The God Slayers Copyright 2016 by Barbara Bretana part 2

Chapter Forty-Two
I warmed up my feet and Leon was amazed as the steam rose off them  in visible clouds,
drying both my socks and my boots. He had  me do the same to his but in his case, I had to
remove them so I didn‘t burn him.
―I‘m sorry about the other night,‖ he offered when he was sure we‘d paddled far enough
from the cabin not to be overheard and to outrun the pursuit. ―I‘m not afraid of you, Lakan. How
could I be? You saved my life when I was seconds from being dead. What scared me was just the
residual memories of ghost tales my grandmother frightened us with when we were kids. About
skinwalkers  and the Wendigo and all that other folklore.‖
―Wendigo, isn‘t that the Indian spirit that eats its victim and then that becomes the next
creature?‖
He nodded. ―It‘s very real in mid- western and eastern Indian culture.‖
―As real as the chupabaca and Moth - man,‖ I sneered but he looked at me sadly.
―You‘re  real, Lakan.‖
I shut up and watched as we glided down the river towards what he said was a small
outpost that sold some food, ice and fuel to the hunters that came through the area. They had a
dock where we could tie up but there wouldn‘t be a vehicle waiting for us like the other hunters
who came through. The early moon hit the river‘s surface and made silver highlights that twisted
our eyes and painted everything in white frost.
The river still wound its way between a narrow gorge but for the most part,  it was
passive, its current no more than two miles per hour. The rapids, he told me we re downstream
after the store, w here the river met another in a curve between two ridges and was funneled
through the narrow gap. It took only a few seconds to pass but it was so rough that no canoe had
survived it. We  would have  to portage around a narrow footpath cut through just for that
purpose. Or abandon the canoe and retreat back to the woods to climb over the ridge and lose a
day.
Leon didn‘t know this section of the mountains. He did know that the people here were
suspicious of strangers, clannish and not afraid to make someone disappear. Fugitives had spent
years hiding from the law and some were never caught. There were snake cults operating in these
hollows, moonshiners and marijuana growers. All of them would cut our throats in an instant if
we rubbed them the wrong way.
We pulled up to the dock and used one of the ropes to tie the canoe. Leon stepped out
first, sat on the edge of the weathered boards to pull o n his dry socks and boots.
―You got any money?‖ I asked and he nodded.
―I grabbed my wallet and emergency cash.  Hid  my credit cards and ID back in the
tunnels.‖
―Let‘s get some food. I‘m starving.‖ My belly growled in agreement but that wasn‘t the
worst part about being hungry. When my reserves were low, I wasn‘t capable of performing
some of my…tricks. I followed him up the dock, gray, weathered and made of cypress logs
which were odd here in the mountains of Georgia. It must have cost a fortune to trailer  them up
here.
The store was surprising in the moonlight. It was a log cabin of honey- colored pine, a
double- wide sitting on a pretty curve of the river with a backdrop of pines and dogwood.
Whoever had driven the house in and set it up had cut down only the bare minimum of trees to
do so. It looked as if it had grown here. The front was all glass doors and windows with the usual
steel bear bars. A huge porch ran around all four sides and held tables and chairs made of pine as
well. An equally huge river- stone fireplace and chimney bisected the middle of the building. My
nose caught the whiff of cooking meat and my feet hurried towards it.
―Damn,‖ Leon admired. ―Don‘t know how she does it but she‘s never wrong.‖
―She? What are you talking about?‖ I asked, no t missing a step.
―The cook inside. She knows when a camper‘s coming and always has food cooking
when you get here. Even this late at night.‖ The moon was just coming up overhead.
He pushed the door open and we entered the interior. The place was spotless and spacious
yet it held everything a camper might need or could want. A long pine counter divided the room
into merchandise and a dining area. I saw a girl standing at a flaming  grill  flipping hamburgers.
She had a kerchief tied around her head and an apron tied in a bow at her waist. She was tall and
slender, the tips of her hair were light brown.
―Have a seat,‖ s he said without turning. ―These will be done in a minute.‖
We sat at a small table with a plastic green gingham tablecloth. Already set were
silverware, ketchup, mustard and pepper on the table. An older man in worn jeans and flannel
shirt came out of the back. He had a lined face that had seen the years and the weather, blue eyes
so light that they appeared crystal and a faint smile. His hair was  thick, full and totally iron gray
not white.
―Coffee with cream and two sugars,‖ he said and put down in front of me a huge mug
filled with hot liquid. ―Coffee black, one sugar.‖ For Leon.
She turned around and I froze. Her eyes were the same ice blue as  the old man and the
hair under the kerchief was nearly white blonde but her smile was Rachel‘s and her face could
have been an exact copy.
―Your name--- it isn‘t Rachel, is it?‖ I gasped. My heart pounded in my chest, my hands
were sweaty and I felt as if the whole world balanced on the edge waiting for her answer.
― Maiara, it means sage.‖ She cocked her head. ―Your burgers are ready. You have time to
eat them, it won‘t be until dawn for another three hours. They‘ll find this place by six.‖
―You know about t hem?”
She cocked an eyebrow. ―I knew you were coming and that you like hamburgers and
coffee. I just didn‘t know your name. What‘s your name, boy?‖ She had the most delightful
drawl.
―Lakan, Lake. Strongbow. This is Leon DeCarlos,‖ I said not caring that s he knew our
real names. She would have known anything else for a lie, anyway.
―Are you Native American?‖ I asked holding the burger in my hand. I wanted to drop it
and hold hers.
―Scotch, Welsh, and Cherokee. Fae,‖ she grinned and took the burger out of my   grip. She
placed it on the plate and wiped the grease off my mouth. ―Eat up, Laky. We have a long road
ahead of us.‖
―Us? What‘s Fae?‖
―The Faery Folk. You think I‘m going to let you go alone now that I‘ve found you? Dad,
you have everything ready?‖
Her f ather nodded to the pile by the door, three new backpacks, sleeping bags, ground
sheets, tents, coats, and boots. ―Dad has replaced what you left with, better gear, newer things.
Food, self - striking matches, clothes, compass, satellite phones that are encr ypted. A small tablet
laptop. Money and maps.‖
She kissed her father and slipped the pack on over an expensive outdoor coat that was
waterproof , insulated and rip- stop. 
―You‘re going with us?‖ Leon asked in disbelief. He looked at the father. ―You‘re going
to let her go off with two strangers she just met?‖
―I stopped telling Mairy  what to do when she turned 12,‖ he shrugged. ―She knows what
she knows and she‘s never wrong.‖ He shook my hand and his grip was hard. ―You take care of
her, Lakan Strongbow.‖
I  finished my food in shock while she went through our bags, taking out what she wanted
to keep and repacking it into the new ones.
She kept out a pair of long johns, washed duck trousers and flannel shirt, wool socks for
both of us and told me to change in the back room while she finished her arrangements. If we
wanted showers, we could use the ones in the back of the cabin that  was set aside for overnight
guests. I hesitated, I would have liked to clean up but the thought of lying on a bed safely and
closing my eyes won out over cleanliness.
Her dad told us his name was Charlie Kitwillie and he remembered Leon from previous
trips up  the river. He said he would take care of the canoe and showed us to the bedroom. It was
done in rust tones with twin bunk beds and down comforters in geometric designs with big,
fluffy pillows. I claimed the top bunk, kicked off my boots, pulled off my dirty clothes and was
under the covers in less than a minute. Almost asleep in less time than that. Leon sat on the edge
of the l ower bunk and talked. His low, rumbling tones penetrated my tired brain for only a few
minutes before I sank deep into dreams.
Rachel was there, sitting on Grandfather‘s rock with her knees tucked under her chin. Her
eyed  gleamed over the white buckskin. S he looked content. I stood at her feet and looked up, my
heart heavy now that I saw her again.
―You like my gift, Lakan?‖ she asked, not smiling although I could see one tugging at her
lips.
―She‘s not you, Rachel. She might look like you but--- .‖ She jumped down and put her
hand across  my mouth to hold back the complaints I might make. Her fingers were cool and
ephemeral, the hand of a spirit,  not a real girl.
―Lakan, you love me but I never had the time to discover what I could have felt for you.
Besides, she is meant for you, she compliments the part of you that needs help.‖ Gently, I pushed
her hand away so I could speak.
―I thought I was perfect,‖ I said sarcastically. ―A perfectly created being.‖
―None of God‘s creatures are perfect, Lakan. Though some   have come close. Where your
heart is sorrowful, she brings you joy. Where you know many things, she knows everything.
Where you are certain, she brings uncertainties.‖
―She says she is part Fae. Fairy folk,‖ I sneered.
―Trust her, she sees the world of time beyond the veil. I came this last time to say
goodbye. You don‘t need me anymore.‖
―No, Rachel!‖ I cried. ―Don‘t leave me! I love you!‖
―I will always remember you, Lakan. Be safe and be happy.‖ She kissed me on the cheek
and it burned with a lovely iciness that made me cry out.
I sat up in a strange bed and startled  Leon. He got up, stood at the side and reached for
me in the darkness. ―What time is it?‖ I asked in a voice stuck on scratchy.
―Nearly 5:30 a.m. Bad dream? Do you need a drink? Something to eat?‖ His concern was
stifling.
I slid down and retrieved my clothes pulling on the long johns first before I answered
him. ―I dreamed of her. She came to say goodbye.‖
―Where‘s she going?‖ He didn‘t ask who, he knew I was talking about Rachel.
―I don‘t k now. Heaven, the next level. The spirit realm. Whatever. I won‘t ever see her
again.‖
―Lakan, she died,‖ he tried to say it gently but it came out as harsh as its reality.
I buried my head in my hands. ―I know. Too late for her, for us. For whatever my dr eams
could be.‖ I hurried out of the room before he could see my tears and ran down to the river where
I could be alone. Behind me, I heard the girl tell Leon to let me be.
I walked along the banks on a narrow trail that had been used by both men and anima ls; I
read their stories in the tracks that they had left behind. So, it was I that saw the first of Chase‘s
men breaking down the river in an inflatable boat. My first instinct was to turn around and run
back to the outpost but I knew that if I moved, the  movement would catch Aiken‘s eye much
quicker than if I remained motionless.
An agonizingly slow five minutes later, they had passed my position and were out of
sight. I turned to backtrack my trail when the girl materialized out of the woods with Leon in
tow. I hadn‘t seen or heard anything until she was in front of me. She handed me my coat,
backpack, the bow, and quiver. Told me to put them on and follow her. I did as she asked
without question; she led us into the brush not on a trail but into a narrow ravine with a thin
trickle of water in the bottom.
She left no marks on the ground and was as careful as I about  e nsuring that Leon did not
disturb the leaves or the soil. The ground was still frozen and hard enough not to leave footprints
but our boots could knock off edges of frozen clods and leave a  sign .
I saw both doe and buck hoof prints in the frozen turf but nothing larger. I knew the area
was rife with bears but hopefully, most of them were hibernating.
After we reached the end of the ravine, she  motioned for us to climb to the rim and wait. I
was first up and the climb was taxing; it required that I use my hands to pull me forward using
the trunks to facilitate my climb. What I saw was a stand of hardwoods, so thick that I knew this
area had not been logged in two hundred years. The trees were huge, oaks and maples as large as
Volkswagens. Even black walnut grew within this  copse. It was barely wide enough to squeeze
through the openings between the trunks. It was more like trying to go through a m assed army at
parade attention.
Yet, Maiara flitted through with ease, warning us to stay close or we would get lost. We
followed on her heels for an hour.
Chapter Forty-Three
Towards ten o‘clock, she took a trail from the ridgeline down towards a rocky outcrop of
granite and schist where the sun sparkled off the flecks in the layers. We were in a small valley
between the ridges and there were patches where the rocks had split leaving nowhere for trees to
grow. Usually with small cliffs marking the edges, we had passed many before she chose this
one.
Scrambling down a trail I would have rappelled down, we hit the bottom. Under a cutout
and a ledge hanging like an umbrella was a dark hole. A cave that once we crawled in a few feet,
opened up to well over standing height. She flicked on her flashlight and pointed out lanterns
stacked near a natural formation shaped as a table.
―We can eat and rest here,‖ she said, dropping her pack and I walked around checking out
the cave. I found several other tunnels that we nt in quite far. Good, so we weren‘t stuck with
only one way in or out. 
I smelled food cooking and that drew me back faster than anything she could have said.
She had made packets of freeze- dried chicken and noodles with a pot of strong coffee. I had been
expecting MREs.
―Lakan, eat,‖ she offered me a plate and I needed no other invitation. Leon waited until
she had served herself before eating his.
―You can go home soon, Mr. DeCarlos,‖ she said. ―They‘re not interested  in you so
much,  now.‖
―I don‘t want to leave Lakan in case he needs me,‖ he protested.
―You‘ve done your part, Leon. And more. You should go home if it‘s safe.‖ I looked at
her. ―Is it? Safe?‖
―It is. Mostly. If they catch you, just tell them whatever they want to know,‖ she added.
―We‘ll reach Titusville tonight. One of my cousins will drive you home.‖
―And you? Where are you going?‖ Leon asked. ―Wait, don‘t tell me. If I don‘t know, I
can‘t tell.‖
―We‘re going to Washington, D.C.,‖ she smiled. ―Where do you think?‖
*****
Titusville was in a  narrow river valley, high enough on a small rise so that if the huge
Wappanoc dam went, it would only take out half of the buildings and most of the infrastructure.
There was only one road in, State Highway 48 but a dozen secondary roads out. Some petered
out into seasonal roads through the State and National Forests. We came down off the ridge
following part of the state trail system. It brought us to the stage head of the Equestrian park
which was still closed until April 15
th
yet some die- hard horseman h ad parked a rusty old fourhorse gooseneck in the prettiest spot under an old pecan tree. A small brook  babbled beyond the
picnic table under a thin coat of ice. Beyond that was a free standing  grill.
A younger man was standing by the cab of an old Dodge Ram pickup in primer gray. The
tires were good--- new and the truck was clean on the outside. He wore shabby jeans but they
were starched and pressed under an equally worn duck coat. The cuffs and collar of a red flannel
shirt stuck out of the sleeves and neck. His head of hair was brown, bare of any hat and his
cheeks pink from the brisk wind. He had the same strange icy blue almost colorless eyes that
Maiara sported. When he spoke, his voice washed over us like the benediction of a saint.
―Mairy, Mr. DeCarl os, Lakan,‖ he greeted. She hurried into his arms and hugged him as
tightly as he was hugging her. ―Any problems?‖ he asked when she pushed back and he laughed.
―Silly me. I should know better. If my little sister plans something, nothing ever goes
wrong.‖  He turned to Leon and held out his hand. ―I‘m Robin, Mairy‘s  youngest brother.‖
Leon shook his hand and his worried frown smoothed out as if he had swallowed a dose
of lorazepam.
―Robby, knock it off,‖ she said and he turned to her with an innocent expres sion.
―What? He looked worried. I helped him relax.‖
―My brother,‖ she explained, ―has a gift, too. His voice makes you feel mellow. His touch
can melt your defenses and put you into REM sleep. From there, he can get you to do anything.‖
―Let me guess, you r  grandparents worked at Oak Ridge testing grounds in Knoxville?‖ I
rolled my eyes.
―He‘s as quick- witted as you said, Mairy,‖ her brother grinned. ―Robin. Call me Robby.‖
I took his hand and his eyes widened. He let go first and rubbed his palm. Didn‘t sa y anything
but drew in a deep breath before he pointed to the truck. It was a crew cab, the inside spotless.
She took the back seat with me and Leon sat up front. The engine purred when he started it and it
was evident as he backed the 24‘ trailer that he  was an experienced hauler. The trailer was empty
of livestock from the way it bounced on rubber springs when we hit the highway.
Huge billboards advertising Spring Festivals, Trout Fishing, and the lumber industry
lined both sides of the road. Deer crossing signs and Highway mile markers broke up the
monotony of the straightaways. One read  Wappanoc Dam 5 miles, River Road. Burger King,
McDonalds, Arby signs competed for space with Walmart and Family Planning.
The air was crisp and clean, this part of the state did not mine or use coal, it received
most of its power from hydroelectric turbines at the dam.
―Where are we going?‖ I asked, my hand on the front seat headrest.
―My house,‖ Robin answered. ―I live near the airport.‖
―Airport? This town has an airpor t?‖ I looked at the valley between two mountain ridges
and imagined trying to land a plane on what must have been a very short runway.
―Titusville Regional Airport. Believe it or not, you can land a DC - 10 here.‖ He shrugged.
―Mostly Cessnas and Beechcrafts. Puddle- jumpers.‖
―Why?‖
―Hard to believe but the finest bass fishing in the east coast is done at Lake Wappanoc.
People fly in for the fishing tournament. Which is in two days. A few hundred thousand will
swell the town and makes it a bit more difficult  to find you.‖
―Why can‘t we leave today?‖ Leon asked.
Maiara answered him. ―Because the people chasing Lakan will catch us if you do.‖
―How can you know this?‖
―She sees glimpses of the future,‖ I cut in. ―Enough to circumvent some events.‖
She gave me a grin. ―Correct, Laky boy.‖
He drove downtown to reach his house. The area had quaint brick buildings from the
Civil War era and three story Victorians converted into gift shops, eateries and boarding houses.
There were five hotels, many bars, pool houses and Kiwanis on every corner. The strip was over
ten blocks long with dozens of other side streets  branching off it. The Walmart was on the other
side of town built high above the town and out of flood danger. His home was tucked onto a
small side street near the Walmart in a development of the same cookie- cutter houses on acresized tracts.
Yellow with green shutters, it was a small ranch with an attached two car garage and a
paved driveway. He pulled the truck up on the flattened grass next to the garage and  parked.
Behind the house, I saw acres of fenced pasture that went uphill disappearing into the woods. A
four- stall barn nestled into a protected cove near the house and four equine heads popped out
whinnying.
―This all yours?‖ I asked.
―One hundred and sixty - five acres. Part of the family farm, dad sold most of it off to the
developers when land was $65 a square foot. He kept this part for  the  family. I built on a part and
get to use the rest.‖ He opened the door and walked to the barn, letting four horses  out. Walking
horse, Fox trotter, and two Kentucky Mountain horses by their looks and gaits. He threw them a
bale of fescue hay and then returned to let us in the house. It was locked and he opened it with a
key. We carried our gear and he told us to drop  it in the hallway.
The kitchen was huge; a living/dining area open all the way from the front door to the
four- season porch. There were three bedrooms, two full baths and a full basement that was
finished and larger than the upstairs. The extra space was g uarded by a steel door and an
electronic keypad. 
―This is my panic room, bomb shelter, and operations center,‖ he explained. ―I keep my
guns and stuff in here. It‘s powered by a separate electrical, heating and air system, has three
escape hatches, is stocked for a year‘s occupancy for four. The code to get in is the time and date
on the digital clock on the wall.‖ He pointed to a small digital clock face near the stairs. The
numerals glowed red in the dim corner. They were in 24- hour military time format.
―You in the service?‖ Leon asked but I thought he looked too young to have served and
come back.
―Four years in Afghanistan,‖ he said bleakly. ―Medical Corps.‖
―How did you sync the clock with the lock?‖ I asked interested enough to forego eating,
bathing or sleeping. He started to explain and I finished, working out a way to make the
combination unbreakable by any means. He looked excited as we went over the nuts and bolts of
the design. That left the door and the walls vulnerable. I tapped the wall. Ferro - concrete. Thick.
―How thick?‖
―Eight feet and re- enforced with steel plates and rebar. The door is titanium steel, I
bought it from a decommissioned  missile site and had it cut to size. It‘s a blast door.‖
―Why?‖ I asked simply.
―Because within twenty years, there will be a complete breakdown of the American
society,‖ Maiara predicted. ―Unless something drastic happens.‖ She stared at me.
―What happens?‖ both Leon and I asked.
―You have to kill the president of 2020,‖ she said flatly.
―Who? Who‘s going to win this year?‖
―That isn‘t clear but 2020 will bring in a man who starts the next world chaos. It won‘t be
a war per se, but an economic crisis of global proportions. Billions will starve, anarchy, disease,
cannibalism. The very apocalypse the ancients have predicted. We can stop it.‖
―By murdering an American leader?‖ I shouted.
―You‘re going to murder the men who killed Rachel and kidnapped you,‖ she pointed
out. ―You revenge one person, why not save a billion or more?‖
At that moment, I hated her. I le ft the three of them in the basement and walked off into
the woods. The horses followed me up to the fence but I climbed over it.
*****
Aiken scouted around the house again looking for any sign that the bo y could have left. It
was as if he were a ghost and  the other man, DeCarlos was almost as good as Lakan at masking
his tracks. He found DeCarlos‘ tracks near the foundation but it wasn‘t until he went back inside
to the bedrooms that he spotted a faint dusting of dirt drifting in a slight breeze.
He squatted on his haunches and watched the dust slowly eddying through the room.
When he was certain where it was coming from, he entered the closet. It took him only a few
seconds to find the entrance to a tunnel.
Chase stood in the doorway and watched as Aiken  found the first entrance and then the
second. They gathered flashlights and took both tunnels meeting up after a few yards in. Their
voices echoed eerily in the subterranean corridor.
Here, there were plenty of footprints. Each was  hiking boots with well- defined treads.
DeCarlos‘ were a size eleven and the boy‘s a neat eight. He had surprisingly small feet for
someone almost six foot tall. His father had been over six foot and his grandfather nearly 6‘4‖.
The Sioux were known for their extraordinary height  in a time when most men averaged 5‘5‖.
―Where do you think it leads?‖ Chase asked as he attempted to contact the rest of the
team. 
―It won‘t work underground,‖ Aiken said. ―No cell can go through solid rock. Not even
satellite phones. You‘ll have to go back and call them above ground.‖
―You‘ll keep after them?‖
―I‘ll call in when I get to the other end. It looks like it descends, probably to the base of
the ridge. The rest of the team will only be a few minutes behind me. I‘ll mark the way with
blazes.‖ He opened his pack and took out a hatchet scarring the rock wall with white arrows.
―Follow the arrows. They can‘t be too far ahead of us, that coffee was still warm.‖
―Bring them back, Aiken. In reasonably healthy form. If you have to shoot the boy to
stop them, you can. We don‘t need DeCarlos alive. Or anyone else with him.‖
Aiken nodded and disappeared into the earth.
Chapter Forty-Four
Aiken came out of the tunnel at the bottom of the cliff, pushing the hatch cover up. He
was amused at the ingenuity of the construction owner in the design of the cover. The design of
rocks glued to the plywood and steel hatch would have fooled anyone walking on the ground.
He saw the river and where the pair had dragged a canoe into the water. He took out his
IPhone, googled up GPS and located the nearest landing area on the map. Then, he called Chase
and had him arrange for an inflatable boat. There was one in the chopper. He had to wait another
hour before the two teams met. One group would go down the river in the inflata ble, the other
would split up and come up from the store meeting at some point along the way.
Chase and the chopper would fly back to HQ and pick up the FLIR, then check the
trading post for vehicles that might be waiting to pick up the fugitives. He met t hem at the river
bank and told them that the FBI was involved, that they had attempted a trap and surveillance at
the cemetery. Somehow, the pair had avoided  a dozen  agents. In fact, Chase reported grimly,
nearly every intelligence agency was scrambling fo r info on the phenomenon. Including the
President, the Secretaries of Defense and Homeland Security. Screaming for it. Any minute, he
was afraid that the news media would pick up on Strongbow or that someone would connect
Albans with the miracles of the Waste Management truck accident.
Aiken‘s only comment was, ―shit.‖ The team of four in his boat contained three of the
men that Aiken knew the most and Dr. Cameron. He was working on his laptop with the speed
and precision of a  first- rate personal assistant;  Aiken guessed that he was typing over a hundred
words a minute. He seemed to completely ignore that he was floating down a river in the dead of
night.
―What are you doing, Dr. Cameron?‖ Morrell asked. Cameron looked up before he
answered.
―Morrell, right?  I‘m using a profiling program I wrote to see what Lakan will do next.‖
―He‘s running,‖ Morrell pointed out. Cameron and Aiken shook their heads.
―If he was running, he would have kept going out west. He didn‘t. He came back east.
Why? His girlfriend is dead, so something is drawing him this way. I suspect it‘s revenge.‖
Morrell snickered. ―Revenge? A 16- year- old kid with no money, no friends and no
resources? What can he do?‖
―What can‘t he do, Morrell?‖ Aiken returned. ―He‘s already proved he can do thin gs no
human can do. He‘s thumbed his nose in the face of the NSA and FBI. We‘ve been tracking him
for two years and still haven‘t touched him. Now, I suggest you shut your yap, we‘re near the
trading post and sound carries a long way on the water.‖ 
They were silent as he paddled slowly towards a curve in the river with high banks on
both sides. Aiken had the feeling that eyes were on them. He signaled with his hands and the
three agents angled their guns upwards, scanning in the moonlight, using their scope s to target
anything that might ambush them.
It wasn‘t until they passed the curve that he relaxed. A long, low building came into
sight--- a log cabin set in a pretty spot, especially as the sun was almost rising on the horizon.
As they steered for the dock, a light came on, a motion sensor lamp and illuminated them.
Hastily, they concealed their weapons, stepping on the wooden planks. Moving furtively, they
approached the cabin with the inside lights flickering. An older man in a windbreaker over worn
jean s and long - sleeved insulated t- shirt came to the door.
―We don‘t open till sunrise but you‘re welcome to come in and wait. My cook‘s still
asleep if you‘re wanting breakfast.‖
Aiken‘s eyes searched for a canoe, clothes, watermarks on the floor, anything that would
indicate that the pair had been inside the store. A faint lingering smell of roasting beef made his
stomach growl.
―Coffee sounds good,‖ he agreed and stepped back inside. The room was huge with four
bedrooms off the back and a dining area. Camero n took up his spot at the table nearest the
fireplace and plugged in his laptop. The others sat at various tables, covering all four corners of
the room. Aiken let his eyes roam the store and the dining area. Nothing seemed out of the
ordinary or place, no  sign of anyone in the last few hours.
―Name‘s Gregson,‖ he lied smoothly. ―We‘re with the Sheriff‘s Department. Search and
Rescue. A pair--- an older man with a teenager. He‘s been kidnapped and last seen somewhere in
this area. Any sign of them coming this way? Might have been in a canoe.‖
―No canoe could have made it past Ouellette Rapids, they‘re just a mile downriver.
Haven‘t seen anyone in the last week,‖ the old man said easily.
He moved behind the kitchen counter and put on a pot of coffee, placing c ups, cream and
sugar packets between him and the agents. ―They make it this far, they ain‘t lost. What makes
you think they come this way?‖ he asked.
―You are?‖ Aiken returned.
―Charlie Kitwillie,‖ he said and started up the  grill. The aroma of maple bacon   filled the
air and before the clock hit 5:00 a.m., a sleepy - eyed teenager stumbled out of the back bedroom.
―Hey, Dad. We got guests?‖
The boy was nearly full grown with  ice clear eyes and light brown hair. Handsome and
stalwart, not the typical redneck version as  seen   in the movies. He nonchalantly wrapped an
apron around his middle and started cracking eggs on the griddle along with flapjacks and
biscuits. To their gaping looks, the boy cooked each and every one of them a breakfast to their
personal pref erence without asking a single question on how or what.
He finished up with two extra plates, one for his father and one for himself. Everyone ate
in silence and only when their plates were slick clean did the teenager speak.
―I found a canoe downriver nea r the old sluice. Washed up in pieces near the trestle
bridge. Some damn fool tried to go through the rapids again, I bet. I ‗spect they‘ll be pulling
some bodies out of the river bottoms,‖ the boy said. ―You folk lookin‘ for some‘un?‖
―Maybe,‖ Aiken retur ned.
―Ain‘t no  mebbe,‖ he came back. ―You lookin‘ for something. Ain‘t no fishing here and
cain‘t  go deer huntin‘ till fall yet  you - all  are carrying guns. You gov‘mint people?‖
Aiken sat back and Morrell started humming  Dueling Banjos. The boy laughed. 
―My   name‘s Kevin Kitwillie. I‘d be glad to take you down to the remains. Of the canoe.
We can hike to it.‖
―How much?‖ Aiken asked. The boy‘s eyes gleamed with greed.
―Fifty bucks. That‘s the going rate for a day‘s guide.‖
―Deal.‖ Aiken pulled out a wad and peeled off a fifty, holding it out to the boy but he
shook his head and pointed to his father. The bill disappeared into the old man‘s pocket.
―Won‘t your cook be missed?‖
―Naw. Ain‘t nobody comin‘ down the river until late afternoon,‖ the boy said. He look ed
out the large windows that fronted the cabin. ―Best take some rain gear if you got any. If not,
Dad can sell you some. Gonna rain like a cow pissin‘ on a flat rock.‖ He ambled back into his
bedroom and they heard the sounds of him dressing.
By 8, all of  them had washed up, used the facilities and changed into fresh dry socks.
They met the boy on the front porch and he walked them down the trail through the dirt parking
lot to the portage path where all of them stared at a Class V rapids; 45 seconds of ut ter hell. If
one of them fell off the trail into the roiling rock- filled basin, he would be dead before he
emerged into calm waters.
Kevin trotted across the narrow trail with the arrogance of the young and familiar. Once
on the other side, he settled down to a brisk five- minute mile that the others had to hump to keep
up. Aiken scanned the ground constantly and saw no trace of any footprints or drag marks.
He fell back towards Cameron. ―Doc, this doesn‘t feel right. Where does this come out?‖
―Small town o n the border called Oak Hollow. It‘s not far from the Interstate, a four- way
that goes out west.‖
―You said he‘s not headed west.‖
―Our guide is being very helpful. Especially to government men. These people hate the
government,‖ Cameron acknowledged. ―You  think the pair have been here and these people are
covering for them?‖
―One way to find out. We go on until we find the canoe. If there is one. If it‘s there, we
know they came that far down the river,‖ Aiken nodded. ―Or at least as far as the store. I ha ve a
sneaking suspicion that they backtracked.‖
He stopped and gestured Morrell and Jacobs over. Rivers stayed behind the doctor. They
formed a huddle and Aiken told Jacobs and Rivers to follow the boy, while he, Morrell and
Cameron would return to the store, question the father and try to spot any sign that the pair had
gone east.
Kevin called to them and his face looked worried when the three turned around. ―Hey!‖
he called. ―Where are you going?‖
Rivers and Jacobs pulled out their Glocks and told the boy  to keep going. Kevin
swallowed and nodded. ―Where are they going?‖
Rivers grinned and it was not a friendly one. ―Back to your daddy to see if he‘s lying.‖
The boy stared and then, took off down the trail at a dead run leaving the pair
dumbfounded and flat - footed. By the time they had started after him, the teenager was out of
range and out of sight. Both men kept on the trail until it emptied onto a dirt road that followed
the second branch of a slough. On one side was a railroad with a trestle bridge and  stuck in the
pylons of its supports was the battered remains of a camouflaged aluminum canoe. Painted on its
side was the legend, Che rokee Rose, Cherokee Construction and a Tennessee ID number.
They dragged it up onto the grass and examined the inside. Three huge holes had ripped
through the bottom, the seats were broken in two and both oarlocks were bent beyond repair. The
holes were clearly made from something hitting the bottom in, not someone bashing the bottom
out.
―Well, he wasn‘t lying about this,‖ Rivers agreed. He looked up as he heard the sound of
a car approaching. Both of them were caught unprepared when the four- door sedan stopped, the
doors flew open and men in suits and FBI windbreakers jumped out.
―Well, well, well,‖ the SAIC drawled. Rivers knew him, his name was Alex Mulder. ―If
it isn‘t agent Rivers and Jacobs. What are you spooks doing out here in Deliverance country?‖
―Looking for a teenage boy, same as you.‖
―Where‘s Aiken and Chase? We know he‘s here, too,‖ SAIC Mulder asked.
―Why don‘t you Fibbies go back and play in your pond?‖ Rivers laughed. ―You don‘t
know the first thing about intelligence operations.‖
―Enough to know you‘re looking in the wrong place,‖ Mulder snapped. ―He‘s not here
anymore.‖
―Yeah? Where is he?‖ Rivers  retorted and shut his mouth as his radio buzzed. Answering
it, he listened as Aiken reported that he had found evidence where a party of three had slid down
into a ravine and exited on the ridge above the river. The trio turned and before the FBI agents
could blink, the NSA men held them at  gunpoint.
―Keys,‖ Rivers demanded. ―Or I blow your heads off right here.‖
Mulder didn‘t argue but tossed the keys. All four FBI agents backed up and let the trio
get in the car. Rivers was last, not once taking his eyes or Glock  off the Federal agents.
―We‘ll leave the car at the fishing lodge. Have a nice walk. Oh, if you see a kid named
Kevin, don‘t let him take you for a walk in the woods.‖ Cameron drove off with Rivers
remaining half out of the window until the car was out of pistol range.
One of the Fibbies asked, ―Would he have shot us?‖
Mulder swallowed past the dry lump. ―In a heartbeat and our bodies would have wound
up as cat food in a can.‖ They watched the receding taillights fade out of sight and only then,
started wa lking.
Chapter Forty-Five
By the time Aiken and his men arrived back at the fishing lodge, no one was there. A sign
on the door read ‗Family emergency. Will be back in a week.‘ The bear bars were up and locked
on all the doors and steel shutters had been p ulled down across all the windows.
―Son - of - a- bitch!‖ Aiken cursed and notified Chase by cell phone. Cameron sat down on
the porch steps and played finger music on his laptop.
―Charles Kitwillie. Has 12 kids--- 11 boys and one daughter. They‘re spread out all over
the Mason/Dixon line, six of them live fairly close. One in Titusville, the boy Kevin is a
sophomore at University of Tennessee. Get this, all of them are members of the Cherokee
Nations Tribe.‖
―Where‘s the nearest son live?‖ Aiken demanded. Before  Cameron could answer, they
heard the sounds of an approaching car. As they reached the gravel parking lot, a blue
government sedan  fishtailed  to a stop and the doors popped open. His two other team members
jumped out, guns readied.
―Rivers, Jacobs,‖ he greeted. ―Nice car.‖
―We took it off SAIC Mulder,‖ Rivers reported. ―They‘re hunting here, too.‖
―Dr. Cameron has found a possible lead,‖ the agent in charge said. ―How far, Dr.
Cameron?‖
―From here? By chopper, twenty minutes. By car, an hour or more. The r oads suck.‖
Aiken nodded and called for a chopper pickup, had Chase mobilize a unit to search out
the house and warned them about the FBI. Chase came back with the unwelcome news that other
agencies and operatives were converging on the area. Including foreign interests.
―We‘ll be there in fifteen minutes,‖ Chase acknowledged and rang off.
*****
The woods folded themselves around me with a comfortable familiarity. I loved the smell
of musty earth as leaves molded into the  life- giving soil, the heady aroma of pine resin and the
scent of rain. These were all so right with the place I had entered so when the sound of metal
clinking on metal broke the quiet, I knew it for the danger it meant. Someone was invading the
woods, someone who was carrying metal that knocked against metal. Like the sound of guns or
rifles.
I hunkered down behind a pecan tree and wished that I had thought to bring my bow. The
only weapon in sight was a broken tree branch near my left knee; it was as thick as my forearm
and as long as a cane. It would have made a decent walking stick with a little whittling.
I heard someone whistling and before too long, an older man in comfortable jeans, jacket
and hat strolled into view. He had a dog with him on a leash and its tags were jingling but that
wasn‘t what caught my undivided attention. The thing my eyes were riveted to was a pearl
handled pistol   in a leather holster on his hip.
I knew the dog would scent  me any second. I didn‘t know what to do. If I moved, both of
them would see me. He came c loser and now, I saw the  star- shaped  metal on his jacket. I could
even read it. It spelled out ‗U.S. MARSHAL‘. The odds that he was here just to walk his dog in
the woods was not in my favor. I eyed the pooch, he was a shepherd mix of some kind but not a
color I‘d seen before. He was a smoke gray with darker saddle and cream - colored shoulder
markings. He looked wolfish and his eyes were the same blue as my own.
―Rashka,‖ the man said and the dog stopped, lifted its head and sniffed the air. I saw its
hackles raise as he caught my scent. He gave off a long, mournful howl not a bark and his
handler stiffened.
―What is it, Rashka?‖ he asked. ―You find something?‖ He slipped the dog‘s leash and
before I could stand up, the dog was in my face, wagging his tail and licking me. I buried my
face in his ruff as his owner stepped closer to me.
―Hi, there,‖ he said with a smile. ―You haven‘t seen a little girl around here, have you?‖
His face was friendly, not wary or elated that he‘d found me.
―No,‖ I said slowly. ―Is she lost?‖
―Yes. Her name is Sami. She wandered away from her parents at the Walmart parking
lot. We think she headed for the woods and Rashka thinks so, too.‖
―Haven‘t seen anyone,‖ I added. ―I didn‘t see any tracks, either.‖
―I was hoping you were her when Rashka picked up your scent,‖ he sighed. ―Her dad‘s a
friend.‖
―Maybe I can help,‖ I said slowly.
―You know these woods?‖ He had gray eyes with hazel flecks, a straight  nose, and a cleft
chin. Really handsome in the way that women liked. Wasn‘t more tha n thirty and strong. Well muscled and he had held the straining 130- pound shepherd with ease.
―You have a scent cloth?‖ He eyed me with a strange expression but handed over a small
pink bunny minus its button nose and one ear. I sniffed it, held it out towards the dog and said,
―find Sami.‖  
The dog took off like a shot, back the way he had come. I followed and his owner stared
helplessly at the dog, me and then turned to join us. I followed the dog‘s tracks and when he
reached a small creek, stopped to exa mine the easiest way across; the way a small kid would
cross it. On rocks like stepping stones, I could see where someone had rocked and moved the
ones on the bank but couldn‘t tell about the stones in the water because the flowing liquid carried
away any disturbed soil within minutes.
On the other side of the creek, I saw where a small sneaker had slipped in the mud and
she had fallen. A perfect handprint lay there for anyone with eyes to see it. After that, her tracks
were easy enough to follow; she‘d made no attempt to hide them other than her aimless
wanderings in circles trying to find her way back.
We walked slowly so I wouldn‘t miss any sign, her scuff marks through the leaves and
broken ferns along the swampy edges of the hemlock groves. She chose t he easiest ways to walk,
going generally downhill. I would have expected her to come out eventually on the road that led
to the subdivision or the dam but the area surprised me with the extent of the woodlands
surrounding the town. There were hills and hollows aplenty here; many places for a small child
to disappear. He kept up with me easily even when I hurried so he couldn‘t ask me any
questions. We came out atop a ridge and when I looked down, I saw an open cut where
something had been quarried. We could see the dog‘s tail wagging just behind a large cut of
stone and a pile of blocks. The way down was steep, a slope of scree that would challenge
anyone without a safety rope. From the turned over darkened stones, I knew the dog had made it
down and probably that the kid had fallen.
―Give me your coat,‖ I said and to his credit, he didn‘t argue but slipped it off handing it
to me. His shirt was a long sleeved tan Carhartt with pearl snaps. I buttoned the coat back up,
tied the sleeves together and knelt on t he body of the coat. Before he could stop me, I rode the
material down the slope almost as if it were a sled.
What stopped me was one of the big rocks that the stone masons  had cut but left piled at
the bottom of the slope. I hit it on my right side as my  boogie board became fabric scraps. Hit
hard enough to crack my ribs and my right arm. I hugged the rock with tears in my eyes and no
breath left in my lungs while he called anxiously from above.
When my bones healed enough for me to move, I yelled back for  him to stay there while
I looked for another way down.
―Can you see her? Is she okay?‖ he yelled down. I pushed myself up and cradled my side
as blood dribbled from my mouth. One of my broken ribs must have punctured a lung as I could
barely breathe.
Beyond the cut stones of pink limestone, lay a little girl in jeans, pink jacket, and colorful
rubber boots. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing in shallow puffs of air. The dog was
lying next to her, whining as if he knew he couldn‘t help her. There were scratches, abrasions,
swelling and bruises all over her body.
Like me, she had fallen down the slope and the blocks had stopped her fall with brutal
efficiency. She had broken ribs, arms, and legs but the worst was an open skull fracture, her hair
lay  in a growing puddle of blood. Her pupils were uneven and nearly fixed. If I hadn‘t seen her
breathing past a small bubble of blood in her nose, I would have taken her for dead.
I couldn‘t wait for my body to heal completely before I healed her and as yet,  I didn‘t
know how  long  you could be dead before I could bring you back. I put my hand out and shrieked
as a massive pain tore through me and broken bones grated. It felt as if my body had literally
exploded from the inside out. I fell to my knees, just mis sing her stomach. I couldn‘t move my
arms so I tucked my head on her side and called forth the blue light.
It fought me. Wanted to flow back over me but I persisted and forced it to cover her. It
was faint, this strange aura. The faintest I had ever seen it, just barely visible in the morning
sunlight and the longer I held it on her, the weaker  I  felt.
I persisted until I saw her eyelids flutter and the strange deformity of her skull round out.
Called her name past a bubble of blood in my throat. ―Sami? Wake up, Sami.‖
She rolled over, groaning, her own arms flailing as she inadvertently hit me. It broke the
contact from her and I fell back, coughing up blood and wincing in pain.
―I fell,‖ she said and sobbed. Her fingers rolled deep in the dog‘s ruff. ―I hurt.
Everywhere. You saved me. I was dancing in the golden light and you found me at the door.‖
―Yeah,‖ I grunted. ―This is Rashka. He‘ll help us get out of here.‖
―What‘s your name?‖ Her eyes were large in her elfin face, hazel with flecks of spring
green. Pretty, about seven years old and smart. Smart enough to follow water downhill because it
would take her to a road. Except this quarry was between her and the road.
―Lake. There‘s a…policeman at the top of the hill, Sami. He‘ll get you out of here,‖ I
sai d. I closed my eyes as my body struggled to repair enough of the damage so I could move.
We heard the man  shouting, worry evident in his tones so I yelled back that she was
found, okay, to just wait so I could find an easier way down to us.
I was able to s it up in ten minutes and using the dog  as a crutch, rose to my feet. She only
came to my waist and I tucked one arm into my ribs while I took her small hand in the other.
―Let‘s go look for a way out of here,‖ I smiled at her.
―You have red teeth,‖ she said and tried to wipe them. ―Like your red hair. This place  is
called Capital Quarry. This stuff is  in the Capitol building in Knoxville. The road out is there.‖
She pointed to the right side of the pit.
I swallowed the blood and the taste of copper made me  nauseous. ―How‘d you get lost,
Sami?‖
―Mommy told me to wait by the car but I saw a puppy loose in the parking lot and was
afraid it would get hit. So I followed it into the woods but I lost it. That was when I saw the bad
man.‖
―What bad man?‖
―The man wh o hurt the puppy. He told me it was just sleeping but I know better. He told
me we had to bring it to the vet. I ran and he chased me. I ran  into the woods and lost him. But I
got lost, too.‖
―He can‘t hurt us. The policeman has a gun and this dog. His name is Rashka. He finds
lost little kids. He‘s a rescue dog and he‘s rescued us.‖
―Like you. You rescued me.‖
I rounded the corner of the quarry wall and stared at a huge pit cut into the rock wall
filled with cold green water. Like a marble quarry in Vermon t but the colors were wrong for
marble. The water was still, not a ripple marred the surface. Coming off the right side wh ere we
stood was a rough road cut out where tractors had dragged cut stone. Rivets in the mud were
knee deep and dried out. Above that was a series of giant ledges cut in steps if your legs were ten
feet long. If one were careful, you could climb down much the same way that one climbed the
pyramid blocks.
