. "You know, like how you can predict the moon and the tides."

"What are tides?"

"If you spent less time in one place, you would know about the sea."

"I know about the sea. It is a large lake," Hess said.

"Bigger than any lake. It has so much water that the moon affects it."

Hess laughed. "Is that what the people told you?"

"No," she said. "I reasoned it myself. The moon pulls on water like the ground pulls on us."

"I never saw the moon pull the water."

"Because you never move somewhere new."

"I have been all over the world. The place where I was born became so cold that water turned hard and fell to the ground. No one around here has ever heard of such a thing."

"I've heard about snow. But it's not real. The tides are."

Hess laughed. "Walk north as far as you can, Elza. When the first snow comes, you will know that I've traveled more than you ever claimed."

"And you can try finding the end of the world," Elza said.

"Walk north, Elza. You lose nothing if I am wrong."

She stumbled when stepping from one rock to another and landed in the stream. Hess sighed. "We might as well return to camp. The men will think I've gone simple-minded. First I trade Dalana for you and now I fail at hunting."

Elza ignored his hand and extracted herself from the stream. "You spend too much time learning skills. You should be observing."

"Let's get you back to the tent."

"Your tent is too fancy. It draws attention to you," she said.

"You'll wish you had a tent like mine when you learn that snow is real."

They trudged through the woods back the way they had come. The fact that Hess returned without success did draw attention. Of course he's the best hunter of the tribe. He probably makes the best rope, too! The only thing he can't do right is the one thing he should be doing.

Before they reached their tent, one of the men, Chase, called out to them. "Are you afraid to hurt a deer now, Hess? I think your man parts fell off when you got your new woman!"

This is the first time a man other than Kallig has insulted Hess since I've been here. Chase is announcing his intentions. Elza glanced to Hess, curious how he would react. Hess shook his head. "The challenge will come today or tomorrow," he whispered.

Inside the tent, Elza wrapped herself in the bedding while Hess hung her pants to dry. "Why do you care if someone challenges Kallig?" Her question grew in volume with every word. "That man is a monster! He deserves to die the same as his victims!"

"I know!" Hess turned his back to her. "I . . . took care of Kallig for a year when he was just a child, until his uncle took offense at an outsider raising his blood."

"Why?"

"He was a child, Elza."

"Children learn from the people who raise them!" Though Hess didn't make much of an impact on Kallig. Still, this guilt should be exploited.

"You know the part that bothers me? I made things worse. Kallig murdered his uncle and became the most brutal leader in the history of the tribe."

Elza collapsed back into her covers. "For a moment there, I thought there might be hope for you."

He forced a laugh. "If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that the two of us will never agree on anything."

"You're not one of them. They're not even real, Hess."

"Real enough." Hess settled into his blankets, face away from her.

They didn't speak again until the following morning. Elza woke hungry from missing dinner and shook him awake. "I want breakfast," she said.

"My woman used to bring me breakfast. Now I bring my woman breakfast."

"I'm not your woman. I'm an Observer."

"By the tradition of the tribe, you're my woman."

"I am not your woman."

"I'm pretty sure you are."

"I want breakfast."

"You know where the fires are."

"I'm not going out there by myself."

Hess smiled without opening his eyes. "Never thought you'd admit that."

"If I presented a convenient target now it would be interfering," she said.

"Well, we can't let that happen." Hess rolled out of his cocoon of furs. The camp was eerily silent for midmorning as they walked to the fires. None of the men had left to hunt. Everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Their appearance was the catalyst.

Kallig called to them. "Cook food for your woman, coward!"

"Quiet, old man!" Chase stood, spear in hand.

Kallig had his spear ready. Something in his stance told Elza that the man had known this challenge was coming. He knew his time was at an end – either today or some day soon.

The two combatants approached each other, crouched with spears held in one hand by the ear, and proceeded to shout insults. Elza watched the encounter, analyzing their bravado, trying to determine how much of the show was for their audience and how much was for themselves.

When it seemed like no real conflict would happen, Chase charged straight at the older man. Kallig threw his spear and missed by a hair. Then Chase drove his spear home. Kallig turned the fire-hardened tip aside with his ribs, then roared in rage and punched Chase.

Chase reversed the motion of his spear and slammed the butt into Kallig's face. Kallig shook off the strike and tackled Chase. Only when the maneuver was complete did it become obvious that Chase had gotten his spear tip in place so that Kallig's lunge drove the point into his soft abdomen.

The younger man rolled free and punched the air in exultation. Kallig clutched at the spear impaling him. "I am the strongest man," Chase roared. He reached down and pulled his spear free. Kallig groaned. "I kill you, old man!"

And then Hess was there. "Stop!"

Chase turned to face the new threat, raising his spear again. "I don't fear you, Hess! I am in charge now!"

Elza shook her head, mouthing the word no at Hess. This was bad. So very, very bad. Worse than she ever imagined.

Hess kicked Kallig's spear into the air and caught it. Standing upright, spear held casually, Hess bared his chest. "You throw first, Chase." The larger man backed away two quick steps and kicked at the vegetation in a fit. "This isn't fair! You never challenged Kallig!"

I might as well get involved. Nothing I do can make this situation any worse. Her voice projected in the expectant quiet. "Hess, even you have to admit this is wrong. You can't stay with this tribe. We need to leave today. Now."

Hess looked down at the wounded Kallig. "We'll wait until Kallig can travel."

"He can't come with us," she said.

"No," Kallig growled. "I don't need you to save me, coward. I don't fear death. I am a man! This is how a man dies, coward! Show him, Chase! Show the coward how men live and die!"

Chase hefted his spear, then hesitated.

"Get out of his way," Elza said. The moment Hess stood aside, Chase moved in for the kill, driving his spear into Kallig, pulling it free and stabbing in rapid succession, leaving a bloody, gasping mess of a man.

Elza seized the arm of Hess. "We're leaving now." He didn't resist. While Kallig died a violent death, they prepared two travel packs. "You know that was wrong," she said to him again and again.

Finally, Hess snapped. "I know!"

"You can't participate."

"What's stopping me?" Hess hefted his spear. "The Creator made sure we knew our duty, but He never bound us. I can act however I wish until the day the sky opens. Then the Creator can unmake me if I am unfit to observe. But until then, what stops me? What stops me from destroying this tribe? What stops me from forming one that works the way it should? What stops me, Elza?"

She took the spear from his hands. "I stop you, Hess."

"How can you be sure that I'm wrong? Do you think the Creator would do nothing if He were here?"

"She would never be here, Hess. The Creator creates. We observe. When this world ends, the Creator will create again and we will observe again."

Hess lifted his pack and settled it on his shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not. The Creator might not want me in His flawed creations."

"We'll leave that decision to Her. Until then, you're an Observer. Now walk."

"Do you prefer a particular direction, woman?"

"Away from here."

"North it is."

# Chapter 12 – Zack / Iteration 144

Flames licked the soles of his bare feet. The pain it brought struck in waves, alternating between excruciating and unbearable. Zack struggled against the duct tape binding his legs in place to the metallic frame, but his struggles did no good. His screams were equally futile. He continued both anyway.

The heating ring of a water heater provided the fire. In a twisted way, he appreciated the technical skill necessary to construct the torture device. The woman named Erik had converted the ring to run on propane, which burned hotter than natural gas. She had welded a heavy-duty weight bench to the fire ring and braced everything with steel bars. The roll of duct tape trapping him in place held him better than rope.

Erik watched him throughout like a master technician at her craft. She leaned forward to apply the welding torch in her hands to his big toe, causing the nail to snap in half from the incredible heat. The pain struck a split-second later, flaring out to consume his entire leg, so intense Zack wouldn't have known it originated in his toe if he hadn't seen it.

"Remember I promised you something special, Hess? It should be here soon. You haven't forgotten that we took Elza first, have you?" Erik tightened the knob on the propane tank, killing the flames. She waited until his flesh returned to perfect health. "I will torture Elza for a long time after you are buried. I will twist her mind until she hates you. The cute little love story ends in tragedy, Hess."

"I'm not Hess." Zack's voice broke.

"You wish you weren't." Erik took out her phone and began to type. "Every few Iterations the Creator comes up with something that just blows my mind. I thought the texting craze was ridiculous at first, but now I'm hooked. You want to ask a question but don't want to get sucked into a conversation? Send a text. If we go back to the stone age next Iteration, I don't know how I'll deal."

A bleep came from her phone. "They're bringing her out, lover-boy."

Zack remained silent. With a detached rationality, he knew he could not escape. The other Observers had every advantage – superior numbers, lifetimes of skills, weapons, mobility. Convincing them he was not the renegade Observer they sought seemed the only way out of the situation, but they responded to his protests with anger when they responded at all. Bearing their punishments until they buried him alive was the only other option.

The thought of being trapped in the dark for years, possibly centuries, sent a chill to his core. He didn't think he could survive such a thing. Yet, deep down, he wondered if he deserved what they did. He had given seven million dollars to charity. He had married a woman. He had forced a man to murder him and landed on the national news. It was a long list for just five years of life. The Creator might be best served with Zack interred in an unmarked grave.

Why would He create someone like me?

The barn door squealed as it opened. The black man called Drake and the man called Ingrid dragged Bridgette into the barn before securing the door once more. Bridgette moved forward in a daze, arms bound behind her back.

"I've had some time to work with both of you," Erik said. "But now comes the real test. I want the two of you to decide which one deserves to sit in the electric chair overnight. I'll begin accepting nominations . . . now."

Bridgette looked to the ground. The silence stretched.

"Really? No one wants to volunteer a name? I thought there would be a race to self-sacrifice. What do you think, Elza? Should it be you? If no one can give me a name, then I'll have to work out some form of couple therapy."

Bridgette looked at him suddenly. "This is your fault."

I don't want it to be me, Zack thought. "Take her," he said aloud.

The flash of anger on Erik's face disappeared behind a mild smile. "So much for true love. What do you think, Elza?"

Bridgette shook her head. "Take Hess instead."

The woman named Erik pulled her tazer and blasted Bridgette. "The chair is in the basement of the house. Get her strapped in. I'll be right behind you."

When the others were gone, Erik seized his face and stared into his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm not who you think I am. I don't care what you do to that woman."

Erik considered him for a long moment. "I could almost believe you. But I don't. You're not going to escape me. Not in this life and not in the next one. I have a new calling, Hess. I'm going to be the Creator's enforcer."

# Chapter 13 – Elza / Iteration 1

Elza stumbled forward at the side of Hess as he shouted at her. "Faster!" He looked over his shoulder every few steps to judge their lead over their pursuers. Elza's rasping breath didn't provide enough air for her to object. Hess ran easily, carrying both their packs and looking like he was just hitting his stride.

The hunters behind them howled like animals. They were animals. They decorated their territory with hideous displays made from human corpses as warnings to intruders. Unfortunately, once you trespassed, leaving the area as quickly as possible wasn't enough. Hunters had found their trail.

It was only twenty days since they left the tribe of Kallig. Twenty long days filled with heated arguments and cold silences. The only thing they could agree on was the fact that the two of them would never agree on anything.