―Marshal?‖ I called and heard him answer. ―There‘s a way down over here.‖ I heard h im
answer and then a shout of surprise, the sound of a falling body and a loud crack. I ran back to
where I‘d hit the block and saw him lying there in a puddle of blood. I touched his head and it
moved in a manner that was unnatural. He had broken his neck and his fine eyes were no longer
the bright chips I had admired. The blood spread and I tried to help him. Just as the blue field
sparked and fizzled, I looked up to see another man, this one curiously silent and impassive. He
held a gun and the sun spark led off the pale ivory handle. My eyes dropped to the Marshal‘s
holster. It was empty. I grabbed his belt and tugged him behind the rock as the other man on the
rim started firing. Bullets boomed  in the pit, splintered on the rocks and sent shards of stone  at
us.
―She‘s mine, boy!‖ he shouted. ―I‘m coming to get her!‖
―I‘m sorry,‖ I told the Marshal as my healing ability refused to work on him. ―I‟m sorry. I
don‘t even know your name.‖ I scuttled back to Sami, the dog and we ran. Not downhill towards
the road but parallel to it. We could hear his footsteps behind us.
Chapter Forty-Six
The man was  local   so he knew the area better than I did. All I could think of to do was
run towards the road and pray that he didn‘t shoot me and that we‘d see a car coming on  the
main road before he could reach us. I prayed that we might run into the other searchers looking
for her and that they were armed.
By the time we hit the paved road, he had reached the bottom of the cliff and was running
for a section where he could cut  us off. I didn‘t know that so as we ran down the center line in
the direction of what I hoped was the Walmart, he stepped out of the woods in front of me. I
skidded to a stop and put Sami behind me as I looked for a direction to run. He leveled the pistol
and I bolted, dragging the girl with  me off the shoulder of the road and back into the woods.  The
boom of the big gun frightened both of us and made the birds flutter out of  the trees. Something
smacked  me in the back, nearly dropping me to my knees but I  managed to keep going as I
pushed branches out of the way and slivers of bark hit my arms and face as his bullets came
close.
“Run, Sami!” I shouted, my eyes searching for something, anything to help me. I saw a
stand of hemlocks that had grown too large and too old, had rotted and fallen over in a massive
deadfall. Dragged her trembling body into a split between two rotten trunks and told her to hide
in the cleft.
Clambered back over the deadfalls leaving no obvious sign until I was well past space
where I had hidden her and then left tracks in my direction so he could follow  me. My feet
stumbled and I nearly fell, leaning on a maple to help hold me upright. My lungs struggled to
bring in   the air but I couldn‘t get any relief.
My hand was red. I pulled it  up to my eyes and saw bright red blood. My knees collapsed
and bright spots sparked in my vision. I fell to the forest carpet and it was cold and musty, my
fingers scrabbling in the leaves as I tried to drag myself forward.
The first inkling I had that he  had found me were his fingers in my hair jerking my head
out of the leaves and rolling me over. ―Who the hell are you?‖ he asked furiously. I could barely
see his face; his eyes were two dark holes in a tan blob but I could  smell  him. Stale body odor
and  wood smoke, dirty clothes that had not seen a washing machine in years. He wore coveralls
and hiking boots, the Marshal‘s gun held steady in his big hands. His nails were black and
cracked.
―You‘re shot, boy. You only got minutes, you  is bleeding out from a lung wound.‖ He
laughed and tugged at my pants. I couldn‘t understand what he was doing until the cold air hit
my belly and he stuck his finger in my ass. I screamed but it was all of a thin rabbit‘s bleat  that
made him all the more eager.
―Where‘s the girl?  I been watching her for weeks. Tell me where you stashed her and I‘ll
make this quick.‖ He fumbled for his fly and his dick sprung out, fully engorged and ugly as a
warthog.  Huge, big enough to tear me apart. He was drooling with lust as he stared at  me.
He grunted and his eyes rolled up in his he ad. I watched in indifference as if what was
happening was not related to me, a three- foot arrow went through him, the broadhead erupting
from the center of his chest like an obscene flower growing from his co rpse. He fell backward,
his ha n d still tight on the .45, his dying brain telling his fingers to pull the trigger. The boom of
the pistol was the last sound  in my head before I passed out, drowning in my own blood.
*****
Voices rang over me. Loud noises tha t bothered me. In some fashion, I knew that loud
noises were dangerous to us. I moaned and a face hovered over mine. I was shaking from side to
side as if I were being carried on a stretcher. Or I was on a small gauge train.
―Where is she, Lake?‖ I didn‘t know that voice but it sounded official. By straining my
eyes, I was able to pick out a group of police and rescue workers, all gathered in the clearing
where I had fallen. The dead man lay off to the side and covered by a blue tarp. The sun was
much lower on the horizon than I remembered.
―In a tree, deadfall, uphill,‖ I mumbled. ―Marshal‘s dead. Dog?‖
―The Marshal isn‘t dead, Lake. Knocked out, came to and the dog is with him. He called
for help with his cell phone. We need to get you down the mountain and airlifted  to the hospital,‖
the deputy said. ―But first, we have to find where you hid Sami.‖
I searched for Mairy and her face looked frightened. By her side stood Leon and Robin.
In Robin‘s hand, he held a compound bow and across his shoulder hung a qu iver of hunting
arrows.
We waited. Leon and my companions made vocal protests at the delay and were
seconded by the paramedics. I drifted in and out, my healing ability on the fritz because of the
expenditure of energy that I had put out. Puzzlement filled   me; I was almost positive that he had
been dead and my help had come too late and not enough to fix his injuries.
Shouts preceded a crowd of uniformed men and women. Shouts that announced that they
had found Sami. A tall man in a sheriff‘s khaki carried her little pink clad body into the clearing.
As soon as she saw me, she demanded to be put down and she ran to my side.
I saw myself in her eyes, white- faced, pale as death, sweaty with IVs in both arms and
fluid flowing into me like the Nile in   the  flood.  Blood staining my chest through my clothes and
a mass of bandages piled over my ribs.
―Laky,‖ she cried and gently laid her blonde curls on my chest, careful not to hurt me.
―The bad man shot you?‖
―Yeah,‖ I said softly. ―But he‘s dead. Can‘t hurt you anymore. Or anyone else.‖
The paramedic looked at the Sheriff. ―Now can I call Life Flight? Before we lose him?‖
I coughed and blood sprayed her face.  Gagged as more blood filled my throat as I
struggled to breathe through an increasing deluge in my lungs. Cried out but no sound left my
throat. My vision narrowed to a tiny tunnel and all I could see was a hazel eye, a black  pupil, and
darkness.
*****
Cameron, Chase, and the teams saw the Life Flight helicopter land in the field just off the
dam access road and  from the Walmart parking lot. The doctor hacked into the police channel to
eavesdrop  on  the  activity.  Aiken  reported  that  a  child  had  wandered  off  and  a  search  was
underway for her but it had changed to a suspected child abduction with a U.S. Marshal injur ed
and  the  suspect  killed.  A  child  was  shot  in  critical  condition  but  hadn‘t  been  air - lifted  yet
because he was the only one who knew the location of the abducted girl.
Immediately, they knew that it was Lakan involved and both Cameron and Chase cursed.
―S hot?‖
―Through the back, exited the chest,  lung hit. He‘s  hemorrhaging out,‖ Aiken reported.
They watched the chopper lift off and bank, heading for the nearest trauma center.
―They ‘ll take him to Washington General, it‘s the Level I Trauma Center in  D.C.  It‘s the
best place and the closest,‖ Cameron stated.
―Why isn‘t he healing himself?‖ Chase demanded.
Cameron stared out over the parked cars in the Walmart lot. ―Maybe he can‘t.  Maybe he
used so much of himself healing others, there‘s nothing left for h im.‖
―What are we going to do, Dr. Cameron?‖
―Nothing. If you try to move him before he‘s stabilized, he could expire. We need to let
the ER surgeons do what they do. Once  he‘s recovered  from surgery, then we can step  in and
remove him.‖
―The FBI?‖ Morrell questioned. ―They‘re here, too.‖
―Along with every other  intelligence agency  in  the U.S.,‖ Aiken said sourly.  ―What do
you want us to do, sir?‖
―Sarah Hamilton had a stroke today,‖ the director said.  ―She‘s not expected to survive.
She left everything to  the grandson and told the lawyers who the boy really is. The President now
knows the truth about him as well.‖
―Hamilton or Houston ?‖ Cameron asked naming the former and the present President.
―Both.‖ Chase stared at the departing air ambulance. ―What a cluster fuck this is turning
out to be. Get everyone to Wash Gen as quick as you can. Aiken, you and Cameron come with
me in the chopper. I want to talk to both of those paramedics, the kid rescued and the Marshal as
soon as possible. Get me all the info on  the dead kidnapper.‖ He stalked off to his vehicle and
ordered the driver to take them back to the  helipad.
*****
The flight nurse kept pushing words into my head. Sometimes I heard them clearly,
others were just droning noises that kept me from the soothing darkness. I was spinning in a
vortex, twirling and whirling in slow parabolic swings that kept me dizzy. I felt light and
insubstantial as if my body had suddenly become pounds thinner. A puff of air or thistledown
would weigh more than I. I wondered if I was dying and tried to laugh. They  said I couldn‘t die.
The nurse thought I was trying to say something.
I felt it when the whatever I was in landed. It was a gentle bump but it still made me cry
out in pain yet no one heard me. The air rushed in  with cold and vicious fingers as the hatch
opened, bright lights burned my retinas and blinded me. The stretcher became a gurney, a magic
carpet and they ran, they flew me into the arms of waiting blue cranes. Down a long hallway
where doors magically opened, the sun followed burning brightly overhead as I flew surrounded
by blue ibises on long stilt legs.
I screamed when the storks slid me onto a cold slab inside the refrigerator and a hawk
tore off my clothes with stainless steel beak and talons as a spider cra wled up my arms and bit
me. They put a pillow over my face and held it down until I couldn‘t breathe in even as they
blew the air in my face. 
*****
―Vitals?‖ the ED doctor demanded as the trauma team cut off the boy‘s clothes. The
paramedic calmly relayed  the STATS as they transferred the IVs over to the poles on the gurney.
―BP is 65/42, pulse  is 130 and  thready . He‘s diaphoretic, bleeding from two GSWs in the
upper thoracic cavity. Entered from the posterior. We gave him two boluses of lactated ringers to
get his volume up and 4ml morphine sulfate. His respirations are 12, shallow with a
pneumothorax on the right side. Inserted a chest tube and drained off 450cc of blood.‖
―Let‘s prep him for surgery after x- rays,‖ the surgeon ordered. ―Let‘s do this before he
bleeds out, people.‖
―What‘s his name?‖ One of the nurses asked. ―Any info on medical history?‖
―His name is Lake, he‘s 15- 16 maybe and he saved a little girl from a child molester,
found her when no when else could. And maybe a US Marshal, too.‖
―I can‘t wait to hear that story. Is this Marshal coming here? Is he injured?‖
The paramedic stared her in the eyes. ―He said he was pushed off a 100- foot cliff by the
perp and broke his neck. He said he died. And this kid came back, fixed him somehow and
dragged his body out of harm‘s way. He‘s coming in with a broken pelvis,  arm , and several ribs.
A concussion but he‘s alive. In shock but alive. And his neck shows a healed fracture at C3.‖
The entire trauma team stared at the paramedic and the boy in utter silence as the
machine recorded his vitals in the background. The hiss of O2 going into his lungs was the
loudest sound in the room until it was broken by the heart monitor‘s alarm as it rang in a  flat  line.
―V- fib,‖ the doctor said calmly. The team flew into action. The EMT stepped back out of
the way as they tried one drug after another with no results. Until finally, he cracked open the
boy‘s chest, reached in and massaged the flaccid heart with long slender fingers. With utter
disbelief and shock, they sa w a faint blue light emerge from the boy‘s chest and bathe them all in
its penumbra.
Every one of them felt the first trembling flutter as the boy‘s heart began to beat and kept
beating as they rushed him up to the OR, the doctor‘s hand around the muscle a ll the way there.
Only when he was given over to the cardiac surgeon did the doctor release his grip and
watched the blue glow fade.
Chapter Forty-Seven
―I swear his heart and lungs sealed up even as I was stitching,‖ the cardiac surgeon
named Allan Arbury   whispered as he stayed to seal the boy‘s chest; a job usually done by the
assistant surgeon. No one wanted to leave the OR until  th ey had answers for what was a medical
miracle.
The boy had been lifeless for nearly ten minutes as the ER doctor, Ken Ross had
performed heart massage on him. No one wanted to declare the boy gone, not while there was
the slimmest chance of resuscitating him.
Allan Arbury was equally determined to keep the boy viable. They pushed 6 units of
blood,  adrenaline, and cardiac drugs  into the kid while nurses monitored his BP, pulse and SAT
levels.
Slowly, as the team of surgeons repaired the holes in his thoracic cavity, the boy‘s
pressure came up. Enough so that Arbury risked closing the chest with staples and three layers of
sutures. When he was done, the boy looked almost like a crudely made voodoo doll. He was
cleaned of blood, bandaged and slid gently onto a clean bed in Recovery just outside the ICU. 
There were IVs in both arms and a tube down his throat that breathed for him, re lieving
the pressure on his collapsed lungs. Shadows under his eyes looked like bruised plums, his skin
was a dusky hue, almost ashen, the strange hair--- a red so dark that it appeared the color of
oxblood was hidden under a surgical cap. He wore on his right index finger the pulse ox showing
a dismal reading of 84%.
The only noise in the room was the hiss and thump of the respirator and the pinging of
the blood pressure machine. His pressure was hovering at 75/50, his heart in the hundreds as it
struggled to maintain its volume. Fluids and blood were entering his system at a steady rate
along with a drip of high- powered antibiotics. Arbury had picked out pieces of the boy‘s jacket
and shirt  from inside the lesions.  The wound was contaminated with cloth scraps, dirt, and
leaves.
Both surgeons stood at the foot of the bed and watched the child to see  if he would wake
from the anesthesia.
―What was that, Kenny?‖ Arbury asked. ―That light? Some kind of reaction? A new bulb
in the overheads? A chemical response to something in the air?‖
―You saw it, too. It came from his heart.‖ Ross shook his head. No one wanted to leave
the recovery room, all of them were anxious to know more about the boy‘s story. The little that
they had heard was he had stopped a kidnapping a nd saved the life of a U.S. Marshal. Arbury
volunteered to speak to the family waiting in the ICU lounge. The people waiting there surprised
him; he had no idea who the young woman and the two men were in relation to the teenager. One
was clearly Native Am erican and the pair brother and sister. Both had extraordinary eyes and she
had almost white blonde hair. They looked Irish with clear pale skin and  fey  eyes.
―I‘m Dr. Arbury,‖ he said standing in the room unsure to whom he was delivering his
report. ―You are?‖
―Lake‘s cousins,‖ the older man extended his hand. ―I‘m Leon DeCarlos. How is Lake?‖
―Lake?‖
―Lake Kitwillie,‖ the girl said. Arbury realized she was no more than sixteen.
―Well, he‘s stable but in critical condition. He was shot in the back and the  bullet tore
through his lung, producing a pneumothorax. He lost almost half his blood volume. The bullet
tore a hole in his pericardium before exiting his chest breaking more ribs. He coded twice but the
paramedics got his heart started enough to get him  here. He coded again on the table but Dr.
Ross here was able to do open heart massage and kept him going until surgery. I repaired the
lining around his heart, re- inflated his lung, replaced his blood volume. His blood pressure has
come up and his heart is responding to the medication.‖ He hesitated. ―He may come out of the
anesthesia in a few  hours or he may not due to the blood loss if he went too long without oxygen
when his blood pressure plummeted. He has several broken bones, some in partial re- growth .
Oddly, they were not set.‖
―Did you see the blue light?‖ the girl asked and the doctors stared at her.
―What do you know about that?‖
―Was it bright, blinding or fading?‖ Her tone was demanding and yet filled with terror.
Arbury answered her quickly, sensing the importance of her query.
―Faint. Barely visible and coming from his heart.‖
―I need to see him!‖ she cried out. ―He gave too  much and  if he doesn‘t renew his source,
he‘s going to die!‖
―Give what? What source? What are you talking about?‖ Ross asked confused, looking at
the surgeon and back to the girl. ―Who are you people?‖ 
―Maiara Kitwillie and Robin Kitwillie,‖ the younger man said. ―We‘re Lake‘s family. He
has no one left and he‘s engaged to my sister. You‘d best listen to her, she‘s got the s ight and
knows how to treat Lake.‖
―Please,‖ she begged. ―Let me see him, I can help.‖
So that was why the three of them were escorted into the ICU recovery area dressed in
gowns and masks to prevent any infection from entering the sterile suite.
Lakan lay at a slight incline on his back, wearing nothing but bandages on his upper body
and heated sheets and blankets on his lower half. Tubes were in his mouth, coming out his side
and running down to a collection bag under the bed. There were IVs in both arms; one with
fluids and antibiotics, the other transfusing blood. A machine breathed for him, the lift and fall of
his ribcage his only movement.
The girl, Maiara moved to his side and picked up his hand, careful not to dislodge or pull
on his IVs. Arbury and  Ross watched to make sure that she did nothing to harm the teenager. Her
brother stood back until she opened her eyes and spoke.
―Robin, Mr. DeCarlos, I need your golau ar y galon, his is nearly gone!‖ As she said that,
the monitor flickered and his heart rate and blood pressure began to drop.
―He‘s crashing!‖ the doctors said and moved in but the fierce look in her eyes and her
words stopped them.
―He‘ll die if you don‘t let me do this.‖
―Do what?‖ Ross demanded.
She opened her free hand which was clenched in a fist and Robin laid his right hand on it,
extending his left to DeCarlos. Once the contact was made, the blue light they‘d seen before
made the entire suite glow with an unearthly resonance, almost as if the moon had suddenly risen
inside the room b ut the aura was not as cold as the winter glow of moonlight nor was it warm. It
exuded power and age but not a sense of heat or cold nor was it alien.
―It‘s not enough,‖ she cried. ―He needs all of us. Dr. Arbury, Dr. Ross, will you give your
golau ar y galon?‖
―What does that mean?‖ Ross asked.
“Heartlight,” Arbury answered. ―It‘s Welsh for  Heartlight.‖ He gripped DeCarlos‘ hand
with his left and picked up Ross‘.
The aura encompassed them all and formed wavering lines that bathed Lakan where he
lay on the  hospital bed. For five minutes, they stared at him and the monitors, watching carefully
as the readout slowly climbed back up until Robin began to stagger on his feet. Quickly, Maiara
shifted his hand to DeCarlos as her brother barely made it to a chair and collapsed.
Ross was the next to go, then Leon so it was Arbury and Maiara left. When he felt the
beginnings of faintness, he ignored it until the girl pushed him away just as she let go herself to
slump against the side of the bed and wall.
Lakan looked…better. His color was back, his vitals respectable and he was moving his
eyes under the lids, taking deep breaths as he fought the tube.
―What did we do?‖ Ross asked  fear and puzzlement on his open face. Conflicting
emotions twisted his comprehension, disbelief, amazement,  and fear.
It was Arbury that answered him. ―She spoke Welsh. She called it ‗ Heartlight‘. The
Wiccans  in the Old Country believe that every creature born on this earth possesses  a…essence
that is powerful, connected and magical. When you d ie, it goes back to the spirit realm to be re born in a new soul. Some people have the ability to tap into this ‗ Heartlight‘ to heal, to read the
future and to work magic. She used it to pull ours out to heal him.‖ 
―Not heal him,‖ Maiara smiled. ―I can‘t  h eal him, I just channeled your energy  into him
to replenish what he used. He will have to heal himself once he wakes up.‖
―He‘s going to wake up?‖ Ross was skeptical.
―You‘re Welsh?‖ Maiara asked instead.
Arbury smiled. ―My grandmother was. Her father was an iron jack on the railroad. He
blasted mines all through the West. I remember her talking about the Fae and magic. I only
remember a few words, though. ‗Heartlight‘ was one of them. People said she had the ‗sight‘.‖
Lakan moaned and both doctors were at  his side instantly. He had opened his eyes and
Arbury was struck by the intense blue of his irises, an exact match to the color of the aura he had
seen bathing all of them. His eyes went to the pulse ox readings, now up to 95%.
― Cough  gently, Lake and I‘ll  pull out the tube,‖ he suggested and Lake‘s first attempt was
a feeble wheeze but Arbury smoothly removed the endotracheal tube. ―Don‘t try to talk, your
throat will be too sore. How do you feel? In pain? Just nod your head if it‘s yes.‖
He nodded fractio nally, his eyes roaming the room seeking out the others as they came to
the foot of the bed.
―Do you want something for the pain?‖
He hesitated and then nodded. Arbury called for the nurse and ordered 1 ml of Fentanyl
IV. It was obvious that Lake had quest ions and Maiara answered them before he could attempt to
ask.
―The girl is safe, no injuries and she‘s back home with her parents. The  m arshal   is
recovering and still insists that he was dead. And that you brought him back. He‘s here in the
hospital near  you, with broken bones, muscle tears, and a slight concussion. His name is Teagan
Calderon Muir. His friends call him TG.‖
He tried to say something and his face scrunched up in pain as his abused throat protested
just as a nurse came in with a pre- loaded  syringe and a cup of ice chips. She was smiling.
―Hello, young man,‖ she greeted. ―We all heard what you did for that fine US Marshal
and the little girl, Sami. Anything you need, you just call us. Dr. Ross, Dr. Arbury.‖ She injected
the needle into the port and the lines of pain around Lake‘s mouth smoothed out. His eyelids
grew heavy but he fought to stay awake as the nurse spooned chips of ice into his throat.
The relief was immediate, his eyes brighte ned yet the hold of the drugs was  more than his
shocked system could fight. He slipped away into a restful nap. Curious, Arbury peeked under
the bandages and could not believe his eyes. The huge wound where Ross had split the boy‘s
chest looked days old not just hours.
Ross couldn‘t believe it either and when they checked the drain in his side, they found it
was nearly healed with nothing draining so Ross snipped the three stitches remaining and
removed it. Under his fingertips, he found only a bare fraction of an incision and hematomas that
looked weeks old.
―You did this,‖ Maiara smiled. ―You saved him with your  heartlight.‖ She turned serious.
―Now, there is more for you to do. The government knows about Lakan, the government created
him and they will take him, put him in a cage and make him perform for the rest of his life.
Which will be short. Will you help us save him again?‖
Ross asked, ―what do you want us to do?‖ She told them and they agreed.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chase, Cameron, and Aiken were the first government agents to arrive at the hospital
righ t behind the State and local police. They made their presence known in a big way; the charge
nurse would not divulge any information o n  the status of either of the three patients even when
threatened with imprisonment and violence. They were told that the  teenage victim was in
surgery and that his condition was uncertain and not stable. Cameron asked what had happened
and all she would state was that the victim had a GSW and was in the OR.
Aiken spotted the paramedic carrying out a blood- soaked  gurney and approached him. He
flashed his official badge and led the startled EMT away from the nurses‘ station riding in the
elevator with him up to the helipad on the roof.
―Tell me what happened,‖ he ordered the medic. ―Jason.‖ He read the man‘s name off his
flight suit.
―We picked up the victim and brought him to the ED,‖ Jason replied. ―Don‘t know the
kid‘s name, just that he was shot in the back, it went through the lungs and he was hemorrhaging
out. We sealed both entrance and exit wounds, put in a chest and bronchial tube, got him on
fluids and blood expanders. We air- lifted him. He coded once, got him back and into the ED. He
coded and Doc Ross cut him open to do open heart massage. That‘s all I know, other than he
saved a US Marshal and a kid from a pedophile that‘s suspected of three other disappearances.‖
―The boy died?‖ Aiken asked, his heart dropping.
―Twice. Whether they kept him alive--- that‘s up to him, the doctors and God. Look, I
gotta go. There‘s another call.‖ He had to speak over the sudden burgeon ing noise of the chopper
as the turbines whined to a start. The wind plucked at their pants‘ legs and Aiken involuntarily
ducked lower as the blades sliced the air. He watched as the helicopter veered off and then, he
retraced his steps to the waiting room .
Surprisingly, no one was in the ICU waiting area and this puzzled the agent as he knew
that Lakan was still in surgery. Even Chase and Cameron weren‘t in sight. He went toward the
center horseshoe shaped nurses‘ station and cornered a young RN with her hair under a surgical
cap.
―Ms., where is the boy that Life Flight brought in?‖
She looked at him. He flashed his credentials and she smiled. ―All your other agents have
set up a base in the Conference room on seven. Man, I‘ve never seen so many badges and
government IDs. Spook salad. I thought nursing had a lot of abbreviations and acronyms.‖
―Can you tell me how the boy is doing?‖
She shook her head. ―Sorry, no. Only immediate family and I really don‘t know his
condition. I just came off a domestic GSW.‖
―The Marshal? What room is he in?‖ Aiken asked. She looked on her computer.
―Room 653, West Tower.‖ She pointed and gave him directions to the elevators. He
found his way with little effort and didn‘t care that he attracted curious glances because of his
ca mouflaged gear. Most people just assumed that he was part of some military group as they
were close to Norfolk Naval Base.
The room was wall - to- wall men dressed in everything from chinos and boots to threepiece suits. The US Marshal was sitting up against  the raised head of the bed, his neck in a
padded collar, his arm in plaster and wearing a removable cast on his hips. He had large bruises
under his eyes and looked worn out yet no one was leaving his company. His eyes, a fine steel
gray with chips of emerald and gold flickered when he saw Aiken towering over the heads of
cops, Troopers, and other Marshals.
―Who are you?‖ he managed and the crowd parted as Aiken flipped his badge.
―Aiken, NSA,‖ he offered. 
―NSA? What do you want with me? The Spooks are interested in pedophiles and
kidnappings?‖
―Just the boy, Marshal.‖
―TG Muir,‖ he pushed his casted arm out and Aiken gripped the swollen fingers. ―What
can I tell you?‖ Aiken hesitated and looked at the crowd. ―Hey. We‘re all security rated and we
can keep o ur mouths shut.‖ Muir shrugged and winced.
―Tell me what happened,‖ Aiken encouraged. Muir did. Explaining how three other
children under the age of ten had disappeared from around the Walmart area, their bodies found
days to months later showing evidence of rape,  torture, and dismemberment.  Then, Sami,  the
seven - year- old daughter of his best friend had disappeared at Walmart. Her father had called
him, TG immediately and a team was on- site within ten minutes. He took his K - 9 search and
rescue dog out to th e area and met a teen in the woods. A tracker as good as his dog. He found
Sami but the pedophile found them, came up behind TG, hit him with a tree limb or some kind of
club and took his gun before pushing him over the edge of the quarry‘s rim.
―I felt it when my neck broke,‖ he said and slowly shook his head. ―I tried to move and
knew that my pelvis was broken and my arm. I could still feel, knew I might have a chance if
someone got to me before I moved and cut my spinal cord.
―He came down the trail and stood over me laughing. Then, he picked up my head and
wrenched it, severing my spine. I was dead instantly. I don‘t remember anything until this
incredible light and warmth covered me. I woke up and was able to move. Found my  sat phone
and called 911. Th at‘s all I remember until the paramedics got to me.‖
―You died?‖ Aiken laughed, downplaying what he heard. ―Did you have one of those
tunnel s of light experiences, too?‖
―The x - rays show a healed C - 3 fracture, Aiken,‖ TG snapped. He tilted his head the
tiniest amount and smiled in a conspiratorial way. ―Why are  you  guys after him?‖ Aiken didn‘t
answer. ―I heard Sami‘s alright. How‘s the boy?‖
―Gunshot in the back. Through the lung, came out the front. He‘s still in surgery, we‘re
trying to find out his cond ition,‖ Aiken said reluctantly. ―Good news is that somebody put a
three- foot hunting broadhead through your perps‘ chest. He‘s dead.‖
―No loss. Saves the  county  a trial.‖ He closed his eyes just as the nurse came in and
shooed everyone out. The entire group headed for the elevators and the seventh floor. It was easy
to find by the scurrying of junior agents carrying equipment back and forth including coffee pots
and meals.
In a huge conference room geared towards medical lectures, Aiken found his boss and
teammates jockeying for space with US Marshals, FBI SACs, State Police and Homeland
Security.
―What are they doing here?‖ he whispered to Raylan. ―There‘s no terrorist aspect to this.
It‘s a kidnap case, the Fibbies turf.‖
―It‘s a cluster fuck,‖ Raylan ret urned. ―Everybody wants a piece of this kid. I‘m surprised
that the Vatican isn‘t in on it, they‘re calling him the next Messiah.‖
―They? They who? The media got ahold of this?‖ Aiken swiveled his eyes towards Chase
and winced. The Director looked mad enough to bite steel and he knew that someone would bear
the brunt of his displeasure.
―The doctors won‘t let any of us in to see him, not even when I used the HS credentials,‖
Chase snarled. ―It seems that doctors put themselves above Federal Agency jurisdict ion.‖
―We can‘t move him, anyway,‖ Cameron insisted. ―We could kill him by moving him.‖ 
―I thought you said he was untouchable, immortal.‖
―I said he could theoretically live forever, I never said he was unkillable. I suspect if his
brain was damaged by a bullet, he‘d die because he was unable to enact repairs. It sounds like he
tried to resuscitate dead victims and couldn‘t do it for himself,‖ Cameron explained.
Chase stared at him. ―How do you know that?‖
Cameron snickered and patted his laptop. ―I hacked  into the Hospital database and pulled
up the surgery suite video feeds. I watched the entire procedure.‖ He blanched and swore. ―Shit!‖
―What?‖ Chase demanded. Cameron looked stunned.
―He just flat- lined. They‘re trying to get his heart going again.‖
Chase dragged them over to an  unoccupied  corner and together they watched the video
stream as the team battled to save the teenager‘s life. A blue haze filled the suite and crackled as
if lightning had taken over the OR. No matter what the geneticist tried, he  could not re- establish
the feed or get the laptop to work.
―The hard drive is fried,‖ he said in frustration. ―Some kind of electrical surge went
through it.‖ He tossed the computer in the trash to Aiken‘s protests but the doctor told them that
no one, no t even the FBI‘s tech lab could pull anything off the destroyed hard drive. Besides,
everything was in the cloud where he, Cameron could retrieve it.
There was a stir in the crowd as a nurse in dark green scrubs came out of the operating
room wearing shoe covers,  mask, and cap. She pulled down her mask and addressed the
assembled agents.
―Marshal Muir is recovering nicely and is asleep. He has had his pelvis pinned and his
arm set. Sami is also doing well and asleep with her parents at her side. Neither one   will be
available to speak to anyone until tomorrow afternoon. The doctors have told me to tell you that
the young man was touch and go but they have his heart stabilized and beating, they‘re repairing
his lung and the pericardium which was nicked by the bullet. Which exited so we do not have the
projectile to hand over. Dr. Ross and Dr. Arbury estimate that it will be another hour before they
close up and Mr. Kitwillie goes to Recovery. He will be in the ICU, visitors are family members
only and two at a  time.‖ She turned on her heel and exited before any of them could ask any
questions.
Another nurse came out and reported on the deceased registered sex offender. ―The
coroner has just released a preliminary COD on the victim. His name was Everette William
Morris, a known, registered sex offender from Washington, D.C. He was pronounced at 3:56
p.m. by the on - site EMTs. The cause of death was a hunting arrow through the left branch of the
aorta severing it, causing blood to fill the thoracic cavity. Death was   instantaneous. The victim
had cocaine in his system and Viagra.‖
―Was the girl raped?‖ the FBI SAIC asked.
The nurse shook her head. ―No. There was no sign of any sexual trauma on the girl.‖
―The boy?‖ Aiken asked sharply.
―Attempted. We found saliva on the boy‘s abdomen and anus. The EMT reported he was
found on his stomach with his jeans pulled down to his ankles. The creep was shot and killed
before he could do anything more.‖
Aiken growled. One thing his mercenary mindset hated was child molestation.  If
someone hadn‘t killed Morris, he would have. Preferably by cutting off his dick and balls. ―Who
killed the fucker?‖
The nurse looked startled at his vehemence. ―A young man named Robin Kitwillie, the
brother of the patient‘s fiancée.‖ 
―Fiancée?‖ All th ree of them asked. ―When the hell did he have time to meet a girl?‖
Aiken asked in disbelief.  ―It‘s gotta be one of that old man‘s kids from the fishing camp. He has
a daughter.‖
―He‘s 16!‖ Cameron said. ―He doesn‘t even know what dating is!‖
The nurse looked amused. ―Yeah? Ask the next pregnant 12- year- old about that.‖ She
snorted and left them alone.
Cameron asked, ―what are we going to do about this, Chase? We can‘t just come in and
take over, not with all these other agencies involved.‖
Chase sneered. ―When it comes to National Security, I can do anything.‖
There was a hush in the room starting near the doorway and working its way through in
increasing waves like the ripples of a pebble in the water. Four Secret Service men stood there
and then covered a ll four corners of the room. The man who entered next was well - known and
well - connected, the next Presidential candidate for the coming election. Senator Jaimie Lourdes.
―Not everything, Director Chase,‖ he stated, indicating that he had heard the last wor ds
Chase had spoken.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The Secret Service people were the advance guard into the ICU waiting room. As yet,
only DeCarlos,  Robin, and Maiara were seated on the comfortable couches waiting to be
admitted back in to see Lakan. They looked up at the four sober, clean- cut agents and then in
shock as Senator Lourdes entered behind them. He nodded and told the men to guard the door.
Approaching DeCarlos, he held out his hand and instinctively, DeCarlos shook it.
―Senator,‖ he managed.
―Mr. DeCarlos. Mr. Kitwillie, Ms. Kitwillie. I wanted to say thank you for saving Lake‘s,
Marshal Muir, Sami Halpern‘s lives.‖
―You know Lakan?‖ Leon asked.
Lourdes had the grace to flush. ―I admit, I met him under questionable circumstances but
I owe him my life. Whatever it takes, whatever he needs, I‘ll give it to him.‖ He went on to
explain those circumstances and all three were furious.
―Albans has disappeared, we suspect that the NSA found him and…disposed of him. His
bank balance has quadrupled in the last seven  months. I suspect that I wasn‘t the only recipient
of Lake‘s…talents.‖
―How do we know that you won‘t do to him what this other doctor did? Or what Chase
wants to do with him?‖
Lourdes shrugged. ―You don‘t. But as the future President of the United States, wouldn‘t
you rather have me on your home court?‖
They had no other answer but to agree with him. He nodded and took out his cell phone
ordering both armed police and military personnel to the hospital. The first thing he did was
establish armed guards around Lakan‘s room and at every possible entry into the ICU and the
floor he was on.
He called a meeting and issued orders to all the assembled agents; stating that Lakan
Strongbow was under Secret Service protection by order of both the outgoing and incoming
President. He stared at Chase who stared back, neither one admitting defeat. Dismissing all but
the FBI, he handed the kidnapping case over to them and took possession of everything else.
Chase, Cameron, Aiken and the teams stalked out followed by the o ther Intelligence
operatives. ―This isn‘t over, Senator,‖ Chase murmured. Lourdes held himself still and chose his
words carefully. He knew all too well the ease of an assassin‘s bullet, the close brush of death‘s
finger.
―The NSA is a valuable asset to this country, Director Chase. No matter who runs it.‖
The President Elect, his Secret Service agents, and Lakan‘s friends watched them all depart.
*****
It was pain that woke  me this time. Pain that told  me that I was alive and with healing
fractures. Pain t hat radiated from my chest to every cell in my body; all of them firing off as if
they were superheating arc furnaces. I expected to see myself in flames from the inside out; like
one of those unfortunate victims of so- called spontaneous combustion.
The machine next to my bed was shrieking an alarm and bringing medical personnel  into
gape. The LED display hit highs so great that the machine blew, my temp registered at over 125°
before the readout died.
I groaned and lowered my body heat to a more comfortable 98°as the lead nurse replaced
the BP cuff with another.
―Lake?‖ the doctor asked. It was the one called Ross, I thought. I could see his concerns,
his fears and almost his life story in the emotions that ran across his face. My throat had eased up
and I  could speak. I asked first about Sami, the Marshal, and his dog.
―All three are fine, Lake,‖ Dr. Ross smiled. ―Thanks to you. You okay with visitors?‖
I nodded and took a look around the room. I recognized an ICU unit open on three sides
so I was under constant supervision by the nurses. I was wearing a hospital gown that covered all
the  important parts and was tucked  under both blankets and sheets. I  had an  IV  in one  hand
dispensing fluids, antibiotics and an O2 nasal cannula in my nose.
―You don‘t need the o2 anymore,‖ he said. ―Your SAT levels are good. We took out the
chest tubes yesterday.‖
―Who wants to see me?‖ I whispered.
―Who  doesn‘t?  Somehow,  someone  talked  to  the  media  and  you‘re  on  the  way  to
becoming an international icon.‖
I shuddered. ―The w hole idea was to disappear.‖
―Look on the bright side. No one can kidnap you and get away with it. You‘re instantly
recognizable.‖
―Dream on,‖ I retorted. ―I‘ve just become the new Holy Grail.‖ I looked up as a man, one
I knew well entered  my room surround ed by his Secret Service agents. He  looked vibrant and
healthy, his eyes twinkling like chips of chocolate diamonds.
―Senator,‖ I greeted. ―Thanks for coming.‖
―Like I could stay away,‖  he  joked.  ―After all,  you saved  my  life, too.  Even  if  it  was
unwilling.‖
―Where does it end?‖ I despaired. ―Not until I‘m dead?‖
―We won‘t let that happen, Lakan. That‘s why I‘m here, to give you the chance to grow
up without interference from the government, agencies, or even individuals who would use you
for personal gain. ‖
―Chase and Cameron? Mrs. Hamilton?‖ I asked studying his face.
―Have been  warned and  sent off. Mrs.  Hamilton suffered a stroke and passed away a
month ago.‖
―That‘s where I come in,‖ Lourdes said. ―I have enough power to make this all disappear,
to make  Lakan disappear. First, I have to know  if  he‘s ready to  move without endangering  his
health.‖
―As long as he doesn‘t tear open the wound, he should be okay with restricted activity,‖
Ross said.
―He may need to do more,‖ the Senator warned. ―Physical action  may be required.‖
―Unless he‘s trying out for the Iron Man, he should be fine. How are you going to get him
past the people camped out downstairs? The NSA, NIA, HS, Marshals, etc.? Not to mention the
media?‖
―Simple,‖ Lourdes said. ―You‘re going to tell t hem he died from his wounds.‖
―They won‘t believe  it,‖ I added. ―We  fooled them once that way. Nor can I sneak out
dressed as a girl, I already tried that, too.‖
―So, what‘s your idea?‖ Leon demanded.
Dr. Ross smiled. ―I can get you out of this room and off this floor. Can you handle it from
there?‖ He looked at the rest of them but especially Maiara. He lifted her hair. ―You think you
can make yourself up to look like a sick teenage boy?‖
―Easy peasy,‖ she grinned. ―With scissors and some hair dye.‖ She ra ttled off what she
needed  using  what  was available  in  the  hospital and sent one of  the  nurses off  to retrieve the
items. Leon and Robin helped me over to the closest armchair next to her as they studied both of
our faces. ―He‘ll need a toner to make his sk in fairer but the blood loss helped. He‘s paler than I
saw him earlier. I need a blonde wig, too.‖ Dr. Ross called another of the nurses in, whispered in
her ear and sent her back out with a grin on her face.
Twenty  minutes  later,  I  whispered  goodbye  to  everyone  in  the  room  and  walked  out
holding Robin‘s hand.
We were met in the waiting room by several agents and police who wanted to speak to
Robin,  Leon  and  Maiara  regarding  the  manslaughter  of  Morris.  The  detective  in  charge  was
named Gibril  Chenang  and he  offered to take all of us  to  the precinct to finish his investigation.
He asked how Lakan was doing and just about that time, Senator Lourdes exited my room into
the hallway.
―He‘s recovering,‖  he answered easily.  ―Some  infection but the doctors are  handl ing  it.
These people are under my protection, Detective.‖
―I‘m  sorry,  Senator  but  they  have  answers  to  some  questions  I  haven‘t  asked  yet.  I
promise to expedite the session and take them home when we‘re done.‖
―Home is a helicopter ride of twenty minutes,‖  Robin added. ―We‘re staying at the Motel
6 on Claremont.‖
―Let me put you up at the Watergate,‖ the Senator suggested. ―It‘s the least I can do.‖
Leon accepted and the detective agreed to bring us there when he was done. We followed
the police down to the elevator where we parted ways with the Senator and his escort. Leon kept
his hand under my elbow and bore quite a bit of my weight. A few times, he encouraged me in
Abenaki when my legs trembled and my head lightened.
I could feel Detective  Chenang‘s  eyes  on me and when I looked up, he gave me a smile
that was both sweet and appraising.
―It  won‘t  be  that  bad,  Ms.  Kitwillie,‖  he  said.  ―You  saved  a  child  from  a  murdering
molester. No one will blame you or your brother for killing him.‖
Robin‘s brow  glowered.   ―My sister  had  nothing  to do  with that…creep‘s death. I shot
him, not her.‖
Chenang  pointed  to  Robin‘s  wrist  and  fingers;  even  I  saw  the  callouses  caused  from
repeated exposure to the bow strings even though  he wore guards. ―Your  fingers are calloused
and  your right arm  is considerably  more developed  than your  left,‖ the detective  noted. ―Your
sister‘s hands are much softer.‖
I curled my fingers into my palms. His blue eyes were sharper than his bland good looks
suggested. ―What kind of name is Kitwillie?‖   he continued.
―It‘s a town in Wales. Named after the castle and the family that built it,‖ I answered. I
kept my voice low but pitched it higher than normal.
The  elevator  doors  opened  on  the  lobby  and  I  was  blinded  by  the  sudden  flash  of
photographers‘ lights as the media fell on us like a pack of hyenas. Many of them shouted to the
detectives and he stopped to announce that the Captain would give a Press Conference later that
afternoon after he had talked to the police chief in Titusville with the FBI age nts in charge of the
kidnapping.
Once we were out of the hospital, we were rapidly separated into three different cars with
three different detectives. I gave both Robin and Leon a despairing glance, I knew that this was
standard  procedure  to  ensure  that  we  had  no  time  to  consolidate  our  stories.  I  was  carefully
placed into the back seat of an unmarked car. It had no cage between me and the driver up front
but it also had no handles in the back where I could open the doors and escape.
I watched the scenery  pass by my window. It was almost as if Detective Chenang took
me on a scenic tour because  he pointed out the sights  like any proud resident showing off  his
city‘s attractions. Washington had many that I‘d never seen and would have loved to be able to
take them all in.
I saw the signs for Quantico and felt my body relax when we passed it and the next exit
for the J. Edgar Hoover building. I knew the route to his precinct and his driver did not vary one
street  from  that  route. Strangely enough, all three cars pulled  up  in  front of  the  modern  D.C.
police headquarters with its Forensic Labs and jail in the same block but separate buildings. The
cruisers weren‘t parked in a yard next door but underground in a seven tiered parking garage. We
went underneath and p ulled up in space marked by name. The driver came around and opened
the door for me, giving me a hand when I stumbled. My body was tense and I was afraid. Afraid
that I would blow my role as a girl.
Leon and Robin  called over to  me as  we entered by key- card,  through a door that was
held open by both uniformed officers and plainclothes detectives. From their comments, I knew
Robin had nothing to worry about.
I was escorted down a  long  hallway done  in  industrial  white with  gray tiled  floors and
bright fluorescent lights overhead. From there, we went into individual carrels and a room much
the same as any interrogation room I‘d ever seen or been inside. A table with several chairs, an
iron ring through which handcuffs could be threaded and walls padded with foa m that someone
had picked at with nervous fingers.
―Have a seat,‖ Chenang smiled. ―Can I get you something to drink? Water, soda?‖
―Coffee, please. Cream, no sugar.‖ My stomach growled, too and he heard it.
―Something to eat? We have a vendor who brings re ally good sandwiches, not that sh---crap that‘s o n   the machines.‖
―Sure. Anything but liverwurst.‖
He  wrinkled  his  nose.  ―Yuck.  I don‘t  like  that either. Or salami.‖  He  left  me alone, I
leaned back against  the  wall and  closed  my  eyes.  It  seemed only a  few  minutes  later that  he
gently touched my shoulder and I snapped upright, grimacing as the sudden movement made my
chest wound ache. He grabbed me and held me in the chair.
―You okay, Mairy? You looked white as a codfish.‖
―Yeah. It‘s been a stressful couple of days. First, Lake took off and we couldn‘t find him.
Then, we heard about the kidnapping, him being shot, dying and everything else.‖
To my surprise, I started crying and he awkwardly patted my back. He smelled spicy and
like strawberries. He was clean - shaven with hair not quite military short but close.
―You sure  you‘re old enough to know  your  mind about  your engagement?‖  he asked.
―It‘s not an arranged marriage or anything?‖
I hiccoughed and shook my head. ―Lakan‘s parents were killed. He had no other  relatives
and rather than let the state take him, my father took him in. He told the DFS people that Lake
was engaged  to  me or they  wouldn‘t  let  him stay  with  us. My  father  helped  him become an
emancipated minor.‖
―Do you love him?‖
I hesitated. I wasn‘t  really sure what I felt for Mairy, my heart still mourned for Rachel.
Chapter Fifty
He  let  me eat. What he‘d brought  in was a platter of beef and cheddar, ham and Swiss
and honey roasted turkey with sprouts and cranberry sauce. Mayo and mustard on the side , fresh
crunchy dill pickles and black olives the size of my thumb. The coffee was Green Mountain with
half and  half, just  this side of  lukewarm. He apologized and  said  it was because I  had  fallen
asleep for 45 minutes and no one had wanted to wake me.
―Forty - five  minutes?  Did  I  sleep?  Sorry,  I  didn‘t  mean  to  keep  you  all  waiting,‖  I
apologized around a  mouthful of  meat. I ate two  sandwiches, two whole pickles and a double
handful of olives. Hesitated over a third and he offered to split it with me.
―I like  to see girls eat,‖ he sighed. ―My daughter is so scared she‘s going to get fat. She
lives on lettuce, tea, and apples.‖
―What‘s her name?‖
―Jenny. She‘s 16, a junior  in  high school and  is on the  field  hockey team.‖ He paused.
―Tell me what happened. Why d id Lakan run off?‖
―We  had an argument. Over something stupid that I don‘t even remember. We  were at
my brother‘s house in Titusville. Lake, Leon and I had just finished a camping/fishing trip. It‘s
the Bass Tournament in Titusville this week, you know.‖ I   went on after he nodded. ―We called
Robin to come get us at the trail head and he‘d driven us to his house near the Walmart. Lake
took off into the woods and we went after him. I can track but Robin is way better. Leon came
with  us,  driving  Robin‘s  truck  and  our  camping  gear  was  still  in  it.  Both  of  us  grabbed  our
bows.‖ I was rambling but that was normal for someone who had supposedly suffered a shock
such as the pair  had done.
―Where was your brother standing when he shot Mr. Morris?‖
I  closed  my  eyes  an d  pictured  the  scene;  re- visiting  what  I  really  wanted  to  forget.
Slowly, I answered him as if I were Maiara and not myself.
―Lake is lying on his belly. Blood everywhere. He‘s standing over him, fumbling at his
trousers--- really nasty ones that are in tatters and old brown corduroy with a camo jacket. I can
smell him from yards away. He stinks like old sour milk and unwashed gym shorts. He‘s tall and
his dick is ugly. Warts and  huge  bent. He spits on his hand and paws at Lake, pulling down his
pants,  underwear and all.  I can  hear Robin‘s  indrawn breath behind  me.  He curses  under  his
breath and I hear the hum as the arrow leaves the bowstring.
―He grunts once, grabs the shaft that hits his center chest, dead on his heart and dead on
his feet. His eyes roll up, blood appears in a trickle from the left side of his mouth and he falls,
just missing Lake. There‘s so much blood coming from Lake. I run towards him but Robin beats
me there, pulls the body out of his way and makes sure he‘s dead before we turn our bac ks to
him and look to Lakan.
―He‘s alive, but barely. I dig through my backpack and find the first aid kit but it‘s too
basic for what‘s beneath my hands. Blood, so much  blood,  and bubbles break from the wound.
Air escaping,  his  lungs are no  longer sealed.  Robin pushes  me away and seals both sides with
plastic bags left from our camping garbage. He has me hold pressure while he tries to wrap gauze
around Lake‘s chest.‖
I looked up, my eyes swimming with tears. ―He‘s so pale, so bleached of life. I wonder if
he‘s died.  Then, we  hear people shouting,  helicopters overhead. Police, searchers, EMTs and
Paramedics, sheriffs. They all want to know where the girl is. The Marshal called for help and
they came. They took over with Lake but wouldn‘t let us leave until  he told them where Sami
was hidden.‖
―Did he?‖ Chenang asked softly, speaking for the first time since I‘d started.
―He hid her  in a deadfall  up the slope about a hundred yards  from  where Morris  found
him,‖ I answered. I was exhausted, burned out and nauseous, the sandwiches threatening to come
back up.
―You okay,  honey? You  look  like you‘re  going  to  faint.  You want a drink of  water or
something?‖ He jumped to his feet and hovered.
―I think I need to lie down,‖ I offered and he went to the door, opening it  and calling out
for help. Two other detectives joined him as I put my head down on the table. I heard Robin and
Leon‘s voices in the background and felt something cold hit the nape of my neck.
Robin said in my ear, ―hold this on your nape, Mairy and then d rink it.‖
I  opened  my  eyes  to  stare  at  a  can  of  cold  Coke.  I  opted  to  drink  it  instead,  the  fizz
settling my stomach quietly. I swallowed the burp.
―Can I leave? I don‘t feel so great.‖ I looked up at Detective Chenang.
―I‘m done with my questions,‖ he agreed. ―In light of the circumstances, I‘m sure the DA
will declare  it a justifiable  homicide, self- defense. You  might  have  to testify but as  far as  I‘m
concerned, this is the end of it.‖
Robin  and  Leon  both  took  an  elbow  and  got  me  to  my  feet.  Escorted  me  o ut  to  the
parking garage where we all climbed into one unmarked car and were driven to the hotel. The
concierge himself met us at the lobby doors and took us up to our suites. With three rooms and
three beds,  mine  in solitary splendor. I threw off  my shoes   and slowly climbed onto  the kingsized mattress while Leon pulled the duvet over me. I was asleep before he exited the room.
Sometime before I actually woke on my own, the Senator and Mairy joined Leon, Robin
and two of his guards. My disappearance wasn‘t   noticed until the next doctor on duty entered my
room to examine me and found the bed empty with Maiara standing in the doorway screaming
that I had been abducted. She was dressed like the Senator‘s secretary.
Rushed out  under  Lourdes‘ care, she  was brought  to the Watergate  in the  guise of  his
personal assistant, complete with blonde  hair, short  skirt,  and high  heels. Her  makeup and wig
made  her  look  this  side  of  thirty,  the  square  tortoiseshell  frames  giving  her  a  vague  school
marm‘s look. Barely.
The sme ll of coffee roused me. I sat up and swung my legs over, the pressing need to pee
urgently   after  all  the  fluids  I‘d  been  on  in  the  hospital.  I  paddled  my  way  to  the  bathroom
stumbling past the assembled crowd as  if they  weren‘t  there. No one said anything  as I peed,
flushed,  washed  my  hands and  followed the aroma of  life‘s blood. In  the small kitchenette, a
stranger handed me a large mug of coffee with cream. Once it hit my stomach with a delicious
nugget of warmth and caffeine, I was roused to semi - coheren ce.
―Well?‖ I raised my half empty cup and the agent re - filled it.
―The shit‘s hit the fan,‖ Mairy explained with a smile, swinging an elegantly nylon clad
leg, a very expensive gray 5 - inch stiletto hanging from her toes.
―Who are you supposed to be?‖
―Sen ator Lourdes‘ personal assistant,‖ she returned smugly.
―You mean secretary. Can you type?‖
―Yes and take dictation, too. I can also scream convincingly and cry like a bubble blonde
which is what I did when I discovered you were missing.‖
―How did you fool   the docs?‖ I asked.
―Dr.  Ross examined  you,  I  mean  me. He  had  his  nurses take  my  vitals. I pretended to
sleep  most of the time and no one was allowed in to visit you after you left my bedside. Once
you were clear of the hospital, I dressed as the Senator‘s aide and discovered you were missing
this  morning before the  new attending came  in to see  you.  The cops and staff are  going crazy
looking  for  you.  I  expect  they‘ll  be  here  before  long  to  tell  you  that  you‘re  missing.‖  She
grinned.
―Then, they‘ll be heading here to question us,‖ Leon nodded. ―We need to disappear.‖
We looked at the Senator and he rose to pace the floor. ―I have a car downstairs ready to
take you all where ever you want to go.‖
Now, they all looked at me. ―I‘m going nowhere. I have some people that need to learn a
lesson in terror.‖
I explained my plans to them and they argued with me but my mind was made up and
nothing would change it. The fact that police and agents were surely coming to question us left
them little time to spend arguing w ith me.
When I told them I wanted no one with me, their voices rose in near shrieks. ―You can‘t
stop me,‖ I said and walked out.
I was in jeans, polo shirt, and a warm down jacket, my hair still dyed a warm honey
blonde that had been under the blonde wig. I didn‘t look anything like me, even my coppery skin
was pale with a faint dusting of freckles. I looked like an effeminate boy, not a teenage
superman, not even when scrubb ing at my face, made my cheeks red, my forehead dark or
scowled.
―Let‘s go,‖ I said and grabbed her cell phone, the key card and the modem sitting on the
desk near someone‘s computer. We headed for the elevator and I asked the Senator for his car
keys, taking the chip out of the electronic part of the plastic. On the way down, I had the  parts
disassembled and carefully inserted them into an arrangement of my own design using the cell
phone‘s guts.
―What are you making?‖ Lourdes asked curiously as we descended to the parking garage.
Once the doors opened I  had finished the quipp  which did a number of things. I held it in front of
us and every camera, cell phone and  the car  in the parking garage died without a whimper as I
passed them. It affected all the cameras on our level but only those that could record or see me.
We passed an ATM machine and I detoured to it, holding my jammer/scanner in front of
its screen. Money spewed out of the dispenser and I calmly stuffed the bills into every available
pocket, giving the rest to Leon. Then, I made a call to the taxi company that serviced the hotel.
Two were waiting for us at the front curb along with the Senator‘s limo and driver. 
I saw that everyone was sent off to their prospective destinations, all of those being the
same. All of them were heading back to the hospital to visit me and to find o ut I had been
kidnapped so that they could play their parts.
I could tell by the angry stiffness in all their bodies that they did not like my decision or
my plans but frankly, I didn‘t give a rat‘s ass what they wanted.
Chapter Fifty-One
Chase sat in his office in the impressively modern and aggressive building that was the
NSA headquarters at Fort Meade. Built of unremarkable concrete, it appeared to be nothing more
than an afterthought of a maintenance shed on the grounds of Fort Meade, the base for Mari ne
training. B oth impenetrable and electronically shielded from radar and surveillance , it bore little
resemblance to the massive statement that was the Federal Building in D.C . When the sun struck
it at certain times of the day,  it looked as if it were th e storage facility for everyday garbage.
The building was a small bump above ground with the rest a warren of passages and
rooms underground. It was as impregnable as the  inner core of the Pentagon. Biometric scanners,
retin al and electronic cards, fingerprint analyzers all controlled access into  and out of  the
building. Armed guards and metal detectors searched those that made it inside the lobby. Even to
approach the grounds was a non- starter, its perimeter bordered by electrified fences, Dobermans,
video surveillance, IFR scanners and armed soldiers from the Marine Base at Quantico.
So, it was with utter astonishment that the second- floor  surveillance team agent came out
of the Mens‘ room and found a  teenage boy walking down the hallway, holding in front of him
an object that looked to have been a cell phone before someone had hacked at it.
―Stop!‖ he yelled and the boy turned around to point the cell at him.
His eyes were huge pools of electric blue and stood out against the pale skin of a child
that looked as if he had been and still was seriously ill. His hair was sweated to his skull and a
rich blonde.
―How did you get in here?‖ he demanded, coming forward. His feet felt as if they
weighed more with each step until they weighed a ton apiece. He plodded down the hall and the
closer he came to the boy, the more lethargic he felt until he found himself on his knees. He let
his upper body fold over his legs to rest his forehead on the cool tiles of the floor. He felt fingers
inside his jacket removing his gun, handcuffs, ID card and keys. The handcuffs were snapped
around his wrist and one ankle, effectively keeping him from moving.
―Stay here,‖ the boy‘s voice was a low whisper, an order to obey and he barely had the
energy to agree. He listened vaguely to  the footsteps as they faded down the hallway until he
couldn‘t hear anything at all.
I left the agent hunched over, immobilized by the  low - frequency   jammer which
interrupted the brain waves that regulated the sleep state, tied up with his own cuffs knowin g that
he would be incapacitated only for five minutes but unable to move for an hour or more. Unless
someone came along and found him and had a key  to the handcuffs. I had removed  his along
with the Sig Sauer 9 mil which was tucked into the back of my waistband. I could have killed
him, but he had nothing to do with my case and in any case, I didn‘t really want to leave a trail of
dead bodies in my wake.
I had used the scanner to access the database  inside the building, had an image of the
floor plans in my head and knew exactly where Chase and Cameron were, where their offices
were and the Conference room which was in use for the next hour. All the agents were inside
being briefed on the next mission and reports were being generated and reviewed.
His office was on the 1st  floor, a corner office with its own windows and a view of the
woods and the long driveway in. He had a utilitarian desk of gray metal, a comfortable swivel
chair and bookcases  lining the walls with novels, law books, and reference tomes. I  saw manuals
on computer design,  language, and programming. On the desktop was a PC, a top of the line with
its screensaver blinking on the NSA seal, much like the CIA‘s shield on the lobby floor of that
building. His office was empty, the door locked but  my scanner opened the electronic key code
in seconds.
I shut the door behind me and sat in his chair, hacking into his case files. Downloading
what I needed, it still took fifteen minutes because it was over 10 terabytes of material and I
didn‘t bother to booby - trap anything. I really didn‘t want to hurt the US security system or
become any more of a threat to the NIA or Homeland than I already was.
One of the things I accessed was where Chase had last swiped in his ID card. According
to the data, he was in   the Conference room on seven with his directors going over the latest intel.
He hadn‘t yet heard that I was missing but I saw the email come through on his PC. Most of
which had to do with me and my situation. Right now, he was convincing the  Assistant Secretary
of Defense that acquiring me was essential to the security of the United States; even if it was
only to keep me out of foreign hands.
I wiped out every mention of me in their  database, sending in a worm that would hunt
down and destroy anything eve n remotely related to me including the names of the people that
had helped me. Sure, it would make their lives hell but the same program would kick in a week
later and give them all new identities.
I heard a knock on his door and a woman‘s voice outside. ― Director Chase? Hello? Is
someone in there?‖
Quietly, I went to the desk and angled the video camera in the hall so that I could see who
was standing there. A pretty lady stood there in a neat pantsuit of dark gray, blonde haired and
wearing an ID badge with her name on it,  Rissy Carpenter, Administrative Assistant. She was
Chase‘s secretary. She waited, her head cocked towards the door and then she strode off down
the hallway shaking her head. She knew that Chase wasn‘t in his office but at a meeting, knew
no one was supposed to be inside. I wasn‘t sure what she had heard, I‘d been quiet and had left
the computer in silent mode.
My scanner buzzed in my hand, a text warning me that the system had sensed my
presence and alerted security. I was surprised, my program and worm should have stopped any
alarm before it got that far.
I checked the hallway, it was clear so I opened the door stepping out onto industrial grade
indoor/outdoor carpeting in a pleasant blue- gray. Heading for the door at the end of the hallw ay
to my right that led to the elevators and the lobby, I reached it just as an alarm broke the
expectant silence of Spook Central.
The elevator I was using was a private one, geared to the Director‘s personal use. Since it
was coded to his retina scan, ke y card, and fingerprints, no one would be checking egress on it
simply because on one could imagine how anyone could get access to all three of Chase‘s locks.
I rode it down to the subbasement, an incredible fifteen stories below  ground  and found
the sewer system just as the schematics had suggested. An old main that had been re - routed
because of the driveway construction led me to a grated drain in the woods.  It  took me over an
hour to climb from the basement  up  to the tunnels outside.  From there, I changed my damp and
smelly clothes, hopped on the mountain bike I had liberated from the nearest neighbor and rode
slowly through the trails into the deep woods.
The trails folded around me and even though I knew that I was leaving a trail a blind man
could follow; I wasn‘t worried about them following me. None of their cameras worked, nor the
motion sensors, infrared or any other of their  high - tech   gadgetry. The only thing I had to worry
about was whether I was running into one of the wandering patrols or dogs a nd I‘d sent them all
on different routes to ensure that it wouldn‘t happen.
I took the shortcut down a small gully of rock, bypassing the longer, safer route. The new
way was quicker, cutting off a good half mile of winding switchbacks  that I‘d done earlier on the
way up. Although longer, it had been easier on my still healing body.
I came down after a ten - foot drop and sat back as the shock transmitted through the
handlebars into my neck and shoulders making a sharp pain reverberate in my chest. I rubbed a t
it until the ache went away.
Once on the flat, I skidded to a stop and checked under the bandage. Nothing was
bleeding although it still looked an angry red and the flesh around it all shades of green and
sickly yellow. No one had expected me to be up and mobile let alone able to ride a bicycle for as
many miles as I had. My day‘s activity would have taxed a healthy man let alone a recovering
gunshot patient.
I sat for ten minutes to catch my breath studying the woods around me. As always, the
sights,  sce nts,  and sounds of the forest were the very beat of my heart and soul, the elixir that
fixed whatever was wrong with me and my world. I could appreciate the way the sunlight broke
through the trees so that it seemed to be the fingers of God touching the ma rvels that he had
created. I could rejoice in the muted laughter of water as it danced across the rocks in  rain swollen  streams. I could feel my heart nearly stop as the songs of catbirds and mockingbirds
serenaded me and the blue jays scolded my arrogance. How the sunlight glittered on mica in the
rocks and the dew made diamond spider webs hang from the trees as if wearing Tiffany earrings.
White quartz teased with fool‘s gold and the air smelled of lemon, old leaves, pine and fresh
mint.
I saw dogwoods blooming in the promise of spring, oaks, and maples as green as any
newcomer and the funny looking shoots of burgeoning may- apples. Even saw a few striped Jackin - the- pulpits between the rocks and the ruts of the trail. I smiled. For the first time in a long
time. The  woods  were to me, the most potent drug I could find and totally free.
I was almost to the trail head and the paved road when I heard sirens and slammed on my
brakes. I wasn‘t going that fast but still, the wheels skidded enough on the dirt hitting a small
rock and that was enough to knock me off. I landed in a clump of young briars, not hard enough
to hurt anything but my pride and a few scratches from the emerging thorns. My clothes were
faded and brown, duck so that they didn‘t rip. I‘d chosen  them for that reason and because they
would blend into the forest so that at a quick glance, eyes would not be able to pick me out as a
human shape. So when the police cars and SUVs flew past, they didn‘t see me. If I had been
upright, they might have. Esp ecially by the agents I saw scanning both sides of the state
highway. I waited a good fifteen minutes after the last one went by before I climbed shakily to
my feet. I left the bike down and pulled out the scanner from my backpack.
The initial chatter I was receiving from both Langley and the NSA headquarters was
puzzling. I heard nothing about my break- in nor the reason why those government units were
racing away from both the NSA building and where I‘d sent them with a false sighting of me. 
Instead of hit ting the pavement back towards the rendezvous with Leon and Maiara, I
shot across the state road and back onto the trail system.
The side of the trail I was on was designed more for horseback riding or extreme
mountain biking. Some of the trails were so ro cky that a fall here would break bones, had down
hills  so steep and winding that only the suicidal would take them at speed. Some areas were so
swampy that my wheels  were in essence swimming  through them. While I pedaled, a sense of
unease and urgency bit at my heels.
I came to a bridge over a deep ravine with a swift water creek that positively boiled  under
it. The bridge was made of three telephone poles spanning the space and 2x4s laid on edge all the
way across. It was relatively new, still greenish fro m the pressure treatment that made such
lumber capable of being exposed to years of outdoor conditions. I knew it was safe, yet some
sense told me that I was in danger. I sat on the bike, one foot on the ground holding me upright
and the other on the pedal so I could push off in an instant.
I pulled the scanner out in front of me sweeping it side to side in slow, gentle arcs
watching the screen as it displayed--- nothing. Just a blank gray image with an occasional flicker.
Did the same behind me with the same results yet the hair on the back of my neck still lifted in
primal terror.
I bolted forward, pedaling for all I was worth just as an ATV burst out of nothing in front
of me. I didn‘t think, I just reacted by jerking the handles so that the bike and I ju mped off the
trail and down the hill into the thicket of tree trunks so close that I barely made it through myself.
The ATV was joined by more but were hampered in the trees by their wider wheelbase. They
might be faster but I had the advantage of maneuverability as long as my legs held out. I also had
a map in my head of every inch of my surroundings and would use that to my benefit.
I‘d seen enough of the lead ATV driver‘s face to recognize him. Aiken. Aiken was after
me and he could track almost as good as I could.
I screamed. It echoed through the woods and captured my voice, my  frustration , and
anger and threw it back to me. This wasn‘t supposed to happen; no one was supposed to have
seen me inside or be able to track me. How had they hidden their prese nce from me and found
my location in the woods?
Overhead, I heard the noise of a helicopter and I knew that it was equipped with FLIR.
My own body heat was a beacon that stood out as an angry red glow and visible no matter where
I went. I could cool my tem p but that brought a corresponding slowness to both my reactions and
thinking. And worse, wouldn‘t keep the men on the ground from  seeing  me. I couldn‘t use the
scanner on more than one man at a time or while moving. Plus, I‘d used the  quipp so much that
i ts battery was almost dead and even if I  could charge it, I didn‘t have the hour it would need.
I heard a thump and looked down to see a trank dart in the water bottle on the bike‘s
frame. Their marksman had missed my leg by a simple pedal stroke. I wheele d to the right
dropping the bike into a small filled sinkhole which put me out of firing range. Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw her and stopped the bike in shock. Rachel stood on the bank dressed as I‘d last
seen her and the glow from an unearthly light   made her image ethereal.
―Rachel.‖ I made her name as reverent, as full of longing, sorrow, pain and joy as I could
express; all in that one word. She smiled and her head lifted to stare at the oncoming team of
agents.
―Take my hand, Lakan,‖ she said and reached down.
―Rachel, I can‘t enter the Spirit Realm.‖
―Do you trust me, Lakan?‖
―Yes, Rachel. Through this life and beyond,‖ I answered truthfully. ―Is it my time now?
Have you come to walk me through the door?‖
―No, silly  Boy Who Thinks Too Much. To give you a life that you were meant to live.
Take my hand, they‘re almost here.‖
I reached up and as my hand touched her palm, I literally flew through the air so fast that
I couldn‘t breathe and the ground passed underneath me as if I were flying; so fast that I could
only see the blurring movement of massed colors. Like a hi- speed camera followed the lights of
cars on a super- highway. Just a blur of colored streaks and trails on a tableau of midnight black.
Time slowed. She let go of my hand and I stared in  wonder at the shapes of buildings that
soared over my head. Downtown somewhere. They coalesced into my brain and my memories
translated the pictures of downtown D.C. When I looked back  at  her, she was gone, making me
wonder if she was real or my mind had fractured at the thought of being re- captured.
―Rachel,‖ I whispered in despair. I wanted to be with her, not back in this world with her
substitute.
Chapter Fifty-Two
I stood on the side of the street and waited for the mini- van to pull over and park. Mr.
and Mrs. Jacobi  greeted me  and told me to get in the car. I did so and buckled up even as he hit
the gas and merged back into traffic. I had called them an hour ago and they hadn't hesitated one
second  to hear me out or offer to do what I needed . In fact,  they  offered me anything I wanted
but all I asked for was a place to hole up and a ride. Mrs. Jacobi asked me what I had been up to
and I gave her the short and sanitized version. She wasn't happy with how the government had
treated me and went on to expl ain what her family had experienced. I tried to apologize but she
scolded me  for thinking it was my fault so I shut up and   watched him handle the traffic and
downtown streets with the ease of someone who was used to it.
Twenty - five minutes later, they pulled into a nice neighbor hood of split- levels and ranch
houses that were solidly  upper middle class. Most of the cars parked in the driveways were
Volvos and SUVs. Their house was a two story Colonial in white with red shutters and a  short
driveway up to the three- car garage. They rushed me inside ; the décor was subtle and understated
elegance yet it had a lived in look that said it was a home and not a showplace like  the Hamilton
estate.
She showed me the bathroom, telling me where towels, shampoo, wash clot hes and soap
were stored. Last, she handed me a brand new toothbrush and gave me some clean clothes from
her oldest boy.
"When you're done with your shower, follow your nose. We're eating steak in your
honor. You do like steak, right? Not a vegetarian or something?"
"No, I love steak, Mrs. J," I replied.
She nodded and closed the bathroom door. I saw a large bath with a tub and a  separate
shower stall, a commode and double sinks with a  full - length   mirror behind them. The walls were
a soft green and the decor was seashells with the same designs on the shower curtain, liner and
wall border. It made me feel as if I were in a cave underwater.
I wasn‘t in there long before I heard a hesitan t knock on the door and heard  voices  I
recognized. It was the three kids I had helped from the car accident. I knew their names; I had
learned everything about them with my intrusion into their cores as I healed them. Mark, Andrew
and Pickles. Well, not really Pickles, her name was Sandra but everyone called her Pickles
because she was always into one. 
―Laky,‖ they called. ―Can we come in?‖ Fingers already on the doorknob. I grabbed a
towel to over my almost nakedness as they opened the unlocked door and crowded in. All three
faces beamed up at me and Pickles hugged my knees.
―Hi,‖ I said foolishly.
Pickles giggled and bumped her head against my groin.  I turned red and held her far
enough away so that she couldn‘t feel anything.
―I almost got to see your wee- wee,‖ she snorted. ―Mom says we‘re going to help you
escape from the Me n in Black.‖
Mark, the eldest rolled his eyes. ―That‘s for aliens, dumbass. He‘s being chased by spies.
I know mom told you to take a shower and get dressed. Then  come down to  eat. We‘ll leave you
alone so you can get to it. C‘mon, gang. No man wants a couple of kids watching him bathe.‖ He
gave me a manly grin and steered his siblings out of the shower. Turning in the doorway, he
added, ―be out before my dad flushes the toilet. The water gets bitchin‘ cold.‖
Twenty hot luxurious minutes later, I was clean,  my hair back to its normal shade and in
fresh clean clothes as I sat at the large table in the kitchen with the Jacobi family.  It was filled
with a veritable thanksgiving feast only it was steak and not turkey but just as much food and
deserts.
I saw the  father, Stan for the first time in detail. He hadn‘t been in the car at that fateful
moment when the garbage truck had rear- ended his family. Nor had I been conscious when they
had tried to visit me in the hospital. Besides, the doctor had told them I had  died and they were
under the impression that I was a girl. The kids knew better; they had seen my life as deeply as I
had experienced theirs.
Both of them hugged me long and deeply. Mr. Jacobi said, ―Lakan, whatever you need,
you need only ask for it. You  saved my whole family,  me  included. I would have killed myself if
you hadn‘t saved my wife and the kids. When we heard that you had died --- Well, it was like
losing one of my own.‖
―I couldn‘t let such grief happen to any family on Christmas Eve, Mr. Jacob i. I have lost
everything; I couldn‘t let that happen in front of my eyes.‖
He shook his head. ―Not everything, Lakan. Mike Faraday and the other people you‘ve
touched are waiting to do their parts. Once you‘ve eaten and rested, we‘ll take you to the next
rail stop.‖
―We‘re part of the Underground Railroad?‖ Mark asked proving that he was paying
attention in History. ―Cool!‖
―You know you did something to them?‖ Mrs. Jacobi said. ―All three are now perfect ‗A‘
students.‖
―No. I didn‘t do anything to them, Mrs. J, except show them that life was precious and
too fleeting. The changes you see are because of them, not me. I just gave them a second
chance,‖ I denied. ―They‘re still human, the same as they were before I touched them.‖
―No,‖ both denied but there was no fear in their eyes as Pickles reached out her hand and
the blue light fell from her fingertips to bathe the table and us in its glow. With a sudden
thickening in my throat, I remembered that I had healed her, made her  better than before. I
turned str icken eyes to  her parents.
―I‘m sorry, I didn‘t mean to change her,‖ I offered.
―Lakan, don‘t,‖ she said and got up to come around and hug me. ―She‘s alive and in
glorious health. Don't you know why we were on the road that day? We had just come from her
chemo treatments at the hospital. She had leukemia, a type that is particularly fatal and the boys
came to see if their bone marrow was compatible with hers. We‘d all been tested and failed. Hers
is a rare type that is very hard to match.  You  saved her life  twice that day, Lakan.  You  have
nothing ever to be sorry about. I mean  this, both Stan and I would give our lives for you if we
had to, Lakan.‖
In the face of such conviction and depth of feeling, I didn‘t have any words to
acknowledge such a gift. I bowed my head and let the tears run down into my collar and when
the whole family hugged me, I sobbed with total abandonment until I was so exhausted that I
collapsed. Mr. Jacobi carried me to the bed in the spare room and all three kids cuddled aro und
me. Even the family dog, a Golden climbed up. I fell asleep under the burden  of their love which
was both heavy and weightless.
In the morning,  the kids woke first to let the Golden out and then they woke me. I had
gone to sleep in my clothes and they were rumpled and smelly from me having worn them
overnight. I slid my feet out of bed onto carpeting which   was a nice surprise as usually  they hit
cold tiles (which was a great wa y to shock the system into wide- awake mode). In the doorway
stood Mark and he pointed to the upstairs bathroom, right across the hall from my room. This
one was done in blue with sailboats and lighthouses. I used the toilet, washed my face and
brushed the horrible morning scum from my teeth. When I was nearly awake and not half
comatose, Mark handed me fresh clothes. Jeans, t- shirt with long sleeves and a light jacket/vest
with pockets. In the pocket were  his ID, wallet and a roll of bills.  Twenties and fifties. I raised
my eyes.
―Mom and Dad. They said we look alike, except for the red hair and blue eyes. There are
contacts in the bathroom that will make your eyes look brown. Do you know how to use them?‖
At my nod, he showed me the case and I inserted them. We stared at my image in the mirror and
saw the boy with dark red hair and brown eyes. He framed my face so that the hair didn‘t show
and it was eerie how much we looked alike. He was just an inch or so taller than me at over six
feet. I knew he was  nearly ten months older, a star on the hockey team but still shy around the
girls even tho ugh he was good- l ooking and not lacking in confidence.
―Stop staring, bro. You‘re good,‖ he laughed and punched me on the shoulder. I winced.
The wound on my chest was nearly healed but I was still tender in that area. He caught sight of
the redness under the t- shirt. ―Whoa. What is that? Does Mom know you have that?‖
―I was shot. The doctors did surgery on me,‖ I explained reluctantly.   I had to tell him the
story and he was amazed that I had saved a US Marshal and Sami. He‘d heard about it on the
news and  was even discussing it in his Current Events class.
―MOM!‖ he yelled and she almost came running. Within seconds of his recital, she had
me undressed and was fussing over the scar.
―It doesn‘t hurt, I‘m almost healed,‖ I protested.
―When did this happen? Why aren‘t you still in the hospital? We need to call a doctor and
have him check you out,‖ she fluttered while Mr. J came running to see what the commotion was
about. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of my chest.
―Holy shit!‖ he said inelegantly and Mrs. J didn‘t give him hell for cursing. ―That‘s one
hell of a scar.‖
―Gunshot wound and they cut me open to get to my heart.‖
There was utter silence. ―Are you sure you‘re up to this, Lakan?‖ he asked solemnly.
―We can just hide you out here until you‘re healed.‖
―No. I have everything planned out and if I don‘t leave soon, it will throw a monkey
wrench into everything. I‘m good enough to ride a bike for twenty miles, I can handle a car ride
with Mike.‖
―Car? Who said anything about a car? He‘s bringing  his motorcycle.‖
I grinned. ―Cool.‖ The parents rolled their eyes in parental displeasure. ―Yes, Mom, I‘ll
wear the helmet,‖ I added and she popped me for reading her mind. Really, I didn‘t have to, her
thoughts were plain to see before she said or thought  anything.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Mark was quite happy to help with my deception--- he got to stay home from school while
I played the role of him as Mr. J drove me out of town. We went right through several road
blocks manned by state and local police. Pictur es of me in both my female and male persona
were posted everywhere and flashing on TV and billboards. They even had the highway signs up
on me as an AMBER alert saying I was a possible kidnap victim or runaway. Nothing about why
I was wanted or by what.
Some of the pictures of me had been photo- shopped with different colored hair and styles
or wearing hats but all of them mentioned my ‗electric‘ blue eyes.
No one at any of the roadblocks batted an eye when they checked Mr. Jacobi‘s ID and
stared at me. One or two asked where was he going with me and why I wasn‘t  in school. Mr. J
said he was taking me to a specialist in Philly for my sister‘s leukemia. I was being tested for a
bone marrow donation.
―Brave kid,‖ the trooper commented and reminded me to wear my  seatbelt.
―Whatever,‖ I drawled pretending as if I were bored instead of terrified. He waved us on
and we drove for another two hours before we stopped to eat and  take a bathroom break.
Mr. J chose a Cracker Barrel right off I- 95 and once inside, we hit t he men‘s room and
then I wandered  the store amazed at all the old- fashioned and eclectic stuff laid out for sale.
The hostess seated us and after we ordered, a tall handsome younger man with that
ineffable military air joined us at the corner table near the windows where we could look outside.
I went to stand up but he told us to stay seated. Mike Faraday smiled and offered Mr. J his hand.
They shook and he stared at me.
―Boy in the restroom?‖ he asked and told the approaching waitress  that  he wanted coffee
and the special.
―No,‖ Mr. Jacobi returned and nodded to me.
―Lake? I thought you were his son. Great disguise.‖ He hugged me and I rolled my eyes
at the unabashed show of emotion.
―Must be good if you don‘t recognize me,‖ I mumbled around my chicken po t pie. The
food was really good, the biscuits and corn muffins homemade.
―God. He eats like a teenager,‖ Mile sighed. ―I remember those days. Always hungry.‖
―What I do uses a lot of energy and fuel,‖ I grumbled. ―You‘re looking good. No
problems?‖
―Nope. I‘m the new miracle poster child in the VA world,‖ he said soberly. ―There are a
few of my buddies you could help --- ‖ His voice trailed off. ―Sorry.  The l ast  thing you want to do
is bring down any more scrutiny on you.‖
―It takes me a whole day to recover, ‖ I said. ―Sometimes longer depending on how badly
they‘re hurt. I wouldn‘t be able to run or escape.‖
―I know, Lake. Never mind.‖
―I could make you the same.‖ I looked up from my plate and riveted his eyes. ―Well, not
exactly the same but you could heal o ther people like I did to you. But the NSA will be after you
along with the rest of the world, all wanting what you can give them. You‘ll never have a
peaceful   night again and if they catch you, you‘ll never leave the cell where they  stash   you.
Except when  they bring you out to sell your services to millionaires.‖
He flushed at that and was going to apologize but I held up my hand to stop him. ―You
didn‘t do anything, Mike and I can‘t fault your father for loving you enough to try anything  to
save you. I wo uld have done  the same thing for my father had I known him. Anyway, Albans did
this and he has paid for his greed.‖
―You killed him? How?‖ they asked.
―Not me. The NSA killed him. Dr. Cameron killed him with a drug that I had been testing
for Alzheimer‘s. It releases all your  memories but it burns through the brain cells, stopping all
autonomous systems. The NSA found his off - shore bank accounts and seized them --- over $22
million. All made off of me. So I took it back.‖
They gaped at me. ―You stole $22 million from the government?‖
―Actually, I stole $48 billion. I took the NSA‘s Black Budget Fund, too.‖
―They‘ll trace it! You just can‘t disappear billions of  dollars!‖ Mike growled.
―Yes, I can,‖ I grinned. ―It‘s in Bitcoins, untraceable and untouchable. Except by me and
the people who have helped me. Not only  is  the money untraceable but once you start spending
it, it disappears. Poof. It no longer exists. Still, you can‘t go out and buy a new Maserati or a
mansion on the Riviera. I‘ve also made new identities for all of you but you won‘t get them until
the government or any agency starts an inquiry into your names. When the knock, telephone call,
e- mail or text comes, you drop everything and follow the directions. It  will keep you safe.‖
―How?‖ Mike asked. ― How did you do this?‖
―I hacked the NSA computers in the ir main building. Everything is laid out like dominoes
or a game of chess. If you follow the moves I played, you‘ll be safe. A new life in a new place
with your families and lots of money.‖
―What if we don‘t want to leave?‖ Mr. J asked.
―You‘re already under surveillance by them,‖ I shrugged. ―In less than a week, they‘ll be
bringing all of you in for questioning. Especially Pickles. You know they‘ll want  her, Mr. J.
They won‘t give her back. Don‘t let that happen because I  won‘t.‖ I paused before I could start
yelling. ―They took my mother,  great- grandfather, and my Rachel. They created and enslaved
me. I lost two years of my life and I won‘t give them any   more!‖ I could feel my  heart racing, the
tendo ns in my neck tightening as I tried to keep the rage from spilling out.
It was Mr. J‘s hand on mine that brought me out of the redness. ―It‘s time to go, Lake,‖
he said and stood up. He  hugged me so tightly that I nearly couldn‘t breathe. He whispered in  my
ear and I nodded,  following Mike out to the parking lot. I threw a fifty down on the counter  as I
passed through the store, the clerk already knew what table it was for.
The parking lot was full but then, I‘d never seen a Cracker Barrel that wasn‘t. I was also
pretty sure that not many of them had a bike  like his parked in the lot.  It was a Can - Am Spyder
tricked o ut in gleaming silver with hand- painted artwork  in darker metallic silver. Up close it
was just a swirling pattern of lines but from further back, you could see  wolves under a moonlit
night sky, eagles soaring above the forest and an Indian chief in full war regalia. The  seats were
real leather and off - gray.
―Whoa. What a beauty.‖ I ran my hand over the silky finish. 
―My Dad kept it for me, restored it after I came home. He put a hundred thousand into it,
and then sold it for peanuts when he learned that I would  never ride it again,‖ he said softly. ―He
bought it back four months ago.‖
―It‘s too noticeable,‖ I said unhappily.
―No. The dude who did the work used that new paint compound that came out of a
company called Lake Enterprises.‖ He took  his keys and tapped the console six times in a
complicated pattern and the paint shimmered, turned blue as the leather became a shade of pale
navy.
―It works!‖
―Quite a few strange new inventions came out of that company before it was seized by
the Department of Homeland Security. The NIA and (DARPA) are fighting over what‘s left,
Lake,‖ he grinned. ―Mount up. We have over four hundred miles left to go.‖
I climbed on behind him and he handed me a black helmet fitted with a dark visor. He
pulled on his  gloves,  helmet and sat, turning the bike on with a muted, throaty roar that was no
louder than a diesel truck.
It drove like a car with its two front wheels and  one rear. He even had a radio that piped
Wi- Fi   into the helmet and allowed us to have a conversation without shouting. He asked me what
kind of music I liked and we settled for Kansas and Queen, the Beatles and INXS as he merged
onto  the Anacostia  for I- 95 north.
I had to admit, it was exhilarating and slightly terrifying when the 18 wheelers blasted by
sucking at us like voracious cyclones. Too many drivers didn‘t  watch out for  motorcycles. Mi ke
was cool, he didn‘t curse or  give them the finger like I would have, he just neatly weaved out of
their way.
We rode for four hours before he asked me if I  needed a bathroom break and I  nodded
forgetting that he couldn‘t see me. He could feel my body move but not enough to translate that
into an answer.
―Yeah,‖ I sa id. ―And I need to stretch my legs.‖
―Gotcha. Rest stop  coming  up in ten   miles or less.‖
―Where are we?‖
―Almost to Philly.‖
―I always wanted to see the Liberty Bell,‖ I said foolishly.
―Well, we have time if you don‘t mind cutting your sleep time some.  It just means more
time on the road.‖
―How long will it take us to get to your place?‖
―Ten hours roughly without stopping for the night. I had planned to, anyway.‖
The rest stop was less than fifty miles from Philly but already, I could see the glow from
ci ty lights on the horizon. We were on I- 95 heading towards NYC and Providence.
I stood outside and watched the  life of a city and its highway go by me. It was almost like
watching an arterial view of a heart and its great veins as the vehicles brought in go ods that made
the city live and brought out the refuse it didn‘t  need or  use.
Some scientist had actually plotted an algorithm that mimicked the growth of a city just
like the circulatory system of the body. Anyway, it was a never ending scenario as 18 whe elers,
buses, taxis and cars flew by while overhead, airliners came in and out of the metropolitan
airport.
Mike came out; I heard him before I saw him, his leather chaps and jacket creaked like an
old saddle. He smelled like one, too. ―Want something to e at?‖
I showed him my stash, I‘d fed the highway robbery vending machines nearly ten bucks
in change for Twix,  Hershey‘s  with almonds, Hostess cupcakes and two large Mickey D coffees,
one with cream and sugar, the other black for him.
―Thanks.‖ He took it a nd sipped cautiously, it was blisteringly hot.
We sat outside at one of the tables and I watched the night sky. It was too bright and
overcast to see any stars. I opened the  Twix bar and split it with him. I was a confessed sugar
junkie.
―You remember anything from before, Lake?‖ he asked me. He knew my history because
when I had healed him, he‘d seen the inside of my head nearly as deeply as I‘d seen his.
―No. I  was basically born two years ago when Sarah Hamilton took me from  Dr.
Cameron and installed me  in her home as her grandson. I worked for her in a lab at her house,
producing things like the paint compound that can change color, portable Wi- Fi devices  the size
of a matchbox, drugs for Alzheimer‘s and tissue rejection issues. Solar panel arrays that p roduce
300 times more power on one- quarter  less battery use. A battery that lasts over a year without a
recharge and can power a car going 100mph for over a thousand miles.‖
―None of which are on the market, except for the paint,‖ he said. I rolled my eyes .