The exertion was too much for her. Elza's vision began to dim and she staggered to a halt. Did he bring me here on purpose to be rid of me? I shouldn't have told him he deserved to be unmade by the Creator. Sight returned to normal and Elza saw Hess by her side still. "I can't run anymore," she panted. "If I stay still after they kill me, it might trick them."

"When they cut you into pieces for one of their displays, they'll notice that your body parts vanish and come back together." Hess looked around as he spoke. "I want you to go deep into that thicket, lay down, and try to make your breathing sound less like a bear's."

Elza stared at him. "You're leaving me?"

"Worse, according to you. Now go." Hess ran to the crest of a hill as she tripped through the dense undergrowth in the direction he had pointed.

Their pursuers appeared before she could hide herself. Three charged after Hess while two turned in her direction. Elza mentally prepared herself for what would come. She had been killed once for trespassing. It wasn't one of her more cherished experiences, but she hadn't had nightmares about the incident in close to a century.

The fastest of their pursuers let out a whoop as he closed on Hess, who faced the charge with stoic resolve. I wish I'd let Hess take his spear when we left his tribe. Hess spread his arms and the hunter drove the spear home.

Quick as a flash of lightning, Hess seized the spear with one hand and pulled it further into his body, at the same time bringing his other fist up to the opposite shoulder and then viciously chopping the throat of his attacker. That man stumbled back holding his neck.

The second hunter closed on him. Hess pulled the spear free of his body. With casual elegance, Hess twisted to the side and used the body of the spear in his hands to deflect that of his enemy, then drove his own spear home. A second man fell to the ground.

Once more weaponless, Hess charged the third hunter, dodging a thrown spear. When Hess hit the man, he did so in a low dive, forcing his target's knees to bend in an unnatural direction. Both of them disappeared from view as they rolled upon the ground.

Hess rose and staggered into an unsteady sprint towards where Elza watched, holding his bleeding abdomen closed with his hands. One of the two hunters pursuing her sprinted away, fleeing into the forest. The second crashed through the dense foliage of the thicket, struggling to reach her. Elza tried to judge the speed and position of the two men. Hess was moving faster, but she didn't think he could close the distance in time.

The hunter reached her first. He seized Elza by the hair and rested the point of his spear beneath her jaw. When Hess reached them, the hunter spoke. "Stop or I will kill your woman!"

"That would make me very angry," Hess said. "I would have to kill your entire tribe. But if you release my woman, I will let you go."

The point of the hunter's spear drew blood as the man trembled. "Are you an evil spirit?"

"Yes," Hess whispered. "I am the body of a man killed by your tribe. You should not keep us above the ground where we can wake up. We get angry, sometimes."

The hunter threw Elza to the ground and fled in the opposite direction, hindered by the thick vegetation. Hess pulled Elza to her feet.

"We need to leave," he said. "We'll walk until my bleeding stops, then run again."

# Chapter 14 – Zack / Iteration 144

The Observers placed him face down for the night, left hand cuffed behind his back to right ankle, right hand to left ankle. They had moved him to the house, where a cramped family room had been cleared to serve as a holding area. The room's single exit led directly into the kitchen area, where two of his captors drank tea.

The man called Ingrid spoke. "We should bury him immediately."

The voice of a woman responded. "Erik wants her fun."

"This isn't about playing games. We serve the Creator," Ingrid said. "Hess needs to be removed from events quickly so we can return to our observations."

"Just give Erik a few days with him."

Zack had twisted around to face the light that shone from the kitchen. In the night, fear of his immanent burial lurked closer to the surface. He concentrated on the soreness his unnatural position caused his shoulders. Pain was a safe thought.

What does Lacey think happened to me? She probably assumes I abandoned her. Zack hoped that in time she found someone who could love her. It was such a simple thing for a person to want. He had thought he could fake the emotion for her, but Zack knew better now. He would make an even worse person than he did an Observer.

The shadows from the kitchen moved from time to time. Even if Zack could free himself, the windows were boarded up and two armed guards prevented his escape through the kitchen. Still, he watched. After a few hours, the shadows stopped moving. If he knew a way to escape, this would be the time to do so. The darkness rose within and Zack had to suppress it. The darkness had been active ever since the shooting, threatening him day and night.

One of the shadows from the kitchen shifted. Zack watched it move silently, growing larger. The form of the man called Ingrid appeared in the doorway. He placed a finger over his lips, bidding Zack to remain silent. Then Ingrid slipped over to kneel at his side. Ingrid seized Zack's restraints. "When I free you, leave the house silently. The keys to the truck that brought you here are on the counter. Move somewhere far from here and don't draw attention to yourself." In rapid motions, Ingrid freed Zack, feet first, then seized Zack's chin. "The woman downstairs is not who she claims to be. She's Kerzon, trying to wound you in the way she thinks worst. Elza is still out there somewhere."

Zack crouched silently, cradling his arms close while strained shoulders healed. "I don't know who Elza is. I am not Hess."

"I don't have time to argue. You can't go anywhere associated with your Zack identity. Drive to somewhere with public transportation and disappear. The truck has several thousand dollars stashed beneath the seat. Be quiet. Erik didn't drink any tea."

Zack followed Ingrid out to the kitchen, where Ingrid settled back into his seat and slouched forward onto the table as if asleep. With swift motions, Zack swiped the keys from the counter and went out the kitchen door. He ran to the truck, clawed the door open, leaped inside, jammed the key into the ignition, twisted hard, shifted into drive, and hit the gas.

The truck bounced the entire length of the dirt driveway, then shot into motion when it reached the road. Zack's heart raced faster than the truck as he split his attention between the road ahead and the rear-view mirror. He took route twenty-eight south towards Pittsburgh, slowing to five over the speed limit. Can't get pulled over now. I have to find a bus station or something. Zack punched the seat. He didn't know where to find a bus station in Pittsburgh or anywhere else. He didn't know where to find anything. In the past five years, he had rarely traveled more than ten miles from rural Sarver.

He tensed every time he saw headlights behind him, until he was hunched over the steering wheel. I don't know where I'm going. I am tired and confused and emotional. I need a map and some rest. One of the false memories that came with the identity of Zack Vernon recalled itself suddenly. It was of a road trip taken with his parents. They had stopped at a hotel. While his parents went through the process of checking in, Zack had perused a display on the local attractions, paying particular attention to a map of the area.

Now where is a hotel? The answer to that was easy. Along route 28, just south of Tarentum, was a shopping complex known as the Pittsburgh Mills Mall, a beautiful facility full of retail locations suffering from lack of business. A hotel sat behind the mall. Hopefully he could discover the location of a bus terminal there.

# Interlude 2 – Hess / Iteration 143

Hess paced while Elza read the document. They were inside their private sanctum, the central chamber of their palace. Outside, bells called out the hour. Elza's eyes rose from the parchment.

"They want to surrender," she said. "Sidon is sailing at us with an army, but his administrators write to request our aid."

"It's a hedging tactic," Hess said. "Their King is away, the people are restless, and we keep winning battles. So far, at least . . . ."

Elza compressed her lips. "You want to introduce liquid fire."

"King Sidon has a superior navy."

"Using a weapon like that undermines the principles of our Empire. How can we preach humanitarianism while introducing this world to chemical weapons?"

Hess crossed his arms. "It was never going to be perfect."

"The Empire might fall short of its ideals, but we don't. You agreed that we would walk away before we violated the rules. No technological breakthroughs allowed. Sorry." Elza crossed the room to wrap her arms around him. This world saw her in a body most kindly described as mature, while he was perpetually stuck in the final days of puberty. He sometimes suspected the Creator had a sense of humor. The age difference bothered Elza more than him. She always worried when his form was more attractive than hers.

"Then we'll have to move our ships into the harbor and prepare for a siege. King Sidon can't beat us on land and we can't match his fleet." Hess planted a kiss on Elza's nose. "I ever tell you I have a thing for bossy noblewomen?"

"I smell mead. Did you open a fresh jug while I was meeting with the federal reserve chairmen?"

"I thought you might need a drink after manipulating the currency."

"Math doesn't give me headaches."

"It doesn't cause me pain, Elza. I just don't think those types of studies are something an Observer needs to know."

"I thought you were an Emperor."

"That's more of a hobby," Hess said.

"You couldn't do this without me. Conducting wars and giving speeches are very nice, but this Empire keeps running out of money. Your welfare state doesn't have the resources to fight wars. Fortunately, our trading partners are as bad at math as you are. Reserve banking and derivative options have turned this world upside down."

Hess poured two goblets of mead. "You know what else I can't do myself?"

Elza took a sip. "So help me if you say this decrepit body is your favorite."

The mead stung his mouth. "Wow. This is strong."

"Do you remember Iteration twenty-six?" Elza swirled the contents of her cup and took a gulp. "You were such a beer snob."

Beer? What is Beer? Hess sent a query into the abyss of his memory, seeking for beer and Iteration twenty-six. He took another drink, feeling the liquid burn like fire down his throat. "This is my favorite body of yours," he said.

Elza rolled her eyes. "You say that about every body I wear."

"I mean it every time."

"You may love me every time, Hess, but not my body. I have been morbidly obese, disturbingly frail, cross-eyed, and now elderly."

"In their time, they were all my favorite."

"You just like to humor me. To be honest, it gets tiring."

The returning recollection bubbled up from the endless eternity of his memory. Hess recalled dragging Elza to the local brewery of every town they traveled through. They wore matching middle-aged, dark-skinned bodies in that world. Elza had rolled her eyes every time he asked the locals where the town brewer lived. An associated recollection burst into his primary memory, of Iteration ninety-five, when Elza produced the most vitriolic substance ever called a wine. She had been a breathtakingly beautiful blonde in that life, drawing the eyes of every man who passed.

"At least I had the decency to give you something drinkable in twenty-six. Do you remember when you had a winery? That hellish liquid was not fit for human consumption. When it didn't sell, I had to help drink the entire inventory."

Elza blinked in surprise. "A winery?"

"In a minute you'll remember why you don't recall it more often."

They drank more of the mead, which had subtle apple notes buried beneath its harshness. Playing remember when over a glass of whatever poured was a tradition longer than the entire recorded history of the current world. They remembered every moment of their endless lives with perfect clarity, though only a minute fraction of it fit into primary memory at any moment. The time required to pull forth the seldom-accessed memories grew longer as they continued to accumulate more experiences.

Some Iterations lasted much longer than others, but a good approximation was a thousand years each, which meant he had close to a hundred and forty-three thousand years of life stored inside his eternal skull. Sometimes he felt ancient. But never a hundred and forty-three thousand years ancient.

"You didn't drink more than a few bottles of my wine," Elza said. "We sold the bulk of it to be distilled into grape liquor."

"Really? Well, you can't deny it was bad."

Elza laughed. "It was terrible. You tried so hard not to make a face when I let you do the first tasting after it aged. I knew it wouldn't win any awards when it was still in oak, but I didn't want to give up."

"I really mean it," Hess said. "This body of yours is my favorite."

"You must be trying to annoy me."

"I'm serious."

"Which is your second favorite?"