―You think Sarah Hamilton would let those things go out and take money away from the
oil Kingpins? No, she sold the patents to them for millions and they locked them up where no
one can get a peek at them. It would make the energy business obsolete and  wreck  the world
economy. I  would have given them away for free.‖
―You still could,‖ he pointed out.
―I could but it would have to be done the right way to prevent an economic collapse of
world proportions. Besides, the CIA, NIA, NSA and HS would kill me before they let me do it.‖
I was silent, thinking of a way to rework his bike and get more mileage out of the engine. I mean,
it already got 60 mpg but I knew a way to tweak the  carburetor and make it double as well as go
significantly faster. Of course, there was a cap on the speed the bike could go and go safely, eve n
on one as stable as the Spyder.
―You have a spider somewhere on her?‖ I asked and he pointed to a silver tree near the
gas tank. In one corner hanging from a branch, I saw a web and in its center sat a spider with one
foot raised as if waving. Or giving someone the proverbial finger. Spiders were almost as sacred
as wolves in Indian lore.
I finished one chocolate cupcake and he snagged the other, commenting that he hadn‘t
eaten a Hostess in yea rs. He ate it like I did, chewing off the chocolate icing, scooping out the
cream  center with his tongue and last, biting the cake part in three nips. Only then did we climb
on the bike and drive on.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I stared up at the massive bell within its frame and with its famous crack in the side and
felt a touch of awe that I was in the presence of something ageless and timeless. Something that
represented a fundamental freedom and right that had been sorely lacking in this nation these last
fifty decades.
The bell was green with age yet it conveyed the same majesty as the day it was poured
and beaten. Though cracked, it was still unbroken, untarnished and defiant. I laughed at the
foolish notion of hearing it ring once more even when I knew from the guard‘s recital and my
own history lessons that if it rang again, it would vibrate apart. 
Mike stood next to the museum‘s doorway where he could keep an eye on me without
actually entering the exhibit hall. He stood out in his motorcycle leathers and helmet almost as
much as when we had pulled into the parking lot on the Spyder. Even though we weren‘t the
only ones riding bikes, nor  were we the only ones on Spyders. Can - Ams were becoming the
‗new thing‘ if you were retired and rich.
A group of forty or m ore were touring together and had stopped to take in the Liberty
Bell and other famous Philadelphia sites. They approached us and Mike made small talk over
their different bikes and  they complimented him on the now bright yellow colored Spyder. I had
learn ed that she had a repertoire of six colors--- white, black, silver, navy, yellow and beige. No
red. Mike was one of those rare few males who did not like the color red. Go - fast- red.
I ran my hand across the bronze bell and was warned not to touch it by the  docent. He led
us over to the other exhibits and we saw up- close and personal Bets y Ross‘ flag, an original Poor
Richard‘s Almanac and other Ben Franklin memorabilia. It was all fascinating even given the
late hour of the tour.
Presently, we heard the loudspeaker announce that the museum was closing in ten
minutes and followed the docent out like obedient goslings.
I walked next to Mike down the marble steps heading for the motorbikes. Mike‘s pocket
buzzed and he pulled out his IPhone. The conversation was short and one- sided; from his facial
expression, it wasn‘t good news.
―What‘s wrong?‖
―Your friends were pulled in by the FBI for questioning and the NSA stepped in,
removing them from FBI jurisdiction. They‘ve disappeared.‖
―I knew that would happen,‖ I sighed. ―I warned them. Still, they knew what to do. Mairy
was with them?‖
He nodded. ―DeCarlos, the Kitwillies and the Jacobis have all become persons of
interest.‖
I smiled. ―That‘s what the news said? Persons of interest?‖ I dug my quip p out of my
pockets and accessed the internet delving deep into the Undernet, the hidden systems that no
mortal was aware of --- where data was exchanged and evaluated almost as if the system was
alive. An AI if you will. I had calculated that within the next five years,  the system would
achieve an artificial intelligence and that it would only converse with me.
―They‘re safe.‖ I read the data streams and saw that all my dominoes were falling into
place. The FBI agents who had escorted each member of my troop were not who the y claimed to
be but pawns in this chess game I had created.
―They‘ re on their way,‖ I said in satisfaction.
―On their way where? Who? If you set this up, why do you have to check?‖
I gave him a look. ―I‘m smart but I‘m not God. Shit happens. Where are we going now?‖
―You tell me. ‖
―I could use a shower and a bed. I made a reservation at the Hilton under the name
Franklin.‖
―With what credit card?‖ He was amused.
―Does it matter? I can use anyone‘s number with the connections I have,‖ I shrugged.
―You stick people with your bills? Not very honest or fair.‖
―No. It charges back to what used to be the proceeds of t he black budget funds which are
now untraceable and digital.‖
―Yeah? How do you  get to it?‖
― Magic.‖ I climbed on the bike and waited for him to drive downtown towards the
massive hotel that was the Hilton. We had one of those en- suites but nothing extravagant, just a
basic three room—bedroom, kitchenette, and bathroom. A king - sized bed in a pale blue room
with a twin off to the side, a huge walk- in sh ower with real plants and a window that looked out
on the harbor. Three egresses if we needed to make a fast exit and better yet, I knew that there
was an  old laundry chute covered over with wallboard and paper if we needed a fourth unknown
way out. We  would only be in the room for eight hours, anyway. Just long enough to shower and
catch a few hours of sleep.
I called dibs on the shower and lost. Even I couldn‘t predict the outcome of random
chance more than fifty/fifty but Mike told me to go ahead first a nyway. I warned him about
making any phone calls even though I‘d reprogrammed his SIM card on his cell. Anyone
tracking it would see that it was pinging off towers in the Florida coast near the Keys. I wanted
them to think we were heading for a coastal way  out to the Islands where there was no
extradition.
I tore my clothes off and Mike‘s eyes widened as he spotted my fading scars. A ragged
12- inch line ripped down my chest with a large star- shaped pucker in my back.
―Holy Christ!‖ he said. ―You should be dead!‖
―Like you should be?‖ I smiled lopsidedly. ―You have scars that are worse tha n mine.‖
―No, Lakan. When you healed me, you took away even the scars. The physical and
mental ones.‖
―Don‘t show me. I‘ve seen enough wounds in my lifetime.‖
―You were shot only a few days ago. It looks like it has healed for months.‖
―Mike, I repaired your amputated…parts and fixed your damaged brain and my healing
rate surprises you?‖
He grinned sheepishly and sat on the gray comforter of the bed, kicking at the blue dust
ruffle. ―Well, I never saw my wounds. I only heard the doctors talking about them. I was locked
in my head and wanted only to die. Will those scars on your chest go away, too?‖
―Dunno. Sometimes they do, sometimes don‘t.‖ I showed him the scars on my forea rms
from briar thorns and one on my foot where I‘d stepped on a broken piece of glass. ―I did this at
Hamilton‘s house. In the garden on a Coke bottle. I threw it at the sundial and it fell in the grass.
Forgot it was there and ran right over it.‖
―She was  your grandmother?‖
―She didn‘t take me for stitches. Cameron came and superglued it in her office. She was
my jailor. I never knew my family. My father never knew I was born. My mother died when I
was a child and my great- grandfathe r raised me until he di ed when  they chased us in the
mountains. When Cameron took me, he had Hamilton‘s doctors reprogram my memories. I don‘t
remember much about those years. I do remember Rachel.‖
―Rachel?‖
―She helped me escape from…before and from Chase. I loved her and they killed her.‖
― I thought--- Maiara?‖
―She says she‘s my fiancée. She looks like Rachel but it‘s not the same.  I look at her and
see Rachel. Rachel‟s dead.”
He didn‘t know what to say and I could see he wanted to hug me but couldn‘t bring
himself to do that.  Instead, his face hardened and he stood up. ―Fuck. Get over yourself,
Strongbow! Stop being a whiny pussy and deal with what‘s here and now!‖ 
I gaped in astonishment. He was actually yelling at me, spitting the words out, telling me
that people‘s lives were dependent on me as if I didn‘t know that. I narrowed my eyes and
stalked into the bathroom turning the water on as hot as it would go. I stood under it and steamed
the bathroom so  much that it resembled London‘s fog. In that misty realm of my own creati on, I
pretended that Rachel was still with me but for the first time, I saw  Maiara‘s  face not Rachel‘s
and I heard Rachel‘s voice in my ear telling me not to be an ass- wipe or to reject the gift she had
given me. Only then did I cry for that loss and when  my last tears mingled with the hot, steamy
water, I felt the burden of that loss lighten.
Chapter Fifty-Five
The glow from Philadelphia lingered long after we had left her city limits. I had left the
shower and collapsed on my bed, out the minute my head hit the pillows. I never heard Mike
take his shower, order breakfast from room service or get into bed himself.  All I remember was
him waking me up hours later even though it felt as if it were only a few  minutes later.
―C‘mon. You need to eat and get dressed. Your hair looks like you pruned it with hedge
clippers and glued it back on with super glue. And your eyes look like you‘re stoned.‖ He
laughed at me and I threw the pillow at him. He  caught it before it hit anything.
―What time is it?‖ I growled. I was so  not a morning person.
―5 a.m.‖ I groaned and buried myself under the covers mumbling dire curses and tortures.
―What?‖ He dragged the blankets off me.
―I said I forgot to take out the contacts. Didn‘t have anything to put them in and they
made my eyes red.‖
―Will it hurt your eyes?‖
―No. Not for a day or so.‖ I sat up slowly, reaching for my clothes which I‘d thrown at
the bottom of my bed. They were now neatly folded. I‘d gone to sleep in my underwear and it
was cold when I got out from under the sheets to head for the bathroom. I raised my temp and
Mike exclaimed.
―What did you just do?‖
I stopped. ―Why?‖
―Your whole body just glowed red for a second--- almost as if you were on fire but under
the skin!‖
―Yeah?‖ I did it again and stared down at myself. When I saw what he‘d seen, I giggled.
My dick glowed like a neon porn movie straining against my briefs because I needed to take a
leak big   time.
―Brings new meaning to the word ‗fireballs‘, doesn‘t it?‖ I called from the bathroom.
Ahh, nothing like the  first piss of the day. I washed my hands, face and brushed my teeth with
those little sample bottles of complimentary toiletries that hotels gave you.
Dressed, clean and empty, I perused the breakfast he‘d ordered. Scrambled eggs, hash
browns, bacon , and pancakes. Real maple syrup. Coffee, cream and OJ. Biscuits and gravy.
Orange slices on the plates, real linen napkins folded  into  those crazy fan shapes. Bagels with
smoked salmon, cream cheese. Philadelphia of course.
The coffee was rich and delightful. I  saw the slip and turned it over. Breakfast cost almost
a hundred bucks. My eyes widened but he didn‘t seem fazed by the amount. Of course, he came
from a wealthy family. Then, I laughed at myself. I had stolen $48 billion. What was a $100
compared to that? 
I ate. Everything. When we were done, nothing remained on the tray except for our
dishes and a twenty - dollar tip for the room service waiter.
―We stopping in NYC?‖ That was the next big city on the route home but he shook his
head.
―Change of plans.‖ He  handed me his IPhone and I read the text. K to P4 R taken.
―Oh.‖
―What does it mean? P4 was RT 17 in Jersey, right?  Exit 17.‖
―Yes, I know.‖ I thought furiously and then nodded. ―We have to go to Foxboro instead.‖
―Foxboro? My dad keeps a plane there.‖
―Yes.‖
―Can you fly? A jet?‖
―Yes.‖ I ran through the steps in my head and nodded firmly. ―Yes, I can. I can fly a
Lear.‖
We left ten minutes later heading for the small city of Foxboro, PA which was only an
hour outside of Philly. It had a small regional airport  from which you could access Logan,
O‘Hare, Reagan and Kennedy. Even fly straight to Montreal or Toronto.
When we pulled onto the tarmac of the terminal, a hulking man in a chauffeur‘s suit was
standing next to a Mercedes limo. Not lounging against the fenders but ram - rod straight as if at
attention. He came over the instant that Mike stopped the bike and the two hugged, slapped each
other and did that complicated hand thing.
―Lake, this is my Sergeant, Jinx Blackspell. We served together.‖
He was dark- skinned with snapping black eye s; a bulky two- hundred pounds on a 5‘10‖
frame with muscles like a quarter horse and a neck like Conan. He moved fluidly and not like a
muscle bound jock whose thighs rubbed together.
I dismounted and shook his hand but he dragged me into a bear- hug  where I protested
that I couldn‘t breathe. He let go and shook my hand. His was as big as a basketball and as
leathery as one. He was  left - handed, too. ―Hey, little bro. You saved my man, here. It‘s nice to
meet you, Lakan Strongbow,‖ he said in Siouan. My eyes widened in delight.
―You‘re Sioux?‖
―Ogallala. A distant cousin of Little Bear. Otseno  Pete says hello.‖ His eyes twinkled.
―No thanks for his pick- up truck, though. The Fibbies impounded it.‖
―Yeah. Sorry about that. Everyo ne out there okay?‖ He nodded and the ‗except for
Rachel‘ was  left unsaid. ―You taking the Spy der back?‖
―Yeah. Mr. Faraday‘s regular chauffeur drove me out here so I could ride it home. He
knows how Mike feels about this bike.‖
He took Mike‘s chaps, leather  jacket , and helmet. He already had on boots that could pass
as Mike‘s as he exchanged them for his own uniform in the back of the limo while Mike and I
watched. Once dressed in the leather biker‘s gear, it was hard to tell the difference  between the
two  former military men . They gripped each other once more and then both limo and bike rolled
out of the airport.
The Lear sat out on the runway already serviced with the base manager waiting. ―Fueled,
vetted and ready to go, Mr. Faraday, sir,‖ he reported. ―Is your pilot with you? Or are you
flying?‖
―Don‘t be silly, ‖ he grunted. ―I was Marines,  not Air Force. My buddy here is flying.‖
The manager‘s mouth dropped. I smiled cheerily and climbed up the short set of steps as
he protested, following us inside the cockpit. It rapidly became crowded. I went through the pre-
flight checklist. Started the engines and readied the plane for take - off as the radio crackled to life
with instructions from the tower for runway and wind conditions.
―Unless you‘re planning on a trip to Calabash, I suggest that you de- plane,  Joe, ‖ I called
him by the name on his uniform shirt.
―You know how to fly this jet?‖
―Better than the man who designed it. In fact, I could re- design and make it unable to
crash,‖ I said staring at him confidently. He nodded once and presently, we heard the airlock
close and pressurize.
The tower gave us permission to depart and I lifted the bird into the air without a wobble
or hitch. The plane flew as sweetly as a dream, her controls almost as easy to use as   my quipp.
Actually, the quipp  had more functions than the Lear console and was quirkier.
I set it on auto- pilot following the direction beacons towards Providence before dropping
below  the radar and changing direction for Colorado.
I left the cockpit to join Mike in the lounge. He was asleep on one of the seats pushed
back as far as it would go and snoring gently. I went to the bar and found it was stocked with
beer, champagne, wines and soda along with ice, and sandwiches dated twenty minutes before
we‘d arrived at the airport.
I took a mesquite smoked turkey on sourdough with smoked gouda, sprouts and dill
pickles and an ice- cold Pepsi. When I popped the tab, it hissed and little bubbles of CO2
splattered my hand.
Setting the food down on the table, I parked myself in the seat opposite Mike. ―You make
me a sandwich?‖ he asked without opening his eyes.
―Didn‘t know you were awake. You were snoring. What do you want?‖ I got up and
checked the fridge. ―Ham/Swiss? Olive loaf, meatloaf or an Italian?‖
―I do n ot snore. Olive loaf. Beer.‖
―Do too.‖ I set the sandwich on a  chinette plate and popped the cap on the beer. Sam
Adams Winter Ale. He took them from me and brought his seat up.
―Who‘s flying the plane?‖
―Charlie.‖
―Charlie?‖ He took an enormous bite and chewed quietly. Washed it down with half the
bottle.
―Auto- pilot. We‘re off flight plan and below the  radar.‖
―I take it we‘re not heading for Providence?‖
―Nope. Colorado. Private airstrip belonging to a friend. From there, we‘ll fly to Canada.
All of us.‖
―All of us?‖
―Everybody that‘s helped me and is on Chase‘s list. We need to disappear until every
mention of us is gone. I have a worm erasing us from the data but that doesn‘t remove any hard
copies they may have. Written reports and notes.‖
I ate a bite. Tasty. The Pepsi cleared my sinuses. ―We‘ll land in a couple of hours.‖
I heard the radio crackle and went forward to listen to a weather bulletin about a storm
brewing up over Kansas and three other states. It was massive. Potential wall clouds, tornad os,
vicious downdrafts, and hail with a ceiling of 50,000 feet.
―Shit,‖ I said softly. It was too high to fly above and too large to go around. Too
dangerous to fly through but I had no choice. If I deviated from my path and went higher, I
would pop out on someone‘s radar. A plane that wasn‘t supposed to be there. The Lear had an
electronic transponder that identified her call number  and was also visible on her tail.
―What‘s wrong, Lake?‖ He came forward and stared at the sleek console of the jet;
especially the co- pilot‘s controls as they followed my movements. It looked weird as the stick
moved without anyone behind it.
―Storm. A big one. Dangerous thunderstorms. We can‘t fly above it or go any higher. We
can‘t fly where we‘re at, it‘s too dangerous this l ow with downdrafts.‖
―So fly around it,‖ he suggested.
―Can‘t. I have to climb the mountain peaks and radar would pick us up. Any
unauthorized plane over certain restricted areas would trigger a terrorist alert. The Air Force
would shoot us down.‖
―Can we  head back?‖
―No. We don‘t have enough fuel to reach Providence and anywhere else would trigger
some pointed questions. Like what are we doing going in the wrong direction from our filed
flight plan?‖
―So, what‘s the plan?‖
―Pray. Keep going and hope we don‘t hit a downdraft or the ground or trigger radar.‖ I
spent the next three hours flying the plane by the seat of my pants and when we met the brunt of
the storm, it was hell on earth.
I fought to keep the Lear level at 400 feet and if she hadn‘t had an exq uisite range
contour radar heads up display, it wouldn‘t have been possible for me to keep her from hitting
the ground. Green rain, blue  lightning, and hail  made vision through the windows virtually
indecipherable and every shudder of thunder vibrated alon g the wings into the body of the jet.
I swore I could feel electricity lift my hair even though I knew the jet was grounded. Ball
lightning rolled off the wings and golf ball sized hail made me jump as it banged against the
cockpit‘s glass.
Through it all, Mike sat quietly in the co- pilot‘s seat holding his beer which had surely
gone flat. ―I didn‘t make it home alive from Iraq to die in a plane crash,‖ he said softly. That was
when I heard the pinging of a  locator beam as the electronics in the cockpit caught it.
―What is that?‖
―That is the fifty mile out beacon telling me that I‘m heading for the landing strip. We
should be able to land within the next half hour unless the storm is  as bad on  the ground and they
shut the airport down.‖
―Then what do we do? ‖
―Head for another airport where  we can land and hope we have enough fuel to reach it.
Pray that we don‘t have to answer any questions,‖ I said.
Even with a beacon, it was still hairy bringing the Lear jet down. It wasn‘t until I was
lined up with the runway that I saw the lights. Every one of them was burning with halogen
intensity. The rain was pounding the ground and I could see it shift direction as the wind veered
chaotically.
The tower told me the conditions and warned that all traffic was being grou nded or
diverted to other airports. There had already been several crashes at Denver and Pagosa Springs.
I told them that we had no choice, I was running low on fuel and nerve. The air traffic
controller told me to come in at a slight angle on R14, the wind was coming from the south and
would be behind me. 
The wheels dropped and the airspeed slowed as the undercarriage deployed, picking up
more drag. The plane shuddered and I felt the sweat springing out on my face and armpits. I
wiped my face off on my sleeve, not moving my hands off the stick. I was scared but tried to
hide it.
―You can do this, Lakan,‖ Mike said with utter confidence.
I landed the jet with a delicate bump and taxied to the waiting hangar. As the engines
died, I laid my head on the yoke an d breathed harshly through my nose with audible intensity.
Mike asked, ―so, how long have you been a pilot?‖
I looked at him with grim humor. ―Since this morning. This is the first time I‘ve flown a
plane.‖ He stared at me in horror.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I‘d  landed the plane on a small mid - western regional airport. Most of the runways were
built to accommodate small planes like  Beechcraft and Cessnas with the exception of the one I‘d
come down on. That one was engineered for anything up to a DC - 10. Most of the  flights in and
out were private planes and crop dusters, ranchers checking on their livestock and the occasional
Search and Rescue helicopter.
The Lear looked out of place sitting in the hangar but not more so than the Cadillac
Escalade parked with the engine running. Clouds of smoke from the exhaust reminded me that it
was still winter. It was  cold in the mountains; we were nearly a mile high even though we
weren‘t anywhere near Denver.
The windows slid down silently and I recognized the driver. He looked  no more pleased
to see me than the first time we‘d met.  Darren White Deer scowled and told me to get in the
back. That was the extent of our conversation for the next two hours as we drove out of town
onto the reservation. He drove recklessly through an  increasingly   vicious storm. At one point, I
swore I saw green skies and horizontal rain, the  precursors  to tornadoes but our luck held in that
we did not drive through one.
Lightning hammered the air; wind gusts shook the SUV and pushed the heavy vehicle
si deways as if it weighed no more than a beetle. Visibility on the highway through the window
where I sat was…at a good estimate…three feet. The rain came down so hard that the wipers
couldn‘t keep up and I wondered how White Deer could even see to drive let alone stay on the
pavement.
Mike tried  to hold a conversation but he couldn‘ t get a word out of the stone- faced sullen
Indian. Eventually, he pulled off the Interstate onto a seco ndary road that was just  visible enough
to see the beginnings of  a  forest. A  sign swung violently that I barely  managed to read. Sandio
River Sioux Reservation, San Juan National Sovereign  Territory. Population , 15,456 and over
one million acres. Considerably larger than the Wind River, the  Sandio  included parts of
Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. It was more affluent than the Wind River. I knew it was
where Otseno Pete had his summer home and  was within 50 miles of his ranch. No Federal
jur isdiction was allowed on the rez . So unless the feds came in illegally with SWAT, we were
safe. Not that I expected them to guess where I was; I‘d left small clues pointing  in   th e
complete ly  opposite direction; Florida.
Darren pulled up in front of a larger BIA doublewide set on the corner of a small town
complete with Circle K, grocery store, post office and health clinic. We‘d passed a feed store and
lumber yard with the Cherokee Nation sustained forest logo on the   front and sides of a new
Morton building. Most everything looked fairly prosperous and not rundown as I would have
expected.
This doublewide was neat and cared  for  with a front lawn, flowers and a back yard that
was fenced. There was a beautiful chocolate Lab getting drenched as he hung from the back gate
and barked at us.
The front door on the porch opened and George Little Bear hurried out opening one of
those huge golf umbrellas. He was followed by Otseno Pete who hollered at us to get in before
we drowned. I opened the passenger door and ran for the porch as Mike galloped behind me. We
shook hands and I spoke to both of them with rain water dripping down my face and curling
creepy fingers of cold on my neck. White Deer followed more slowly, letting the rain drench
him.
―I‘m sorry for your loss, Mr. Pete. George. I miss her.‖ I swallowed and George hugged
me. I was stiff with tensio n and suppressed emotion. I wasn‘t sure if Darren was going to haul
off and deck me and I wouldn‘t have stopped him.
―Sorry, man. Rachel told me you two were close.‖ He didn‘t look at White Deer.
―She wouldn‘t let me come back for her,‖ I said and raised my eyes to Pete‘s. ―I‘m sorry
about your pickup. I‘ll send you a new one.‖
―Insurance already paid for another,‖ he shrugged. ―Don‘t worry about it. Come in and
get out of those wet things. The rest of your party will be here by seven tonight if the storm
doesn‘t screw up any more air traffic. I can‘t believe your pilot managed to fly through this. T he
weather people are calling it the worst of the century, a monster. Who is he?‖
Mike came forward and introduced himself but forestalled Otseno by announcing t hat I
was the pilot and that it was my first time flying.
I brushed past them and entered the house, ignoring the décor or that I was dripping
rainwater on the wood floors as I headed for the fridge. Bottles of ice - cold water in a 24- pack
took up the entire bottom shelf. I emptied a 24 oz. before I rummaged through the deli drawer to
make myself a sandwich of  meats and cheeses wrapped  in  a tomato/basil wrap.
I ate; searched for the bathroom and used it to dry off my hair and face before I stripped
down to my underwear as I went looking for the spare bedroom with a dry towel tied around my
waist. I could feel their eyes on me as I stretched out on the frilly spread of what I guessed had
been Rachel‘s room. ―I‘m good,‖ I answered their unspoken question. ―We‘re okay here until the
rest of them join us or--- .‖
I pulled the quipp out of my clothes and tossed it to Mike. He caught it effortlessly. ―If
any texts come through like CKMT or K to CM, wake me.‖ I rolled over on my side and kicked
off my shoes. I lay there waiting for sleep to claim me.
I was dreaming again. The sky above me was a blue so bright that it hurt my eyes and at
the same time, I wanted to drown in it. There were movements in it that swirled and changed
both tone and hue as if it were not sky at all but sea. I had never seen the sea in real life, only
pictures, and TV.
Rachel was with me holding my hand; hers was warm but not that of living flesh. I held
spirit and that blazed with the earth‘s fire yet it did not burn me. When I looked at her, she
glowed with a golden aura that a volcano‘s heart could not match.
―Boy Who Thinks Too Much,‖ she smiled. ―I have come back this one time more than I
was allowed so that I may bid you farewell. I set your heart at ease.‖
―Because I finally listened to you?‖ I grinned. She hit me on the arm and I yelped. It hurt,
a spectral punch. ―So, you were right. You get to say ‗I told you so‘. But I still love you, Rachel.
Only, it‘s different now.‖
―I know.‖ She kissed me and it filled my body and psyche to overflowing. We stopped
walking as I felt an invisible barrier before me--- what psychics and shamans called the Veil. She
let go of my hand and squeezed forward, half of her disappearing into a thin crack. From behind
her, rays of power poured through, not  light. It would be closer to call it black lightning. Some of
the particulates  touched me and burned with an acid bite. I yelped and stepped further back.
She kept her eyes on me and that was the last thing I saw before she disappeared into  the
darkness on  the oth er side. But she was smiling.
I
The Senator was at home in his office; he considered that home more than his residence.
After all, he spent more hours in his Senate office than he did at home. This day was Thursday,
one of the rare few that he had nearly nothing to do and was taking a well- deserved nap on the
plush leather couch in the study. The odor of leather and books was one that brought back
memories of his childhood, of town libraries in the small village in which he‘d grown up and of
his father‘s own prized book collection. Prized  not because they were rare and expensive but
because they were classics and old, welcomed friends. One of his earliest memories was of his
parents reading to him as he sat in their laps. His father had been a farmer and his   mother a
teac her, neither one particularly wealthy but his dad had given him a curiosity that extended to
mechanical and electronic which he had crossed over to the new computer industry just
beginning to ground floor. He bought  into a small company called Apple and from that start, the
Senator had built a stable platform that had launched his political career. Until the day when the
stomach and back pains had gone beyond mere indigestion. The doctor had given him the
diagnosis of Stage IV liver cancer.
Strange, he mused. I never drank nor did my parents. He rubbed his belly but all he felt
was muscle and very little body fat. His metabolism although never sluggish, now was a
veritable powerhouse. No matter what he ate, it didn‘t wind up on his belly but burned off.
His phone rang and startled him. He looked over at his desk but a sudden vibration in his
pocket told him that it was his cell, not the office line. Very few people had his personal number,
his wife, and a few friends. Even his children were put  through the Senate Switchboard.
Digging his cell out of his pants pocket, he held it up to read the name and number.
OMIKAYO YOU, he read and instantly opened it.
―Lake,‖ he said warmly. ―How are you? You‘ve sure stirred up a hornet‘s nest.‖
Lake‘s voice sounded tired. ―The pawns are in play. The Bishop is advancing. The chess
board is almost empty and I need some help from you.‖
―Tell me.‖
―I need your plane and a pilot to fly these people to Canada. Can you do that without
jeopardizing yourself?‖
―It does n‘t matter if I do, Lakan. I owe you more than a measly favor. When and where?‖
―Tampico Springs. Florida. There‘s a small private airport just out of town. I‘ll give you
the phone number and coordinates  right before you leave for the airport. There will b e about 10
to 15 people. Will your plane handle that many?‖
―Yes. It‘s a Gulfstream 40, it‘ll hold twenty. Are you coming?‖the pilot crashed or
―I‘ll be there. Senator, thank you.‖ He disconnected before Lourdes could say anything.
II 
Chase sat in front o f his computer and cursed the blue screen that taunted him. An image
of an Indian chief with his middle finger thrust up flickered across the screen. Occasionally, the
face‘s mouth opened in a gaping laugh and  flapped  the finger like a bird.
Cameron bolted  in, his new laptop held open showing lines of data scrolling rapidly
down the screen.  ―I‘ve got something,‖ he spoke in a rush as he turned the laptop around.
―Senator Lourdes just called his pilot and set up his Lear to Florida and out of the country to
Canada.‖
―Where?‖ Chase demanded.
―Tampico Springs to Canada, Toronto.‖
He ordered his men to deploy a mission but Cameron stopped him.  ―Wait, Director.‖
Chase paused. ―Strongbow isn‘t stupid; he won‘t make mistakes. If he let us find this flight plan,
it ‘s because he wanted us to find it.‖
He set the small tablet down on the director‘s desk and ran a new program. One of the
items it pulled up was an obscure men tion of the sighting of Black River Pharmaceutical CEO‘s
son and his sudden interest in a small town near Philadelphia. Just where his father kept a Lear
jet of his own.
―Send a team to both places just in case,‖ Chase decided. ―Which one do you think is the
real target, Dr. Cameron?‖
―I‘m not sure of anything with him, Director. He surprised me by  coming here and even
more so by getting inside. How he got out is a complete mystery to me considering all the
security this place has. My God, just think what he could do if he wanted to break into a bank
vault, reach the president. He could topple regimes!‖
―One person, a kid couldn‘t change much,‖ Chase laughed.
―Don‘t you see?‖ Cameron looked at the Director with pity. ―He could if half the world
believes he‘s the Messiah. Look what Hitler did and he couldn‘t do anything this kid can. Caesar.
Alexander the Great. History is  filled with  men and women who changed the world. I hope yo u
remember Einstein? He had half the intellect that this boy has access to. ‖
―Are you saying that he could make a nuclear bomb?‖
Cameron snorted in disgust. ―Jesus, any third rate college student could do that off the
Internet. All he‘d need was some refined uranium and that‘s not so easy to get. Don‘t
underestimate Lakan is all I‘m saying.‖
―Surely you‘re smarter than he is,‖ Chase pointed out.
―Older, wiser, more skilled in dirty tricks and subterfuge, maybe. In straight on
intelligence, I‘m not so sure. I  couldn‘t have come up with these computer advances that came
out of Hamilton‘s research labs.‖
―I understand, Doctor.‖ Chase nodded as he stared at his blue screen and the middle
finger.
―Well, at least he has a sense of humor,‖ Cameron returned.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Nearly the entire White House Intelligence Staff was present in the Main briefing room,
from the Secretary of  Defence to Homeland Security, the President and V.P., the Chief of Staff
and most of the Intelligence Agencies. Anyone who had anything to do with  National Security
was inside the room with armed Secret Service agents parked outside the doors. The people
conspicuously absent were Director Chase of the NSA,  his in - staff assistant  Dr. Cameron, the
FBI Director and the Assistant DD of the NIA. 
President Houston raised his eyebrows. ―Where are Chase, Cameron, Rutgers and
Hauser?‖ he demanded naming those  missing.
The DoD answered him. ―Out pursuing the subject o f this meeting.‖ Mark Devereaux
threw a thick manila folder on   th e table top, passing out similar folders to each member. The  first
item in the folder was a photo of a young teenage boy, around the age  of 12. Good looking in a
delicate way   with electric blue eyes, honey - colored skin and deep mahogany red  hair. The color
called oxblood but without the usual freckles associated with redheads.
―The boy's name is Lakan Strongbow, son of Michael Hamilton Jr. a nd former FBI agent
Rachel  Strong. He is presently  15  years old and the most wanted person on the face of this
planet. Two days ago, he walked into the NSA building, accessed the Director's office, his
computer and gained entry to the entire database of NSA files. We know he copied everything
onto a flash dr ive and then inputted a worm that  erased everything pertaining to him and the
people involved with helping him.‖
―How did  he  get  in? How did you get this info if he erased it all?‖ James Belcher of the
NIA asked.
―From hand- written field notes copied off a n agent's notebook, photos taken   from the
former Director Hamilton's phone records and newspaper articles and blogs.   This kid has some
rather unique and priceless talents. Page two --- .‖  Everyone opened their folder and read the
summary on the  fifteen - year- old.
―No wonder Cameron was thrown out of several medical colleges.   The first genetically
designed human infant. What did  he  target for?‖ President  Houston asked.
―Perfection. High IQ, faster reflexes, superb  health , good looks, height, weight, superior
in   every way ,‖ he returned.
―Red hair? ‖ Houston asked having experienced the social stigma  in the school  of a
redhead sister  with freckles, one of the  unfortunate ‗carrot tops'.
― Oxblood  is the color it's called. The number one reason we need to acquire this  child is
something else entirely ,‖ Devereaux continued. ―Page 10.‖ All of them flipped to that section
and read the  headlines from both Alabama Star and the  Washington Herald.
Back from   the Dead?
Teenage Girl Saves  Family from Christmas Tragedy.
Six Hur t in Garbage Truck Accident.
Witnesses claim that Sandra Jacobi and her mother, two brothers were fatally injured in
a multi-car collision between their vehicle and a Waste Management Garbage Truck.  12-yearold Sandra nicknamed „Pickles‟ was pulled from the wreck by an unidentified teenaged girl with
what witnesses said looked like a broken neck. “She appeared dead,” claimed Roger Flynn,  a
former army medic...Also injured was Leon DeCarlos, owner of Cherokee Construction who
appeared to have been impaled front to back judging by the holes in his clothing and seat back
yet none of the victims showed signs of these wounds…Anthony Anderson, Herald.
Boy Saves US MARSHAL and Local Girl from Serial Killer/Sexual Predator.
Sami H ___, 7 years -old was last seen in the Walmart parking lot in her hometown of
Titusville, TN on Friday afternoon. Within a half hour, a search party was underway
spearheaded by a friend of the family, US Marshal Teagan Calderon Muir who also claimed to
have been murdered by the alleged suspect Everett William Morris. 
Though suffering from a gunshot wound to the chest, the boy managed to prevent Morris
from finding and abducting Sami or hurting anyone else.  The perpetrator was shot and killed at
the scene by local hunters returning from a deer hunting trip. Their identity has been released as
being members of the family of the teenage boy. He was airlifted to a Washington trauma Center
to undergo emergency surgery. His condition is  listed as critical.
Sarai Newly, Post
―Are you saying this bo y can bring people back from the dead?‖ Houston shouted.
―That‘s what they claim. We located a doctor named Albans who was killed in a hit and
run but he worked with Senator Lourdes‘ doctor. Rumor has it that Lourdes   was pulling out of
the primaries because he had stage IV liver cancer.‖
―But he looks healthy! I saw him playing basketball at the Y with some inner city kids,‖
Belcher protested.
―And on page 32, there‘s a photo of Sgt. Michael Faraday when he came home  from
Syria, with his diagnoses and injur ies, ‖ Devereaux returned. He watched as every man in the
room blanched at the cold facts of Faraday‘s genital mutilation.
―Thank God the poor bastard had brain damage a nd didn‘t know what happened, to  him,‖
he added. ―Except, this photo was taken two days  ago.‖  He  held up the camera phone with the
im age of a tall, handsome young man in leather motorcycle gear holding a black and red helmet
at his side. He wore a suspicious look on his face as he stared at the picture taker. Behind him,
the Liberty Bell showed plainly but more importantly, you could just see the beautiful green
Can- Am Spyder with it custom artwork. It was obvious that the cell phone owner had really
wanted an image of the bike.
―It was posted on U- tube yesterday,‖ Devereaux offered. ―The paint job is impressive,
it‘s Lake Compound Illusion. You know, the paint that changes its molecular structure so that it
can  be any of six different colors? Came out of Hamilton‘s research labs.‖
Houston asked, ―all these  have something to do with this kid, right? He can…bring back
the dead, heal the amputated and brain - damaged and create techno- marvels? How the fuck did
Chase keep him secret from me?  I‟m the god-damned President!”
―He kept the whole project under a black ops site with Director Hamilton‘s help. Then,
she spirited the boy away to her home. He escaped and this Dr. Albans found him, used him to
make a fortune off rich men with problems. He kept him at a variety of mental hospitals and
clinics un der lock and key, taking the boy out to pre- arranged  sites where he met
the…customers. Once again, the boy escaped from the clinic heading for the Smoky Mountains.
From all accounts, this Lakan Strongbow is a ghost in the woods. If  he makes it back to the
Rockies, we‘ll   lose him.‖
―Is that where C hase and the others are?‖ Housto n asked.
―He‘s tracking Strongbow down now, using some kind of program that the doctor wrote
on his laptop.‖
―Do we have men after him?‖ the President demanded.
―Yes, Mr. President. Our top agents and law enforcement are after both, I  have a BOLO
out on the boy with an AMBER alert so he‘ll be handled with care.‖
―Whatever you do, don‘t hurt him,‖ Houston shuddered. ―We‘d be crucified by the
religious factions if that  happened.‖
There was a rapid knock on the doors at the same time as Devereaux‘s cell vibrated in his
pocket, along with several other cells.  He read the text and nodded to the aide standing nearest
the double doors. Opening them, another intelligence drone brought in pages of paper data
handing the sheets to the Director of  Defence.
―We‘ve just received confirmation  that Senator Lourdes has ordered his Lear jet to ready
for a flight to Tampico Springs, FLA to pick up a party of 15 and fly them to Toronto. Director
Chase has also sent a team there and to Foxboro, PA.‖
―What‘s  in Foxboro, PA?‖ the NIA director asked  curiously. An older man, he tended to
fall asleep at meetings and it was well known that the Deputy Director really ran the agency.
Houston made a mental note to replace the man at the next Congressional meeting.
―An airport and another plane o wned by a client of the boy, a  Michael Faraday Sr. His
son and an unidentified pilot took off there a few hours ago, heading for Rhode Island where the
son Michael Faraday Jr. lives. Tower reported the plane as far north as Scr anton before it fell off
the radar.‖
―Fell off?‖
―Either  the pilot crashed or it dropped below 400 feet,‖ Devereaux returned grimly.
―Can you fly a jet below 400 feet?‖ one of them asked.
―Not in a Gulfstream. If the pilot did that, I‘d like to shake his h and,‖  Houston said, being
a former Air Force jock.
―If he headed west--- he flew into one monster of a storm front. They‘re closing airports
and runways from East Coast Boston to Atlanta all the way to O ‘ hare and St. Louis. High winds,
downdrafts, torrentia l rains, tornadoes,  ice, and baseball sized hail. Lightning. This storm is 800
miles wide. If they‘re caught in it, well, the ir chances of survival are slim  to none unless they get
above 100,000 feet or  go around it. Neither is likely or we‘d have picked t hem up on radar.‖
―Who‘s flying the plane? Faraday?‖
―The Foxboro Manager did the pre- flight check for Faraday and told the tower that the
pilot looked like a 15- 16- year- old boy. Blonde hair and brown eyes and that he looked ill. He
stated that he seemed to know what he was doing and said that he could fly the plane better than
the man who‘d designed it. The manager said the kid wasn‘t boasting and he watched the
takeoff . Flew like a pro.‖
―Blonde with brown eyes? Isn‘t he a redhead with blue eyes?‖
Devereaux nodded. ―He‘s also been a girl at times, pretty enough to fool men.‖
―Have you adjusted the BOLO to reflect that disguise?‖
―Yes, Mr. President. We think he dropped below the radar  to hide his destination.‖
―Where is he going? Not Rhode Island or Canada?‖
―He‘s disappearing all the people who have helped him. I think he‘d sending them to
Canada but not himself. I think he‘s going home.‖
―Home?‖
―Yes, Mr. President. I believe he‘s heading home to the Reservation where he was born,
to hide in the mountains away from Chase, Cameron and everyone that  wants a piece of him.
That‘s where I‘d send our men, to wait for him to land.‖
―You think he‘s survived the storm.‖
―I don‘t believe even a monster storm can stop this boy. I think he‘s the closest thing to a
god on this earth. I‘ve heard Director Chase refer to himself and his team as the  God Slayers. I
believe we need to make sure that they don‘t achieve their aims regarding this boy. I believe that
Allan Chase wants to use him to make himself God,” Mark Devereaux said earnestly.
―I agree, Mark. You have whatever resources you need to do this. When you bring him
in, I‘d like to meet this Lakan Strongbow.‖ 
―Yes, sir. So would I. One request, nothing pertaining to this case should be
electronically  transmitted. All records are to be handwritten or typed manually, not put into a
computer, tablet, cell phone or emails. If you do, it will disappear. He hacked into the NSA files
and downloaded a worm that eats everything related to his case. No orders, requests or
permissions will go until we re- boot and re- load the system.‖
The entire group groaned. No one even owned a typewriter anymore or had a personal
assistant that took dictation.
―Just the NSA or everywhere?‖ Houston demanded.
Deveraux shrugged. ―We don‘t know yet. The IT techs are running diagnostics at the
FBI, CIA and HS. The NIA said it wasn‘t possible for a hacker to get into their system and make
it sneeze let alone erase anything. They refuse to check.‖
―Tell them I said to do it,‖ Houston snarled and left  the room.
The Assistant Director of the NIA gave the DoD a hard sneer but nodded in agreement.
The meeting broke up, each man departing for their respective offices already on their tablets and
cell phones despite Deveraux‘s warnings. It only took minutes  to convince them that he was
correct in that Strongbow‘s worm had reached every level of US secret intelligence services.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Across the entire US from the state of Maine to Hawaii, at exactly the same time of day, a
million people received an e- mail, text, cell call, landline phone call or telegram announcing that
they had or would receive an all- expense paid trip to Toronto, Calgary, Quebec or Montreal,
Canada. Tickets were available  for an immediate download and certified as legit. Those who
were still in doubt could call any airline and verify that the tickets were real and paid for. The
airlines were deluged with phone calls and each customer was told yes, a reservation was made
and paid for in their names. Itineraries were sent and near ly 95% of those called obeyed the
instructions to use the tickets within the next 12 hours or the trip was void with no refunds.  One
quirk, the tickets were held in the name of Lake Hamilton and they were to ask for them that
way.
Within three hours, the US Intelligence services were going insane trying to stem the tide
of departing US citizens who were a strangely similar group of people. Half  were males under
the age of 40 and  the other half  females under 35. It looked like a convention of professionals
meeting for a company getaway--- only in the thousands. The airlines and hotels were agog with
the 1000% jump in revenue, all paid for out of  Bitcoins and anonymous.
Toronto Hotels had to sub- contract to accommodate them all, even using B&B‘s outside
the cit y. And they weren‘t the only large metropolitan area to be hit. Quebec, Ottawa, Calgary
and Edmonton were also inundated with American tourists.
The FBI and Homeland Security were bewildered and unable to keep track of a tenth of
the horde. In every group of hundred or so was one that resembled their quarry yet when
approached and taken into custody, fingerprints proved it was not Strongbow. Devereaux
decided that the entire mess was just a diversion as the plane trip to Florida had been.
A team intercepted the Senator‘s plane before it could take off and that group of
passengers turned out to be a Bingo group from a nursing home in the area. The Senator laughed
so hard he was in danger of choking on his own spit until one old lady with blue hair whacked
him  hard between the shoulder blades. She offered him a nip from her thermos which did not
contain coffee or tea but good old fashioned Kentucky Bourbon. 
After 12 hours of fruitless headless chicken running behavior, Devereaux pulled his tea m
back and asked f or options. It was one of his younger agents that offered his opinions. ―I‘d want
to go home,‖ he said. ―If I was leaving forever, I‘d want to look at my home one last time. He
dropped off   the radar because he did not want anyone to see him heading west. Home. Look for
him there.‖
―He was born on the Reservation,‖ Devereaux mused. ―A small one deep in the heart of
the San Juan Wilderness. It would take an army to find him.‖
―Not an army. A tracker. That‘s what Chase‘s Sgt. Aiken does. He tracks men for the
NSA and CIA. Find him or someone like him and you‘ll find this kid.‖
The DoD pulled out a map of the state of Colorado and plotted his strategy.
I
We couldn‘t fly any further and not just because of the storm. Any more use of the jet
would point an arrow straight to where I was hiding. We waited out the storm in silence, an
uncomfortable 36 hours because I had no control over the weather. Huddled in faded jeans,
jacket and used boots, I kept quiet and out of the way of the adults. I‘d found a spot at t he top of
the basement stairs, away from their arguments and grumblings but within reach of windows and
doors where I could watch the face of the storm.
The wind died around 2 a.m. and with it, the rain. The silence of the  moaning wind was
unnerving but the other noises told me that life was resuming back to normal. The hoot of an
owl, the mournful yapping of coyotes and the kree-kree-kree of a nighthawk told me that the
storm had blown out. Nature had reclaimed the night.
The air smelled of ozone, cedar limbs b roken and water stirred to mud. Of broken and
raw lumber and fires from lightning damage.
There were no sirens breaking the deep of the night here on the rez, just the cautious
sound of voices calling for help and to offer help. Voices assessing the damage .
Redline Pete and George apologized, saying that they had to go see what damage had
been done and what aid they could provide for the injured and homeless. Darren had already left
the house; the atmosphere lighter with his departure.
Mike wanted to help but hovered not wanting to leave my side. I told him to go, that I did
not need a babysitter or his help anymore. He followed Little Bear out. The silence inside the
house was impenetrable.
I descended the stairs to the basement and found the gear that I ha d asked Redline Pete to
assemble and set aside.  Gore- Tex   vest and jacket,  lined rip- stop pants, long  underwear,  and long sleeved tee shirts. Everything in drab green and browns. Boots  broke  in next to a rigid framed
backpack with  a drop cloth, tent and sleeping bag. I lifted it, it weighed over 40 pounds.
Rifle with scope, canteens and a compound bow with a quiver of hunting broadhead
arrows in camouflage. Unpacking everything, I pared it down to the bare essentials before I
stripped and redressed in the survival gear. The scar on my chest was a bare white line; it still
hurt underneath with a residual tenderness and weakness.
Last on was the aluminum framed pack. I shrugged it on only after carrying it upstairs,
through the kitchen and out onto the back po rch. It took only four steps down   from the deck and
four more to reach the majestic wilderness that  was the San Juans. It folded around me.
I walked lightly, conscious of my feet and not to leave  a sign of my passage through the
grass or on the ground. This made my going slower than normal yet I knew that I  could not leave
one clue or my friends would track me. 
Once I‘d gone a mile in through dense red pine and lodgepole, I could move faster. The
pine needles under my feet were thick enough to mask any prin ts on the rocky soil. Unless, I ran.
I had too many miles to go before I panicked enough to do that.
I walked uphill; I wanted to reach the ridges where I could look down and back to see if
anyone from the reservation had followed me. It would most likely  be hours before anyone
thought to notice I was gone and by then, emergency services would be thick on the ground
making my disappearance even harder to spot. I knew Redline Pete would have brought help in,
using the stolen money to pay for it.
The only electronic device I carried was my quipp. With it, I could contact everyone I
needed, make changes in the chess program I had set in motion and keep abreast of what was
happening out in the world without fear of being triangulated.
Walking further into the wilderness, I aimed my feet towards Conejos Peak which I knew
to be a relatively hard trail with long traversing switchbacks. It would most likely have park
visitors using it even this early in the season. One of the trails used in the National Park system,
it crossed the Continental Divide but I would only be on it long enough to cross over into Utah
near King‘s Peak. After that, I would be deep in lands not normally visited by any but the most
die- hard backcountry   hikers. I was hoping not to meet up with anyone who could authenticate
my presence as they would definitely remember a hiker carrying both a scoped rifle and bow. It
was out of season for anything but turkey. I would see mule deer and elk once I climbed higher
but  would  not need to hunt until my dr ied goods were long gone.
I walked for a good four hours before I took my first break. The forest showed the effects
of the storm. Downed trees were everywhere, m aking some places almost impassable. State
crews would have to spend months cleaning up this m ess; I wasn‘t sure if they had the funds to
do so. I wanted to make sure that I was deep enough into  the  national   forest so that my friends
couldn‘t track me down. I‘d told them my plans had been to fly out and meet DeCarlos and the
Kitwillies, going on from there by car towards the Canadian border.
My first stop was a hundred yards off the Conejos Peak trail on a small spit of land that
jutted out over the valley below me. I could see my back - trail almost to the trailhead and even
though most of it was cov ered by trees, enough clear patches existed so that I could see if anyone
was following me. There  were enough star and moonlight for my eyes to pick out movement and
the shapes of anything human. I saw only animals. Below the split was a ravine where runof f had
dug into the friable rock to make an early wet season waterfall. Such rock would also make
climbing difficult as it would not hold pitons and slide under boots. The sound of the water was
what drew me to the spot, I loved the sweet rushing of water o ver stones and the bellowing of it
as it fell in a veil of ever- changing lace. The bad thing about sitting so close to the spectacle was
that it could mask the sound of approaching predators, both  animal , and human. It was also bad
camping etiquette to hog  a water source and keep wildlife from it or to build a latrine nearby and
pollute a drinking source.
I found a semi - flat rock near a downed stump that rested against a   rising rock wall near
the face of the escarpment and eased my pack off my shoulders. It  was a good place to sit and
rest, with concealment for me yet I could watch below me. I set the pack down. I was sore, my
chest and shoulders had rubbed under the straps and load , my lower back reminded me that only
days previously, I had been flat out in an ICU with a gunshot wound.
I was starving and my first task was not to light a fire but to pop open an MRE and
activate the chemical pack that made the food hot. As meals go, it wasn‘t that bad, meatloaf with
gravy, granola bar with almonds and raisins and chocolate bar with nuts. I‘d been sipping water
from my canteen all along; I had two hanging from my pack and would refill them from any
clean spring I happened across. They were safer than drinking from the creeks and I wouldn‘t
have to use chemicals to disinfect them.
The treetops were over sixty feet above my heads even though I was sure these weren‘t
first growth giants they were still  huge. The sun was just rising, pushing back the stars and the
moon. After the storm had passed, the night had been  incredibly still and the moon bright. An
easy walk for me in the woods but not for anyone trying to follow. And I knew that they would
follow.
I leaned back against a tree trunk and closed my eyes. I would allow myself a half hour
for a breakfast break. Any longer would let me stiffen up and want to sleep. I figured I had done
maybe ten miles if I was lucky with most of that being uphill. I had gone from 8,000 feet above
sea level to over 12,000. Some of the other peaks I would have to cross would be even h igher
than that.
I yawned and rested, the food a warm nugget in my belly. Under my hand resting on my
lap was the rifle. Not as a deterrent against wildlife but for protection against anyone coming
after me. And I knew there would be, just as I knew my ruse with the free trips would only
confuse Chase and his NSA for a day or two.
The soft rustlings of the bare branches of the few deciduous trees, the soughing of the
wind through the pines and hemlocks, the quiet rushing of the waterfall all combined to lull me
to sleep. I let it, my body needed it to recover from the stress of the last few days.
I slept no more than 30 minutes, waking myself within a minute or two. The sun had
risen fully by that time. The air was crisp and chill, a faint mist hovering in t he dips as the
moisture in the air reacted with the rising temperatures.
Patches of snow covered the shaded sections yet faint green shoots of grass, fiddleheads
and snow lilies broke through the snow cover. Moss and lichens covered the rocks which
themse lves sweated off the frost from the night before.
Ground squirrels and chipmunks scolded me as I sat on my stump watching their antics,
their busy bee grocery shopping. A mountain jay dove near me, eying the foil packets that had
held my meals. I would not  leave my trash behind to kill animals or tell humans that I had been
there. It went into a separate pocket for such stuff until I could bury or dispose of it properly.
Lunch was at 12 noon. By then, I was starving, shaky and suffering from caffeine
withdrawal. I made a small fire and brewed a pot of cowboy coffee. Strong and black with the
grounds boiled right  in  the water. For a treat, I added four  spoonfuls of powdered milk and spent
an hour enjoying both the view and the coffee.
I‘d only managed another 5 or 6 miles, most of them had been straight uphill on slopes
that challenged my stamina and my calves. I was still several hours from the crest. Once I did
reach the peak, I could use the old cabin that was nestled under a ledge on the backside of the
mountain in a thicket of red pine and cedar. One room, it had a stone fireplace, bed and  a  camp
stove with two windows and a door. All covered with iron bars to keep out the bears. Next to the
house was piled a cord of wood and it was the custom of campers to replace what they used
before leaving the cabin. In the pines, someone had dropped several trees to make a corral where
they could turn loose their mounts. It was not a comfortable place to be in one of the frequent
thunderstorms that hit the area.
Someo ne had been in the cabin last hunting season and restocked, leaving notes in the
journal that went back 45 years. Other journals were stacked in the bookshelf on the far wall
going all the way back to the late 1800s when the cabin had originally been built. I did not add to
them.
Canned goods filled the shelves and an old fashioned can opener hung from the door.
Dishes were old blue chipped tin and paper, a spigot pumped water fresh from a well below the
plank floors. There was a deep dry well next to a cast iron sink and I pitied the mule that had
brought it up the mountain.
The counter was wooden with granite on top, a plank table with four mismatched chairs
and a pine framed bed with a rope box spring. The mattress was new, a twin air bed with a foot
pump  stored under the frame. There were clean sheets stored in a chest at the foot of the bed and
a down sleeping bag opened and spread out on the flat mattress.
I wasn‘t planning on staying more than overnight, it was one of those places that a
helicopter could fly to and check for me; one of the few passes I  had to use  to cross over into
Utah.
I dropped my gear inside the door and sat outside on a stump left for use as a chair so I
could watch the sun set below the mountain range.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Wearily, I dragged my feet onto the trail where markers informed me that it was 6m to
the trail head, 2m to Kitsennie Trail and 145m to the Salt Lake City cut - off. Not that I wanted to
head there, it held nothing but vast scrubby plains with no cover and plenty o f pronghorns.
I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. A fter four days of hiking, I should have been out of
Utah and in the Rockies of Wyoming. I was supposed to meet up with the Kitwillies since Leon
had returned to his home and business. Last I‘d checked, he‘d been pulled in for questioning but
since he didn‘t know where I was or anything about my plans, the authorities had finally released
him. Probably so that they could follow him straight to me. The plan was for him to meet Mike
Faraday and the Jacobis and  then they would drive up to the Canadian border entering the
Mohican reservation just over the border. Where they would disappear via Senator Lourdes‘ Lear
Jet for overseas.
I wanted a hot shower, coffee brewed in a Keurig with real half and  half, to sleep in a bed
that had a foam mattress. I wanted clean clothes and real toilet paper, the light from a  60- watt
bulb and to hear the sound of a furnace kicking on. I wanted to see the sun come up through a
frost- lined window pane and hear the sound of traffic.
When I was through feeling sorry for myself, I turned around and retraced my steps down
the mountain for a loop that connected the one I was on for the one I  should be on.
In those four days of hiking, I‘d managed to travel almost a hundred miles which in  this
terrain was quite an achievement. I hadn‘t seen a single soul in the woods but I had heard
helicopters flying search patterns and ATVs in the canyons below me. The fire towers were
beacons in the night as their occupant lit the only source of electrical illumination within a
hundred miles. I was glad I didn‘t have to climb up the tower stairs every day. Going to the
bathroom was a bitch as it was on the ground and the only way to use it was to descend  a
hundred  steps and then climb back up. It was no wonder that the Forest Rangers were in such
good shape.
I promised myself that the next lake I came upon I was going to bathe, icy water or not. I
had not read of any hot springs in the area, not until I was near Yellowstone. That part of my trip
would be  the most dangerous. People were in and out of the park, poachers had reached the
backcountry  and the Rangers had many Towers used to keep track of fires and lost tourists. 
Around 2 that afternoon, I came upon an old campsite that had seen some serious
exca vation with the remnants of a burial pit and yellow crime scene tape.
My heart pounded in my chest and I had flashbacks of a tent, two  men, and soldiers
chasing me. The two men had fed me by their campfire and put me to sleep in their tent.
―I remember,‖ I said slowly to the trees and the whispering of their ghosts. ―I remember
running.‖
I hurried beyond the clearing and before too long, I came to the banks of a deep creek.
When I looked up, I saw a thin trail that switch - backed all the way to the top but I remembered
flying, falling from the crest and landing in icy cold water that  ro lled  me down its rapids. Of
huddling in a cave made by enclosing boulders with two blue dogs that kept me warm. It took
me another hour but I found it and laughed at how small  it seemed to my 16- year- old eyes.
Something else had used it for a den, inside were small bones and tufts of red and gray fur.
From there, I found my way through aspens just unfurling their new leaves and in the
sunlit patches between the rock ledges, new  grass was pushing up. It smelled like spring and with
spring in the Rockies came the frequent thunderstorms and violent lightning that tore apart the
skies and threatened to pull down the mountains. I could feel the freshening breezes on my face
and smelled the coming moisture in the air. Any colder and it would come down as snowflakes.
I had just managed to pop open my tent and dive inside as the storm hit. Didn‘t get a
chance to tie the nylon down with pegs but I wasn‘t afraid that it would blow away with  me
inside it. Because it was camo- colored, I wasn‘t worried either that it would stand out like a
beacon if it had been red or blue.
The storm passed slowly. Laying on my stomach, I chewed on a granola bar and caught
up on the news through my quipp. The N SA and Homeland had gone crazy trying to keep track
of the near million people that had cashed in on the free trips. My  ruses to give us time to escape
seemed to be working.
The storm that had hit the reservation had killed ten from tornadoes, hitting their trailers
especially hard and causing over a million dollars in damages. Kansas and Oklahoma had borne
the brunt of the storm with the most deaths and damages. Redline Pete and his casino had
volunteered millions to help rebuild. Several airports had suffered losses and downed planes,
with Mike Faraday‘s being one of those reported missing.
I tried to send a text to Maiara but e ven my quipp could not penetrate the tree cover or the
mountains. I would  need to get out in the open or climb higher.
The sound o f the rain on the  tent changed from a demanding  roar to a gentle muttering
and I rolled over onto my back using my discarded pack as a pillow.   After four days of four
meals a day, not much was left in the pack. Mostly granola bars and dried fruit. I‘d only packed
about a week‘s worth of rations as anything more would have exceeded the 40 pounds I could
carry.
Unzipping the front of the tent, I watched as the clouds brewed a new pot of sky as they
blew apart as quickly as they came. The sun sparkled on the d ew as if the entire world was
coated in diamonds. The air smelled sweet and new, the promise of a clear evening implied in
the brilliant blue sky with no trace of white.
I had to wait for the tent to dry off enough to roll it back into its sheath. I figure d that I
could get another hour or so of walking in before stopping for the night. The sun went down
early and fast t his high up in the mountains so that  it was totally dark by 5 p.m. T he moon was
on the wane and provided little light deep in the woods. 
Trouble was, every step I took resonated deep in my memories and drew me off my
intended direction. I walked longer than I had planned and found myself at the end of a deer
track that stopped at a  rock wall towering hundreds of feet over my head. Too high to  climb and
too rugged to go around. Besides, my gut was telling me that this spot was important and one of
the places that I was meant to find. So, I went forward again until my nose was nearly touching
the granite and schist of the stones and that‘s when  I saw it--- a fold like a curtain in the rock with
a narrow passage behind it.
My heart beating like a native‘s drum chant, I slipped in and followed the twisting rock
walls, my feet scuffing through a pale yellow sand. C hunks of quartz had fallen from the walls
and I could see the glimmer of gold here and there. I stopped in amazement as the tube widened
to reveal a sheltered valley that had somehow escaped the harshest part of winter. Here, the   grass
was still green and knee- high, the trees still wore their bonnet of leaves and the air was fifteen
degrees warmer than outside the valley. Somehow, this valley had been protected from the
winter. Deer looked up from their graze and unconcerned, ignored me. The coats on these does
and fawns had not changed to winter pelt but were still the red of summer. I heard the snort of
horses and whinnies as they saw me. Two came galloping up, dancing to a stop near my
outstretched hand. I knew the names of these two bays and called them. Tango and Cash. They
crowded me, nuzzling for a treat but all I had was a protein bar. Neither cared but lipped it up,
gone in seconds. I laughed as their teeth crunched the oats and caramel to bits.
―I know you,‖ I said, tears in my eyes. Those eyes rose slowly to the far end of the valley
to see a burial platform high in the sky.   Unbidden, the Sioux death chant filled my lungs and I
sang it for the man I had called Tungasila. Grandfather. I cried then. For my grandfather, for my
mother and Rachel. I bid them all farewell at the same time as I let go of all the memories that I
had forgotten.
I knew why I had lost my way; it was my heart showing me the way to return to the land
of my people and to reclaim what I had lost. I knew the way home to Grandpop‘s  house and
would leave for it  next mor ning.
The same cave still held our supplies from the last time we‘d camped here but that could
wait. I dropped my gear but kept the rifle as I stripped down to my shorts. Running barefoot, I
loped all the way to the hot springs on the bench but once there,  I eased myself inch by inch into
the nearly scalding water. I grinned as Grandpop‘s voice teased in my head.
Groaning in pure bliss, I relaxed as the hot sulfur water unlocked the aches from my
bones. Better yet, I remembered Grandpop‘s lessons on the pla nt life and looked over my
shoulder for the soapwort I knew grew along the marshy part of the creek. Leaving my natural
hot tub, it took me only a few minutes to pull up the plant and skin the root. Slippery, the smell
fresh, I went back in and the second  time was no easier. I scrubbed until I was squeaky clean and
fresh smelling, even over the scent of sulfur‘s rotten eggs.
Bathed, I simply ran myself dry which had the added advantage of keeping  me warm.
Once I was dry, I put on my last clean set of clothes, not that anyone was there if I had chosen to
go naked but it was still a bit too cold for that.  I went back to peruse the cache of food in the
cave. Most of it was in canned goods and MREs. I opened a can of peaches in syrup and ate the
whole thing, followed by a can of spam. A lot of people sneered at Spam but I could remember
my Grandpop making gourmet meals with it. He had even stocked plastic bottles of water and
packets of cherry Kool - Aid. I could almost hear his  chuckling as I mixed up a water and shook it
till it turned a red as glowing as a garnet.
Almost as red as your hair,  he would say. Huh, who ever heard of a red-headed injun?
Then, my mom would say, He‟s related to the Firebird in the old legends. She would
gently tease me about my insatiab le thirst for the red Kool - Aid and how it turned my lips red as
if I had become a vampire. Grandpop would laugh and tell me there were no such creatures but
the Wendigo might get me if I was lazy or told a lie. So many good memories had returned and
with them, the knowledge of how to find my way home.
I went to sleep in the cave on my spread out a sleeping  bag with my head towards the
entrance where I could watch the stars. Even though I was exhausted and limp from the hot bath,
I was too excited to fall as leep right away. I lay there and listened to the night noises and heard
the horses as they grazed within yards of my campsite. Deer moved as quietly through the knee high grass as a whisper of thought. Nighthawks made their eerie cries and the wind rattled  the
tokens on Grandpop‘s grave. It became a lullaby that eventually dragged me deep into a peaceful
slumber.
I woke just as the sun finished climbing over the rim of the hidden canyon and saw why it
had fared so well during the winter. The rock itself gat hered the sunlight and reflected it back
into the valley, heating it up more than the outside forest, making almost a tropical climate inside
the bowl. I sat up, stretched and yawned. My body was very stiff and sore; I kind of wished that I
had thought to bring painkillers with me or at least some ibuprofen.
Dressing wasn‘t a problem as I‘d fallen asleep in my clothes but the first order of the day
was to dig a toilet. That chore was done, I used it and then went through the food for my
breakfast. Dehydrated eggs, vacuumed sealed bacon and muffins. I wasn‘t afraid to start a fire in
the cave or the  valley tha t of   necessity, I made a small one and then hit myself when I
remembered that Grandpop had brought a camp stove with us. And the small bottles of fuel.
Within minutes, the smell of scrambled eggs, bacon , and fresh coffee filled the cave and made
me drool. I ate with my fingers, not bothering to dig out the utensils and toasted Gramps‘ spirit
with a cup of light coffee gratis a can of condensed milk.
Tang o and Cash milled about curious as to what I was doing. I went back into the cave
and looked for a saddle but the closest thing I could find was a saddle blanket. That would have
to do, along with a rope bridle I made from some  leftover rope. I climbed on  from a tree stump,
not like they did in the movies. My chest was still too sore to go jumping up onto a bareback
horse that hadn‘t been ridden in several years. At least they weren‘t razor- back thin, I didn‘t
think my butt could handle it.  Tango didn‘t eve n step sideways. He turned his neck around and
smelled me, then waited for me to nudge him in the ribs before he started for the gap out of the
valley. Cash followed without me calling him and the rest of the wild horses trotted back and
forth but stayed in the bowl. Their whinnies carried no further than the first twist of the entrance.
I waited in the fold for a few minutes, listening to the sounds outside the passage and
watching the horses‘ ears. If anyone was close to the exit, the  horses would know a nd warn me.
When I was certain we were alone, I kicked Tango on and emerged onto the trail that led to
Grandpop‘s house. It was wildly overgrown as if all nature had conspired to hide it yet the horses
knew the way and I let them guide me.
―Take us home, boys,‖ I said and patted Tango‘s neck.
Chapter Sixty
Home. I recognized the doublewide home under the piñon trees with the spectacular view
out over the valley. In the distance, the small cluster of government housing was just visible to
the naked eye. The  village where I had been born and lived the first 12 years of my life,  i t didn‘t
look any better now than it had back then. 
The solar panels I had designed and built for my grandfather were gone. Dismantled and
taken away by Chase and Cameron‘s men to reverse engineer for their innovative design.
There were dogs in the yard. I looked for my own, Zig and Zag but these were the typical
nondescript strays that hung around the village--- not Blue Heelers. They barked lazily at me but
did not get up or come  to  investigate me. There was a newer model pickup parked near the sheep
pens and I heard the sounds of hens. Someone lived here.
Clothes hung from a line strung between the house and the nearest  treeline. On it was
men and women‘s underwear, jeans and t- shirts, socks  from   feet both  large and small.
I didn‘t see any lights on inside or smell either coffee or food cooking. I swung the rifle
up just in case but not pointing it at anyone in particular.
―Hello, the house,‖ I greeted in Siouan and the screen door b anged open to reveal a short
man dressed in jeans, wide belt with a dinner plate belt buckle, faded chambray shirt,  and down at- heels ropers. His skin was burnished copper kissed by sunlight, his hair cut short, spiky and
iron gray. His eyes crackled deep  as midnight.
―Hau,‖ I said and he responded alike, descending the steps to greet the morning.
―Coffee?‖ he asked and spoke over his shoulder to a dim figure in the doorway. A
woman spoke, asking in a high voice what was wrong .
―Nothing,‖ the older man said. ―We have a hiker from the woods.‖
―You‘re Dan Kitenanny from Bitter Creek,‖ I said suddenly. ―Grandpop‘s nephew.‖
―You know Tungasila Strongbow?‖ he asked. ―You are the one the government people
told us to watch for.‖
―What happened to Zig and Zag?‖ I asked, sliding off Tango. He stood quietly at my side
where Cash ambled over to the barn letting himself in.
―The Blue Heelers? Calico Pete from Penny Lake took them, he needed a herding dog for
his sheep at the Rancheria. You would be my great nephew, then? Lakan Strongbow.‖ He
simplified the complex fraternal relationship. I thought we were probably  fourth cousins.
I nodded and dropped the rifle towards the ground. I waved my free hand in the general
direction of the house. ―You going to call them? The go vernment agents?‖
―No. They are liars and not my family.‖
―You inherited the place?‖
―Only living relative,‖ he said in amusement. ―Course, the Feds came and stripped the
place before they let anyone back in.‖
He did not ask me where I had been or what I‘d been doing. The woman came out with
two cups of black coffee and one of those non - dairy creamers. Homemade burritos that were
cool and wrapped in aluminum foil. She was pretty but only a few years younger than Dan.
―My wife, Betsy Tsosie. ‖
―You‘re Navajo? ‖ I asked in  Dine` and she broke into a delighted spate of words where
her husband was more laconic. I told her thank you for breakfast but that I had come only to see
the home place once more before I left for good. She wanted to know where I‘d been, what  I‘d
been doing and whether Grandfather had been buried properly.
―Yes,‖ I said softly. ―As he wished and in the old ways.‖
Both were silent as we gave my grandfather a moment of respect. ―Will you come in and
rest?‖ she asked.
―No, thank you, ma‘am. There are people after me. Federal people. I don‘t want to bring
trouble down on you or the other villagers.‖ 
―We will not tell the government liars that you have been here,‖ he said. His eyes
flickered over to the two horses.
―Keep them. They were Grandpop‘s a nd I can‘t take them where I‘m going,‖ I said
easily. I took the mug from her with my left hand and flipped the rifle over my shoulder where it
hung out of the way.
Adding capfuls of creamer, I made the coffee light and took a cautious sip. Hot and
strong as a burning tire. ―How long have you lived here?‖
―Two years. Major Two Snakes called us and told us that Grandfather and you had
disappeared and the animals needed care. He looked into Grandfather‘s affairs and found a will
filed at the Courthouse in Cortez. It left the place to you under my guardianship. We couldn‘t
find you, either.‖
―Was there any money?‖
He nodded. ―A sizable amount--- over 50,000 dollars. We haven‘t touched it.‖
―My mom‘s life insurance,‖ I swallowed. ―It‘s yours. I don‘t need it. Whe n did they take
the solar array?‖
―Before we came,‖ he answered.
―You‘re using kerosene or the generator?‖
―Wood stove.‖
―I can help you put in a wind turbine to generate electricity, you won‘t need to buy
gasoline,‖ I offered and he smiled.
―The old ways are good enough for us.‖
―Yahta hey,‖ I said and finished my coffee. They watched me walk slowly down the long
rutted road that had been our driveway. It was a two- hour drive to town by car but that was
because you couldn‘t go over ten miles per hour or you risked taking out your oil pan. Plus, I
could take shortcuts a vehicle couldn‘t.
I had spent more time hiking than I should have and by now, Mairy and Robin would
have been waiting a day longer than they expected at the rendezvous point. Once I was sure  I had
a cell signal, I texted her a message and told them to meet me at the next point. I would be
arriving by mechanical means. I put everything in Abenaki rather than encrypt the message and
besides, the English translation was even more confusing than t he Indian.
I reached town about noon, and the only sign of life was at the grocery store. Several old
and rusty pickup trucks were parked out front. No one jumped out and said ‗hey! You‘re dead!‘
or ‗the Feds are looking for you!‘
It was dirty and even more squalid than I remembered, the empty clinic building a strong,
scary reminder that the government still decided the life and fate of the reservation‘s people. I
hesitated to pass by its broken doors and then opened the glass door to the store. Part groce ry,
pharmacy, post office and bus depot, it served the needs of the reservation in all ways but one.
You couldn‘t buy beer or liquor there but had to go all the way into Cortez.
The woman waiting on the few customers was Rosie Lopez, a half- blood Sioux that had
known my mom but she was so busy that all she said to me was  wait, that she‘d be with me soon.
I doubted she would recognize me, my hair was still blonde and my eyes brown from the
contacts I still wore. I nodded and wandered the aisles, picking up a   few candy bars, chips, and
snacks. A cold Pepsi from the cooler, one of the few places on the rez that had ice. I drank it as
fast as I could chug it. It didn‘t mix well with the remains of the bitter coffee.
―You have a bus schedule?‖ I asked and she hoo ted as if I had said something hysterical. 
―Ain‘t no buses come out here, not since the clinic shut down. You want to catch a ride,
you got to go out to Bitter Springs Corner and wait. One comes by every day or so.‖
―Thanks.‖ I left a ten on the counter and told her to keep the change; her eyes tallied what
I held and she nodded.  Her voice followed me.
―You could hitch a ride with Deputy Chisholm. He‘s going that way to Cortez.‖
I pretended not to hear her but exited the store. The last thing I needed was t o spend a few
hours riding with a cop, even a Sioux Nation one. I walked across the street to the only gas
station in town and re- filled my canteens. It was a long walk out to the Crossroads and no water
between here and there. I bought a six- pack of bottled water from the clerk and stuffed it in the
backpack. Putting one foot in front of the other, I walked the lonely road out of town. The only
paved road in town. I stepped off to the side and squatted when the sheriff‘s car flew by and he
did not see me.
Dusk was nipping at my heels by the time I‘d reached the state highway but here at least,
traffic was frequent enough that I could have hitched if I wanted. I didn‘t take the chance, I
waited at the only stop sign for the last fifty miles, praying that a b us would come by before
night fell. The only cover here was the encroaching darkness, the trees started at the base of the
hills, a good hour‘s hike from the road. Everything between was nothing but road and sparse
brush. The shoulders of the road did not  have a gully where I could have lain flat and hidden.
I set the backpack down on the ground, a dry reddish dust that had not seen rain in quite
some time and sat with my legs stretched out in front of me. My feet hurt and my calves were
tired. My whole bod y thanked me with eternal gratitude that it was prone and not moving.
I wasn‘t sure if the bus driver would let me bring the rifle on board but might let me store
it in the luggage compartment underneath the bus. Of course, it would have been better if the
rifle was wrapped up or in a case but maybe because he or she was going through Sioux
Sovereign Territory, he or she would bend the rules. It would be unloaded, in any case.
It was near enough to 9 p.m. when I spotted the big headlights of a bus or 18 wheelers.
He slammed on the brakes before he got close to me, stopping a good bus length beyond the
sign. I heard the air brakes chatter and the pneumatic hiss of the door as it opened.
It wasn‘t a Trailways but another local company out of Tucson and the dr iver was a
tough, no- nonsense Latino woman in a gray uniform.  Her name was on  the breast pocket of her
shirt, Juana Rodriguez and she had a wedding band on her right index finger. She was a round 40
with big hair and no make- up.
―Almost didn‘t see you,‖ she said in Spanish. I held up my rifle and raised an eyebrow.
Grumbling, she told me to unload it as she rose from her seat to join me at the luggage
compartment. I handed her the bullets and she tucked them into her pocket as she unlocked a
steel box welded to the frame in the huge space reserved for bags. I followed her in, taking an
empty seat as she deposited the bullets into ano ther lockbox near her feet.
There were quite a few empty seats with all the filled ones occupied by drunk
Am erindians.  ―Twenty bucks for the fare,‖ she said. ―Or a waiver card if you‘re drunk.‖
I handed over a crumpled twenty and she stared at me.  ―You‘re not running away, are
you? How old are you?‖
―Sixteen. No, ma‘am. My dad is meeting me at the Walmart in Cortez. I‘ve been on m y
vision quest.‖
―Did you have a vision?‖ she asked and realized that she had asked me one of those taboo
questions; as personal and private as if she‘d asked how I masturbated. 
One of the drunks gasped and muttered a curse. She apologized and took my mone y,
reseated herself as she popped the clutch. The big coach lurched forward. Soon, we were doing
80mph down the arrow straight blacktop and she didn‘t slow down until w e started climbing  the
hills into the city.
It was three in the morning when the big coa ch pulled into the bus depot. I started to rise
but the driver told me that I could stay and ride the rest of the way to the Walmart as that was
where most of the passengers were going.
―Probably to wind up in the drunk tank,‖ she muttered sourly. ―That‘s  all I do, ferry
drunks back and forth.‖
―Maybe they can‘t help it,‖ I told her. ―No jobs, no careers and no hope. Just a shack on
the reservation and a welfare check. No  self - respect and we‘ve lost our cultural heritage. You
know that our teenagers have the highest rate of alcoholism and suicide in the country?‖
―What about you, son? You don‘t drink.‖
―I‘m a genius,‖ I shrugged. ―One of a kind but there are times I‘ve thought about suicide
myself.‖
One of the drunks came forward. ―Hey, man. Don‘t talk like  that. You had a vision. I
wanted to have one and never did  no  matter how many times I tried.‖
―Yes,‖ I said quietly. ―I saw the Firebird rise up from the ashes of the white man‘s cities
and burn it all to ashes. The only thing left standing was an elk and  a red- haired boy on his back.
An eagle fell from the sky and was snatched by a great bear who in turn, was destroyed by the
Firebird as it changed from yellow flames to red and then blue- white.‖ I spoke in Siouan so she
could not understand but the others did and it sobered them all.
―You,‖ the first man said reverently. “You are the Firebird.”
Chapter Sixty-One
I had to convince Mrs. Rodriguez to leave me. I could see she wanted to wait until I
handed myself over to my supposed adult father. I didn‘t see e ither of the Kitwillies but I  pushed
her unease aside and she drove off more worried about meeting her time schedule than me. She
did ask one of the other passengers to keep an eye on me. All six agreed and hung out in a cluster
that made the Walmart greeters and other customers nervous. It didn‘t help that I carried a rifle,
either. None of them ventured inside to buy beer nor  were they as drunk as they had been on the
bus. I wouldn‘t say they were  sober but close enough that no cop could hassle them over  it. Not
that the cops needed a reason to hassle  Indians.
―You don‘t want to buy beer?‖ I asked surprised. All of them shook their heads
sheepishly. They sorta looked like a herd of befuddled sheep. None of them were over 30 and
actually, I thought 25 was s tretching it.
―What are you going to do?‖ I asked  them and each one of them came up to me and
asked for a blessing in the old way.
Astonished, I gaped at them. ―I‘m no holy man! You think I can bless you? Better you go
home and talk to the priest. He can c hange your life, not me!‖
―You changed our lives, Shaman,‖ First Man said. ―You gave us hope. I am going back to
the Rez and I will tell my people of your vision.‖ He turned on his heel and walked off with the
others following like stunned deer in the head lights.
I shook my head and wandered the parking lot remembering the last time I‘d done that.
Not such a g ood idea but at least Sami and TG were still safe. 
My quipp buzzed in my pocket and when I pulled it out to read the text, I saw that it was
from Mair y. They were on the way and I was to meet them on the road out of town heading for
the Cisco Mountain Pass.
Why there? Im  at Wallyworld.
We were followed. Had to ditch the truck. DHS found us Denver.
How???
Saw C&C. had an Injun tracker w/. looked Dinee, found ur tracks Big Creek, saw Robin.
B careful. Know where ur headed.
Went there. Saw my cousin Dan K. and his wife BT.
There was a long pause and then a spate of words. Lakan, ur cousin Daniel Kitenanny
died in a car crash two years ago w/wife and 3 kids. He was driving drunk. Did they give you
anything? Touch your things? Feed you?
I had coffee and burritos. No one stopped me or has followed me.  Im  fine---no drug
effects or sickness.
You could be tagged!!!
I did not sense any deception from either of them! He looked like my grandfather‟s
nephew!
Get out of there, Lakan! Run! Hide! We‟re coming for you!
I shut her off and went searching through the classifieds looking for a reasonably priced
off - road motorbike and called as soon as the clock turne d to 8 a.m. I didn‘t want to wait that long
but calling someone at four in the morning was sure to piss them off. The seller sounded like a
teenager and he agreed to bring the bike and a helmet out to the parking lot of the Piggly - Wiggly
on state highway 79 at 11:00 a.m. which was the soonest he could drag his ass out of bed. I
wanted to test drive it before I bought it.  I spent the rest of my morning at the McDonalds eating
breakfast burritos and drinking coffee, the rifle now wrapped inside a used paper c ylinder I‘d
found in their dumpster. It smelled vaguely like French fries but it did a great job of disguising
the rifle.
When the kid saw me, he almost backed out of the deal thinking I was too young to have
the money. I had to give him a deposit upfront  and show him the full amount in my Bitcoin
account before he agreed that I could buy the bike. He signed the pink slip and I transferred the
coins, all four thousand into his Amazon account. He handed me the helmet. I took it for a quick
spin around the lo t and found it had been used hard but still had plenty of rubber and spring. The
engine sounded sweet, throaty and no oil leaks. It would do.
―How are you getting home?‖ I asked and he said I could give him a ride back. He wasn‘t
more than 18 himself, thin and with a bad case of acne. 
―I live in Red Hill.‖ That was just outside Cortez near my meeting place with the
Kitwillies.
―Okay,‖ I said.
―But I‘m driving.‖
I hesitated but shrugged. ―Okay.‖ I climbed on behind him and held onto the sissy bar as
he took off. There wasn‘t a lot of traffic but enough to make me nervous. I liked riding the bike,
even one as small as the Honda. He rode like an indestructible teenager with a death wish but
managed to reach his house without dying, wrecking the bike, mailboxes or even a scrape. He
lived in a nice house in the burbs with a Volvo SUV parked in the driveway.
―Great,‖ he muttered. ―Mom‘s home.‖
―Why are you selling the bike?‖ I was curious.
―Too small and too slow,‖ he shrugged. ―Besides, I want a Ducati.‖
Huh. If he could afford that, he had some serious money. ―Well, thanks. Good luck.‖
He jumped off and went in without a backward  glance or another word. I backed up, rode
off and popped a wheelie just because I could. And it felt good.
I was careful on the highway , not taking the bike above 50. I wanted to feel how it
handled on the pavement as well as off so I took it on the shoulder and further out onto the sandy
scrub beyond the road. I raised clouds of dust making me glad that I was wearing a helmet as the
visor kept most of it from getting in.
I was just about to head back onto the pavement when I saw a string of red and white
lights go flashing by and then heard the sirens as county sheriffs and state police SUVs blasted
past. I hit the brakes and let the bik e idle to a stop setting my feet on the ground to hold it
upright. It was heavier than I expected and strained my arms and chest. I wasn‘t as healed as I
thought.
I checked the quipp, set it to the local police band so that I could hear the chatter.
Strang ely, there wasn‘t anything on the band so I tried Mairy‘s cell.
??? I texted and she answered a few minutes later.
Wuzup?
Police just blasted by. CSP and locals. U OK?
Nothing here. How far u?
Not far, I texted back. How‟s Leon?
There was a  wait and then she texted me. He‟s in the bathroom. We stopped at the Circle
K for sodas.
Great. Get me my usual. Be there in 10, 15.
Miss u. Hurry.
I veered off into the brush but kept the bike‘s speed down so that I didn‘t kick up dust
clouds but it took me longer to reach the cutoff. I followed the dirt bike trails of which there were
many crisscrossing the high desert of chaparral grass, cedar, and cottonwoods. In places, it was
so thick that I couldn‘t see my way through and   that made me less worried that anyone would
spot me. Unless they were in a helicopter.
From the message sent me from Mair y‘s cell phone, I knew something was wrong. She
should have known that Leon had gone back home. I had a bad feeling about them and stopped
the bike to unwrap the rifle and make s ure that it was loaded before I continued on.
I rode the bike up to a mile from the cutoff, dropping it in a dry wash that came down
from the beginning of the hills. They were piñon green and sandstone red. Behind me rose the
foothills into the Wyoming wilderness where no one could find or track me. 
I crept to the back of the Circle K sitting at the junction of two highways , one of which
led up into the mountains to the town of Red Cat. From there, you could depart  from the
Yellowstone National Park, a land  that even today, people could not fathom, were frequently lost
in, found dead or not found at all.
Home to bison, elk, mule deer, grizzlies and newly released  wolves as well as mountain
lions, it was a predator‘s paradise. Even  if some of those were human .
The Circle K was a large one with a Subway inside it and an attached car wash. There
were several trucks parked outside, two at the pumps getting gas and one at the pay for air
checking their tires.
The people I saw were ordinary, overweight and clearly  not the agents I was expecting.
None of them had out of state plates and at least one of them should have--- Robin and Maiara
had driven up from  Tennessee. None  was  from the D.C. area and none  was rentals. I watched to
see if there were any cameras outback and scanned the front using the quipp. It  told me that no
one inside was using anything more than a cell phone, no one carried a concealed weapon or ear
mics. I couldn‘t be sure if any were undercover police or FBI but I could piggy- back my quipp
into the ir CCTV  coverage and see what their cameras saw.
The  interior of the store was the typical gas station/convenience/video rental store. It  had
two  huge freezers in back next to the restrooms. One carried dry ice for the long journey from
store to home  where  that could be a hundred miles round trip in   the  high   heat of the desert and
the other carried bags of ice.
They offered live worms and flies for fishing once you rose higher into the mountains,
there you could fish   for  trout.
Several customers were wandering the aisles, picking up beer and chips, jerky and coffee,
water and ice. The heavy woman and skinny man at the pump came in and paid for their gas. The
woman  with cash and the man used American Express. My quipp  told me the amount of each
sale, the  gall ons, credit or debit,  his pin number,  name, and address. He was from Farmington
and she was local. The two clerks, an Indian   girl with long braided hair was pretty in her green
shirt with the Circle K logo. The man was a few years older and  seemed  nervous, constantly
flicking his gaze back and forth to the CCTVs.
He looked white, red from sunburn on his pale skin but his arms were heavily tanned as if
he was an outdoorsman. Hair and eyes dark with a short cut that was almost a buzz. He wore an
expensive watch on his right hand.
My quipp  vibrated and I looked at the text screen. I looked at another message.  Where r
u?
My car broke down im  walking to the station. Should b there in 20min or so.
Well come get u.
?about all the cop cars I saw?
Theyre going to a big reck  at the I 18whls hit a school bus.
I looked around and didn‘t see a single police vehicle parked anywhere I could see  that
they could park. Unless they were hiding in the brush and even there, I would have seen some
sign that they had gone in, a d ust cloud, broken brush, tire tracks. I saw nothing like that.
K. meet me at mile marker 277, she texted.
K. I punched back.
I saw two people exit the store, a  man, and a woman. Both looked the same size, build,
and general description of the Kitwillies but then, they would be in a disguise. This woman had
dark hair tucked through the back of a baseball cap and wore a thin summer sundress with worn
sneakers and a wide leather belt. The man was  sandy - haired  with light eyes and wore a tan hoody
with black jeans and lime green sneakers. Expensive Jordans.
They moved as a team, getting into one of the pickups--- a Dodge 4x4 that looked like an
older model, 05. One of the few that didn‘t have a pair of rifles hanging behind the driver‘s seat.
I watched them drive off and then another couple followed speaking into their hands as if
they had radios. I didn‘t see any cords hanging from their ears but micro - radios were much more
sophisticated than portrayed in the movies.  They could be as small as a mud spot on your  hem. I
didn‘t watch the next ones  leave, they were Afro- American and so obviously cops that no one
would mistake them.