"The first," he said.

"Lazy eye and all?"

"You know, I never knew I was lonely till the day I wasn't."

"Different question. Which body was the best for a cozy?"

Hess swirled his mead. "You've asked this before. Iteration six, no question about it."

"I never understood your obsession with curves," she said.

"To be quite honest, Elza, neither do I. It just is."

They sat in silence. Hess slouched into his chair. "I'm tired," he said.

Elza put a hand to her forehead and spoke with slurred words. "I think we've been poisoned again. Annoying. Hope wears off fast."

Crap. Hope it kills us – effects will be shorter that way. If it's just inconvenient, it could take hours for our bodies to purge the poison. Hess tried to stand, but his legs couldn't support him. He eyed the bell on the table by Elza's elbow. "Call servants," he said.

Elza rang the bell and they waited.

When the door opened, a servant and two guards entered. "Help us to bed," Elza said. The servant ignored her and turned to face Hess. "Was your mead poisoned?"

An inside job. Great. This will start all sorts of zombie rumors.

The servant's eyes followed every twitch of his face in a familiar manner. "Observer," he said. The servant, a plain young woman, nodded. "It's Ingrid, Hess. And your sick game of Empires ends now. We've debated among ourselves and decided that your disobedience has to be punished."

His tongue became too numb for speech. Hess sought Elza with his eyes as the other Observers placed him on the bed and wrapped him in linens. A frustrated anger boiled within him. I will make them regret this.
PART III

# Chapter 15 – Zack / Iteration 144

His plan was to rent a room, clean himself up, buy clean clothes, sleep for a few hours, and make his way into Pittsburgh to catch a bus early in the morning. What happened was Zack lay on his bed and fell asleep before he dredged up the motivation to move.

He woke midmorning to the sound of talking in the room next to his. Zack checked the clock, saw it was after nine, and rolled out of the bed. In the bathroom mirror, he appeared normal enough save for his clothing, which was sliced and faded from repeatedly soaking in his blood. While the blood may have vanished from his shirt and pants, the damage it had caused remained.

Studying his appearance, Zack decided a change of clothes would be worth the delay. Anything that made him harder to spot could potentially save him. Which was why he needed to abandon the truck as soon as possible. Why didn't I learn anything about the closest city that didn't come from a television? I really am a terrible Observer.

Zack tore the wrapper from the tiny hotel soap and turned on the water. He thoroughly washed his face and hands. While he was toweling dry, Zack glanced at the wedding band perched on his ring finger. He imagined Lacey at home, clutching her phone, unsure if he lived or not. She deserves to know. Well, maybe not know the truth, but to have some sort of closure. If I tell her I know the baby isn't mine, then she can move on with her life.

The hotel room phone felt heavy in his hands as he dialed Lacey's number. He took a breath and prepared himself for the accusation that would be in her voice. The phone rang twice and picked up. "Hello?" The voice was Erik's. "Is that you, Zack Vernon? Hess?"

What is she doing with Lacey's phone? Shit, this is so wrong. "What do you want?" he said.

"Hiya Hess! Seems like just yesterday you were on the farm. So anyway, I was thinking you could stop over for another visit. Lacey's here right now and we were just talking about how much happier she would be if you joined us."

Zack had to clear his throat to speak. "Why take her? She doesn't know anything."

"Same reason I abduct anyone. Cause I wanna play. Now I want two things from you in exchange for the little darling's life, Hess. First, come back to the farm. Second, tell me which one of these shitheads helped you escape."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Am I supposed to just abandon her? There has to be another way. The solution struck him. "I'll call back with my decision in an hour."

"I don't think so," Erik said. "You call the authorities and things go very, very bad. Things look squeaky clean at the farm right now. Ingrid's got the legal right to be here. Cops won't find shit if they show. This ain't my first rodeo."

"I'm not coming back to the farm," Zack said.

"That's a shame. Well, you called to talk to Lacey. Here she is."

"Zack?" Lacey's voice climbed octaves as she spoke. "Why are they doing this? I'm afraid for the baby. Oh, God, Zack, I am so afraid. She smashed my fucking hand with a hammer. Please, Zack, please . . . I don't know what I'm asking. Just, it's the baby. I don't want the baby to die."

Erik's voice returned. "I can do a lot worse than a hammer, Hess. I can cut her unborn child out of her and slice the thing into pieces while she watches. By the standard of these creatures, I'm pretty deranged, Hess. This woman would die a death more horrifying than you can imagine. Mutilation means something to a mortal that it never could to us. We see a mangled limb and wait for the thing to fix itself, but they see a piece of themselves irreversibly destroyed. You can't imagine how easy it is to terrorize them."

There was silence on the line as Zack thought. Finally, Erik spoke again. "How about a compromise?"

" You want to catch me. I don't want caught. Not much room for compromise."

"We've just got to be a little creative, Hess. Stop treating things all binary-like. Instead of caught and not-caught, let's deal in degrees of risk. I'm willing to release Lacey to you in a time and location you choose. You can make it as public or as remote as your soft heart desires. The only stipulation is that you show alone."

Zack sighed. "Deal. We'll meet at the parking lot of buffalo plaza."

"Less than a mile from a police station. Well played, Hess. Just make sure you show alone. The professionals haven't been playing these games for nearly as long as I have. How long will it take you to get there from the . . . Tarentum Hyatt?"

Caller ID. He grabbed the room key. "I'll be there at ten." The moment he slammed the phone home, Zack was running through the door. They are always two steps ahead of me.

# Chapter 16 – Elza / Iteration 1

She watched Hess haggle with an elderly man. They spoke a different way in this region and Elza could understand only one word in four. Hess didn't seem to have any trouble communicating with the locals, which he often claimed proved him better traveled than her.

The elderly man pointed at her and Elza felt her cheeks heat. Her body had grown stronger during the three months they traveled at the maddening pace Hess set for them. Hess shook his head no. When they weren't hiking at a reckless pace, they were either procuring food or sleeping like the dead. While hiking, she thought they carried too many supplies. While making camp, she thought they carried far too few. Though the lifestyle was far from comfortable, she could not deny it had done her body some good. Hess looked back at her and mouthed this one offered a whole tent for you.

Elza pointedly ignored the rest of the negotiations. In the distance, there were tall mountains with white rock caps Hess claimed were snow. They had walked for the remainder of the spring season and through the entire summer. The two of them had settled into a daily routine almost devoid of words. There seemed no point to speaking when they could understand each other's intentions so well through observation and words added only arguments.

As Hess returned, she saw the small smile on his face and decided they would argue that day. "I've discovered that the secret to selling a woman," he announced, "is telling people she can't talk. That's the third offer."

"You don't own me," Elza said.

"I'm pretty sure I do. I traded Dalana for you." His eyes sparkled in the daylight. Elza looked away. She had dreamed of him saving her again the previous night. She wished that had been where the dream ended.

"We're both Observers. That means we're equal."

"Men own women in this world. Probably because the Creator is a man."

He could tell I planned to pick a fight and beat me to it. Elza glared at Hess. "Have I ever mentioned that I don't like you?"

"Regularly, but it doesn't bother me."

"Then I'll find something else to say."

"You know, if you were one of them, you would be the most interesting thing I've ever observed," Hess said.

Elza held out her hand. "What did you buy?"

"Not a tent. Those things cost an entire woman this far north."

"You don't have a woman to trade."

"A lot of the people we meet think otherwise."

"What did you buy?"

"Nothing."

"That will make a wonderful dinner tonight. Or perhaps we will eat those skins you insist we carry everywhere."

Hess shrugged. "He offered a bundle of apples for a deer pelt. We need the material to build a tent."

"Do you intend to starve to death?"

"We're going to set up camp for a few days so we can hunt," Hess said.

"So I have to spend all night making traps?"

"I thought we might try something different this time. I want you to come with me. You can have one of my extra spears."

Elza raised a brow. "You say I scare away the animals when I go with you."

"Animals are a lot like men. Too much talking keeps them away."

"And they both smell," Elza added.

Hess stopped walking and pulled his three spears free of his pack. The things broke faster than the fire-hardened variety used by settled tribes, but otherwise served them well. He selected one and handed it to her. Elza hefted it overhand.

"No, no, no," Hess said. He dropped everything to the ground except one spear and demonstrated the proper stance. Elza mimicked him as best she could. When he shook his head, she fixed him with a warning look. "What am I doing wrong?"

Hess put his last spear down. "Try again."

She bent slightly at the knees and lifted the spear up to her ear. Hess stepped close and placed one hand on her shoulder. "Lean forward." His other hand touched the hip closest him. "Center yourself."

"I'm not very good at this," she said.

The breath of his laugh tickled her cheek. "It might take some time."

"I suppose I'm not getting any older," she said.

# Chapter 17 – Zack / Iteration 144

Zack looked every direction as he turned from route 356 into the plaza's back entrance. None of the cars appeared occupied as he passed them. His heart beat out a steady rhythm. Zack drove slowly around the outer perimeter of the parking lot, then parked close to the entrance of the grocery store.

I'm ten minutes early. Maybe they're not here yet. Zack kept the truck running in case he needed to escape fast. As the minutes ticked by, he imagined the various ways the Observers could best him. Well, they could taze me and drag me away before anyone objected. They could show up dressed like cops and shoot me. They could call the real cops on me, then wait for me to be released from questioning. They could release Lacey in bad condition and ambush me at the hospital.

At ten o'clock, Zack tensed when a man approached his truck. I should have stopped to buy a weapon. Even a knife would be better than nothing. The man unlocked the door of a car parked next to Zack's borrowed truck, got inside, and drove away. Zack glanced to the clock. It was a minute past ten.

Zack twisted around in his seat, looking in every direction. The only people he saw were carrying bags of groceries to their vehicles. None of them looked suspicious. He sank back into his seat and glanced at the clock. It was five after. They're not releasing Lacey. They just wanted me to come back.

He threw the truck into drive. There were five of them. It was probably safe to assume that one of them would still be at the farm watching Lacey. The man called Ingrid had released him without revealing himself. That left only three of them to worry about.

I don't know the first thing about espionage, Zack thought. He slowly circled the lot a final time and moved to the back entrance, expecting someone to pull out and block him. His truck returned to route 356 without incident. Zack watched his rearview mirror as he drove, but no one followed him.

He decided his course on the fly. He would return to the trailer park, pack a bag, and get lost. The others might release Lacey when he didn't return. Zack tried not to consider the other possibility.

Zack parked beside Lacey's car at their trailer. His keys were with his phone, somewhere on the hellish farm of the Observers, which meant he would need to break a window to get into his own home. He was halfway to his door when a car parked at the back of his driveway, blocking in both vehicles.

Bridgette stepped out of the car. "Get in the car, Hess."

"Get away from me," he said as she walked forward.

"It's me – Elza."

"I don't even know who that is."

Bridgette reached behind her and pulled out a tiny handgun. "We really messed you up, didn't we? And here I thought we wouldn't be able to leave a mark. Doesn't matter what you remember, Hess. You're getting in my car. Whether I put a hole in your skull first is your decision."

"You're going to shoot me in public?" Zack backed away from her.

"Doesn't look like too many of your neighbors are home at the moment. Plus, you would be surprised how many people mistake the sound of a gunshot for something else."

As he backed up, the heel of his foot struck the first of two wobbly steps leading up to his trailer's front door. His best plan was to break down the door and bludgeon Bridgette to death with a frying pan while taking shots from her handgun.

Zack bent his knees, preparing to leap for the door. Bridgette raised her gun, lining the sites up on him. The front door of his trailer opened.

A form swung out onto the top step, large handgun cradled in two steady hands, paused, and fired past Zack. He turned in time to see Bridgette hit the ground, one eye crying a stream of blood. From behind, he heard the sound of a hammer cocking. "Grab her body," said the woman.

Zack swallowed. "Who are you?"

The woman, short, petite, with black hair, brown eyes, and a distinctive nose, analyzed him briefly before answering. "I'm a girl with a gun. Now grab her body, Zack Vernon."

The way her gun unerringly moved to center on his face every time he shifted convinced Zack he wouldn't gain much by arguing. He went to where Bridgette lay and bent down. There wasn't much of a mess in the front, but his fingers encountered a disturbing amount of moisture when they slid beneath the body. He stood with it in his arms. "Where am I taking it?"

"Her car."

"And then what?"

"Then Kerzon gets what she deserves. I'm going to dig a hole, put her in a casket, and pile dirt on top. She's going to spend a few hundred years tearing her nails out on the walls of her shiny metal box."

Zack dropped the body.

"Pick her back up."

Zack bent to retrieve Bridgette, then stopped. The woman squatted across from him, the muzzle of her weapon still pointed directly at him. "Pick. Her. Up."

"You can't bury her alive," he said. "You can't do that to someone. No one deserves to be trapped in the dark forever."

The tip of the handgun, so steady, sank towards the ground. "Who are you?"

"Just promise me you won't bury her."

"Who are you?"

"Zack. I've never been anyone else. I swear."

The muzzle shook when she raised her gun. "Get in the car."

"You're not going to take the body?"

"No," she said. "Just get in the car."

He glanced around the trailer court. No one had emerged to investigate the sound of gunfire. No one was coming to help him. There was nowhere to run. Zack got into the passenger side of the running vehicle. The woman entered from the driver side.

As she drove around and back towards the exit, Zack studied the blood on his hands. It would vanish when Bridgette revived, but for the moment he was covered. "What are you going to do with me?"

The woman let out a deep breath. "I don't know."

"Who are you?"

"I'm using the name Quebec Wallace."

"Quebec like the province?"

"That's right."

"Are you Canadian?"

"No," she said.

"Are you Elza?"

She didn't answer.

"I'm not Hess."

"Tell me something, Zack. Why pull the trick with that robber?"

"It was an accident, Quebec."

She shook her head. "Let's assume I'm not stupid. Why did you challenge that man? Were you trying to draw other Observers?"

"I didn't know I could come back from a bullet to the brain."

Quebec watched him from the corner of her eye as she stopped at a light. "We don't die, Zack. Not ever. Not even when it's the only thing we want. Which is why you don't want the others to get their hands on you. Back there, Kerzon wasn't abducting you to bake cookies."

"I know."

"You're lucky I was there."

Zack glanced to the gun resting in her lap. "So you're not going to shoot me?"

"I never promised that, Zack."

"Quit saying my name like that. You might as well be using the other one."

Quebec reached into her purse and tossed him a set of handcuffs. "Put those on and be quiet. I need to figure out what I'm going to do."

#   
Chapter 18 – Elza / Iteration 1

She huddled within the pile of furs at the center of their small tent. Two days ago, the snow had come, whiting out the sky and covering everything with its coldness on the same day Hess disappeared, abandoning her in the snow she had denied existed. Elza still didn't know why he had left.

Maybe he finally came to his senses. We shouldn't be traveling together. The Creator didn't send us here to Observe each other. Elza shivered deeper in the furs, wondering how cold it could get. At least I don't have to listen to Hess gloat about the snow. Outside, the wind howled its anger.

The tent shook around her, sending down showers of fine snow. Elza flinched, waiting for the tent to collapse. Instead, the door flap peeled back to reveal a pale figure. With wooden motions, Hess crawled into the tent, turned to refasten the door, and dropped to the ground beside her.

He didn't abandon me. Elza touched his shoulder, then yanked her hand back. He was as cold as the snow. "Where did you go?" she asked.

"Got lost in the whiteout," he said. "Stupid. Should have stayed closer to tent. Died ten times, at least. Now I remember why I never returned north."

"You're cold," she accused.

"Do me a favor? Kill me. Rock to my head. I'll come back warm." Hess lay in the same place he had collapsed, body twitching but not shivering, radiating coldness.

"I can't kill you," she said.

"Won't last."

"Doesn't matter," Elza said. She placed half of the furs from her pile onto him. "You'll warm up."

"Hope not. Dying is less painful."

She burrowed deep into her furs, feeling the cold more than ever from the door's opening and then losing half her covers. "I guess you were right about snow."

"Thought being right would feel a little better," he said. "Next we can find the sea. Only fair."

Elza watched him for a time. "We can't stay together, Hess. We have a purpose."

"Sure you want to leave me alone? Might do something wrong."

"I know you will. But She didn't send me here to watch you." Elza tested his temperature with a finger. She couldn't tell if there was any improvement. "I still don't understand why you interfere."

"I was close to here when the world started. Just a mountain over." Hess spoke slowly, voice rasping. "Had a tribe, a mother, and a sister. Lots of memories that weren't real. Started observing. Things seemed fine at first. Men did their work, women did theirs. Everyone helped out. Sister grew into a woman. Beautiful. So kind. I loved her as much as I could one of them, knowing she wasn't real.

"Best hunter of the tribe decided he wanted her. Got rid of his old woman. Seemed wrong, but I wasn't there to judge. My sister . . . Cora . . . she was scared, but went when he came for her. Cora stayed with the hunter, with Ron. Cora was a good woman to her man. She fed him and lay with him and made clothes for him. Wasn't enough for Ron. He liked when people feared him. He fought with the other men. Hurt them for fun. Started hitting Cora too.

"But I didn't do anything. I wasn't there to judge. I was just an Observer. I stayed in my own tent and watched the people ruin their lives. After Ron broke Cora's nose, she wasn't so beautiful. He hit her more and harder after that. He was better when she held his child in her. I hoped it would stay like that. Cora stopped speaking to anyone except Ron. She wouldn't even look at me.

"She had her baby when Ron was out hunting. Cora was so happy. She held her baby all that day, smiled at everyone. She thought Ron would be happy, too. But Ron wanted a son. He took the baby and threw her in the cooking fires."

Elza watched Hess, reading the rage in his features. His voice grew stronger suddenly.

"I couldn't do nothing that time. Ron was bigger than me and much stronger. When I hit him, he hit back until I couldn't stand. Then he held my hand in the fire so it would be useless for hunting. I tried to push him into the fire later that night. He was too strong and instead he broke my neck.

"I kept coming back, Elza. I kept trying to hurt this man. He kept killing me and I kept returning. The other people were frightened, but Ron didn't care. He thought it was a joke that he could kill me so many times. While Ron and I were fighting, Cora left the camp. They found her body at the bottom of a cliff. Ron took another woman and I left the tribe."

Hess met her eyes. "The world is not right, Elza."

She placed her hand on his neck, feeling the returned warmth. "If you were a man, you would be a good one," she said.

"But I'm not."

"No. Instead you're a terrible Observer."

"Do you ever wish you were just a woman?"

She pulled her hand away from him. "I wouldn't like that. The Creator didn't give me an appealing form. If my purpose was to find a man, I don't think I would do well at it."

"You might do better than you think."

"No, Hess. I have tried to play the part of a woman for a long time. Men only want me when a better woman isn't around. I would rather be an Observer than one of them." She rolled to her other side, away from him. He was the same as other men, exclaiming over the beauty of his sister and reminding her constantly of his last woman, the beautiful Dalana.

The cold didn't relent as they lay in silence.

"How long does it stay like this?"

"Three months," Hess said.

"I don't like snow. It's too cold."

Hess shifted closer to her. "In the north, you have to share warmth if you want to sleep comfortably." Elza didn't protest as he rearranged the furs around them.

"I never asked to see the snow," she said.

Hess slid close until they were touching and wrapped an arm around her. "Maybe if we hate the snow enough, the Creator will make the next world without it."

"Your clothes are wet," she said. Hess began to shift around beneath the covers, then tossed his clothes onto the top of their covers. With fewer layers between them, she could feel the heat of his body. "Do you really think the Creator cares about our preferences?"

His warm breath tickled her neck. "He wouldn't need Observers if He didn't want our input."

Elza shifted closer to his warmth. "She wants our experiences, not our opinions."

The hand around her shifted. "Then why aren't we supposed to participate?"

"I don't know, Hess."

His lips brushed her neck. She leaned into it. "Hess, I'm still cold."

# Chapter 19 – Zack / Iteration 144

Quebec escorted him into her room at the Butler Days Inn, then released one of his hands to cuff him to the bed. When she finished securing him, Quebec went to the room's table, placed her gun down, and retrieved implements from a suitcase already in the room. All without saying a word. She hadn't spoken except to silence him since the car.

With the assistance of a tiny screwdriver, the handgun came apart in her hands. Quebec drizzled oil onto a rag and several Q-tips, then began to thoroughly scrub the weapon. Her every movement was deliberate in the extreme, almost inhumanly economical.

"What kind of gun is it?"

His other questions had only tightened the skin around her eyes, but she answered this one. "It's a Ruger Security Six. I'm firing three fifty-seven hollow points through it."

"Do you have to clean it very often?"

"I clean it after every trip to the range. And sometimes just to help me think."

Zack looked around the hotel room. Besides two suitcases and the cleaning kit on the table, Quebec had left no mark on the place. "Do you go to the range a lot?"

"Most people would say so."

"How often do you go?"

Quebec dropped the rag and began to rapidly reassemble her pistol. "I try to put three hundred rounds downrange every week."

"Is it expensive?"

"Doesn't matter. I can get as much money as I need."

"How?"

"Casinos," Quebec said.

"What, you count cards?"

"I count cards, read expressions, do probability analyses. And when I win big, I make sure it is statistically likely so I avoid notice. Casinos are like ATM's to me." Quebec tightened a final screw, loaded six rounds into the cylinder, and snapped it closed with a flick of her wrist.

Now that she's talking . . . . "So what are we going to do?"

Quebec dug into a suitcase and brought out a slim laptop. "I haven't decided yet. We should leave the area, change identities, and lay low. That's what we should do."

"Then why aren't we doing that?"

Her fingers drummed on the table. "Because I don't think I can walk away from them. They deserve the very worst I can do to them."

"I know." Zack thought of Lacey, begging him to save her and the baby. "I know they do."

"But not the darkness," Quebec said, voice soft. She looked towards him, making eye contact for the first time since the car.

He dropped his eyes. "I don't know what they did to you, but you can't do that to them."