When the convenience store was empty of customers, I sneaked up to the back door by
the dumpster and unlocked the electronic keypad with  my downloaded code.
I didn‘t realize how hot it was until I was inside the air- conditioned cooler and backroom .
Sticking my head out, I said hi to the clerks and watched them whirl around in shock. The male
almost went for the gun hidden under the counter.
She jumped over the counter and hugged me. Then she hit me. I yelped.
―Lakan,‖ she cried. Maiara looked nothing like I‘d last seen her, nor Robin.
―Great disguises,‖ I admired, grinning. He hugged me, too but I  stopped the punch before
he could finish it.
―How‘d you know the texts weren‘t from us?‖ she asked.
―Well, they were until they found the frequency and stole my transmissions,‖ I admitted.
―Somewhere near the village where I grew up. I guessed something was up when that local cop
went flying by me.  Luckily, they thought you were still on your way to meet me, not already
here. You ready to leave?‖ They nodded and we went out the back door.
Chapter Sixty-Two
We drove back to where I had left the bike and Robin helped me lift and toss it into the
back of the truck, tying it down with ratchet straps of blue nylon. Then, Robin drove off into the
brush following my directions towards the borders of the park.
Once we found the main road that was black- topped, Robin cranked the big truck up to
75 and pushed it as hard as he could. Mairy gave me the once over.
―You sure you‘re alright?‖
―Yup. I‘m fine. A few irritating blisters from my backpack rubbing,‖ I shrugged.
―No, you idiot. Your wound.‖
―It‘s nearly healed.‖ I opened my shirt and showed her. It was o nly a thin red line under
the sutures. Mairy pursed  her lips.
―Those need to come out.‖
―Haven‘t exactly had time to worry about that,‖ I grumbled. ―Been busy running. From
the government. Spies, assassins and all that.‖
―Well, we‘re stopping at the cabin and fixing that,‖ she ordered just as Robin hit a
pothole the size of Kansas. The bike slammed into the bed with an awful crunch. I winced.
―Where is it?‖
―Small town north of Red Cat. Near the Devil‘s Breath, it heads all the way to Montana
and Canada.‖
We traveled the back roads and small state highways into the night. Stopping only at
secondary routes with small gas stations for gas and snacks. Robin paid for the gas with cash, he
had nearly a hundred thousand in an old duffel bag with St. Louis Cardinals on it. It sat between
him and Maiara. I rode in the jump seat taking naps and eating the junk food he‘d bought at the
stations. I had rewired the radio so that we could pick up every police, fire, rescue and
emergency bandwidth  to monitor all the channels and hear what was going on. And it scared me.
I heard nothing.
Not even on the radio, TV channels or my quipp accessing the news reports. It was as if
the entire country was in the middle of a news blackout.
―Something‘s…not right,‖ I mumbled as Robin turned down another state road onto a
rural route. We were headed over the border into Montana , at the foothills of the ridge that
became the Rockies. Some of the wildest country in the world. Forests so thick that a horse
couldn‘t make its way through it, w here cliffs were a footfall away from the  solid  ground and
mountains that topped out at over 16,000 feet in elevation. Where the weather changed from 65°
to 25° in the matter of hours and lost campers were the victims of grizzlies, falls or exposure.
Victims of their own stupidity.
These were all pine,  hemlock, and spruce which was all that grew above the frost line.
Huge trees that had umbrella skirts to the ground and you could hide a marching band beneath
their bows. The ground was soft loam covered with pine needles and ferns. Not much light made
it down past the hundred foot crowns; it was a sort of twilight in there.
Both of them were watching my face as we emerged into a tiny clearing with a small
cabin made of logs. A covered porch circled the front ; I saw no electrical wires feeding to the
cabin nor lights on in the windows. Two with a door between and bear bars across all three. A
large stack of split firewood lay some yards away from the porch with an ax stuck into a stump.
―Generator?‖ I asked.
― Wood stove, kerosene lamps. Well water from a pump spigot in the house,‖ Mairy told
me.
―Who owns it?‖
―Some family in Boston. Bought it after the ‗Twilight‟ craze. Bigfoot nuts used it to film
a docu - drama.‖
―Humph,‖ I grunted. I looked at the sparse grass and few tire tracks as he brought the
truck to a halt. Opened the door and stepped out, checking the bike in the bed. It had a few more
scratches but the biggest problem was that the gas tank had leaked from lying on its side.
―We only came up here twice,‖ Robin said. ―We stayed in town, mostly, except for
bringing in supplies.‖
―We stay the night or go?‖ she asked and I hesitated.
―I don‘t know,‖ I was confused. ―Something doesn‘t feel right about the mad rush of
emergency vehicles out of town and the cops, the so- called bus accident and the lack of activity
on the scanners is…odd. I ought to be able to pick up  some chatter about my escape. About the
hacking of the NSA, the free Canadian trips. Something.‖
I sat on the edge of the porch while they went in side and started packing for our
departure. Top of the line stuff, all geared for the serious hiker and survivalist.
Reprogramming the quipp, I checked the Darknet and there, I found rumors that were
flying at the speed of light.
The Messiah was on earth.  Earth had found an immortal. A person who could heal the
sick and raise the dead. The NIA had him. The CIA wanted him. The President had issued a $5 -
million- dollar reward for his capture. Russia was sending people to steal him. China already had
agents here closing in. Israel wanted him and even Rome was becoming interested in this
‗miracle‘ person.
Oh God. There were even pictures of me. Both as a girl and a male. Photoshopped
images of me to show what else I might look like.  My face paled and both of them stopped piling
to ask what was wrong.
―Did you buy all this stuff from one place?‖ I asked, my throat tight. Three piles sat on
the meager grass, three backpacks, three compound bows, quivers stocked with hunting points,
three sleeping bags, three small o ne- person tents, three sets of rescue grade first aid kits, camp
pots, water purification tablets, food freeze dried and vacuum packed. Sets of clothing in space
bags, boots, socks, lanterns, GPS, detailed  waterproof contour maps, whistles, flashlights and
glow sticks.
Everything and I meant everything you could possibly need or want  for the trip was on
the pile. Two of the piles were considerably larger and I assumed that one was Robin‘s and the
other mine until I saw ladies boots next to the pile. Mine w as the  smallest as if they thought I
could not carry my own weight.
―We bought them from two different places,‖ Robin said defensively. ―On three separate
days. Walmart and Dick‘s Sporting Goods.‖
―Big purchases?‖
―Four hundred or so each time. Chain places,‖ he answered.
―Cash?‖
―We burned my credit cards,‖ he nodded. ―Mairy is too young to get one.‖
―I sent you some,‖ I pointed out.
―We used them to pay for the truck and the rentals. Hotel rooms. Nobody takes cash for
those, anymore.‖
―That‘s okay. They were legit cards from real people. The NIA can‘t track them easily
without corroborating their actual physical presence and that would take days‘ even if their
computers weren‘t compromised.‖
I showed them the stuff circulating on the Darknet. ―There should  be the same thing
going on in the news, radio and Internet. There‘s  nothing. ‖
―If they know you‘re here, then why haven‘t they stepped in to grab you?‖ Mairy asked
looking around nervously.
―If they knew where I was, they‘d already be here,‖ I agreed. ― Unless, they are waiting to
catch all of us.‖
―Are they smarter than you?‖ Maiara asked in a surprised way. I snorted.
―There‘s always someone smarter than you think you are, especially if they‘re older and
sneakier. Not that there are rules but there  are so me things I just won‘t do.‖
―Like what?‖ Robin stepped in, dropping the last bit of gear on the pile.
―Like kill a kid. Or a pregnant woman. I have no qualms about killing a woman if she‘s
pointing a weapon at me. Desecrate a burial ground. Turn on a friend. Or lie to one.‖
Neither of them   said anything until Robin gestured to the pile. Slightly huge. I wasn‘t
sure if it would fit inside the nylon - framed pack. I rolled my eyes.
―That‘s a blivet, you know.‖
―Blivet?‖
―10 lbs. of shit in a 5 lbs. sack,‖ I sni ckered and stood up to help. 
We had finished by the end of the hour. It would have taken less but when I said we
didn‘t need something, Mairy would argue that we did. So, it took twice as long as it should
have. After that, we went inside the cabin and it  was a nice surprise; lined with honey colored
tongue and grooved horizontal planks. Comfy couch, table and four chairs, two twin beds and a
cook stove set against the native rock chimney. A small counter top was split by the old fashioned spigot water pump and the water came out clean and pure, Colorado Rockies‘ finest. It
was ice cold.
Kerosene lanterns hung from the walls. Bright flowery curtains hung down from the two
windows and matched the colors in the southwestern rug on the plank floors and in the s ame
covers on the beds.
―Toilet?‖
―Outhouse out back. And an ice- cave where they stored stuff. Pretty cool, actually. The
owners found a cave and made it into a root  cellar, wine cellar/ice box. Water drips in through
the rocks and freezes in the back of t he cave. He put in stainless steel shelves and wine racks. It‘s
about the size of a large storage trailer. No exit other than the way in but it‘s really hard to find.‖
―Only one way out is a death trap,‖ I returned and sat on the bed. It was a hard mattres s.
Mairy came over with a small kit that I recognized. Medical stapler and remover. Alcohol pads
and ointment. She gestured and I pulled my t- shirt over my head. Both of them stared at the spot
where I had been sawed open and put back together. It was sore  underneath, deep under the
bones.
―Would you have died, Lakan?‖ she asked, her fingers soft on my skin yet they burned
with a heat that could not be described. Sexual yet mystical. Soft yet the weight of eternity.
―Maybe. If   the blood loss had been too great or the shock interfered with my brain. I
think if my brain was destroyed and not enough left, it couldn‘t re - build the system. I don‘t
know. Something switched off when I had the accident that killed my mom but it also switched
on later when Cameron te sted me. I hid it from him and my grandpop for a while.‖
She regarded me with  her arctic blue eyes but her hair was still black and braided. I gave
the braid on the right a small tug and the wig came off to reveal a short crop of blue curls.
―You cut your  hair!‖ I said in dismay.
―It‘ll grow back. I tried to tuck it under the wig but it was hot and itchy,‖ she shrugged.
―What is it with men and long hair? Shut up and let me do this.‖ She leaned into me, gave me a
quick tease of a kiss and then proceeded to tear my flesh out. I yiked as scorpions bit me.
―Oh my God,‖ she laughed. ―Don‘t be such a baby!‖
In her  hand, she held two tiny metal staples that had felt as if she was tearing me open
with fish hooks. In rapid order, she removed the rest and wiped off the tiny spots of blood with
an alcohol wipe smearing antibiotic cream down the scar. I looked as if a slug had slimed me on
his way to the cabbage patch. Then, Maiara proceeded to give me a kiss for each staple. Halfway
through, Robin gave me a disgusted  snort and slammed the door on the way out. When she got to
the last one, she kissed me there and sent tingles of lust and joy throughout my whole body.
The room blued. She looked up at  my belly and smiled as the blue glow flowed over her.
It made her shimmer in a cloak of beauty, outlining her as if she wore only an aura of light.
Then, around her pulsed the same corona only hers was an icy orange and I  watched in
amaz ement as the two merged to become a white hot radiance that could have melted the stars.
Her ghostly arms wrapped around me as both of us floated above the bed, our clothes
somehow gone. We were melted into each other, auras bonded and when the mortal part of me
slid into hers, it was as if the entire universe trembled on the brink of some sacred and awaited
paradigm. When we both exploded, I heard Rachel‘s laughter in my head and saw my mother,
great- grandfather, and ancestors standing by with approval in their posture.
Rachel‘s voice whispered, ‗I told you so‘ before I forgot them in the pleas ure and
rightness of where we were.
Maiara gasped and we floated down towards the bed. I opened my eyes and saw her
glowing face watching as that spectral illumination faded.
The blue- white glow in the room remained. I lifted my hands and they bloomed with  it,
leaving   traces in the air like the tails of a comet. Oddly, we were still dressed but the scar on my
chest was completely gone. Mairy‘s hair and skin color were back to normal.
―Wow. That was some light show,‖ she giggled sounding like the teenager she was. She
kissed me on the forehead. ―Are you hungry? I could whip up some scrambled eggs and bacon.
There are some fresh foods in the icehouse.‖
I didn‘t want to sleep but I was hungry and the more I thought about food, the faster the
glow dissipated.
Ro lling over, I grabbed my shirt and pulled it back over my head, smoothing it into my
jeans as I went to the door. I found Robin furiously chopping wood, his body covered in sweat.
―Robin. Stop.‖  He slowed and slammed the ax e  into the stump, his shoulders r igid.
―Robin?‖
Turning around, I saw his face. It looked both puzzled and embarrassed. More so when
Mairy called for him to come in. S lowly, he walked over to me, his eyes questioning.
―Man, that‘s my baby sister, you know?‖ he said gruffly. ―I can stand  the kissing but---You were only in there for a few minutes.‖ His eyes widened as he saw the last of the fading
blue glow.
―Mairy?‖ he asked plaintively and she turned, still in all her clothes with a spatula in her
hand.
―Robin  Redbreast,‖ she teased gently and her face was the face of a woman, not a girl.
Robin‘s eyes grew huge and he swallowed as awe- filled  his body. He gripped the doorjamb and
almost fell. I  reached out a hand and held him up with no effort at all. Where the words came
from I didn‘t know.
―Be at peace, my brother,‖ I said in Welsh and Abenaki. He nodded and came in to sit
and eat with us.
Chapter Sixty-Three
We loaded up as soon as the sun rose not that it made much difference in the amount of
light in the woods. The birds were the first  to break the silence and then the chutter- chutter of the
frogs. An eagle called overhead; I wished that I could see it gliding on the thermals. The air held
a hint of moisture, rain or early morning dew. Only a few hours would tell us the outcome.
Mairy had made breakfast burritos with the last of the eggs and bacon. And coffee. We
drank most of it so she made another pot and we used that to fill our thermoses.
On the way out of the cabin, Robin took one last look before he locked the door leaving
the keys  in the front seat of the truck.
―The bike?‖ I wanted to take it but riding in the woods was stupid. Plus, there was only
the one so someone would still have to walk, it was out of gas and was too loud announcing our
presence. Besides, we were headed into a  no- vehicle zone and that was one way to draw negative
attention to us. 
―Someone will find this place, the truck and put it together. By then, we‘ll be long gone,‖
Robin shrugged. ―Ready?‖
I nodded and stepped out of the clearing weaving my way through the close- knit trees
following  no trail because there wasn‘t one. Within minutes, my lower legs were soaked even
through the treated nylon of our outerwear.
We hiked on a steadily rising slope through trees so large that a lumber broker would
have drooled in ecstatic greed yet these were protected from logging. We came across a
blowdown where the wind had funneled through a small gully and made a maze of dead and
fallen giant matchsticks. It was open enough so that we could see the sky and looked up to the
gia nt peaks of the Sawtooth Range. A hundred miles over that first ridge lay El Capitan and the
heart of Yellowstone.
We saw no one and when we camped for the night, it was always in a place where we
could escape in at least three directions yet not where anyone could see our fire. I dug pits for the
fire so that the heat could escape but the flames were not visible unless you stood over it. All we
used it for was to boil water and make coffee with the occasional hot soup.
Our backpacks held a week‘s worth each of food and when the dried stuff ran out, we had
protein bars and could hunt and fish.
We saw views that only John Muir would have seen and documented, places where the
ordinary person never got to go. Animals so shy that we barely caught sight of them.  Once,
Robin whispered to me that he had seen Bigfoot and I looked, too. The Sioux believed in the
creature called Sasquatch and so did  I.
Occasionally, we heard a deep  hoot and the sound of a stick beaten against a trunk. Robin
and Mairy‘s eyes were huge  and fearful.
―Don‘t worry, the hairy man won‘t hurt  us, ‖ I smiled and called a greeting in Siouan. He
was quiet, but  we knew he was around. On the third day of our 12- hour  hikes, I led them to a
small canyon carved between two ridges. It was no more than twenty yards wide with shale and
slate outcroppings. Huge slabs had fallen making passage difficult but not impossible yet there
was a clear, well - defined animal trail in and out.
The walls of the slit rose above us for forty or so feet before they curled in on themselves
as if it were the edges of a fluted bowl that had fallen inside. So nothing could stand on the rim
and look directly down underneath along the wall.
―Where does this go?‖ Mairy asked me, tired for the first time that I could see. She
dragged a few feet behind Robin, the last in the line.
―We‘ll camp here for two days,‖ I said and danced around the debris. It took only a few
minutes to reach the center of the canyon, a small cleared spot under an overhang where the two
edges of the bowl almost met.
The soil was a reddish sand from sandstone washed through during flash floods with
chunks of granite on the walls. In the granite were gem grade garnets. A small spring trickled
into a basin behind me and the smell of sulfur was strong.
Ten feet further in was a series of rock slides with water running into basins carved into
the rock descending to a vertical drop of ten feet with a steaming waterfall that fell into a deeper
pool. They fell in layers as if they were giant steps and were beautiful.
―Hot springs!‖ Mairy squealed, dropped her pack and ran, shedding her clothes as she
went.
―Spa baths and a shower,‖ Robin admired. ―How did you know this was here? Your
grandfather tells  you?‖
―I read about it years ago in a letter from a Franciscan priest,  Antonio de Vargas, to his
father, in 1659. No one had bothered to translate a document from an obscure friar about a trip to
convert Indians when it had nothing to do with gold or gold mines,‖ I explained. ―There‘s a way
out of here down past the waterfall but we should be safe enough in here for two days. Safe
enough to cook with fire, bathe and rest.‖
I shrugged the pack off, made sure my bow was  handy  and gestured for him to go play in
the water.
―I can wait if you want to go with my sister,‖ he said g rudgingly.
―Naw. It‘s okay. I‘m not as tired as you two.‖
He needed no second urging but joined her. She screamed at him to cover his eyes but he
told her that he had seen her butt naked before. I  noticed he kept his boxers on, though.
I had beef stew bubb ling in the kettle and biscuits browning ,  with a full pot of coffee
ready by the time both of them dragged themselves back to the campfire.
All three tents were propped up and open, I‘d laid out fresh clothes and a towel each.
Mairy walked gingerly on soft  feet and  her  wet  t - shirt left nothing to the imagination. Her panties
were silk and transparent. Robin‘s boxers were jockeys and surprisingly dapper, a sedate blue
with white stripes. I handed over the towels and they rubbed their hair and then wrapped the
towel at  his waist and  her chest.
―I figured you for a briefs man,‖ I commented and gave Mairy my block of rock. I‘d
managed to move two of them over for seats, the rest were either too large to move or too small
to bother.
―Thanks.‖ She shoveled it in a nd then sl owed down as the taste hit her.  ―This is really
good. And biscuits, too.‖
―There are herbs and foodstuffs all around us,‖ I said. ―You know that. I just used what‘s
growing here to add flavor. Wild onion and garlic, sage, oats and wild rice.‖
―Wh en did you have time to find them? I never saw you go off  the trail.‖
―I didn‘t have to. I picked as we walked. Look.‖ In the spots where there was soil, red
cane thickets had sprouted; the red canes of raspberries, already leafing out. Dried, the leaves
would make sweet refreshing tea full of vitamin C and anti- oxidants.
She sat down and ate two bowls of stew plus four biscuits with Robin doubling her
efforts. Only when they were done did I finish what was left. Both of them blushed at their greed
but I la ughed.
―Don‘t worry, I ate enough tasting it when I cooked it. I‘m not hungry anymore. Coffee?‖
Mairy drank hers black but we still had non- dairy creamer and sugar packets. When all of
us were done, I cleaned the pots and Robin helped me hang the food pack s  from a  hook stuck in
a crevice and out of a determined bear‘s reach. Not that I was worried about bears, a sasquatch
was in the area and would keep away any large predators.
―You ready for your bath, Lakan?‖ Robin asked sleepily as he stretched on his ro ck.
Mairy had rolled into her tent and looked to be asleep already.
―Keep watch if you want,‖ I said softly. ―But I think we‘ll have  a  warning before anyone
approaches.‖
―Bigfoot?‖
―The hairy people prefer to be called Sasquatch or man of hair.‖
―Go get wet.‖ I noticed he dragged his bow close but his eyes were heavy. I laughed and
took off my clothes walking carefully down to the lower pools, sliding with the stream of warm
water until my feet found the five- inch ledge behind the waterfall. I slid onto it  and hot water
cascaded over my entire body in pure bliss. I had my hot shower.
I stayed under long enough to wrinkle like a prune and only came back as Robin called
my name in worried tones. Where I stood, I wasn‘t visible to him being below eye  level .
As I padded back, I used my enhanced metabolism to dry myself off and it shocked him
as I was enveloped in the blue aura.
―What is that?‖ He stared at my face after a quick glance and away at my genitals.
―Some kind of energy aura,‖ I shrugged. ―Comes in hand y when I want heat or cold.
Dries me off and my clothes, too.‖
―Cool. Can you make ice or drinks cold?‖
―Never tried that.‖ I dressed quickly, the chilling evening air  leached  my heat out quicker
than normal and I didn‘t want to waste energy if I didn‘t ha ve to use it.
―Who‘s taking the  first  watch?‖ he asked.
―You go ahead and sleep. I‘ll wake you in four hours,‖ I decided.
―Mairy?‖
―I‘ll take her turn, too. Let her sleep. Tomorrow, we‘ll hit the Montana border and have
to cross the river somewhere, a brid ge or the road depending on where we come out of the
woods. That will be the most dangerous crossing for us, except for crossing into Canada.‖
―We have to pick up the passports, right? At that country store/post office?‖
―Yeah. I received confirmation that all three packages were delivered and on time.‖
―I miss Dad and my horses,‖ he mumbled.
―I know,‖ I sympathized.  ―You can go back, you know. They‘ll give up on me eventually
and you can have your life back.‖
―What kind of life is it? When the spies are everywhere, watching you, waiting for you?‖
he mumbled and his voice trailed off. I pushed him towards his tent and he fell to his knees,
crawled into a fetal position and dragged his sleeping bag over his face. He was snoring in
seconds.
I watched the moon rise and saw a huge shadow fall over the ground from above me.
When I looked to the rim‘s edge, I saw the hairy man standing there looking down at me. He
threw something and it hit the ground with a soggy thump. I reached it, finding a fresh haunch of
venison. As I turned to say thanks, I threw one of our last chocolate bars up and grinned as the
hairy man snatched it out of the air. He ate it, wrapper and all, disappearing as quickly and
quietly as he had come.
Chapter Sixty-Four
One minute we were in the deep woods, the next I‘d looked up to see a broad stretch of
open area where the feeble sun had managed to pierce the thick trees in a straight line. I knew
that it wasn‘t a clearing but a road or the broad swathe cleared for hi - tension wires. We
continued and stepped onto a paved two lane road, following it north for a mile before we found
the first state highway sign. Shaped like a broad shield, back on white; t he sign was punctured by
bullet holes but was readable. State highway 89 heading to the town of   Red Lodge. Yellowstone
was sixty miles behind us.
―Where are we?‖ Robin asked. Both of them were exhausted. The last seven days we had
spent twelve hours a day hiking and  it had taken   its toll on them. Even after stopping and resting
for two days in what Robin had called Taco Valley, (Hot springs and squeezed between two rock
shells) they  were still beaten . 
―Cheer up. We‘ll be in town  in another hour,‖ I told them. ―From there, we can ride for a
few miles until we get over the glacier.‖
―Glacier? We‘re going through  Glacier National Park?‖ Mairy yelped.
―Around it. It‘s too open here. Luckily, it‘s tourist season and there will be lots of hikers
and day - packers in town. No one will notice three more.‖ I eyed Mairy‘s blue hair which sweat,
rain and sulfur  spring water had faded to the palest baby blue and blonde.
―Best get rid of that but don‘t go back to  your blonde color. It‘s too noticeable.‖
―How about pink? I can be Goth, too,‖ she teased.
I shuddered. ―No piercings. Those are just gross.‖
―Pooh. You‘re  such an old fudge.‖
―Fudge? That‘s the best you could come up with?‖ Robin rolled his eyes and I ignored
both of them.
―I don‘t think anyone will be looking for me here but it‘s best if we do some kind of
disguise.‖ I set my pack down and fished in it for Mairy‘s wig. Once on my head, I bought out
the last pack of Mark Jacobi‘s contacts and popped them in. My eyes were brown and I darkened
my skin as well.
―What do you think?‖ I asked them. Changing my skin tone was no harder than healing
an ingrown  toenail.
―You look like an Injun,‖ they said. Mairy rubbed my skin. ―Can you do that for me?‖
―Maybe. I can give you an instant tan,‖ I said hesitantly.
―Try.‖
I laid my hand on hers and we watched as the blue aura exploded out of me. Instantly, I
had a woody so  hard that it hurt. She melted into me and I was all set to do it right there when
something wrenched me out of her arms.
The cold  air made me shiver. I trembled as if I had met my worst fears and fallen to them.
―Holy shit! I guess it‘s not such a good idea to touch you,‖ I said shakily.
Mairy recovered faster. ―Does it do that if you touch my brother?‖
I looked at her in horrified disgust. That was like imagining sex with him. Ewww. Gross.
―I guess not, Mairy,‖ he said. ―He didn‘t ‗Smurf‘ out when I grabb ed him.‖
I tried again only this time, just a fleeting brush of my fingertips on her elbow and I
thought only about increasing the melatonin in her skin. As long as I kept any emotion out of it,
the aura didn‘t do more than a tiny spark. Like static electr icity.
She mouthed a quick ‗ouch‘ and rubbed at her arms. Commenting that they burned, very
much like a sunburn. We watched her pale skin turn red and then darken to a medium toast.
While my nerve was still up, I grabbed her brother‘s hand but there was no reaction other than a
slow warming of my own. Both of us let go at the same time and stood around like two
embarrassed dudes. I sneaked a glance at him and caught him doing the same. In minutes, the
three of us were laughing so hard that tears ran down my  face and I had a hard time breathing.
And standing.
―Dude, don‘t EVER do that again,‖ he snickered in between gurgles. He punched me and
started laughing again.  He finally managed to reach an upright position, adjusted his backpack
and hoofed it down the road.
―How far do you think I should let him go before I tell him he‘s heading the wrong way?‖
I snickered. I picked up Mairy‘s hand and this time, only a faint tingle  leaped between us.
―Smurf?‖
―Don‘t ask.‖ We watched Robin for a hundred yards before h e  realized that we we ren‘t
following him. I jerked my thumb in the opposite direction and he turned around running,
cursing me as he pounded towards us.
I laughed and took off, tugging at Mairy‘s arm before we galloped like idiots on the
yellow line.
His feet slammed furiously but it‘s really hard to run with a 40   lb.  pack, sleeping bag and
bow on your back. With lungs  heaving, he still managed to spit out purulent curses as he caught
up to us. He was almost at arms‘ length when I heard the sound of an appro aching vehicle,
something large and powerful by the engine‘s whining. Yelling, we darted to the side of the road
on a small embankment and he was close enough for me to grab his pack frame, jerk him off his
feet and onto the ditch by the shoulder.  A huge l og truck screeched its brakes as it saw us in the
center of the road and tried to stop. Its load shifted and the  butt grapple swung free, hitting the
side rails. The supports gave way with a loud crack and 24 - 28 in. round  fifteen - foot  chunks of
raw lumber  started rolling off the sides and back of the truck.
I heaved Mair y up the slope away from  any falling timber and dragged Robin out of the
way just as two of the timbers passed over my head. One more came at me as I turned to run.
Gathering Robin to my che st, I jumped that log --- a 24 in.  spruce and landed on another that
tipped on end. From that position, ten foot in the air, I did a swan dive, rolling my body and
Robin‘s before landing on a hemlock with bent knees. From there, we did a flip and a
somersault, landing on four at once before I had to spin, catching another as if I   were surfing a
big one. I walked it rolling over and over like a lumberjack at the county fair but minus the water
that floated them.
The last log shuddered and flipped end over end, knocking four on top of me. I was
unable to find a position where I could safely jump, duck, roll or miss  all of them  without killing
Robin in the process. In despair, I did the only thing I could think of--- I froze time and because
Robin was with me, I was able to move him. I was able to move him but only because I was
holding him. Still, he was  in shock.
The truck was frozen in a roll- over halfway between the road and the pavement, the
driver rigid behind his seatbelt. The logs hung in mid- air,  mid- rollo ver and Mairy‘s mouth
opened in mid- scream.
I slid between the logs still carrying her brother a nd set him down next to her, out of the
way of  re- bouncing logs and crushing danger. The minute I turned him loose, he froze like
everything else; if I tried to  move either of them, I could literally tear off a limb because of the
forces  needed to move an object in stasis. I wanted to let go of time myself but I had no control
over when it resumed so I was unprepared when the truck landed sideways with a huge cra sh that
shook the road under my feet. It hit the pile of logs, shifting the whole load in my direction.
I managed to jump three but the fourth hit me in the chest. I felt my ribs go and blood
filled my mouth. I hugged the rough bark of the tree as it swept  me away to roll up the hill
crushing my legs and pelvis, smashing the pack and my back at an angle that was beyond  my
spine‘s ability to flex and then bounced over me, completely missing everything but the tip of
my finger. Oddly, that pain hurt the worst. A splinter dug  into the skin and it burned.
I heard screaming, the rumbling stutter of an engine, the scraping sound of wood on
concrete, shaking voices on a radio calling Dispatch and reporting an accident with injuries.
Robin and Mairy were kneeling at  my side touching me, calling my name. I was so cold,
and shivering, their voices seemed to be so far away. 
―Don‘t move him,‖ a man‘s voice said. ―I called the sheriff‘s department and the Park
Rangers. They have a n  SAR chopper only minutes away at the Ranger Station. You hang in
there, boy. What‘s your name? That was some fancy footwork you did there, almost like
watching the fairies dance in the woods. You saved these folks‘ lives. Talk to him,‖ he said
urgently as my eyelids started to lower.  ―Talk to him. Keep him conscious.‖
Hands rolled me carefully onto my side and did something to the pack so that it slid off
me. My back didn‘t feel right. ―Can‘t breathe,‖ I whispered and spat aspirated blood. Bubbles
formed and popped on my lips. It tasted gross and   filled my lungs. ―Mairy?‖
―I‘m here, Lakan,‖ she said and there were tears in her voice.
―Did he see me Smurf, Mair?‖ I managed to try  to move but nothing worked, nothing
obeyed my brain‘s command to move. I could feel the magic trying to heal me but it would take
too long before I could get up and go with them.
―Have to leave, Mair. You. Robin. Tickets not wait. Lose connections.‖ I thought I said
that but all I could hear were my desperate gurgles and bubbles bursting.
She wiped off my lips and kissed me. It was cold and lacked the fizzle. Not even a spark
of electricity.
―They‘re coming, Lake,‖ the man said. He stood up as we heard both the approach of the
helicopter and the intolerable whine of sirens.
They parked down the road because there was no road, only a mass of broken and
splintered wood. They ran between the logs and up the hillside , past the logging truck and next to
the log grapple that had come to a rest only a foot from my head.  It bled red hydraulic fluid that
glistened and spread like my o wn blood but it smelled sharp and spicy like cinnabar.
I was surrounded by uniforms. Men and women in  the forest g reen  of Park Rangers, dull
gray - green of the Troopers  with their Smokey the Bear hats, the black cargo pants and long sleeved shirts of Paramedics and EMTs. Next came the dove- gray flight suits of Life Flight
nurses.
They moved me as if I was a glass vial of nitroglycerine, rolling me carefully onto a
backboard and stabilizing my neck with towels and a strap on my forehead.
― Fractures at L5, 6, 7,‖ I said in a wheeze. ―Right upper lobe pneumothorax. Bleeding
into my stomach. Left ulna  fracture  mid- point. Pelvis crushed with  internal injuries. Both femurs
compound fractures mid- thigh and right hip subluxated.‖ I paused and said with a faint touch  of
humor. ―No head trauma.‖
They sat back in shock as the woman inserting my IVs stared at me. ―Are you a med
student? Your mom or dad a doctor?‖
―No.‖ S he finished the IV and pushed fluids and morphine  which I did not feel as shock
was creating a domino o f effects in my body. They   loaded me onto a stretcher as the other
paramedic splinted my arms and legs in air casts. Carefully, they carried me to the nearest
cleared area where the chopper had set down.
I was floating but still coherent enough to watch the faces running with me as they
blocked out the trees and the road. Just around the corner from the wreck, we would have seen a
small valley that opened up to vast plains and the sun reflecting off the glacier of the Park. 
Mairy and Robin‘s pale faces were with them as they were loaded into ambulances
themselves. The truck driver was sporting  Band- Aids on his face, and he went into another unit. I
couldn‘t see anything after that as the troopers shut the hatch. All I saw then was the nurse‘s face
as the ch opper took off. 
She had a blood pressure cuff on my arm and pumped it as the other one placed an
oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. Smiling, she asked me questions all the time.
―It‘s not his fault,‖ I said as she lowered it on my face. ―The truck driver,   not his fault.‖
―BP is 60/40, pulse 150 and thready . Georgie,  hit it,‖ she called over her shoulder.
―What‘s your name, son? How ol d are you? Where‘s your family? Who are those people
with you?‖ She cut my clothes off and found my ID in my pants.
I tried to remember the names on our IDs. Blake Ravensfoot. Oh, the wig had fallen off, I
couldn‘t feel the stricture on my head anymore. It must have come off during my dance on the
logs. They would find and remove the brown contacts in the ER but that could be e xplained as
vanity not disguise.
―Ravensfoot,‖ I sighed and she lifted the mask but I could still feel the pulse of O2 in my
face.
―You from the Reservation? Who are your parents? Blake, stay with me.‖
I opened my eyes. I was so tired. I groaned as the pain escalated. ―Are you hurting? I can
give you another 1ml morphine. Sarai.‖
I shuddered and she popped more drugs into me as she slid several round pads on my
chest, leg and side. A rapid beating matched the pounding in   my chest as the narrow tunnel of
my  vision darkened. It disappeared before her voice. Calling me.
―Blake.  Ravensfoot--- Shit! We‘re losing him. De- fib!!‖
Rescue One set down on top of St. Anne‘s Trauma Center where a Trauma team was
already waiting. The flight nurses jumped out pulling the s tretcher with the patient and two of the
team transferred him over to their gurney smoothly without jarring. She rattled off his vitals,
holding the IV overhead and informed the doctor that the child had coded twice but had a pulse
albeit thready  and tachy cardic. The hospital ER team rushed the boy into the elevator and
descended to the triage room.
She handed over his ID that she had found in his pants pocket. ―His name is Blake
Ravensfoot, that‘s all I know. He was one of three hikers coming down 89. A logging truck
tipped over, lost its load and one of the logs rolled over him.‖ She recited the list of injuries the
boy had diagnosed and was met with those same shocked looks.
―No, he said he‘s  not a med student or dependent of a doctor. I think his ID says he‘s 16.‖
They did X- rays,  ultrasounds, and an MRI before sending the boy to surgery. The films
and occult tests confirmed every one of the boy‘s predictions, down to the splinter in his
fingertip.
The surgeon called in a neurosurgeon who reviewed the films of the boy‘s thoracic
fractures. He nodded slowly before he went into the OR to clean up the bone fragments that had
crushed and cut the spinal cord. Even without the spinal injuries, the crushed and fractured
pelvis,  macerated  hip joint all pointed to a grim prognosis. If he survived the pneumothorax,
shock, blood loss and possible bone marrow blood clots from breaking both femurs, the mangled
pelvic girdle would preclude him from ever bearing weight again. With his spinal injuries, it was
100% that he  would be a paraplegic until he died.
Chapter Sixty-Five
The minute that news of an accident involving three individuals under the age of 25, in a
rural wooded area of the country coupled with unusual circumstances brought the intelligence
community to a full alert. The entire 911 transmissions and accompanying rescue, police and
ranger broadcast were heard at NSA headquarters. The victim‘s name was reported and the
destination of the trauma center. Immediately, Chase set up agents to fly out to the hospita l and
area.
Ten minutes later, Chase‘s computer guys had hacked into the hospital  database and was
reading off the surgeon‘s notes.
―Man, it looks bad,‖ the IT guy reported. ―Says he‘s coded twice. They have him down as
Blake Ravensfoot. The driver of the  truck is Wallace Kittredge, 52 and works for Sunshine
Logging Products out of Seattle. The other two witnesses are Molly and Timothy  Hessions. A
married couple. They stated that they were joking about sleeping in a real bed as they walked
down the center line of State Highway 89 when Kittredge  came around the corner, saw them and
slammed on the brakes. He admits he was over the center line and his load  s hifted, toppling the
lumber off the trailer.
―Here‘s where it gets weird--- he says he watched the younger boy grab the elder around
the waist as if he weighed nothing and danced on the falling logs as if he was an acrobat. He said
he‘d never seen anything like it. Said he saved both of the hikers‘ lives.‖
―Notify Dr. Cameron. Have him meet me on the runway,  we‘ll be taking the Lear  to the
Hospital.‖
―Yes, sir.‖ He we nt back to his screen as Chase b lew out of the Tank, unaware that he
and his agency weren‘t the only ones departing for Montana.
Homeland was interested in the sudden flare of ticket sales to the state and chatter on the
net, cell phones, and news feeds. It wasn‘t long before they were in on the act and that prompted
the media to take notice.
Within five hours after the accident, a veritable firestorm of activity was bearing down on
the sleepy little city of Red Lodge. Hotels were sold out within a hundred miles of the Trauma
Center and the hospital switchboard was overwhelmed with phone calls asking about the boy still
in surgery. It alarmed the DON enough that she had to use her cell phone to call  the Sheriff‘s
Department and ask for help.
Just about the time Ravensfoot came out of surgery, a three - piece- suited mob was
entering the lobby demanding to see the CEO of the Trauma Center. Many of the agents carried
serious credentials but the DON was a tough ex - Marine who had seen service in Iraq and
Afghanistan. She wouldn‘t back down for no damned spymaster and told him so in so many
terms. Neither was she impressed with the Director of Homeland Security or the CIA.
―The patient is in surgery and not even God is allowed in there,‖ she snapped. ―You can
wait in the patients‘ lounge like everyone else. The doctor or nurse will come out and talk to the
family then.‖
―Family?‖ the agent demanded.
―His cousins are waiting down the hall.‖ She pointed but when  they ran to the waiting
room, the pair was gone. Nor were they in the restrooms, cafeteria or anywhere within the
hospital grounds. A review of the security tapes did not show them entering or leaving the
hospital. The Agent in charge sent more men out to scour the town looking for the pair that
someone suggested  might be the same brother and sister who had aided in Strongbow‘s former
escape. Then, they settled in to wait until the  surgeons  were finished and Director Chase could
arrive to take over the operation.
Strangely, it was the President that was the last to know that Strongbow had been found.
The Deputy Director of the FBI personally brought him the news and after he threw one of his
famous presidential tantrums, he sent a fast Super Stallion from t he nearest air force base with a
contingent of armed MPs to guard the boy‘s room as soon as he came out of surgery.
Those men were told that no one, not CIA, NSA, NIA or DHS were allowed into the
room by Presidential decree.
The Super Stallion landed on t he helipad in front of emergency at the same time as
Strongbow came out of surgery and was taken to recovery. The sight of heavily armed military
police marching through the halls, down the  stairs, and off the elevators caused many a doctor,
nurse and patient to shriek in fear. And to drop things.
They marched up to the OR doors and told the coordinating nurses who they were, why
they were there and who  had  sent them.
―He‘ll be out of the recovery room in an hour or so, just as soon as he wakes from
anesthesia,‖ the head surgical nurse told the Sergeant. She smiled at the team of six wide shouldered, handsome hunks. ―Probably won‘ t wake  up for hours, though. He‘s suffered some
serious trauma.‖
―We‘ll wait. I hear the President will be coming on Air Force One ,‖ Sgt.  Adam s  said.
―That means Secret Service will be all over this place. Get everything you need before that
happens. This place will be on total lockdown once the POTUS gets here.‖
―Who  is this kid?‖
―I don‘t know. I just know POTUS wants him protected.‖
―He‘ll be going to ICU. You can‘t stand in there, we try to keep it sterile but outside the
electronic doors which are also kept locked, there‘s a waiting room down the hallway that feeds
only to ICU.‖
The Sergeant sent men to guard those egress points and others to disperse the crowds
waiting in the patient lounge. They moved off only under threats and invoking the terms
‗presidential decree.‘
I was expecting faces to be the first thing I saw when and if I woke up. If I did indeed
wake up at all. After  freezing time, dancing like a dervish while carrying Robin and trying to
heal myself, I wasn‘t sure if my body had enough ‗juice‘ left to let me survive my injuries.
I came awake slowly. In great pain and my first sounds were an involuntary groan at that .
The ring of faces staring back at me made me flinch in more pain. The doctors and nurses moved
efficiently around me, one of them adjusting my IV and instantly, I was awash in a lovely
drugged haze. Morphine haze. I floated on that for a while as the sounds of medical activity
happened around me. I heard the drone of machines and the mutter of voices, the sounds of other
people in pain and voices of loved one trying to soothe them.
The faces I didn‘t expect to see were military in MP uniforms dressed in BDUs and
armed with automatic rifles and Glock handguns. I recognized the rank of the man in charge, he
was a 30 something Master Sergeant in the Air Force. His name was on a Velcro patch on his
chest. Adams.  He had piercing green eyes, dark brows over deep- set eyes and sandy brown hair
cut in regulation length. Tanned and ruggedly handsome, he wore a tight- lipped look as if he had
to refrain from bursting out in laughter.
―Master Sergeant,‖ I said, lifting the mask off my face. Even so, my voice was a thin
whisper. Only one arm moved, the other was encased in a heavy plaster cast. The rest of me felt
as heavy as if a mountain sat on me. Or a ton of plaster.
―Blake?‖ I swiveled my head towards the voice of a doctor wearing   greens. He was short,
slender but ramrod straight so that he appeared taller than he was. His arms were hairy but so
clean that he squeaked. He wore a surgery cap over his hair but his face mask was hanging half
on/half off so that it hung from his neck like a midget‘s bib.
―I‘m Dr. Pentelli.  You‘re just coming up out of the anesthesia, Blake. I‘m one of the
surgeons that worked on you. How are you feeling?‖
I tried to grin but it was sloppy and when I spoke, I slurred as if I were drunk. ―Morphine
buzz.‖
―We‘ll try to keep you comfortable. Ca n you feel your feet, Blake? Try moving your
toes.‖ His dark blue eyes looked down at my feet. They were too far away for me to watch them.
Besides, I already knew that my spine was fractured.
―L4, 5, 6, remember?‖ I reminded them. ―I know what that means. ‖
―How do you know what kind of damage you had? You were right on with every
diagnosis, just as you told the flight nurses.‖
―Not Dougie Howser,‖ I chuckled. ―Nor son of doctors. I read. Eidetic memory.‖
―Where are your parents? The people you came in with  have vanished.‖
―Gone? My cousins?‖ Good. Mairy and Robin had taken my advice and split. I knew that
I could escape once I‘d healed but getting all three of us out of custody would be too difficult
even for me.
―Know I‘m paralyzed,‖ I said, trying to take a deep breath and not succeeding.
―Pneumothorax?‖
―Inflated. Seems to be holding pressure. Your sat levels are at 90% hence the O2. We had
you on a  ventilator  tube for a couple of  hours  until we saw that you were breathing fairly well on
your own.‖
―Who  the grunts?‖
He looked at the armed guards. ―There‘s a regular three ring circus going on out there.