"That's what they did to me, Zack. Locked me away in the dark. Me and the man I loved. It's impossible to know how long I was there before the world ended. All I can say is it was too long. Did you know I can't even ride an elevator? Every time I think of stepping inside, I imagine the thing breaking down and trapping me inside. Try dealing with that in New York City."

Zack cleared his throat. "Does night bother you?"

"I'm not a big fan of the dark." Quebec stood and walked to stand beside where he lay on the bed. She held out her wrist to display an analog watch with neon hands and hour markers. "My watch is made with tritium. The hands and hour markers will glow day and night for over ten years." She undid the clasp and removed the watch. Quebec leaned over him to wrap it around the wrist of his free hand. Her dark hair tickled his face as she fastened it.

"Now you don't have to worry about the dark," she said.

When Quebec stood, Zack released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The scent of her, floral fabric softener and fruit body lotion mingled with gunpowder and oil, lingered over him. "Won't you need the watch?"

Her eyes were steady on him. "I think it's enough not being alone."

"I'm not him," Zack said.

Quebec turned her back on him and went to her laptop. "I'm trying to find their base of operations. It will be somewhere close, but remote enough that no one will interfere with them. They haven't had much time to set up in the area, so they're probably squatting in an unoccupied hunting lodge or abandoned building. Do you know of anywhere they could hole up? It would have to be out of screaming range of neighbors."

"I know where they are."

Her back stiffened. "You were there? How did you escape?"

"Someone named Ingrid helped me out."

"Ingrid? Are you sure it was her? Maybe I'll go easy on her for that."

"Ingrid was a man."

"Well, she was a woman the first time we met her," Quebec said.

"I am not Hess."

In a sudden motion, Quebec swiped her laptop from the table, sending it crashing to the floor. "You're not Hess? Then why does everyone think you are? Do you think we're stupid?" Her voice grew shriller. "There are a million different ways for us to identify each other. We know. So please stop the act. Please."

"I'm sorry, Quebec." Zack closed his eyes to block out her pain. "Was he your husband?"

"Husband?" She shook her head. "Never my husband. Never. Marriage is what these people do to ease their insecurities. They try to bind love in a contract. We never needed that. You chose me world by world, moment by moment, again and again. We've spent lifetimes together. I don't even know who I am without you." Quebec wrestled herself back under control. "Who else is with them?"

"Erik. A guy named Drake. I heard them mention someone named Griff, but I never met him."

"So Erik, Drake, Griff, Ingrid, and Kerzon. I might be able to handle the five of them."

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "You're not exactly Rambo."

"I have enough muscles to pull a trigger. It takes over five minutes to regenerate after a death. If I can surprise them, then my only trouble will be restraining the bodies before they wake up."

"They were going to bury me in the ground. What if they do that to you? It would be a lot worse than getting on an elevator. And Erik has a few kinks that almost make you want to go underground." Zack raised his chin. "I won't tell you where they are unless you promise not to go after them."

She bent to retrieve her laptop. "I can find them without you."

"They're not where you think they are."

"Then I go back to your trailer and wait for them to pick up their truck."

"Enough people have been hurt already," Zack said.

"Your wife?"

"Her name's Lacey. Erik threatened to cut the baby out of her."

Quebec looked at him. "Do you love her?"

"I like her most of the time."

"The baby isn't yours. Observers are sterile."

Zack shrugged. "She was pregnant before I met her. What does it matter which body made the baby? Lacey needed someone. Her baby will need someone. Why shouldn't I do something useful while I'm stuck here?"

The hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips. "What do you see when you look at these people? Do you dream of a better world for them?"

"They make such a mess of their lives," Zack said. "But they're happy with it. I don't understand that. I wish I could, but I can't."

Quebec nodded, serious again. "Sometimes happiness seems impossible."

"Promise me you won't go after them."

"Show me where they are and I promise to stay away."

# Chapter 20 – Elza / Iteration 1

The late winter snow was beautiful as it twirled to the ground. Elza watched the frosted landscape around their tent, breathing in the chill air. It was almost time for them to leave the north, but not quite yet. The world promised more days of snow, more long, cold nights.

Hess emerged from the tent with a long, thin spear in his hands. "I'll be quick." He bent to kiss her, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

"The fire will be ready to light when you get back," she said.

They stood there a moment, eyes locked. Since the day they agreed to separate once they traveled south of the mountains, their partings had grown longer. Hess bent to kiss her once more. When he straightened, she rested her forehead on his chest. This needs to end.

"I better go now if we want to eat," Hess said.

"Hurry back."

The way he looked at her in the moment before turning away . . . . Elza watched him disappear through the frosty trees. They still had weeks before they could begin their journey. Maybe a month to cross the mountains. Then their paths parted. They would stop whatever it was they were doing and return to Observing.

Trying not to think, Elza swept their stone hearth free of snow with the branch of a nearby shrub, then set out in search of firewood. The area around their tent was picked clean, so she made a large circle to gather fallen branches. Their existence in the frozen land had become routine.

Maybe we should visit the sea before we go our own ways. What is a few more months compared to the hundreds of years we have lived? She shook her head. It had to end soon. Before one of them said something to make things serious. Though their conversations touched on every other topic under the sun, they managed to avoid that one subject. Whatever was between them had to remain unsaid.

She stacked the wood in a dry spot on each trip back to their camp. When she had enough to cook several fish, Elza arranged the sticks and used a flint knife to create a pile of kindling. Then she filled a wooden bowl with snow and placed it where the heat of the fire could melt it later. There were few edible plants available and no palatable ones, so their diet consisted almost entirely of meat and fish. When she had tried collecting acorns in the fall, Hess had informed her that the ones this far north were too bitter to eat. She had quickly realized he understated the case against their edibility.

She sat to wait for Hess. As she did often lately, Elza reflected on her long life. The moment creation sprang into motion had been glorious, coming awake full of glorious purpose. Everything had fascinated her. The false memories of the identity provided her by the Creator were dim shadows incomparable to the experiences she accumulated every moment.

In the early days, nothing could perturb her. Elza had walked through life knowing everything was a temporary illusion, the Creator's grand dream. People lived their transient lives and died without ever grasping the truth of their existence. She had felt so privileged.

Over the years, something had stolen the joy of her calling. Perhaps it had been enduring the constant rejections of the creatures she was sent to observe. Perhaps it had been the tedious monotony of centuries. Perhaps it had been the gravitation of the world towards brutality. Or maybe all of it together was to blame. There had been no single dramatic event to change her, only lifetimes of hollow memories. Despite enduring beatings and deaths over the years, it wasn't until recently that she had truly experienced drama.

What if Hess hadn't been there to stop the men? The men would have done what they wanted to her, of course. She could endure anything, but not without consequences. Would that have been the dramatic event that changed me? Like Hess had with his sister's death? If I live long enough, isn't it inevitable that something will happen that I can't handle?

The wind picked up and Elza moved to avoid the snow-filled gusts, going inside the tent where their mingled scents took her mind in a different direction. Though few enough men showed interest in her, there had been many owing to the sheer number of years she lived on the world. Most treated her with apathy, happy to part ways when the time came. Several had regarded her as property. A small few had genuinely liked her. But none of them had looked at her the way Hess did.

If I was just a woman and he was just a man . . . . She didn't finish the thought. The wind outside howled its loneliness while Elza waited inside the tent. Hours passed.

Then the entire world began to thrum in an impossibly deep pitch. With every second that passed, the sensation grew stronger, as if existence itself were about to shred into a million slivers. Without knowing how, Elza recognized what happened. From the moment of Creation, she had known this world was only the first Iteration of many and that it would end when the sky opened.

A counterpoint to the deep thrumming began, a wailing shriek emanating from everything and nothing. The volume of both increased with every moment, triggering an expectation deep within her. The ultimate moment of her existence was about to arrive. It was time to return to the Creator.

The sky opened. To all outward senses, nothing changed, but to Elza it seemed that the restraints of the mundane world vanished, ripped away by an unknown force. Nothing held her to creation. The rumbling and shrieking became louder still, warning her to leave or be consumed with a world marked for destruction.

Elza hesitated for just a second, eyes going to the door of the tent. Then she slipped free of the world to join the Creator.

# Chapter 21 – Zack / Iteration 144

He picked at the lock on his cuffs with the tip of a pen. Quebec had left an hour ago to retrieve the rental car she'd abandoned near his trailer. The pen made a terrible lock-picking tool. Zack didn't think he would do better with anything short of the actual key. If there were real people who could open a lock with nothing but a hairpin or a paperclip, Zack wasn't one of them.

The door ended his halfhearted efforts by opening. Quebec entered bearing plastic bags.

"Did you go shopping while I was stuck to the bed?"

Quebec cocked her head and looked at him. "I abandoned a car along a back road, walked a mile to retrieve another, and bought you a change of clothes. Be happy it didn't take longer."

"Well, I have to use the bathroom."

She pulled the key out of her pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. "You should take a shower while you're in there."

He took her advice. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged clean from the bathroom wearing new clothes. Quebec gestured at the array of vending machine food arranged on the table. Something in her mannerism made him smile. "Did you spend all your casino winnings on this?"

"Travel with me and you eat nothing but the best," she said.

A twinge of his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten in close to a day. Zack sat across the table from Quebec and opened a bag of mini-donuts. "Want to hear something funny?"

Quebec's brown eyes fixed on him as he ate. "Always."

"I am a great cook." Zack gestured at the junk food. "But I eat like this all the time. Up until the past year, I used to make all sorts of things I found in cookbooks. I stopped because right after we got married, Lacey told me I had to learn how to cook because she wasn't doing housework. I tossed out everything in my kitchen that wasn't nailed down and Lacey never noticed. We've been eating freezer meals ever since. Tater tots are the closest thing to a vegetable I've had in months."

"You do realize Observers can get fat, don't you?"

"What about teeth? Will those go bad?"

"They'll fix themselves before you notice a cavity exists. Bad breath is something else. So either brush or chew gum or eat parsley."

"Parsley? Seriously?"

"It works. Remember Iteration five?" The light in Quebec's eyes dimmed. "No. Of course you don't. You don't remember anything."

Zack's smile faded. "Sorry." It always came back to Hess. "What was he like?"

"Hess," Quebec said, "was the best man and the worst Observer. Out of all of us, he was the best at doing things. It didn't matter what body he had, Hess could always take care of himself. But he didn't do abstract. He hated higher mathematics and never got the hang of counting cards despite having a perfect memory. He was always stepping in to interfere because behind all his disapproval, he really cared for the people."

She wiped her eyes with a sleeve. "Every Iteration, he would tell me that this body of mine was his favorite. There were times when it drove me crazy, but he never stopped saying it. And he always found me. Even if it took centuries, he would search every moment until we met. In worlds with computers it took only days. Except this one. I did everything I was supposed to."

Quebec looked directly at him. "How could you forget me? I need you, Hess."

Zack looked down at his hands.

# Interlude 3 – Hess / Iteration 142

Hess sipped his tea as he read the news by the early morning light shining through the bay window of their squat house. Alan ran into the room wearing his gray school uniform to stand attentively at his side. Hess shuffled the paper, pretending not to notice the boy.

Across the table, Elza hid a smile in her tea, watching the people pass by their window. They had bought the house for that window. Impractical as hell in the middle of a city noted for its crime, the thing nevertheless provided a perfect picture of the world for their enjoyment.

"Good morning, sir," Alan said in the high-pitched voice of a nine-year-old.

Hess moved as if startled. "Good morning, Alan. How did you sleep?"

"Very good, sir."

"Would you like me to grab you a cup of tea and some toast?"

Alan's shoulders slumped. "Uh, yes, sir. That would be nice."

"Quit teasing him," Elza said.

Hess reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out two coins. "Almost forgot our deal. I owe you something from the bakery for getting good marks at the academy." He placed the coins on the table.

"Thank you, sir."

"Enjoy it, Alan. You worked hard for it."

Alan scooped up the coins. "I don't mind studying, sir. I like going to school."

"Keep it up and you'll land a nice job that'll allow you as many sweets from the bakery as you can eat."

Alan turned to go and hesitated. "Sir, when I am older, if I do well in my studies and land a nice job like you say, then I want to adopt an orphan off the streets like you and the madam. Maybe a couple of them."

"You're going to make a good man," Elza said.

"Thank you, madam."

"Spend every cent, Alan," Hess said.

When the child scampered from the room, Elza turned back from the window. In this world the body she wore was plain and plump. "If one of our fosters ever took after you, it's this one."

Hess returned his attention to the paper. "Thirteen people died in a fire yesterday."

She returned her attention to the window. "Third fire this month. That should motivate the city council to pass stricter building codes."

"Everything they do is reactive. All it would take is a little foresight to prevent these tragedies." Hess crumpled the paper and threw it into the fireplace. "They can't look more than a few days into the future."

"What do you expect from them, Hess? We've seen the consequence of every action a thousand times, but the brightest of them are little more than children. Besides, you don't really want a world without conflict. Do you?"

"Definitely not. The second Iteration was a disaster."

"Not entirely," Elza said. "There are a few moments from that Iteration I always hold in my memory."

Hess moved his seat next to hers. Outside, people rushed to and fro, off to work or running chores. Alan would probably be at the bakery by now. The boy had been starving to death a year ago. The turning point in his life had been when a sudden blizzard prevented him from returning to the slums after a day spent begging. Alan should have frozen to death that night. Instead, two Observers saw him from their bay window and let him stay the night in their spare room. He waited out the snow a few days, then agreed to stay on as a serving boy in exchange for room and board. After a while, Hess had insisted Alan get an education.

He leaned towards Elza. "Did you know Alan calls us his parents?"

"I haven't heard it," she said.

"Just to his friends."

"Have you been spying on him?"

"Elza, I am an Observer. What do you expect?"

"An Observer doesn't take in strays."

"You didn't object."

"Hess, I stopped objecting long ago. It never did any good."

As he opened his mouth, creation began to rumble and scream, announcing the end of the world. Elza turned to him, wincing at sirens audible only to Observers. "I guess that's it for this one. The timing is a bit inconvenient. I was hoping to see how Alan turned out."

Hess looked out the window, at the world in motion, ignorant that its end was seconds away. Alan was probably biting into a pastry or sucking on a hard candy. He reached out for Elza's hand. "Do you really want to see how he will turn out?" The sky opened. It was as if the Creator had torn away a wall, exposing them to whatever existed beyond the world. Just a thought would send them free of the world. "Because I think we can."

She smiled at him. "Find me fast." Elza vanished.

As the rumbling and screaming grew in volume, he stared out the window. At least Alan dies happy. Hess stepped out of existence.
PART IV

# Chapter 22 – Zack / Iteration 144

It took close to an hour of awkward silence for Quebec to regain her equilibrium. Zack used the time to reflect on his failures. When Quebec informed him they were leaving for New York that night and started a shower, he found the pen that had failed to pick his lock and wrote a quick letter.

The hours I have spent with you have been the best of my life. I wish I was Hess, but I'm not. Maybe he is still out there somewhere, lost in a rainforest or trapped in the arctic. I need to leave now. If I stay with you, I will only cause you more pain. Remember your promise to stay away from the others.

Zack took the car keys and slipped out of the room. In the parking lot, the key fob identified her rental car for him. He had her Prius on the road before anyone could exit the hotel. Zack forced his mind to stillness as he drove past familiar sights. It wasn't until he parked at the gas station where he had worked the past five years that his stomach began to churn.

His manager Kelly scowled at him the moment he entered the store. "The hell have you been?"

Zack ignored her, depending on the line of customers at the register to keep her occupied. He punched the digits to Lacey's cell phone number into the store's phone and listened to it ring. When it picked up on the fourth ring, just before the voicemail would kick in, there was only breathing on the other side.

"Do you still have Lacey?"

Erik's voice replied. "She's been whining about that hand of hers."

"Are you still willing to release her in exchange for me?"

"Deal's still on, lover-boy."

"Then come pick me up. I'm at the gas station."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks. I'm turning myself in." He hung up the receiver and went outside to sit at the employee's break pavilion. His hands shook as he sat on the picnic table. Lacey wants to live and I don't. Maybe this will make up for the love I could never give her.

Kelly stormed out of the store before Erik arrived. "You better be quitting, because I don't need the trouble you cause. You miss your shift. You don't even call. You don't even answer when I call."

"I quit, Kelly."

"Thank God," she said. "Now get the hell off company property. Check's in the mail."

"Just waiting on my ride. This will be the last time you have to see my face."

Kelly started back towards the store. "There's something wrong with you."

The truck he had driven only that morning pulled up before the pavilion. Erik waved him over, eyes steady as an eagle's. "Hop in, Hess." A quiet expectation had replaced the levity.

Zack circled the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. "All by yourself?"

"The others don't have the stomach for this. I think next Iteration I'll be hunting you solo." She glanced towards him often as she drove. "I prefer it that way. Might take longer to find you, but I won't have to deal with their rules."

He remained silent, unable to think of a safe response.

"They think I'm as bad as you," Erik said. "But all of us have our quirks. Things that draw us world after world. Drake with the science and tech crap. Ingrid and religions. Griff does the migrant worker shtick every time. Serial murders are just another quirk. A useful one. You wouldn't believe how much people reveal about themselves in extreme situations. The rest of you think you learn human nature watching them putz about their routines, but only I discover the truth.

"There is something magical in the moment an individual chooses annihilation over continuation. You can bring them back to the side of sanity, but if they cross the line too many times they are broken forever. This is what I show the Creator. The true reaction of life to its existence. You would be surprised how weak the will to live is in the most fortunate. The downtrodden have so much more fight in them. I think that says something about the nature of these creatures."

She pulled into the long driveway of the farm, slowing the truck to a crawl. "Why did you return, Hess? What pushed you across that magic line?"

Zack swallowed. "I've always been broken, Erik."

"We're not like them. Wounds vanish. Even experiences fade into the background. We have too many of them to fixate on any one for long. So what tipped the scales from life to death?"

The game with Bridgette posing as Elza was supposed to hurt me. Maybe I can convinced her to stop hunting Quebec. "Elza doesn't want me anymore. She blames me for what happened to her."

Erik considered his words. "Did she steal you away from Kerzon just to return your mix tape? I don't believe that, Hess. I think you would do anything to save your woman."

She laughed. "I used to think I had more in common with you than any of the others. Sure, you saved the people and I killed them, but at heart the two of us were men of action – even when I was a woman. I know better now. Your sympathy with the people turned you against the Creator. I am loyal, Hess. Absolutely and completely loyal. I will never forgive you for your stunt last Iteration."

The truck pulled to a stop before the barn. Zack nearly collapsed to the ground on his shaky legs when he stepped out of the vehicle. Erik crooked her finger to move him forward. "Now that you are separated from the other woman, the two of us can get on with our relationship. It will be a bit different from what you're used to. More kink, less kissing. And more time in the dark. Lacey told me about your nightlight."

Zack's pace slowed to a crawl as they neared the barn. Each step forward moved slower and covered less distance. His breath came quickly. "Where is she? You promised to let Lacey go."

"She's waiting inside the barn, Hess. I'll release her soon as you willingly sit down in your chair and let me tie you up. You're the one dragging things out. Take big boy steps if you want to speed things up."

Zack gathered his nerve and quickened his pace. They stepped inside the barn, where Lacey sat bound to a sturdy wooden chair, looking ragged. Her face was puffy from dark emotion and retained water. Her pregnant belly rose and fell with her rapid breathing. She started crying when he appeared.

"Things will be better now," he said, unable to stop the quiver in his voice. "I couldn't figure out a way to save both of us, but you get to go home now. You need to take care of the baby. Understand?" Zack collapsed into the chair beside her.

The other Observers were present, silent in the background. Erik slipped up behind him, pulled one arm over the solid central rung of the ladder-back chair and the other below, then cuffed them together. I'm the only one who doesn't carry handcuffs, he thought, then laughed hysterically.

"Good boy, Hess. Now let's release Lacey." Erik stepped around to the front of Zack's wife, picked up a large knife that looked suitable for hacking through a rainforest, and stabbed it through the base of Lacey's jaw up into her head. As Lacey spasmed, the woman named Erik twisted the knife with a savage motion of her wrist and elbow.

Sudden rage seized Zack. "We had a deal!"

Erik pulled the knife free and spit in his face. "You dragged her into this when you escaped. Did you really think I would let her run free after witnessing everything? Be happy I gave her a quick death, Hess. I had a lot worse planned for her. I'll have to find someone else to torture. Maybe Elza. Everyone knows I never cared for the clever little bitch."

The woman loomed over him with her knife, then jabbed it forward into his face. Zack flinched away a hair too slow. "It doesn't get any darker than not having eyeballs, Hess. I can slice these things out all fucking day."

# Chapter 23 – Elza /Iteration 2

For a fleeting instant there was a flicker of nothingness. Then the world crashed into existence about her. Information poured into her: facts, skills, experiences; all the false memories she would need to fake the identity of the body she wore. The new memories were dull gray in comparison to the stunning recollection of a tent set in the middle of a frozen wilderness.

The world sprang into motion around Elza. While a moment ago she had waited for Hess in overpowering cold, now she baked beneath a fiery sun in a lush field of Taro lined by plantain trees. The brown-skinned women and men working the fields cut greens with bronze knives and dug into the ground for the starchy fruit. They would work at the harvest all day, then feast that night, just as they would every day until the crop was harvested and stored for the coming year.

Elza turned to the woman beside her, a cousin named Lana who was also her best friend. Each recalled fact pushed the tent further back in her memory, diminishing the lingering sense of coldness. Lana put out a hand. "Are you well, Nora?"

She looked down at the brown skin of her hand, then to her shapely figure. Elza recalled that she was the most beautiful woman in the village. Many of the boys hoped she would ask them to be her man, but so far she had not chosen one.

Elza placed her hands to her temples. One moment she had been waiting for Hess and the next she was here. There had been no transcendental union with the Creator. There hadn't been any experience from beyond. And now she was surrounded by strangers she knew intimately. Fake memories of fake people filled her head.