Every agency from D.C. is parked wherever they can find a spot, waiting for news of your
condition.  Who are you,  Blake Ravensfoot?” He paused. ―And why is the President coming to
my hospital to talk to you?‖
―President? Of the hospital?‖ I was puzzled. ―I have insurance.‖
―President of the United States,‖ he returned and I dropped my mouth under the mask.
Things were worse than I could imagine if the President was on his way here.
I tried to raise my body but all I managed to do was get my one arm under me and even
that was difficult. Pentelli  felt it and placed his palm lightly on my chest with the barest touch
and fire wrapped me in a second skin, scorching  me to the bone. Somehow, I‘d forgotten about
my broken ribs.
―Broken ribs, Blake,‖ Dr. Pentelli  reminded me gently. ―If you‘re thinking you‘re going
to escape--- well, besides the fact that both of your legs are broken, your pelvis crushed and your
arm fractured, your spine is beyond repair. I‘m afraid that you will not walk again.‖
―Gee, doc,‖ I drawled. ―That‘s some great bedside  manner you got there. Good thing I
don‘t believe you or I might be really depressed.‖ I closed my eyes and when I opened them,
some time had passed because there were different nurses around me and the shadows coming in
the windows were lower and softer.
One of the nurses, a younger  woman with improbable pink hair saw that my eyes were
open and took my vitals. As she finished with that, she asked me if I thought I could eat or drink
something. I was very thirsty and said yes. While waiting for her to return, I drifted off again and
when I woke, this time, I found myself in a completely different room. A private one with armed
guard s just outside my door. The walls were all windows from the  waist  up and I could see out to
the nurses‘ station, all the rooms were circled around the center station so that the nurses could
watch all of us from one point.
I was in severe pain and tried to keep it in but the minute my eyes opened, one of them
got up and came in my room. She took one look at my face and slid a needle into my IV. Within
seconds, I was floating away again and she lifted my eyelids, running a flash in them before she
patted me on the arm.
―Try to sleep, Blake,‖ she said softly. ―No one will bother you until the doctors release
you.‖ I closed my eyes again and did what she said.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Whispering woke me from a drugged state. I‘d been dreaming that something was
hold ing me by the ankles, dangling me over a blazing fire yet it wasn‘t my head that suffered
pain from burning. Instead, it was my chest,  legs, and feet that screamed for relief from an
intolerable, bright, stabbing, pulsating fire waiting , creeping   inch by inch   to destroy   my flesh.
I came awake screaming, biting my lips as soon as I realized it was coming from me. One
of the nurses in cheerful Easter bunny scrubs slid the needle into the port on my one movable
limb and the pain receded enough so that I could  focus my attention on other things.
Like the two men that stood at the door guarding it, in three- piece suits with expensive
tailoring that hid the government issued Sig Sauers in shoulder harnesses.  Two more men sat in
chairs pulled up to the side of my bed and one wore a dark blue windbreaker over his  suit with
glow- in - the- dark white letters. FBI. His face was familiar to me and a million other people. Mark
Devereaux, the Secretary of Defense sat next to President Alex Houston. Both of them kept their
eyes riveted to my face. Behind them were the two Secret Service agents ,  my doctor and a  nurse
stood at the right side of my bed.
―Slumming?‖ I gasped but no one answered.
―Lakan,‖ Dr. Pentelli  greeted as the nurse took my blood pressure. They wobbled in my
vision and I wasn‘t sure if they were real or a hallucination. I‘d woken earlier and had seen both
coyotes slinking through the room and Chief Sitting Bull at the foot of my bed.
I licked dry lips and noticed that they had replaced the oxygen mask with nasa l prongs.
I swallowed and Dr. Pentelli  held a cup with a straw to my mouth. I took a few swallows of ice
water. He had called me by my true name.
―My feet burn,‖ I whispered.
―Do you still hurt?‖ He held my wrist, his fingers on my pulse and they were war m
against my cold skin.
―Not really. It‘s there but waiting. President Houston, Director Devereaux.‖
―You know who we are?‖ Houston asked.
―I don‘t live in a cave,‖ I retorted. ―Have to be a Neanderthal not to recognize you two.‖ I
closed my eyes. When I re- opened them, they were still there. ―You‘re real.‖
―As real as you are, Lakan,‖ Houston agreed.
―What do you want?‖ I was resigned.
―Knowledge.‖
―You believe that crap that Chase and Cameron are hyping?‖ I sneered.
―Lakan, I‘ve seen Michael Faraday now a nd when he came back from Syria,‖ the
President said softly. He leaned forward with intensity. ―I‘ve also talked to Robert Sheckley, he‘s
a good friend that I‘ve known since I was a junior Senator from Idaho. I  know what his son
looked like after his overdose and I‘ve seen him since.‖ 
―Then why am I broken and paralyzed?‖ I cried out. ―I can‘t feel anything below my
waist! I‘m a fucking 16- year- old cripple!‖
―I don‘t believe  that  Lakan,‖ Houston said. ―And neither do you. This is my proposition--- you give m e five years of your time and cooperation and I promise that no one will so much as
type your friends‘ names on a lunch list.
―By the way, that was some trick with the free trips to Canada . Homeland is still dealing
with the aftermath of that fuck- up.‖
―Yo u can say that?‖ I gaped.
―Why? You think my tongue will sizzle and burn if I curse?‖ he grinned. ―I have a
temper. Tantrums even. Just ask them.‖ He jerked his thumb to the two agents on the door and
both rolled their eyes,
―I talk to Senator Lourdes, you know. All the time, he‘s one of the few men that I can
trust when he tells me something. Even when he lies.‖ He paused. ―What you did for his son,
Mike was…a miracle. I expect you to do the same for yourself.‖
He rose to his feet and towered over me. I‘d seen him on TV but I‘d no idea that he was
6‘6‖. Massive and probably hit 250  lbs., not an ounce of it fat. I wouldn‘t want him chasing me.
―Think about it. I can protect you from every nut out there, including Director Chase and
Dr. Cameron. Not to mentio n the Chinese, Russians, ISIS and Israel.‖
―Holy shit. ISIS?‖ I said inelegantly.
―Oh, and the Vatican, too. All of ‗em heading for little old Red Lodge, Montana.‖
Dr. Pentelli blanched, ―Can you protect him here?‖
Devereaux stepped forward. ―No. This is not a secure location nor do we have enough
agents and soldiers or police to hold off a mob and believe me, once his name is leaked and it
will be, we‘ll have thousands, hundreds of thousands descending on this hospital and town. The
sooner you give Preside nt Houston an answer, the sooner we can remove you to a place that is
safe.‖
―You‘re kidding, right?‖ Pentelli jumped in. ―He almost died. He did die. He‘s held
together with staples, plaster, and wires. He can‘t be moved or his spinal injuries could prove
fatal.  He might blow a fatty embolism that could kill him. He‘s safer right here.‖
I studied Houston‘s face and then the Secretary‘s. In both  Mens‘ eyes, I saw no deception
or greed, no threat of danger but then, they were politicians for whom lying was a s easy as
breathing and making people believe was child‘s play.
―Five years and no contact with any of the people that helped me? No warrants or charges
against any of them? You‘ll let them go? Not keep tabs on them?‖ I bargained.
―They should go into the Witsec program,‖ Devereaux argued. ―They‘re at risk of
kidnapping as a  hostage  to get to you.‖
I shook my head slowly. ―Where I sent them, no one will ever find them. Their covers are
too good.‖
Mairy, I thought. Could I lose five years of my life away from her? I swallowed my own
sense of loss and thought I could if it meant that she and Robin were safe forever.   If the rest of
my friends who had helped me would be safe forever.
―Cameron and Chase? What are you going to do about them? Neither will give me up.‖
―Don‘t worry, I have plans for them, too,‖ Devereaux said grimly.
―He‘s on his way here,‖ I said faintly, the drugs pulling me under. I let them rather than
fight the rising tide of pain versus drugged slumber.
I lifted my head and saw the artificial  lights dimmed in my room which indicated to me
that night had fallen. There was a hushed and muted sense to the people moving just outside my
door and inside, a small glow from the chair near the door illuminated the agent sitting there. It
was the light f rom an e- book reader or Kindle.
I heard him breathe over the hiss of my oxygen line and the subtle pumping of the
sphygmomanometer cuff. I woke because my last pain dose was wearing off.
The agent heard me, put down the e- book reader and came over to  my bedside. He wasn‘t
one of th ose  typical intelligence  clones--- six foot, dark- haired and blue- eyed, a generically
handsome government agent. He was a redhead with green eyes and freckles.
―Hey,‖ he said quietly. ―You need the nurse?‖
―Yeah.‖ He pushed the call button and one came in within seconds. None of that waiting
around for hours to get an aide to call.
―I need a shot,‖ I said and she nodded.  Her name was on the tag hanging from her neck
and I reached for it, turning it so I could read it. Maggie  LA Flute, R.N.
―Dr. Pente lli ordered pills for you   now, instead of a shot.‖ She lifted the head of   the bed
up to a slight incline, watching to see if I showed any strain.  It was 2 a.m.
I didn‘t have to ask what time it was because of the big industrial sized cloc k on the wall.
She went back outside and we waited for her to return, me more impatiently than he did.
―You like to read, Lake?‖ he asked me.
―Yeah. What‘s your name?‖
―Jeff Lindsey.‖ His eyes weren‘t hard as I would have expected to see  on  a Secret Servic e
agent. He didn‘ t look that old, either or like a rookie. ―Your hair really that color?‖ He pointed to
my blonde locks.
I shook my head. ―Red. Dark--- like oxblood they call it. Am I still wearing brown
contacts?‖ At his head shake, ―then, my eyes are blue.‖
―I guess you‘re a master of disguises,‖ he grinned and pulled out his chair, up close so he
could sit and talk to me. ―I heard you dressed like a girl.‖
―I‘ve had to be good at it and it wasn‘t my idea. Still, it worked. What are you reading?‖
―The newest Indie book, President Richard Nixon: A Walk Through His Life by Anne
Kamwila.” He went on to tell me all about the book and his voice relaxed me enough so that
when the nurse returned with a cup of pills and a pitcher of water, I wasn‘t clenching in pain. Jeff
went through the whole ID routine along with me, even though he‘d seen her five minutes
earlier. He checked my name, DOB, and her ID to ensure that she was who she said she was and
that I was receiving the proper medications. Only when he was satis fied did he allow her to give
me the pills and the water.
I swallowed with a sip of ice cold water and lay there waiting for the Vicodin to kick in.
―You can ask for a sleeping pill, too,‖ she reminded me. ―Don‘t wait until the pain gets so
bad you can‘t s tand it. Every four hours the doctor has ordered it.‖
―Sleep is not something I have a problem with,‖ I sighed. ―Even the pain will be gone in
a few days.‖ I leaned forward into a sitting position and lifted the arm in the cast, wiggling the
fingers. Already, the black and blue sausage look was fading and my arm didn‘t hurt as much as
my legs and hips. Then again, I really couldn‘t feel anything below my belly button.
―Hey, I don‘t think you‘re supposed to be sitting up,‖ he said in alarm.
―You think I can  hurt myself any worse than I have already?‖ I asked in irony. ―I‘m
already broken and paralyzed. What else could I hurt?‖
―You could die!‖   
―Been t here. Done that.‖ I reached for the railing with my cast and hooked it at the elbow,
dragging my body with its anchored plaster legs to the edge of the bed. Between the rigidity of
them and Jeff‘s arms, I was standing.
I couldn‘t say it didn‘t  hurt because it didn‘ t. O r at least, not so that I could feel it. I was a
little worried, I thought I should have felt  something by now. A tingling, itching, heat--- anything
to prove that my spine was regenerating.
I felt that subtle heat in my hands and looked down where  his hands were on my waist,
holding me up.
―Are you Welsh?‖ I asked out of the blue or so it seemed to  him.
―Irish, actually. Red hair, freckles and all.‖
―I would ask for you heartlight, then,‖ I whispered. ―This is a thing that can only be
freely given, not taken but it comes with a price that only you can offer to bear. You and I will be
bonded forever.‖
―What, like brothers?‖ he joked.
―That and more.‖
―Why? What will it do? To me? To you?‖
―It will help me to heal faster. It will make you healthier. It will make you my soul
brother. It will change  you.‖
―Will it hurt me?‖
―No. But it might make others hurt you to take it away.‖ He was silent, thinking of the
Senator‘s cancer, Mike Faraday‘s bomb  injuries, and Sheckley‘s overdose. Brain damage,
reversible deaths, repaired injuries that medical science had no answers or explanations.
―Okay,‖ he decided. ―Go ahead.‖
The blue glow started at my palms but it was a pale, feeble thing until his literally leaped
from his eyes, mouth, ears and nose to pour into me with glorious abandon. He looked like one
of those eerie creatures from horror movies but more ethereal --- as if he were an angel   shedding
his human skin. In seconds, I felt bones knitting, organs healing, my cord stretching and
reweaving back into the infinitely complex structure that regulated my merest thought  of
movement.
I felt my toes twitch and felt  the pain of mending bones where  I hadn‘t been able to
before. It was almost as bad as when I had broken them originally. I screamed and that was
enough to break the connection between us. He staggered back to collapse in his chair and I fell
backward onto  my bed trying not to cry from the intensity of the healing that I felt.
The brilliant light, my screams and his shout of alarm called the nurses to run into my
room. They yelled for a doctor and one was there in less than five minutes. He was a stranger,
Jeff tried to get up and check him out but he could barely move.
Both of us were examined and after I was given another pain shot, the doctor berated me
for trying to get up. He inspected everything on me from my eyes down to my toes. When he ran
his fingernail across the bottom of my foot, my toes curled under. His murmur of surprise was
heard by all.
―Do you feel this, Lakan?‖ He poked me with a pin and I jerked even through the haze of
fentanyl.
―Ouch.‖
―Get Dr. Pentelli on the phone and the neurologist on call,‖ he ordered. ―I want another
set of X- rays and an MRI done STAT. 
―Lakan, can you hear me?‖ He came over to my face and looked down at me. I hadn‘t
realized that they had laid me flat. ―Lakan, I‘m ordering more tests for you, to see if you‘ve
regained some movement because  your  swelling has gone down around the vertebrae. We‘ve
given you enough fentanyl to take the edge off so that it won‘t cause you any discomfort when
we move you. Angela, call X- ray and set it up.‖
―Yes, Dr. Stevenson,‖ one of the shadowy figures said.
―Agent Lindsey, are you alright? Can you tell me what happened?‖
Jeff‘s answer was a mumble. He was nearly unconscious with lower than normal pulse
and blood pressure but no lasting harm had I done to him. He‘d given me everything he  could
but no human could give up all their heartlight, even if they wanted to do so. It was like
breathing --- you could hold your breath but the moment that you passed out, you automatically
began breathing again.
―He‘s okay,‖ I mumbled. ―Just ‗sausted.‖
―Sauced?‖
―No. Tired.  Me too.‖
I was vaguely aware that they slid me down on the bed and locked the side rails .  Then, I
went traveling down the hallways through long corridors but all I saw were the lights overhead.
It seemed as if I were in a dream, and e ven   when they slid me onto a narrow table covered by a
white sheet and the loud knocking disturbed my quiet drowse, it still felt like a dream.
After that, someone rolled me back and forth, hushed voices urging me to move this way
and that. Another saying  that I couldn‘t or shouldn‘t move. Somewhere in the midst of all t heir
activity, I s imply shut off.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
There was a palpable tension in the air and it didn‘t take a genius to figure out that it was
fear. I saw it o n  the nurses‘ faces when t hey came in to check my vitals. I saw it in the faces of
the dietary aides who brought my first meals. In the respiratory therapist who gave me my BIRD
treatments. I even saw it in the doctor‘s and agents ‘  faces as they changed shifts.
I put down my plastic spoon and poked the jello with my finger. We were still waiting for
the radiologist to read my films.
I‘d been served a high protein meal of beef, veggies and dessert, had managed to finish
most of it. My guards today were an agent and the Master Sergeant Adams.
―What‘s got everyone‘s panties in a wad?‖ I asked. I  was grumpy as hell, sick of being
stuck in bed and worried about my friends. As of yet, I hadn‘t given my answer to Houston but I
really had no other choice unless my legs  and spine  came back.
―There are crowds building outside,‖ Adams said grimly. ―More than we can handle if
they decided to storm the lobby.‖
―Am I being moved?‖ I asked.
―The doctors are discussing it with Director Devereaux. Right now, Dr. Pentelli is afraid
to move you. He feels that it would do more harm than to just hide you under another name,‖ the
Sergeant shrugged.
I turned on the TV and we watched the local news which was being reported from outside
the hospital proper. He wasn‘t kidding, there were thousands of people ou t there demonstrating,
some with banners and placards demanding my appearance. Demanding that I heal the sick and
raise the dead. They were nuts.  
I saw journalists from the big affiliate stations, and  men who were clearly government
agents as well as  the  gamut of America‘s ethnic groups.
I was truly frightened and Adams took the remote from me, turning off the TV.
―You‘ll make yourself sick,‖ he said. ―They‘re not stupid enough to stand up to men
armed with automatic weapons and the USAF.‖
I wasn‘t going  to wait to find out. I smashed my cast on the railing and plaster flew off in
chunks, cracks appeared down the length of the cast. Adams grabbed my arm and stopped me.
―What are you doing?‖ he yelled. I tried to pull away but he was still stronger than I w as.
―My arm isn‘t broken anymore,‖ I panted and peeled the  cast away . We stared at the pale
colored flesh. In a normal kid, the muscles would  have atrophied before the plaster cast was
removed in six weeks. Mine had been immobilized for only a few days but  it looked no different
than the other arm. I‘d had a compound fracture of the ulna with a large bone piercing the skin
yet there was no scar, no lump under the skin or on the bone. It was nearly healed with only a
slight residual soreness. Still, I wouldn‘t want to stress it too hard or risk re- breaking it.
I wasn‘t quite sure of my legs but I was damn sure that my pelvis hadn‘t knit together
enough to bear weight. Any movement on my lower half felt as if I was moving on broken glass.
I feared it would be another week before I was healed enough to carry my own weight and I was
afraid to risk asking anyone else for their heartlight.
―If you think I‘m letting you get up and try to walk out of here, you‘re crazy,‖ Adams
said. ―You‘re paralyzed, remember?‖
―Put  me in a wheelchair but get me out of here and down the walkway over the drive
through,‖ I ordered, naming the pedestrian walkway that connected one hospital building with
the other. From there, I could study the crowds without them seeing me.
―No,‖ both a gents denied and the doctors.
―I need to see the stuff I came in with. My backpack.‖ I tried next.
―Most of it was destroyed when the logs rolled over it and especially the weapons,‖ the
agent reported. ―The rest of your stuff like clothes and books are in  the closet.‖
―Did the police or agents go through it?‖ I asked.
―Why?‖
―Was there a cell phone?‖
―It was probably taken by the police or the FBI looking for contacts like your friends or
family. Or it was probably squashed too.‖
―Look, you‘ve read my file, right? You know that I‘m a genius, that I can create things
your guys can‘t even dream of? In my pants or pack is a device that looks like a cell phone
without its cover. It isn‘t a cell phone. I need it.‖
Adams went to the corner where the closet was and dug through what remained of my
gear. The frame of the pack was shaped like a pretzel and anything rigid had been flattened to the
width of a card.
Some of the food packages had split open and leaked all over my clothes, my  pans  were
crunched but the slim profile cell phone had survived with only a shattered glass front.
―I need a monitor an d a USB cable,‖ I looked up. ―Easiest just to bring me out to the
nurses‘ station.‖
―You won‘t bend right for a wheelchair,‖ Adams pointed out.
―So, wheel my bed out.‖
Before he‘d made it out of   the doors, we had nurses screeching at us, asking what the hell
were we doing? 
I nudged Adams with my hand, the newly freed one and that caused another heated
discussion just as Drs. Pentelli and Stevenson arrived with the radio logist. Great. Two more and
we‘d have a baseball team.
―Your arm shows a healed fracture, Lakan,‖ Dr. Pentelli reported seriously. ―Where are
you going?‖
―I need the computer at the desk.‖ I reached out and pulled myself closer until I could
grab the USB cable from the back of the tower and checked the port. I stuck one end into my
quipp  and the other into the monitor as I manipulated the text screen on the old cell.
Hacking into the hospital cameras was child‘s play and my quipp scanned every available
face running through NSA files, FBI, CODIS, Interpol ,  and CIA. It brought up twenty mug
shots, leaving them on the right side of the screen and when I touched each face separately, it
gave me a shortened version of their rap sheets.
Four were from Russian Mafia, six were from China and the rest were rogue agents and
mercenaries. Free agents who sold out to the highest bidders. Another hundred or so came up as
undercover intelligence operatives for the NSA, CIA, FBI, NIA, and DHS. The only ones I
didn‘t see were the Mossad.
―Holy shit. They‘re going to raid us and take me,‖ I  gaped. I pointed to six that I knew
were involved in the  high - level  kidnap and ransoms for the Organized Crime Families and Drug
Cartels.
―How long do we have?‖ the Sergeant demanded, drawing out his weapon and checking
his load. The Secret Service agent was more interested in the quip p. I could see the wheels
turning in his head over what the device could do in his company‘s possession.
―The President can have it when I‘m done with it,‖ I s napped. ―Right now, it‘s more
important to get me out of here before the people out there get in.‖
Just about the time the last word exited my mouth, Agent Lindsey and two more MPs
barged in. ―Cameras picked up some men climbing the stairs from the basemen t armed with
AKs,‖ Lindsey ground out. ―Wearing body armor.‖
I shifted to a schematic of the trauma center‘s floor plan. There was no place safe where I
could hide that the incoming agents wouldn‘t find me.
―Is the Life Flight helicopter still on the roof? ‖ I asked.
Dr. Pentelli answered. ―Yes, but the pilot is off - duty  and not available. The engines are
shut down.‖
―Not a problem. How many will it hold?‖
―Two crew, the pilot and two patients,‖ said Pentelli.
I disconnected the quipp and sent a text to Lindsey, Maiara and Robin along with another
set of instructions to Houston and Devereaux. Then, I hacked into the onboard electronics of the
chopper and started the engines.
―Dr. Stevenson, I would ask for your help,‖ I said formally. ―And yours,‖ I pointed to the
nurses and other men in the room. Explained what I needed and what it would do to each of
them. None turned me down and once more, the blue glow rippled through the room almost as if
the aurora borealis had taken up residence within these four walls.
I felt my bones knit, my spine tingle with renewed function; my pelvis  grow strong.
Those who gave me their heartlight fell to the floor in a dazed languor, exhausted but unharmed.
When they revived, they would find that no longer would they suffer from t hose common aches
and pains nor would they experience sickness again. 
Dr. Pentelli brought me the bone saw and on my urging, cut the now useless casts off my
legs. I stood on my own and as my nerves protested the sudden shock of repair, I kept my face
from  showing any pain or I would be back in bed no matter how I argued. I was almost healed
but still in a fragile state; I used what I  had left to harden what bone  I could before I got down to
check the people lolling on the floor. No one was in extremis. The  rest of them --- Adams,
Pentelli, Lindsey and the two MPs watched me walking with gaping mouths. Last they knew, I
had both legs broken, an unstable pelvis and was crippled with a severed spinal cord.
―You read my files. This is why everyone wants me. I  can  heal the sick and raise the
dead. Among other things. I‘m a genetically modified organism, created to be the very best in
human design that man and God could make. Now, we have to leave because if they catch me
again, my life will be over and I will kill  myself. So, are you coming?‖ I didn‘t tell them I wasn‘t
sure if I could die.
I waited for a scant few seconds and then headed for the elevator to the roof. I heard the
sounds of pounding feet behind me, stopping only when I saw Pentelli pause to snatch a  bag of
medical supplies.
Adams and his MPs kept their hands on their weapons as we heard the sound of shots
fired. The other two air force men tried to outflank me but no matter how hard they tried to speed
up, they couldn‘t run fast enough to pass me.
We didn‘t attract much attention from the staff or visitors, they were all riveted to the
windows at the rioting mass below. Soldiers were pouring from vehicles parked down the street
and climbing up the sides of the building.
Pentelli kept up with the agents and all of us squeezed into the elevator riding it up to the
roof and the chopper. It was larger than I thought, more like one of the army‘s medivac choppers.
Still late afternoon, the wind was blustery atop the building and blew our clothes against
our bodies. Only then, did I realize that I  was still in a bare- back hospital  gown.  I grabbed the
folds and held them closed, my face reddening in the wind.
―Who‘s gonna fly this thing?‖ Lindsey questioned.
I opened the pilot‘s door and slid in keeping my bare  cheeks from sticking to the seats.
Grumbling, I worked the switches, my feet on the rudders and hand on the collective.
―Surprise.‖ I lifted the bird straight up and flew over the city but not without notice.
Several news choppers followed. I pulled on t he headphones and asked who held my quipp,
noting that Lindsey had it last. Sheepishly, he pulled it out of his pocket and I explained how he
could use it to take over the controls of the other birds. He must have played with remote
controlled helicopters as a kid because he landed both of the news choppers without crashing
either of them. Lucky reporters, I wouldn‘t really have cared whether they‘d bounced or not.
―Man, what else can this thing do?‖ he asked, admiring it. I took it back. As we left the
city behind, I saw black SUVs following us on the ground.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
―Where are we going?‖ Adams asked. ―The nearest safe place I can think of is the Base.‖
―Put  me down in the midst of government employees? I don‘t think so. ‖ I rolled my eyes
but th ey couldn‘t see them. I checked the GPS for a decent place to land and found one far
enough out of town where access from a road wasn‘t possible in case the SUVs managed to keep
us in sight.  
―Don‘t look now but we‘ve got another chopper on our tail,‖ Lind sey shouted.  I jerked
around and sure enough, a military grade helicopter with black paint and no markings  were
following us.
―Is it one of yours?‖ I shouted and Adams turned to look.
―No. Maybe CIA or some such. It‘s unmarked so I‘d bet it‘s Black Ops,‖ he returned.
―Let‘s hope they‘re not armed,‖ I said grimly and no sooner had I said that they fired
upon us.
―Rocket!‖ Adams screamed and I dropped down almost touching the trees. Not that the
maneuver would deter the rocket. Probably a LAWS from the speed  it was moving and I had an
idea how to dodge those.
―They‘ll kill you!‖ Lindsey shouted. ―I thought they wanted you alive!‖
―They do. They don‘t care if you die in the crash, they assume I‘ll heal if I get hurt.‖ I
calculated the speed and angle of the rocket and at  the very last second, turned broadside as my
passengers yelled in disbelief but Adams grinned and threw open both door hatches so that the
rocket simply blew straight through the opening and past the astonished noses of my passengers.
Might have  singed a few nose hairs but then, who needs ‗em anyway? We saw it explode into a
grove of red pine and blow the three- foot - thick trunks into matchsticks as pine cones lobbed up
like grenades, branches flying like chaff in the wind.
―Look for a tunnel or o verpass. Where‘s the nearest overpass or train tunnel?‖ I
demanded but then  I remembered the long span of a bridge over one of the mountain gorges we
would have crossed coming over the traditional route into Red Lodge. The trouble was that it
was too far a way and offered no place to hide something as large as a chopper nor did this area
have tunnels through the mountain where I could fly the bird in and hide it.
I turned around and headed straight at the other helio in a game of chicken, so close that I
could see the other pilot‘s eyes. Wide, shocked and full of terror. He broke first before I did but
that wasn‘t the point. I drove the blades into his Perspex windscreen, metal shrieked as it bit and
crumpled, slammed the skids down on his roof, knocking the  chopper out of the air. The turbines
whined and yowled  worse than a Siamese cat in heat and sparks flew off both machines. We
were stuck to his in a parody of two metal beasts mating and I could watch his face screaming
curses at me. The men in back with pistols couldn‘t aim because both birds were whirling in
circles. Yawing out of control.
We rode it down and at the last minute, I jogged hard left, disentangling the twisted metal
beyond its stress point and we broke apart  going two separate ways. We cras hed into a small
grove of young blue spruce and they hit the rocky outthrust of the ridge‘s peak. The branches
bent rather than broke, bounced as our broken blades tore them to pieces but  the boughs were
springy and thick enough to cushion our landing as if  we‘d landed on a giant air mattress.
We hit the ground about as hard as if we‘d fallen from the top step of a six- foot
stepladder. Still, there were groans and blood, bruises but I was almost certain that no one had
sustained worse than a nosebleed. We heard a dull thump  from below us; it was as close as a
hundred yards and  followed by a bright flash with a greasy black column of smoke.
―Everyone okay?‖ I asked sitting sideways against the right door of the bird. We‘d
crashed on  the right side, the rotors  jammed into the ground against a chopped trunk of hemlock.
I pulled off the headphones and released my seatbelt. In the back, Adams and Pentelli were doing
the same. 
―Any injuries?‖ I pushed medical equipment out of the way that had dislodged in the
crash . Scrambling over the seat, I checked on the five men. Other than a few dazed looks, no one
seemed to be injured.
―Doc, Sergeant, gather up the blankets, first aid  kits, and water bottles. Any weapons.
The men in those SUVs will be on our trail along with any  survivors from the crash.‖
―It exploded,‖ Lindsey pointed out.
―They might have bailed before. I‘m not staying around to find out,‖ I said and stood up
so I could push the left- hand door open.  It was higher than my  head and the movement hurt my
ribs an d my hips as I  levered  myself out so I was extra careful how I slid out  the side door down
to the ground.
I‘d crashed the chopper in a fairly young  stand of spruce and chosen the spot for that
reason. Young and springy, the branches and thin trunks had cau ght and absorbed the craft
letting it slide down without much damage to us inside and preventing the chopper from blowing
up.
Most of the blades had sheared off on contact with the other helicopter so we didn‘t have
to worry about shrapnel as we hit the ground. All six of us stood in the small clearing our sudden
descent had created and five of us wondered where we were.
―We have to leave. Ready?‖ I looked around. We were on the north slope of the mountain
about halfway up the crest, on a ridge between two  valleys. The trees were all  firs, with blue
spruce and piñon pine predominating. It smelled strongly of pine, the bruised and broken
branches had released pine resin and the branches slowly returned to their former angles from
where our passage through had  forced them. They crackled with snaps that sounded like .22s but
the sound coincided with the gusts of wind so I knew where they were coming from. That is to
say, they weren‘t shots fired at us from the survivors of the crash. If there were any. We caught   a
whiff of burning Avgas and the  unmistakable odor of burning flesh. After that, I heard the
sounds of exploding shells and  the right- of - wa y  suggested  we move off before one of us was
shot by accident. They seemed to think one or more of our pursuers had  survived and were
shooting at us. I knew better--- there was no rhythm to the shells going off.
The doc wrapped my feet in layers of ace bandages over cut pieces of blanket.  Gathering
what gear they deemed necessary, I led them off into the deep woods. The MPs ranged behind
and to the sides of me and after I tripped for the nth time, Dr. Pentelli told us to stop so he could
do something about my feet and lack of clothing. I wasn‘t cold, I automatically adjusted my body
temp to keep me warm but kept it low en ough so that I didn‘t „smurf‟. But I wasn‘t able to do
anything about my tender feet on the rocky ground, pine needles and broken branches. Walking
barefoot on pine needles was akin to walking on pin cushions with the pins pointed up.
He insisted on cutting a hole in another one and making a poncho for me to wear. When I
told him I wasn‘t cold, he said it was more for him, he was tired of looking at my bare ass.
―Well, if you people would design something better, my ass wouldn‘t be hanging in the
breeze,‖ I complained.
Pentelli laughed. ―It is the best design that they could come up with, Lakan. Easy on, easy
off, easy access to  IVs and treatments. How do your  feet fee l? Your pelvis, legs and ribs?‖ His
hand was on my wrist and I caught him taking my pulse.
―Sore but not too bad. Considering we just came through a plane crash,‖ I grinned back.
―First thing I need to do  is wrangle up some clothes.‖
―We ain‘t gonna find them out here,‖ Adams said. ―Cool trick with the rocket, though.‖
He grinned at me and I grinned back.  
―Yeah, it was. The o nly  thing I could think of at the time. There will be cabins out here.‖
I shook my head and brought up  in my memory  a map of the area. ―There‘s one not too far from
here, about six, seven miles that way.‖ I pointed  northwest  up over the ridge.
We started hiking. Thankfully, all of them were in decent shape. Actually, I was more
worried about my own stamina than theirs.
The MPs disappeared quite a few times, falling back to check if anyone had followed us.
I didn‘t worry about  the three after the first time; Sgt. Adams found our trail without any  effort
and seemed equally at home in the  woods as I did.  He drifted close as I scouted out the easiest
route up the ridge before I committed  u s  to climbing it.
I found a deer trail and called a rest. The Sergeant helped me bend down against a tree
trunk and rest my back on   it. Red pine. Sticky resin stuck to my blanket.
―There are men following us,‖ he whispered.
―How close?‖ I asked without moving my lips.
―Couple klicks behind. I saw  them from the top of the ridge a while back. Down in the
valley coming off a paved road that skirts the  lower part of this ridge. I saw them climbing on the
power lines right- of - way.‖
I closed my eyes and brought up my  image  map of the area. Saw where the  hi - tension
lines right- of - way ran relative to our position. Opened my eyes in alarm.
―If they have ATVs and GPS, they‘ll cut us off from the cabin before we can reach it. We
need the gear in there to escape and survive,‖ I worried.
―You know Houston and Deveraux will have men tracking us down.‖
We heard the sound of choppers in the air. Several of them. ―Sounds like they‘re still a
few miles away,‖ Jeff said. ―They‘ll find the crash site.‖
―But maybe not ours. The trees covered back over our landing and it was thick enough to
disguise the crash. Planes come down out here and aren‘t found for years, decades.  The o nly   way
they‘ll find it is if they‘re on the ground searching for the burning chopper and stumble on our
crash site,‖ I said. ―Then, they‘ll know we all walked out alive. We have to hustle.‖
I climbed to my feet and finished the bottle of water that one of them had brought from
the wreck. I noticed that no one else drank. ―Go ahead, fill up on water, there are springs we can
refill from. Water won‘t be a problem.‖
I waited and they passed around the bottle emptying it and I watched to make sure they
didn‘t throw the plastic away. We would need it to carry more when we did find a spring.
Looking up, I picked out the route I wanted before we started the climb. In minutes, my calves
and hamstrings were complaining of the gradient. As long as it wasn‘t so steep that I had to  use
my hands and knees, I was happy. I‘m sure the sight of my bare cheeks wasn‘t making them
thrilled either but no one complained.
Fifteen minutes later, all six of us were on the ridge. There was plenty of  cover  so I
wasn‘t worried about being sky- lined but I did worry about the pursuit using FLIR to  hi - light   us.
Luckily, no helicopters had  flown over since we‘d left the crash site.
There was a decent  t rail atop the ridge, I‘d picked up the subtle signs of deer hooves on
the slope and followed. Made by mule deer  and elk, they had picked out the easiest path and that
would take us to both water and feeding areas. Several times, I called a halt so that we could
watch does flit past, heavy with  fawns. They wouldn‘t start dropping their babies for another
month.
We didn‘t see any bucks but they would be coming down to the meadows as soon as it
got dark. I kept walking   until dark because I was afraid that our pursuit would reach the cabins
before us.
Two hours after our chopper crashed, I stopped at the edge of a narrow road that really
could be called a trail. As wide as a four- wheeler track, it opened up to a tiny clearing only as
large as  the cabin which was a 12x12 box with a stove pipe chimney and rusty tin roof.
The cabin looked abandoned. The tax rolls had it paid up to the present, its owners three
men who hunted every year during deer season, both bow and black powder. It was stocked and
we‘d find whatever we needed to survive the woods  inside. The owners were so rich that they
normally left all their weapons and gear behind, replacing what they needed before they hiked in
from the road, some twenty miles back down a trail that even  f our- wheelers  found difficult.
I checked the perimeter, walking slowly and carefully around the cabin using the trees for
cover. I saw no evidence of any vehicles in the grass nor footsteps in the loam or pine needles.
Watching the birds, crows and ravens  l ooked back at me yet they remained  unconcerned. No
animals acted as if enemies were coming, even the red squirrels and chipmunks didn‘t scold me.
Only when I was sure no one waited to ambush us, did I walk up to the cabin‘s door.  The
outside was made of sheet metal with wood framed windows. Anything wood lower than three
feet would be chewed by porcupines and smashed in by bears seeking food or someplace to sleep
over  the winter. Same reason there were steel bars on the windows and doors, front and back.
Th ere was an attached shed filled with 14 in. chunks of split firewood and a generator with a 55 -gallon drum filled with diesel. I wondered how they had brought that in on  four- wheelers. Then
again, the owners were rich enough that they might have airlifted  most of the building materials
in by chopper.
The key was hanging on the back wall of the outhouse and opened both the iron bars and
the door. The inside was hand polished cedar tongue and groove, a mini mansion that belied its
outward exterior. Kerosene l anterns and propane ran the appliances but what excited me the most
was the closet full of clothing and the beautiful compound bow hanging on the wall over the twin
beds.
I grabbed that before anyone else and pulled back the bowstring , noting the ease of t he
draw. She had an eighty - pound pull so her owner must have been a bull. On the  floor, I found an
aluminum case with a dozen arrows, some with hunting points and some target heads. Two
fletcher‘s gloves, interchangeable for left and right handed.
The othe rs raided the pantry, pulling out cans and vacuumed sealed and dehydrated
foodstuffs, packing it all into duffle bags found in the bottom of the closet. I found jeans and
cargo pants in camo patterns but better yet, climbing leggings, flannel shirts and a  down vest
which offered comfort, warmth without bulk. In a pinch, it could also serve as a pillow. In a bag
near the back wall, I found hiking boots and thin- soled expensive climbing shoes with a bendable
sole. The owner or son must have been a free climbe r, I found more gear packed in a light weight
rucksack. Pitons, ropes, carabineers, rosin and gloves with the fingertips cut off. A helmet and
headlamp with extra batteries.
Canteens and iodine purification tablets were in a waterproof box along with self- striking
matches, a compass and striker stone. Flints. Whoever this camper was, he was clearly into
rough country camping and survival. I even found a  smoke jumper‘s fire cover and space
blanket.
I allowed no more than fifteen minutes to eat, drink but tol d them not to use the outhouse
but go in the woods and bury it. A fresh pile of human feces in the outhouse would tell everyone
we had been here. Nothing was to be heated for the same reason, the smell of food carried and
we had to leave no trace that we‘d been here.
Dr. Pentelli handed me a protein bar and a sandwich made from spam and crackers. I ate
hungrily and gave the cabin one last look, checked to see that we‘d left no sign in the grass and
took them back the way we‘d come in.  The  little sign our feet had made, I swept away using a
handful of grass pulled from various places and then threw scattered leaves atop the rest.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
We were all sitting around a small campfire that I had allowed once we‘d found a spot on
a rocky ledge that rose up seventy feet behind us in a wedge that cut us off from view below. The
stiff wind that had blown up around midnight brought with it a sudden chill that cut through us.
We‘d walked far longer than was safe, especially since I wouldn‘t allow any use of
flashlights or headlamps. Although I could see fine, they could not in the near black of the night
so it necessitated that they walk directly behind me, one man holding onto the next. Sort of like
prison lockstep. That made us extremely slow but we didn‘t  have to worry about anyone falling,
twisting or breaking an ankle. It left us vulnerable to pursuit because the soldiers couldn‘t
venture off to check our back trail. If they were wearing NVGs, we were screwed. I was pretty
sure that the NSA agents hadn‘t picked up our tracks since we‘d left the crash site. I‘d seen on
the USGS contour map of the area the place where we‘d stopped, figured it was the safest place
to camp since the view from three sides was blocked by the rocky outcrop and our fire couldn‘t
be seen. Not even from above as the top of the escarpment hung over and shielded the ground
from overhead scanning.
Lindsey had taken on the job of cook and Adams had made the fire. I was resting against
my rucksack, unconsciously rubbing my chest and hips. Dr. Pentelli came over and handed me a
cup of black coffee which I took gratefully. One taste and I nearly gagged, it was nasty instant
coffee but it was hot and full of caffeine.
―You hurting?‖ he asked quietly. ―I can give you a pain pill.‖
―Will it make me sleepy?‖
―Knock you out, probably. It‘s Oxycontin.‖
―No. I need a clear head, need to be able to run if necessary,‖ I decided.
―Are we spending the night?‖
―I think we have to.‖ I pointed up the escarpment. ―Tomorrow, we have to climb up that.‖
He followed my finger up and looked shaken. ―You afraid of heights?‖
―I‘m not afraid of heights, I‘m afraid of falling,‖ he admitted.
―Someone will belay you. All you have to do is sit in the harness and hold on to the
ropes.‖
Adams came over holding a tin plate  loaded with some kind of rice casserole. ―Pork and
rice,‖ he offered. ―You need to eat something; you haven‘t taken in much protein the last few
days. You want me to set up guard rounds?‖
―Not necessary. There‘s only one way anyone came come in after us a nd that‘s exactly
how we got here. This is a bottleneck.‖ I took the plate and the spoon, tasting a few morsels and
then devoured the entire mound. I felt a warm glow in my stomach and hadn‘t realized I was so
hungry and tired because I was hungry.
―Anyone sore or need medical attention?‖ Doc asked. No one said anything, especially
when the MPs did their macho denials. The two whose names I didn‘t know introduced
themselves to me. They already knew Doc and Jeff. 
The shorter, quieter man with gray eyes and light brown hair was named James Rollo and
went by Jim. He was an AFC3 with a quick grin and a fondness for his rifle. The other man was
around thirty, dark- haired with dark brown eyes and of mixed race. When he spoke, his words
were pure Cajun. His name wa s Pete Lamoreaux. He was taller than me and knew his way
around the woods with the ease of a hunter and outdoorsman.
Both of them shook my hand and offered to set up my sleeping bag. I was tempted
because I was tired but they had come as far as me and no o ne was offering to do it for them.
I rolled over onto my knees and froze. The subtle sounds of something approaching from
above came to my ears. I kicked dirt on the fire and covered the smoke with my blanket, freezing
all of them with a hiss. A yellow and red striped nylon rope dropped from above, just missing my
nose by a hair. I put my hand out and felt the vibration of something heavy descending from
sixty feet overhead.
The first thing I saw with clarity were the soles of small hiking boots, then slend er legs
clad in loose black jeans. With fancy white stitching on the pockets. I reached up and caught the
rope, stabilizing it as Mairy dropped gently to the ground.
She searched my face in the dark and as she kissed me, the clear area where we stood
glowed as if bathed in silver moonlight. She wore a dark down jacket with a tightly cinched hood
covering her blonde hair and I slipped the cowl  down so I could hold her by the nape of her neck.
She pressed herself against me, her hands exploring my body. It was not a pleasurable grope but
a measured one--- she was checking the state of my  healing wounds. When she was satisfied, she
stepped back, jerked twice on the line and Robin descended a few minutes later.
Both of them carried extensive backpacks loaded with extra gear. More weapons, Glocks
and Sig Sauers, bows and rifles.
―We ran into a few amateurs out on the lower bench,‖ Robin reported. ―Took a few toys
off them. We figured you might need some firepower. There are more  men  heading this way.‖
―Are we safe  here?‖ Jeff asked and I made the rounds of introductions.
―You were supposed to be in Canada by now,‖ I snarled.