"No, Lana, I am not well." Even the language she spoke was different.

"Go in from the fields, child," said one of the older men. "No one will think bad of you if you need a break. We will manage without you for a time."

Elza nodded and ran to the village, a collection of thatched huts where she had grown up surrounded by a close-knit agricultural community. No, I never lived here. I was with Hess this morning. He promised he would be quick, but he didn't make it back in time.

The village was small and her long legs were swift, so she was soon at the far side of the village. Rolling hills stretched into the distance, dotted with small settlements much like hers. Elza stopped running and sank to her knees.

Was he out there somewhere? She refused to believe the Creator would discard Hess, no matter how poor of an Observer he might be. He had to be out there. As her eyes scanned the horizon, she remembered more false memories, of people telling her that the land went on forever in each direction and that there were as many villages as stars in the sky.

The Creator had separated them. Elza squeezed her eyes shut, dwelling in the last moment they had shared, visualizing the way he had looked at her. She sighed. All the brutality and tenderness of that world was gone forever. A new one stood in its place and it was her purpose to observe it.

"What is wrong, Nora?"

Elza turned to look at her cousin Lana. She stood up. "Nothing. I just felt odd for a moment."

Lana stroked her hair. "They will think we're lazy if we stay away too long."

"Let's go back to the fields, then," Elza said. As she rejoined the rest of her village, they smiled encouragement at her. She returned to where she had stood when the world began and bent to her task. It seemed a good world to her. She thought even Hess would approve of this one.

# Chapter 24 – Zack / Iteration 144

He slumped in the chair, making himself forget his circumstances. Erik had gone with Drake and Bridgette to bury Lacey, grumbling that the others didn't know how to make a body disappear. Griff stood outside the barn, looking uncomfortable, leaving only the man named Ingrid to watch him.

Ingrid moved closer. "Why did you come back?"

Zack shook his head, not sure he knew the answer anymore.

Ingrid leaned closer. "Can you endure the torture and the dark? I will return to free you in a few weeks if you can."

Zack shook his head again. He could not bear it. Not for a moment longer.

Ingrid came still closer, until his lips were by Zack's ear. "There is something else I can do. Something that will stop all of this." He heard Ingrid lick his lips. "I have the power to open the sky."

Zack twisted around to look at Ingrid. "The Creator opens the sky."

"No, Hess," Ingrid whispered. "I open the sky in world after world. The Creator isn't out there waiting for our reports. The Creator sacrifices Itself to bring a world into existence and sustain every particle of matter. Until I open the sky, there is no Creator. There is only the world and us."

He swallowed. "You can end the world."

"If I had known what was done to you last Iteration, I would have opened the sky sooner. If you cannot bear what is done to you, I will stop this Iteration now."

Seven billion people live on this world. Even if only one in a hundred is truly happy, that is seventy million lives that want to live. Zack shook his head. "You can't do that. You can't just kill every person in existence."

"They will never know a moment of pain. Between one moment and the next, they will simply cease to exist. It is the fate of everything that is made to one day be unmade, Hess."

"You can't kill creation to save me."

"They're not real. You are."

Zack shook his head. "Everyone keeps saying that. But what makes us any different from them? Just because we don't die? That's not enough."

"No, Hess. We are so much more than these creatures. Every particle of their matter is sustained by the Creator's essence. But we are more than that. We're not sent here to observe for the Creator, Hess. We are the Creator. Tiny slivers of the Creator embedded within the world to experience Our creation."

"Don't do it, Ingrid," Zack said. "No matter what they do to me. No matter what I say. I don't want you to do it because of me."

Erik's voice boomed from the barn door. "Why all the whispering, Ingrid? Do you have secret business with Hess?" She strode inside, hard eyes skewering Ingrid. "Here I was thinking Griff must be our rotten apple. Never considered the possibility that you organized this whole operation just to make sure we failed. Is that how things stand here?"

Ingrid sneered at Erik. "Your mind is twisted from your hobbies. Remember the role I played last time. Ask yourself if it makes sense for me to betray the cause I started and championed. I still think you released Hess so that you wouldn't have to follow the rules we established. The reason I am whispering with Hess is I want him to tell me the truth of his escape."

Erik looked back and forth between the two of them before settling her gaze on Zack. "I'll get the truth out of him."

"No," Ingrid said, "you will make him say the words you plant in him."

Erik's hand drifted to the holster at her waist.

"Car coming," Griff shouted.

"Get rid of them," Erik said.

From outside, the sound of the approaching car grew louder. Erik scowled at him. "Be very quiet, Hess. Things can always get worse. Always."

The car's engine grew louder. Zack heard Griff's shouts for the vehicle to get off private property. The car door opened. Griff repeated his demand. A shot rang out. "Shit," Erik said. She pulled free her handgun and ran to crouch at the side of the open barn door. Ingrid ran to the other side.

From where he sat, Zack saw Bridgette emerge from the house, take a hit to her shoulder, and duck back inside. Quebec strode into view, handgun held at the ready, swiveling to point first towards the house, then towards the barn, then back again. Erik took aim.

# Chapter 25 – Elza / Iteration 2

Elza walked into the guest pavilion of the village and settled her travel pack to the ground. The local men ogled her as she moved to the communal well. Gaining acceptance in a new community was never a challenge for her. The greatest trouble she had was escaping the men who proclaimed their undying love for her. Even after more than one hundred years and four name changes, she still wasn't accustomed to the attention.

They wouldn't chase me if I looked the same as last Iteration. Infatuation is so shallow.

Some of the other women frowned in her direction. According to the tradition in these parts, a woman could ask any man to be hers. If he had previously accepted another woman's offer, he then had the choice to trade if he wished. Men went to all sorts of trouble to impress women.

One of her men over the years had practiced running and lifting heavy objects to make his form more appealing. Most of them strived to gain a reputation throughout the village as a hard worker so that they could bring respect to a woman. Without exception, they all bathed and groomed themselves to an extent she found laughable.

This world was very different from the previous one. She thought it better in many ways, but the carefree existence of the brown-skinned villagers lacked a certain gravitas. People were too polite, conflict too rare, food too plentiful, wants too trivial. This cannot be the world Hess demanded of the Creator. It is so boring!

She drank from the well, watching the people around her, trying to decide if she wanted to settle in the area. There were too many young men and not enough beautiful women. It was counterproductive for an Observer to draw attention the way she did.

When she finished her drink, one of the older women approached. "Hello, friend. Are you looking for a new home? I have a grandson about your age."

You think you have a grandson my age. "Sorry, friend, but I am passing through."

"So sad. My grandson is a very good worker." The woman paused for a response that didn't come, then continued. "Will you at least accept our hospitality for the night?"

"I would be honored, friend," Elza said.

"Excellent. Could you help us pound the Taro into dough?"

Elza gave a slight bow. "I would be honored to help feed the people."

The old woman led her to a small pavilion across from the well where a number of young women gathered. In their midst was a single man who lifted and dropped one of the large paddles into the wooden bowl holding the boiled Taro root. Each of the women around him worked in teams, one pounding with the paddle while the other moved the doughy mass between strikes. The man worked solo, varying the angle of his paddle to spin and flip the dough in an impressive display.

Elza's feet froze to the ground as she watched the man's mastery of a woman's task. He smirked as if he knew she watched him. Her heart began to skip. Elza stepped up to the man. "Why is it you do the work of women?" she asked.

"I like to do all the work," he said. "Also, there are pretty women here."

Her eyes darted over him, taking in every feature. "You are very good at this."

"I am a good worker." He looked at her and smiled. The vacuous pride in his eyes revealed to Elza that this man was a good-natured, proud, hard-working man and nothing more. His eyes slid past her to the old woman. "Hello, grandmother. Do you see how fast I am getting?"

She moved to help some of the other women. I definitely will not settle in this village. I need somewhere small. Somewhere quiet. A place where I can take a break from shallow men. Somewhere I can be alone.

# Chapter 26 – Zack / Iteration 144

"Quebec! Get down!" His warning came just in time. Quebec threw herself back just as Erik fired. The shot missed.

Quebec rushed forward once more, cradling her gun with an insane intensity. What is she doing here? She can't expect to win against all five of them. The answer was obvious. She thinks I'm Hess. She will do anything to save me.

"Get out of here!" he shouted. "Quebec, leave!"

Erik fired. Quebec swore and shifted her weight off of one leg. She hobbled forward, hands steady on her weapon. From the house, Bridgette emerged with Drake at her side. Both of them were armed.

No. Zack struggled against his bonds. No. All around, the shadows began to grow. No! Helpless rage and frustration boiled higher. This was his fault. He landed on the national news. He returned to his trailer. He told Quebec where the farm was. He gave her a reason to come here. Anything that happened to her would be his fault.

The shadows pooled together, emerging from the corners of the barn and from beneath objects to coalesce into the darkness. "Go away, Quebec! Run!" His throat burned from the force of his shout.

Drake shot at Quebec, hitting her in the side. Erik squeezed off another shot, striking the gun from Quebec's hands, leaving her defenseless, enemies on all sides. No! The darkness boiled, climbing the walls, consuming the ceiling, dripping over everything.

He stopped breathing. In broad daylight, the darkness rose up to claim Zack. It surrounded him, strangling him with the numb terror that lurked wherever light wasn't.

Zack struggled to escape, to return to the light. He knew it still shone somewhere. Not again! The voice thundered in his mind. On its echoes came another. I don't want to live!

Zack silenced the voices. He could sense the light out there, knew the way back existed if only he could find it. He had to escape the darkness, leave it behind and forget it ever existed. Return to the state of least pain.

The darkness boiled about him. Zack pushed back at it, forcing everything to stop. He remembered how he had done it before. How he could do it again. Make it all go away. Forget everything.

The force of his will pushed at the darkness, forcing it to the corners of his mind. The darkness fought back, struggling to resist its banishment. How could you forget me? Her voice rose from the depths and struck him. His struggle ceased, the darkness and his terror abandoning their battle as one, leaving a sudden peace in their wake.

She needs me. Things stirred within the depths, eager to rise. Zack knew part of what was there. A night stretching to infinity, filled with terror and self-hatred. But there was more. So much more. I have to. She needs me.

Zack embraced the darkness.

# Chapter 27 – Elza / Iteration 2

She ran the entire way from her village to the somewhat larger village the locals called a city, drenching her wool dress with sweat and bruising her bare feet on stones hidden within the hard-packed dirt. Her race began in the Taro fields the moment she heard the news and ended when she reached the guest pavilion at the outskirts of the settlement. Her top concern had been that the visitor would leave before she arrived, but judging by the crowd, this was not the case.

Elza straightened her dress as she studied the people assembled to wish the stranger good travel. The group was disproportionately female. They had come from miles away to see a man with pale skin claiming to search the entire world for a lover from a previous life, each wearing her best dress, no doubt secretly hoping the stranger would recognize his true love in her.

The stranger was easy to spot. His skin was even paler than Elza's had been in the previous world and contrasted with the dark hues of everyone else. Elza seized the elbow of a woman she knew. "What is the stranger's name?"

The woman smiled. "We have taken to calling him Mister White, but he gives his proper name as Wren."

Elza's lips compressed to a determined line. Names meant nothing. Among these people, she answered to Tessa, the name of a village on the other side of the mountains. Observers had to change identities often to prevent others from noticing they did not age or retain injuries.

"What is the name of the woman he searches for?" Elza asked.

The woman chuckled. "Mister White! Come here now and meet a beautiful young woman! She would like to know about your search! And maybe ask you to be her man!"

Mister White turned at the shouting and approached. He was plain in his looks, remarkable only because of his uncommon coloration. But the way he studied every face and every gesture confirmed to her in an instant that this man was an Observer. Unaccountably, Elza found she couldn't speak.

She stared as the man spread his hands wide and nodded his head in the local manner of greeting. "Greetings, friends. I don't have time to tell stories now. The world is very large and I can't stay any place more than a few days. All I can tell you is that I am searching for a woman."

The village woman threw her arm around Elza's neck. "Tessa here is a woman. She came here three summers ago and hasn't picked a man yet, though many have let her know they would say yes."

Mister White bowed deeply towards Elza. "My apologies, Tessa. You are very beautiful, but I already have a woman."

"What's her name?" she squeezed the question through the tightness at her throat.

"Her name," Mister White said, "is Elza. Tell everyone you know a man walks the world looking for Elza." Mister White – Hess – returned to his preparations, rolling up his bedding and packing his bags.

Embedded within Elza was the certainty that she existed for a single purpose: to observe creation on behalf of the Creator. The core of her identity rested upon that fact. Nothing mattered but her sacred duty. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with her work. The days she had spent with Hess would always live within her dreams, but they had been a mistake she could never repeat. Her existence had a purpose far nobler than that of a mortal woman languishing in the arms of a lover. She was an Observer.

Elza dabbed at her eyes as each of the village elders bowed to Hess, treating him like a man on a sacred mission, never realizing Hess had turned his back on his true purpose. She walked with the others as they escorted Hess to the turn in the road, where by tradition people would part. Hess never looked back as he passed the turn.

The women congregated before the collection of thatch huts they called a city, joking with one another that eventually some pretty face would catch Mister White. The one who had spoken on her behalf earlier patted her shoulder. "Don't be sad to see him go, Tessa. He's no different than any other man. Some day, he will realize his woman does not exist and forget about her."

Elza jerked away from the hand on her shoulder. "What do you know of men?" she snapped. "What do you know about anything?"

The woman's shocked expression clouded with anger. "I know more than a girl without a man. You think you are special, girl. Some day you will settle with a normal man and realize different."

Hess grew smaller with distance and the women began to disperse.

Elza ignored the woman at her side, studying the dwindling form of her man and recalling all the times she had wondered where he was . . . wondered in what way he was violating the sacred command of the Observers. Now she knew the answer to that question. He had been seeking her.

Letting him find her would only encourage his obsession. Their dalliance would taint the work of two Observers, depriving the Creator of precious input into the experience of Her world. The only solution was to remain hidden. Hess would eventually tire of his search and resume his duties. Given enough time, it might even be as the woman claimed. Hess might forget her.

Her feet moved before she could restrain them. In a moment, Elza was running again. The abuse to her feet had healed and her form in this world was light and swift. She caught up to Hess in moments.

He spoke without looking at her. "Go home, woman."

Elza clasped her hands together. "I just need to know one thing. Please."

Hess stopped walking. "What?"

"Do you love her?"

For a moment, it seemed he wouldn't speak. "I couldn't hate everything He made." He pointed back to the village. "Go home. Choose a man and be happy with your life."

Elza stared back towards the village, where the people went about their daily activities. That was where she belonged, among the subjects, among the participants of this world. She turned again to see Hess striding away from her.

This was where it should end. She had all the answers she had ever sought from Hess. She knew how he had spent his time in this world. She knew that those days together had meant as much to him as they had to her. She knew he loved her. Anything more would be a dereliction of duty.

"Wait," she called. He continued walking. "Hess, wait!"

He froze at his name, then turned to face her. Elza took his hands in hers and pressed them to her face. Though every feature was changed, the way he looked at her remained the same. And that was all that mattered. She kissed his hands. "If you would walk the world for me, then I would go with you. I cannot believe She would disapprove of that."

# Chapter 28 – Hess / Iteration 144

It was like waking from a dream. Only the nightmare was real. Hess twisted to look at his bindings. The cuffs were of professional quality and would require time and effort to break or pick. But the chair was something else. While solid in appearance, the thick rungs of the ladder-back were held in their tongue-and-groove placement by wood glue more than anything.

Hess seized the slat with both hands behind his back and simultaneously twisted and drove back on one side. The glue snapped and the rung came free along one side, wood splintering along the edge. Hess seized the rung in both hands and pulled it out from the opposite side.

He stood quickly, brought his cuffed hands below his glutes, sat and lifted both legs, and brought his hands up the front of his body, still bearing the splintered rung from the chair. He launched forward into a run, crashing into Erik and slamming his makeshift spear into her throat, severing one of her carotid arteries and piercing her trachea. His hands, still bound together, seized the gun from her hands. He glanced at the weapon. It said Glock along the side and beneath that 9mm. The Creator tended to recycle things from one world to the next. Ammunition types were much like languages and measurement systems in that they never varied much.

Hess raised the gun and fired off three rounds rapidly into the back of Drake, who squatted over the downed Elza. Bridgette – no, Kerzon – raised her weapon and fired at him. Hess fired his last round, missed, and felt the trigger go soft under his finger.

At that moment, the entirety of creation began to scream its destruction in a terrible duet, high screech and deep rumble announcing the end of the world. No! Hess ran from the barn, pointing the empty Glock at Kerzon, driving her back.

Invisible to all but them, the force binding Observers to the world evaporated, torn aside to reveal another direction available to them. The sky was open. Kerzon puffed out of existence. Hess crashed to his knees beside Elza. Her eyes met his. Broken and bleeding, she recognized him and smiled. "Find me fast," she said.

"You have to wait," he said. "We can't leave yet."

To the side, Drake vanished.

"I'm sorry, Hess," Ingrid shouted. "The situation escalated too far. I want them to think the Creator objected to the fighting."

Hess picked up Elza's dropped Ruger Security Six, stood, and aimed at Ingrid, hoping there was an unfired round inside it. "You are no friend of mine, Ingrid. You led the others against us last Iteration."

"I am not Ingrid."

He pulled back the hammer of the gun. While it was a double-action revolver, Hess knew cocking the pistol would create a shorter trigger pull and increase his marksmanship by a small amount. At the twenty yards between him and Ingrid, he could put a piece of lead directly between her eyes provided Elza had maintained her weapon as he'd taught her. Provided there was a live round left to fire. "You convinced a lot of people that you were Ingrid."

"I know enough to play the part."

"Who are you?"

"My driver's license says Jerome Whittaker."

Hess narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"I'm the twelfth Observer, Hess. The rest of you took the name of the identity you wore when you first met another, so I guess that makes me Jerome."

Hess glanced down to Elza. Her wounds were closing quickly. All about them, Creation continued to scream its two-toned swan note, rumbling and screeching as if it were tearing itself apart. "I don't believe you. How could an Observer hide from us all this time?"

"Because my job is to prevent situations like the one you had last Iteration. I get the executive summary of your lives planted in my head every Iteration. I know the twists and turns of every Observer's long life. I know where each one of you is inserted at the moment of Creation. Avoiding your attention is easy. I stay hidden because mingling doesn't serve my purpose."

Hess hesitated, then lowered the gun. "What happens if we stay here?"

"The twelve of us are pieces of the Creator. The Creator cannot awaken and draw back Its essence from creation without all of us. I imagine the world would continue to turn so long as one of us remains in it."

Elza pushed to her feet. "We can't stay here, Hess."

"It's my fault he ended the world."

"You hate all the worlds, Hess."

"But they don't. They screw up everything again and again because they are stupid and selfish, but they love their lives, Elza."

She turned to the twelfth Observer. "Does this noise ever stop?"

"I don't know," Jerome said. He pointed at Hess. "But he might."

"Hess? How would Hess know?"

Jerome smiled. "You never told her, Hess?"

"Told me what?"

"That he stayed behind on that first world," Jerome said.

Elza met his eyes. "You went back to the tent."

"I had to. We left things unsaid."

Jerome spread his hands. "And does the sound ever stop? I only get a summary, Hess, not the actual memories."

"It ends after five minutes or so," Hess said.

"Then I wish the two of you the best." Jerome vanished.

All around them, the horrible sound reached a crescendo and ceased. "I like him," Elza said.

Hess took her hands in his. "Elza, I am so, so, so sorry for turning them against you. I never meant for you to be hurt."

She placed a finger over his lips. "I will face imprisonment a hundred times, Hess, but you can never forget me."

"Never. I swear."

Elza looked around the empty farm. "So what are we going to do with this world? There's no one around to stop us from any insanity you can conceive."

"This might sound crazy, but I just want to watch them."

"Before we get to that, I have a stolen car with my prints all over it."

Hess held her handgun out to her. "How does this sound for a plan? Find a key for these handcuffs. Meanwhile I berate you for carrying a revolver instead of something with a clip. Then we wipe the car for prints and abandon it in a bad neighborhood with the doors unlocked."

"You know that clips jam." Elza pulled a universal handcuff key out of her pocket and released him as she talked. "Usually at the worst possible moment."

"That happened once in a hundred and forty-four Iterations."

"It happened the first time I needed to shoot someone," Elza said. "And it wasn't my fault I had to charge into a gunfight today. So drop the issue. We need to take care of some things and then I want to eat real food. I've been eating out of vending machines for days now."

Hess looked in the direction the others had carried Lacey's body. "We're not doing any good here." As they walked towards the car, Hess placed an arm around her shoulder. "Considering Jerome's revelation, I think it's time to tell you something."

"Let me guess." Elza waved at her figure. "This body is your favorite."

He nodded. "I was going to say that. But I want you to know why this time."

"Because it's flexible?"

"Because this body is the one that's with me."

Elza raised up on her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. "Are you sure that's the only reason? I know you are partial to curves, but this body is flexible."

"How flexible?"

She flashed a smile. "I'll show you later, Hess. We have to dump a stolen car and get some food and maybe a drink or two or ten."

Hess snapped his fingers. "I know just the place to eat. The Penn Brewery is just half an hour away. Their food is supposed to be good and I know their beer is amazing."

"Is that a microbrewery? You're a beer snob, aren't you? It's Iteration twenty-six all over again."

You have reached the end of The Participants. Part II of the Participants trilogy, Agents of the Demiurge, is available for purchase at all major online retailers. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online retailer. Thanks for reading.

# About The Author

Brian Blose is an Army Veteran, husband, father, software developer, and writer. He has a Bachelor's in Computer Science and an MBA. In his spare time, he pursues interests such as rock climbing, skiing, kayaking, ethnic cuisine, and reading. He likes flawed characters, unreliable narration, and moral ambiguity.

Visit his author website at www.brianblose.com for bonus content.