―Yeah, well, you weren‘t supposed to have two hundred plus people after you, Lakan,‖
she retorted. ―If you make it ten miles, it‘ll be a miracle. Leon and George  Little Bear called.
Both of them said the agencies have gone crazy putting a $50- million- dollar reward out for
whoever brings you in. People are flying here from all over the world. You think you can hide
when there are thousands of hunters roaming these woods?‖
―I had planned to meet up with George at Little Hat Rock,‖ I said naming a small canyon
that skirted the river. There, he was waiting with inflatable boats  with which we would cross the
river onto the reservation, driving up to the border from there.
Robin shook his head. ―There are Rangers patrolling the river and the river crossings. The
road between here and there is blocked by National Guards. We came in over Big Top and there
are men hiking in the same way behind us.‖
―How do  they know where I am and where I‘m going?‖ I cried in despair.
―Cameron has figured out what you‘d do in every scenario you could imagine, Lakan. He
knows you, he knows how you think ,‖ Mairy said in earnest. ―So, you have to stop thinking like
you would normally do.‖
―How? All I planned for was to get to Canada, disappear on the reservation,‖ I said.
―When I thought I had you safe, I made a deal with President Houston.‖
“You what?” It was her turn to get excited. “What did you promise?” She was ready to
cry . 
―I told him I‘d give him five years if he promised to leave you, Robin and all the others
alone,‖ I mumbled. ―He promised you‘d be safe and to protect me.‖
―He‘ll just use you until there‘s nothing left, Lakan,‖ she cried.
―As long as you‘re safe, it doesn‘t matter,‖ I told her softly. The glow dimmed leaving us
in the darkness as Robin snapped the rope free, coiling it as it came down.
―We‘re tired,‖ I decided. ―Do you think we can go on?‖ I asked as I looked at all of them.
Everyone nodded  vigorously bu t I knew that they would say that even if they were on their last
legs.
―We go up?‖ Adams questioned and I shook my head.
―No. That‘s what I would do if I was me so we‘ll head down instead. Back to Wyoming.‖
I pointed to the edge of the out- thrust we were  presently occupying and too close for Doc‘s
comfort. ―That‘s the only other way down beside the trail we hiked in on. It‘s supposed to be
unclimbable, the rock too friable. The drop is over 400 feet straight down. No one in their right
mind would try it when there was a perfectly good trail up.‖
―We‘re not climbers,‖ Adams said.
―I know. That‘s why you‘re taking the trail back down to Red Lodge. Mairy, Robin and I
will rappel down and meet you on the road into town.‖
They protested but I didn‘t argue, I waited patiently until they sputtered to a stop and
gave up. ―You lead them back, Sgt. Adams. I know you are comfortable in the woods and can
find your way. You‘ll be safe until daylight but leave then. You should be hours away from here
before the search tea m gets here. Even with NVGs they won‘t risk a trek through these woods,
too dangerous.‖
―How can you do this in the dark?‖ Doc demanded.
―I can see in the dark, Dr. Pentelli. Almost as well as an owl. Just another one of the
genetic modifications that Cameron did on my DNA.‖
I opened the rucksack and went through the contents, pulling out the gear I thought I
might need. It even had a pair of climbing harnesses in it but the last few items puzzled me, they
were bobby pins and hair clips. So either the climb er was a guy with long hair and feminine
tendencies or he  was a she.  Both Mairy and I pulled on the belts and hung the pitons, carabiners,
and jackknife off the clips.
Mairy giggled and took the diamond- studded  hair clip, placing it in her own hair. It
twi nkled like an expensive tiara. She pointed to a deep crack near the edge and told me to rope
off that spot. I used the hammer now hanging from my harness along with assorted pins to drive
in a medium weight piton of stainless steel into the narrowest part of the crack. Tugging sharply
on it, the steel remained tightly wedged gripping the stone. Instantly, my mind engineered a new
type that when inserted would automatically engage with a twist of its shaft and lock in place to
be released with the opposite t wisting motion. It would not engage unless it sensed a secure
connection and would telescope down until it reached solid rock. In short, it would be a ‗smart‘
piton  that would not come out or release, leaving the climber to a fall.
The ropes were color coded by size and length, I found two that were two hundred feet
long and a scant 3/8ths thick but I knew they were rated for over a thousand pounds per inch---more than enough for our weight. Tying the end to the pin with a belaying knot, I threw the rope
ov er feeling it snake its way down the incline.
Before anyone could blink or stop me, I was hitched and jumped off, catching the wall
with my feet some ten feet down. Sheer fall, no ledges, no trees to catch anything, no stopping
me from rappelling in ten - foot  increments until I reached nearly the end of the lines. At the end
of two hundred feet minus ten feet or so, there was a rudimentary ledge some four inches thick.
Just wide enough for my toes to catch and there I secured a second  piton , released my belay rope
from the first line and secured myself to the piton  and then tethered  my harness to  the lines. I
jerked on it as I waited on the narrow ledge.
Mairy was the first down and she stepped onto the small space next to me, looking
exhilarated. ―Wow. That was fun.‖ She kissed me lightly on the cheek, the tiara still on her head.
―Lucky this was here and not another ten feet down.‖
I pointed o ver to the massive vertical crack that bisected the base of the cliff. More
followed on  both sides of us and offered a way down if we wanted to descend what was basically
a chimney flue.
―You going that way?‖ she asked as I threw the next two hundred feet down and felt it hit
the ground.
―No, this is faster and safer. You think those macho dudes will return or try to f ollow us?
Or worse, engage the bad guys and try to delay them for us?‖
―That would be my guess except they won‘t risk Dr. Pentelli, one of them will sneak him
home if they don‘t meet up with us. Besides, they haven‘t any rope, harnesses nor are  they
climbers.‖ She studied my face in the dark, her eerie blue eyes like mine glowing as if lit from
within. ―There is no road meeting up with where we‘re going.‖
I grinned. ―I know. I sent them to Hwy. 37 back towards the east side of Red Lodge, near
the Ranger Sta tion.‖
She laughed and I told her to wait till I hit the ground before she told Robin to rappel
down. Kicking away from the wall, I swooped down the line fast enough to make the rope  sing.
By the time I had reached the boulder strewn bottom, I could feel Mairy‘s touch on the lines.
Two jerks told her to come ahead.
Twenty minutes later, the three of us had  leapfrogged onto the ground at the cliff‘s base
and we stared out over an endless sea of trees, mountains,  fissures, and huge ramparts. It
appeared as if they were giant hands clawing their way out of the  foundation of the earth.
Gray, weathered and covered with lichen, they reminded me of the menhirs of England.
―What is this place?‖ Robin asked me in a whisper. It evoked that kind of hushed
reverence once you stood in its midst.
―The maps call it Little Cardiff Valley. It‘s supposed to resemble the area in Wales where
the Picts cut the stone for Stonehenge,‖ I explained. Walking past the first  menhir, I noticed
petroglyphs carved into the sides.
Hands. Sp irals and winged lizards were still legible on the surface of the pitted stones.
Traces of red and yellow ochre could still be seen. Some of the local Indian tribes had legends
that said a great thunderbird had fought here, knocking the rocks from its nest   in a battle of epic
proportions. I could well believe it. It was also a tourist attract ion that although difficult to re ach,
still brought the hardy and intrepid to its site. I figured we‘d find a trail or road of sorts that
would take us out of there.
We were on it making good time and  less than ten minutes later,   we were  heading east
into the rising sun.
Chapter Seventy
We stopped for breakfast around 9 a.m. at a small country store that catered to hikers
entering the park. The cook was cheerful, the  waitress cute as she took our orders for the
lumberjack special. Three eggs, bacon,  hash browns, toast, buttermilk pancakes and a small
breakfast steak with unlimited coffee was just the ticket and all for  $5.99. We put our faces down
and did some serious da mage to the pile of food. I  heaped ketchup on everything but the toast
and pancakes while both of them made fun of my condiments. When the three  plates had been
wiped spotless with the last sliver of toast, I sat back and politely smothered a burp.  Mairy
kicked me under the table.
―What?‖ I protested. ―I swallowed it.‖
―Hog. Where to next?‖
―Into town. There's a BMW dealership that has just released three bikes kept on hold,‖ I
answered checking the quipp. I hadn‘t expected to need them but I was glad I‘d  set them aside
months ago just in case. Paperwork and license  tags were all in order, all we  had to do was drop
in and pick them up.
―Back into Red Lodge?‖ Robin gaped. “Are you nuts?”
―Sure, it's the last place I‘d be right now. I‘d have to be an  idiot to come back here,‖ I
said. ―Even you think it‘s stupid. ―
We hitched a ride  with a contract lumber cutter, the same job as Travis Walton  who was
the guy that said he was abducted by aliens.
― I remember reading about that,‖ Robin commented. ―What do you think  really
happened?‖
―He was taken by stealth helicopters and examined for signs of  radiation,‖ I said briefly.
―Same as all those cattle found dead and mutilated. The government is  checking   how much
strontium is in the reproductive organs and the eyes, tong ue and nose because that‘s where most
of the radiation accumulate.‖
―You sure?  Everyone says it‘s those grays,‖ Robin protested.
―Nope. I saw the files when I hacked the NSA data banks. It‘s   all done by our
government.‖
We were silent as we bounced in the bed of the pickup on the washboard road, sitting
among the bags of feed, a chainsaw case, wedges, and a crosscut saw. The range chief stopped at
the four- way and stuck his head out the window. ―Far as I go into town,‖   he called. ―Keep
straight, ain‘t more  than a mile before you hit the Walmart and S hopping Center.‖
We hopped out and I offered him a twenty but he declined it. ―You might need it. Stay
safe.‖
―How come you're not out chasing after the miracle man?‖ I asked  curious ly .
He snorted. ―I reckon if God made this boy so perfect, it ain‘t up to me to hunt him.
Crazy fools. How many will kill themselves in these woods hunting for a unicorn?‖
With that, he drove off. We kept walking on the road. Surprisingly, there wasn‘t much
traffic nor  were there  many  vehicles  in the Walmart parking lot or S hopping Center.
We found the BMW dealership next to a Rite- aid, entered the stuffy showroom to  find
only one employee kicking back at his desk.
―Where is everyone?‖ I asked as he sat  up when he saw us.
―Out hunting snipe,‖ he snickered as his lips twisted. ―Damn fools. Can I help you?‖
―We‘re here to pick up order 799- 05CE. Three BMW K1200s  in the name of Tom Horn.‖
―Any relation to the bounty hunter?‖
―No, not that I know of. I‘m from California,‖ I said.
―Well, eve rything is in order with your paperwork and we have your three helmets and
saddlebags that you ordered. Here are the keys, the bikes are out back, I had the service
department fill the tanks and put your plates on. The modifications you asked for are in place,
also.‖ He handed me the leather pouch with our licenses,  tags, and maps. ―Follow me.‖
We walked behind him and out of the service department door, from there outside to a
yard encircled by chain - link  fences and razor wire. Three beautiful shiny black  and blue bikes
waited for us, tricked out with leather saddlebags, windscreens, and plush leather seats.  Three
helmets with flames, a phoenix, and a wolf design.  The bikes were 16  valve s with 4 cylinders, a
DOHC horizontal in- line liquid cooled engine with  a 6- speed  manual transmission. Normally,
the bike could go 174 mph but with the modifications I had asked for, it could hit 260 mph
without blinking an eye. The only thing faster was a Honda  Blackbird or the Dodge  Tomahawk
but those were a very limited model that would attract attention and be hard to forget, not to
mention that the average joe couldn‘t afford a Tomahawk unless he was a millionaire.
Robin and Mairy looked at me, the bikes and needed no urging. Robin claimed the bike
with the flames, Mairy took the wolf and left the phoenix for me. Both climbed on and kick started the engines with a throaty roar and I heard the two of them purr in response.
The modifications I had asked for and paid a hefty bonus were not strictly legal but the
salesman had quietly agreed and pocketed the extra 10K. The capability of the bike s was  now a
killer 260  miles per hour and could out- corner a jackrabbit on speed. Yet, they were also good on
dirt.
He shook my hand and pointed down the alley that stretched through the back side of
businesses and town. ―That way heads out to the state land and dirt bike trails. Cuts off about ten
miles of road and brings you out on Hwy 27, past the road blocks. Follow that to the interchange,
yo u can pick up three I nterstates, one to Me xico, one to California and another to Canada. ‖
―Thanks.‖
―Your insurance is good in Mexico because I got you a policy through the consulate.
There‘s an ID card in your papers from Juarez,‖ he added. ―They don‘t  honor American
companies down there and it can cause problems.‖
―Got it.‖ I threw my leg over the saddle and started the bike. She growled  at  me like a
jaguar and I could feel his eyes on me until we turned a shallow corner out of his view. I
wondered how long it was before he would put it together and sell us out.
Five million dollars was a lot of money.
The helmets had built in radios so we could converse and I let them get a mile down the
alley before I turned the bike onto a cross street called Palmetier, stopped and told them to
remove their helmets. Both of them followed my instructions, kicked the stand down and waited
as I ran the quipp over each bike and helmet. No bugs. That done, I opened up the electronics in
the  helmets and reset the frequencies so that we could speak without the fear of  being monitored
by any agency or satellite. I programmed another so that we could eavesdrop on  the police bands.
Done with that, I handed them back and we started once more down the road out of town.
But not by the route that the salesman had shown us. We  left town by way of Main St., past the
hospital where the crowds of news vans and lazier hunters had given up or hadn‘t started after us.
No one paid any attention to three more bikers breezing through town.
When we hit the concrete of the I nterstate, I cranked the bike up to 75  mph and spoke to
them. ―You guys okay?‖
Mairy said shakily, ―I‘m nervous as hell, Lake. I thought we were sitting ducks in town.‖
―You were right, Laky. No one ever dreamed you‘d be stupid enough to come back here.
Where are all the agents we saw when you were first brought in?‖
―Looking for me in the woods or at some other clinic,‖ I shrugged. ―I hope. Remember,
they think I‘m still wounded and flat on my back.
―We missed our rendezvous with George Little Bear, he has all the gear we need for the
rest of this trip. We can‘t get it here; it‘d draw too much attention.‖
―Passports?‖ Robin questioned. ―Won‘t we need passports to get into Canada?‖
―EDLs are in the pouch. We‘ll get passports in Canada from the reservation in Victoria.‖
There was a lot of traffic heading into town but not much going out our way. We‘d done
five miles when we ran into a road block but not surprisingly, the police didn‘t stop us --- they
weren‘t expecting me to be on a bike after the kind of injuries I‘d had nor were they looking for
three bikers.  They would assume I was being transported by car or ambulance nor would they
think I would have headed east away from my intended destination of Canada.
We drove for four hours leaving Montana behind and into North Dakota. Into the Black
Hills. I was uneasy with all that openness around me, I much preferred the dense thickets of
ponderosa pine, mountain ravines, and cliffs than these barren, open hills of sere grass.
I was grateful for the perplex   windscreen. At our altitude, speed and the cold, the wind
was a solid knife that ate through our leathers and clawed at muscles making it  nearly
unbearable. I was afraid to raise my core temperature and heat up my face, hands and feet. The
other two must be near to frostbite. I decided to stop at midnight, to continue on was risking a
collision with deer or pronghorn, black ice, frostbite or worse.
We had traveled far enough that Bismarck was nearly in our sights and  George Little
Bear  would meet us there if we needed him.
―Real  hotel tonight?‖ I asked. ―Shower, bed and real food?‖
―Is it safe?‖ both asked.
―Safe as any place. I‘d rather be out camping but that‘s what Chase and Cameron expect
me to do. Besides, I‘m sore sitting on this bike, nice as it is.‖
We parked at a truck pull - off lane underneath a sodium vapor light and while both of
them dismounted to stretch their legs, I sat on my  bike running through the  tri va go site. There
were quite a few empty rooms in the Clarion and Best Western, hardly any at the Hilton. There,
we would be just another group of anonymous faces in the crowd of bikers who‘d come up  early
for the Sturgis Rally. More than a million people were predicted this  year. Of course, it wasn‘t
until July 30
th
but people were already scoping the place out and getting the town ready for the
76
th
anniversary of the Biker Rally.
―We can go on to Bismarck or stop in Sturgis,‖ I offered. ―Even though it‘s not R ally
time, no one would look twice at us. Bismarck, we‘d be more out of place unless we checked in
at a Best Western or Motel 6.
Mairy sighed. ―I vote for sooner. My butt is killing me.‖
―It‘s killing me too,‖ I leered. Robin gagged.
―Sooner, Romeo. I need a shower and a beer not necessarily in that order.‖
―Motel 6 it is,‖ I said and found us two adjoining rooms  on the 1
st
floor near the back. A
confirmation code scrolled across the vid screen as I set the kickstand down, walked off the
stiffness and stretched.
―How are you feeling?‖ she asked me, picking up my hand. I rubbed her palm and the
blue  lights flared, illuminating an area the size of a tractor trailer.
―Whoa. That good?‖ she grinned and gave me a long slow kiss that raised my temp
making the field as brilliant as halogen tru ck lights. 
―Hey, bro. Sis. I‘m still here!‖ Robin shouted. ―It needs to wait until you can get a
room!‖
I pointed my finger at him and a streak of blue danced towards him, wrapped itself
around his legs and I gave it a jerk. Pulled him off his feet and onto his ass. He went down with
his arms flailing, and his mouth open in surprise. Mairy burst out laughing as he climbed to his
feet and charged me. I ran   g rinning, down the side of the shoulder with him threatening dire
harm should he catch me. Good luck with that.
Chapter Seventy-One
The Motel 6 didn‘t leave the light on for us but it did have our  rooms ready. We pulled
into the  tree- shaded parking lot around 2 a.m. and Robin woke the desk clerk from his nap  so he
could sign in. He signed the register with the name on his new enhanced  driver‘s  license and was
handed both room keys. All  the chain hotels had gone to them rather than metal keys which too
often were lost and never returned with God knows how many of them floating out in the world.
The desk clerk didn‘t say anything about his leather cycle outfit but just where the ice machine
was located. And that the pool was still closed for the season. Robin rolled his eyes.
―Ya think?‖ The temperature was still in the 40‘s and anyone brave enough to go
swimming must have been part polar bear.
―Check out is 12 noon.‖
Robin took the keycards and exited  where he met us at the corner out of the camera‘s
sight. Entering the room at the end of the building, we waited for him to give us the all- clear.
Once he was satisfied that it was safe, we repeated the process with our room. Both looked the
same--- a bedroom with bath/shower, mirror, sink and toilet in pale yellow tile . The two queen
sized beds were covered with an emerald and bronze coverlet, the walls papered in dark green to
match the bedspreads. On the back wall was a row of sliding windows and a wall register that
was putting out moist heat. We had a Formica- topped desk opposite the head of the beds, an
overstuffed recliner and one of those luggage stands for our non- existent suitcases. A clothes bar
hung behind the double- locked door with  hangers that could not be removed from the bars. The
lights were overhead fluorescents except for the two small hanging lamps over the beds.
Mairy lay on the one nearest the window and I pulled off her boots before I sat on the
edge looking down at her. ―You go first,‖ her tired voice said. ―Shower. I‘m so tired, I‘ll do it
later.‖
―Hungry? Thirsty? I can get you a cold Coke from the machines,‖ I offered but she was
already asleep.
Robin stood in the doorway. ―Beer?‖
―Bars close at 2,‖ I reminded him. ―There‘s a Seven - Eleven down the street, we passed it
on the way in.‖ He nodded. ―You okay to drive?‖
―Yeah. I‘m tired but I can stay awake for that. Sam Adams?‖
―Cold Snap if they have it.‖ He walked out of sight and I stood in the doorway watching
until I heard the  fading  growl of the BMW. He didn't go  long . I watched him come up the drive,
round the corner of the hotel with his hands full of dark brown six packs. He raised both packs as
he saw me, followed me into the room and eyed his sleeping sister.
―She asleep?‖
―Knocked out,‖ I agreed.
―Want to come over to my room? I bought some peanuts,  pretzels,  and sandwiches. I
don‘t want to wake her.‖
―I don‘t think a brass band could wake her,‖ I laughed. ―But  I‘m headed over anyway.‖   I
closed the door behind me and made sure it was double locked before I followed behind Robin
into his room. When I opened his door, he was sprawled on his bed face down and sound asleep.
Not even a shove on his shoulder woke him. The beers were sitting on the nightstand,
condensation dripping onto the fake wood tops.
I pulled off his shoes and threw the comforter from the extra bed on top of him, made
sure that the key was on the counter and locked up behind me. I stood outside both rooms and
drank one of the still cold beers, my eyes on the brilliant array of stars that could only be seen in
the clear skies of the mountains and not the cities.
The air was still, cool enough to warrant a coat and quiet enough that I could hear the
sound of traffic and TV sets that other motel guests had  turned on. What I overheard sent me
scurrying inside and turning on my own set to watch the cable news channel.  And there it was.
Pictures of me, Robin, Mairy, Leon and Mike as well as the rest of the people who had helped
me including Roan Horse, the nurse. Luckily, all but George and Leon were out of the country
and reach of Chase and company. Worse yet, President Houston was spearheading the effort to
track me down; I saw him at the news conference with Chase prominently in the background. He
was espousing how dangerous it was for me to remain at large and that I should turn myself in,
that I could not hide in a city, town or village nor would the forests conceal my presence
anymore. A phone number and a web address crawled across the screen denoting a s pecial task
force set up simply for sightings of me and for my capture. This picture faded out with the
reward money and the annoying buzz of the EBS, Emergency Broadcast System. He might as
well have put out a death notice on me.
―Shit, shit, shit,‖ I his sed and looked at Mairy. She was dead asleep, curled in a ball under
the covers, her body rising and falling gently as she breathed. She slept like a child, emotionally
and physically exhausted and I didn‘t have the heart to wake her.
Grabbing the blanket off the other bed, I slipped out of the door making sure that it was
double- locked before I went up the stairs to the roof. The fire stairs were locked but the quip p
deactivated the alarm and opened the lock for me so that I could slip through onto the fla t roof of
the motel.  That it was flat surprised me, this are a received a good portion of heavy snows and
6/12 pitched roofs  were more common because of the snow loads. Maybe because of the massive
h eating and AC units on the roof, it  necessitated a flat roof.  This provided enough   light and
coverage for me plus the blanket broke up more of my human- shaped profile.
The sky was enormous, a cereal bowl of twinkling rainbow colored stars and diamonds.
There were no clouds and it was cold enough to make my breath  visible; as if the cold jinn of
winter had reached down my throat and pulled forth my very soul. I was grateful for the blanket
and huddled underneath its cocoon of trapped body warmth.
I could see for miles. The town wasn‘t large enough for skyscrapers a nd like Phoenix,
had spread out rather than up. There wasn‘t much going on this early in the morning; it was just
barely three a.m. but a few tractor trailers were pulling into the truck stop on the Interstate. Some
early morning  deliveries were unloading. Bread company vans, newspaper  trucks,  and the
Walmart was open 24/7. There were only  six cars in their parking lot. Nowhere did I see
unmarked vans loitering, blacked out SUVs or stealth helicopters descending on the town. No
suspicious groups of casual s hoppers talking into their hands or wearing extra- large hearing aids
that snaked under their collars. In fact, it looked damned normal and that worried me. 
My quipp  vibrated and nearly made me piss my pants. By the time I had fumbled through
the folds of  t he blanket and into my jeans pocket, it had fallen silent but I could read the text in
the glow from the screen. From George Little Bear. It read, RUN. He‘s coming for you.
George knew where we were or would be. He was expecting us to meet him in Bismarck
and I hadn‘t yet told him we‘d been too tired to go on or that we‘d stopped in Sturgis. Still, I
knew Chase could easily pull up all hotel and motel reservations in the surrounding areas and
although three people wouldn‘t necessarily seem odd, the NSA would definitely have someone
checking out any new arrivals.
I ran down the stairs and back to the rooms, waking Robin first, letting Mairy have that
extra few minutes of sleep. Robin and I wiped down the room for fingerprints and then I raised
the air temp inside hot enough to destroy any DNA evidence yet not harm any of the rugs, walls
or furniture. Next, I went to my room and Mairy.
She was already awake, washing her face in cold water, pulling on clean clothes and
packing the little we‘d pulled out of our backpacks. I kissed her.
―You‘re a marvel. Did you see the news?‖
―No. Something in my dreams warned me to run. What  is it?‖
―Chase found George. Sent me a message on my quip p.‖
―Just what is that thing, anyway?‖ She took it from my hand and studied what ha d once
been a lowly cell phone.
―You know that this has  more memory and computing capacity than  all the computers
used by NASA to put men on the moon? Yeah, well, I re- programmed it to tap into and use the
satellite coding systems and piggyback my programs. I can go anywhere, get into anything and
override whatever I need to for that particular instance or situation.  It doesn‘t actually scan but
uses the US, Russian, Chinese and European Union SATS to scan for me in real time. It does
emit an electronic pul se that interferes with brainwaves and  lets  me orchestrate your thoughts.
Consider it a ‗remote control‘ for the entire world‘s Satellite Security System.‖
―But why ‗quipp‘?‖
―E- Quip- ment  Unit I mpersonating  Program   Protocols,‖ I quoted.
―If someone else gets a hold of  it?‖
I handed it to her and the quipp quivered in her palm, blinked and went dark. No matter
how she poked and prodded or shook it, the unit did not turn back on.
―It‘s broken?‖
Reaching over, I plucked it from her and the unit powered up, beeped almost too fast for
her to distinguish individual tones yet she heard and translated it.
―Morse code. It says, DAD. Is it coded to your DNA? How is that possible?‖
―Coded to the electrical signature of my brain,  not my DNA. DNA can be faked, my
brain  has to be awake, un - coerced and in a particular state that only I know or it won‘t work,‖ I
explained. ―So George‘s only works when he‘s holding it and not forced to use it. He had time to
warn me before it was taken from him.‖
She shook her head. ―No wonder the US Government is after us. Can they track you
through George‘s unit to yours?‖
I hesitated. ―I‘m not sure. If they reverse eng ineer it, they might be able to. ‖
She grabbed both of our packs and headed out the door. I did the same  temperature burst
t hing with any evidence left in the room leaving it cleaner than before we‘d entered. 
Robin had the bikes readied for us; he‘d checked the fluid levels and the gas tanks.
Laughingly, I realized he‘d packed the beer in the saddlebags along with the snacks ne ither of us
had opened.
Mairy snatched the sourdough pretzels and opened them. ―Great. I‘m starving.‖ She
tucked the bag on the seat and pushed her bike out of the parking lot and down the street. We
followed and only started them when we were out of earshot and camera range of the desk clerk.
Anyway, I used the quipp to point the cameras away from us so there wasn‘t anything to
record. We rode up the street with the lights off until we reached the on - ramp to the Interstate.
Once our wheels hit the concrete, we increased our speed to 90 mph. I set the quipp to scan for
radar and police presence but we didn‘t see anything until we were 75 miles away from Sturgis.
The traffic was light on the highway;  mostly 18 wheelers and the three of us back- doored a
convoy  of Walmart trucks--- riding their slipstreams and using the trailers for camouflage. We
didn‘t drive towards Bismarck yet there was a major increase in police activity and helicopters
traveling in that direction.
We decided to stop at the next truck stop for breakfast; all of us so hungry that I swore
my stomach was eating its way up to my throat. We‘d polished off all the snacks but had left the
beers alone.
We ate the biggest breakfast we could chow down. Here, it wasn‘t called the Lumberjack
Special but the Trucker‘s with gallons of coffee just the way I liked it. We kept our chatter down
to a minimum; that was to say nothing until Mairy cleaned her plate.
―We‘re going after George?‖
I sighed and put my hands on the tabletop, thumbing the text on the quip p. I scrolled
through the police computer banks and when I found nothing there, I went diving into NSA files
and even the White House Situation room‘s notes. Press files and the Internet and nowhere did I
find any mention of George, the accident in Red Lod ge or me. There  was a total news and
information blackout going on which meant it went as high as the President and was coordinated
to every level.
―There‘s nothing,‖ I said frustrated. ―Not even any cell phone traffic between Chase and
Cameron. They must be relaying  orders by landlines and memos. Using couriers which will slow
them down.‖
―Do they even have typewriters anymore?‖ Robin asked.
―I have a few other tricks I can try,‖ I muttered and typed furiously. The signal went out
to the CCTV cameras at La ngley and NSA HQ turning on in the Director‘s office, his personal
assistant and Cameron‘s home and office. All four places showed on the small screen one at a
time because all at once the images were too small for details.
No one was in Chase‘s office, the PA‘s or Cameron‘s but the doctor was sitting at his
desk at home dictating on an old recorder. I could have hacked into his cell phone or PC and
eavesdropped if either had been on but both were conspicuously   unplugged and the SIM card
removed. An old  fas hioned Princess phone sat incongruously  next to his PC but even that was
unplugged from the phone jack. I was able to see him only because I had bugged his home
immediately after my first escape.
Reading his lips wasn‘t easy but I managed to catch enough to know that they had both
George and Leon in custody. Mike Faraday had eluded them with his father‘s help, escaping on
the senior Faraday‘s Lear jet overseas. 
Chapter Seventy-Two
I pulled over on the jeep trail and shut off the BMW. Mairy and Robin  followed suit as
the quiet woods settled around us. Even though the bikes hadn‘t made it out of second gear or
over 10 mph, th e engines were still louder than the forest could muffle. We‘d kept to the least
traveled trails managing to avoid any hikers, Forest Ran gers or forestry woodcutters who would
surely have warned us that no motorized vehicles were allowed on National Forest land.
The border wasn‘t far off, maybe another mile down the rough track. It was one of the
several  crossings that were rarely monitored by anyone. It was only when you hit the paved road
further down that the border station came up and we would have to check in with Canadian
Immigration.
―What?‖ Both looked at me and started to jump down my throat. ―No! You‘re not going
back for George!‖
―I would if it was you,‖ I said softly. ―He‘s being held nearby, they know I‘ll come for
him and they‘ll make it easy for me to find him.‖
―Lakan, don‘t do this! ‖ Mairy cried. ―Don‘t go after him,  if you disappear, they‘ll let him
go. They don‘t want him;  he has nothing that can help them to get to you.‖
―He saved me. I can‘t do any less for him,‖ I returned.
―Then let us help you,‖ Robin said. I shook my head.
―I can move faster without you and I need to know that you‘re safe. I lost Rachel because
Leon wo uldn‘t let me go back for her. I‘m not making that mistake again. Please. Just go down
and cross the border. I‘ll meet you on the reservation when I‘m done.‖
Robin pushed Mairy back onto her bike and climbed on his, starting both engines. He
searched my face and I could see his fear deep  in his eyes as he struggled to keep it hidden from
his sister.
―I am coming back, Robin,‖ I said mildly. ―And not in five years, either. Take care of
her.‖ I gave him my backpack, keeping only the quipp and the bow that I had carried since the
old cabin in the woods. He gave me his quiver filled with arrows and I slung them across my
chest like an old time bandolier.
―You taking the bike?‖ he questioned. ―Back to Bismarck?‖
―No. Closer to Kalispell.‖
―Why there?‖
―Because th at‘s where the nearest FBI office is; where they‘ll transport George, where
they have enough manpower to corner me. Leave, Robin. Before she can think to follow me,‖ I
ordered. ―Don‘t let her follow me, whatever you do.‖
He nodded once. ―I‘ll keep her safe, brother.‖ Using his bike, he nudged her down the
trail and I went the other way, taking the  left - hand break off the jeep trail which brought me out
on the road. It was faster than their way out and in the opposite direction.
One minute the tires were chewing up gravel and pine needles, the next they were
thrumming on macadam that had seen better days. Patched and re - patched, the potholes were
winning. Anyone watching me ride the BMW would have thought that I was dancing drunkenly
down the road. Luckily, t here weren‘t any cars or lumber trucks coming either way.
I passed through dense woods with National Forest signs. Even passed a few old Smokey
the Bear ones that had been shot  through with everything from .22 shells  to slugs by the sizes of
the holes. The  ‗O‘s in ONLY  YOU CAN PREVENT FOREST FIRES had been carefully
sculpted out by bullets. 
God. I was so tired of pounding my body on the bike even though she was a sweet ride. I
was tired of running, hiding in the woods and most of all, I was tired of being hunted as an object
of unimaginable power.
I rolled into a decent sized town called  Kalispell on the edge of Many Glacier
Campground but what I wanted was a larger chain hotel and found one called Sears Mountain
Lodge. Small cabins, they were easily booked, easy in and easy out. I could see anyone
approaching from nearly all four angles and no one could sneak up on me.
Surprisingly, there wasn‘t a heavy load of tourists yet, it was still too early in the season.
In fact, the pass of Chief Mt.  wasn‘t officially open until May 15
th
. I knew that where Robin and
Mairy had crossed was the Roose ville /Grasmere Xing on US Hwy 93/BC Hwy 93 and it was
open year round with up to a four- hour delay when traffic was busy. As usual, there was talk
about widening the road to eliminate the bottleneck between the two countries but so far, that‘s
all it was. Talk.
I didn‘t unpack but I did hit the showers before I drove back into town heading for the
nearest restaurant which happened to be a Denny‘s. There were no big screen TVs playing, nor
news like they had in bars a n d Pizza  Huts, nor did the  Denny‘s have a bar. I didn‘t order any beer
because I knew that I‘d be carded and no matter what my ID said, no one would believe I was
18.
The waitress brought  me all American waffles with cream cheese, blueberries and
whipped cream along with a carafe of coffee. She was too busy to make small talk and barely
acknowledged my presence once I started eating. She left the bill and I left a twenty on it which
took care of both the tip and the rest.
Food taken  care of, I pulled out the quipp and dialed the number for the FBI office that
was just two minutes away from the diner.
―Hello. You have reached the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Kalispell
Montana. How may I direct your call?‖
―This is Lakan Strongbow,‖ I said using the quipp as a phone. After all, that‘s what it had
started out its life. She was silent.
―Are you reporting a crime, sir?‖
I laughed. ―Lady, I‘m the most wanted person in the world and you don‘ t know my
name? S hame on you.  I want to speak with your SAIC, Camden Delaney.‖
―Special Agent in Charge Delaney is unavailable,‖ the PR agent said. ―Do you know how
many fake tips we receive a day, sir?‖
I had the answer on the quipp. ―Three thousand six hundred and nine ty - three,‖ I
answered. ―And SAIC Delaney is in a meeting with Agents Peter,  Scammers and two men from
ATF.‖
She was silent, shocked I think. ―So, may I speak to Agent Delaney or would you like me
to call his boss?‖
―You said your name is Lakan Strongbow? C an you provide me with some verbal ID?‖
―What? Like my birthdate? Social Security number? I don‘t have one, I was born on the
reservation. My mother was Agent Rachel Strong and her Federal ID number was G65940B.
Michael Hamilton was my father and Sarah Hamilton was my grandmother, I‘m sorry to say.
Her SS# was 107- 98- 4951. Director Chase‘s private phone number is 076- 395- 0010 ext. 2100.‖
There was silence for about two minutes and then, I heard the subtle click of a technician
running a trace on the line. ― Don‘t bother,‖ I laughed. ―I‘ll tell you where I am. The Denny‘s just
down the road. In Kalispell.‖
I heard her murmur something and a man‘s voice with a distinctive accent picked up. His
voice screamed Harvard and Boston. ―This is Assistant Director Anson, is this Mr. Strongbow?‖
―Where is SAIC Delaney? Not that it matters, Assistant Director,‖ I returned.   ―You‘ll do
just as well.‖
―He‘s here, listening in.‖
―Don‘t bother trying to trace me. One, you can‘t pinpoint the device I‘m calling from and
two, I‘ve already told your switchboard where I am.‖
―What do you want, Lakan?‖ he asked. I heard the surprised excitement in his voice. I
could also tell that he had put his hand over the receiver and spoke to someone else. I yelled.
―I‘m here at Denny‘s. In Kalispell. I‘m not moving, all I want is for you to let George
Little Deer and Leon DeCarlos go free. I‘ll turn myself  into the FBI if you agree to that but only
to the FBI.‖
―We don‘t have custody of either gentleman,‖ the AD said.
―I know that. Chase and the NSA does.‖ I heard the sound of screeching tires outside the
Denny‘s and most of the diners looked up and out of  the front windows that faced the street. Big
black Escalades parked on   rocking springs, doors flew open and scores of agents bolted out. Four
i mmediately secured all the exits and the rest approached the front entrance. I wasn‘t surprised to
notice that they had weapons drawn and their arrival inside caused total panic.
One younger man, blonde and a Fox Mulder lookalike called out in a loud voice. ―Take it
easy, people. We‘re FBI.‖ He held up his badge and ID. ―We‘re here to pick up a witness.‖
Their eyes scanned the crowded interior. I didn‘t make it easier for them but he motioned
for the manager, spoke a few words into his ear and I was pointe d out.
I kept my hands on the table in clear view, the quipp sitting there as innocently as a cell
phone. They approached slowly, guns held on me with the steadiest hands and coldest eyes I had
ever seen.
His eyes were brown, hardened pebbles but the tie he wore with his neat blue suit had
little Kokopelli figures on  it. ―Lakan Strongbow?‖ I nodded, I already knew his name and his
face from hacking the FBI personnel files.   ― I‘m SAIC Camden Delaney. Stand up. Slowly. Keep
your hands where I can see them.‖
I did, kicking my pack out into the aisle. Immediately, one of them grabbed it away as
another took hold of my wrists and spun me around. I was handcuffed and after that, in full view
of the restaurant patrons, marched out to the first SUV and carefully tuck ed into the back seat
between two pissed- off agents.
―My bike?‖ I raised an eyebrow. ―It‘s the blue BMW parked in front.‖
The one called Delaney snapped an order to one of the other team members. He searched
my jean pockets, pulling out the keys to the bike.
―The helmet‘s on the seat,‖ I said helpfully. ―I‘d appreciate it if you‘d pick it up.‖
They didn‘t wait for me to hear it start but drove off less than five minutes since they‘d
walked into the Denny‘s. Good thing I‘d paid for my breakfast up front and  left a big tip. Two
minutes beyond that, we were pulling into the parking garage of the Kalispell FBI building and I
was shoved out, escorted inside and deposited in the interrogation room. There, the handcuffs
were removed and I was stripped of everything, inspected by a grim - faced doctor who did not
believe my healing wounds and then told to dress in a paper coverall with thin flip - flops on my
feet. 
After th at, I was handcuffed and shackled to the bolt on the floor and table, left by myself
seated behind the table with two chairs and a large mirror that I knew concealed the watchers. I
let my eyes roam the walls and ceiling, finding all the hidden cameras.
―Have you secured the release of George Little Deer and Leon DeCarlos?‖ I asked. They
made me wait, trying to soften me up. Instead, I took a nap.
Chapter Seventy-Three
I‘d only slept for a few minutes before the door opened and the AD entered surrounded
by a score of agents. He sent them back out of the room as he threw my backpack on the table
top, scattering the contents. My ID, the thousand bucks cash, my spare clothes, a few energy
bars, some of my camping gear that I found necessary to keep near me at all times,  and uneaten
MREs were the only things left inside it. I knew they weren‘t stupid enough  to bring back the
quipp. Even  now, I was sure that it was being taken apart micro- circuit by micro- circuit. If  they
had discovered it was more than a cell phone. It could go either way; they might think it was just
a cell phone or knowing me and my predilection for creating things, they had started examining
it for its other uses.
I wasn‘t too worried about that. For all extents and purposes, it was just an oddly re - wired
cheap  smartphone.
―Are George and Leon released yet?‖ I asked him, trying to stifle a  yawn. I‘d been up for
22 hours not counting the short stop at the Lodge. The energy from the shower had long since
dissipated and I was tired.
―The NSA says they don‘t have them but if we turn you over, they‘ll make every effort to
find them,‖ Anson reported.
I snorted. ―Sure they will. Chase is keeping them in a safe house in Albemarle, on
Deacon St. with armed guards. Four inside and four more patrolling the street. It‘s a gated
community so no one notices extra security people making the rounds. So much  for presidential
promises.‖
―What did Houston promise you? Why are you so important to the NSA and HS? I‘ve
heard the rumors, what‘s the truth?‖
I sighed. ―The rumors are the truth.‖ I looked him over. He was six foot plus two, two
hundred twenty pounds and in fit shape for a desk man. His skin was ruddy with health, his eyes
bright blue and sparkling. Even the whites of his eyes and teeth were perfectly white. He wore
his salt and pepper hair short, styled with a razor cut and not some $12 job from Super C uts. He
look ed as if he‘d stepped out of GQ magazine just moments ago.
―What‘s your name?‖ I questioned and that startled him.
―Anson. Michael Anson.‖
―My father‘s name was Michael. I never got to know him. Did you know my mother?
Rachel Strong, FBI?‖
―I‘d worked with her in D.C. when we were both new agents,‖ he admitted.
I pulled on the wrist chains and he hesitated, took out the key and opened the cuffs. I
rubbed my wrists and reached for his hand. He jerked it back and I sensed the perturbed
e motions of  those behind the two- way mirror.
―You‘re strong , right Assistant Director? Stronger than me, a 16 - year- old boy that‘s
recovering from major trauma and surgery? Then why are you afraid of me, that I‘ll hurt you?
Don‘t you have a score of agents watching me  from behind that mirror and on camera?‖
He nodded. ―Of course,  you‘re not armed. It‘s against FBI policy to bring a loaded
weapon or any weapon into an interrogation room.‖
I lunged forward and grabbed him by his shirt front,  wadded  it as I lifted him off  the chair
and held him above me so that his feet da ngled off the floor.  He struggled as I heard the sounds
of panicked agents behind the locked door.
―If you kill me,‖ he gasped. ―You‘ll never get out of here alive!‖
―I have no intention o f hurting you, let alone kill  you. I‘m just demonstrating part of what
I can do even though I‘ m weak and injured.‖ I set him down on his feet just as the door flew
open and agents tumbled over each other in their attempts to attack me and rescue him. Someone
grabbed Anson  and shoved him to the back of the crowd and before order was restored, I‘d taken
several punches to the face and belly.
The belly ones hurt the worst, inflicting more damage on already sore and healing
muscles. I let them hit me and offered no resistance.  The AD‘s shouts brought abashed and
sheepish faces to most of them.
―Holy Jesus!‖ Anson yelled. ―Have you all gone out of your minds? Have you forgotten
he‘s just a child? Or that he‘s recovering from a serious, almost fatal injury and surgery? Do you
want to kill him?‖  They backed up and he turned  towards me. ―Are you alright? Do you need a
doctor?‖
I rubbed my stomach but other than a general soreness from the ir  punches,  no further
damage  had been done to me. He turned to one of the sullen agents who was built like a prowrestler.
―Peters, could you lift me off the ground?‖
The agent blustered. ―Easy as pie.‖
―One handed?‖
The Rock look- alike hesitated. ―Probably.‖
―What if you were 16 and four inches shorter?‖ Anson questioned.
―If I looked like him? No way.‖
―Well, he just did. Two feet off the ground and you all watched.‖ He looked at me.
―Could you get out of those cuffs and shackles? ‖
I held up the steel chains and they flopped on the table. I placed Anson‘s wallet, badge,
keys and watch with it. Also, the other agents‘ Sig Sauers that I‘d removed from their shoulder
holsters along with spare ammo clips and several IPod phones.
―So, you‘re an accomplished pick- pocket,‖ the Rock sneered. ―That doesn‘t make you
God.‖
―Doubting Thomas, huh?‖ I looked him  up and down and shrugged. ―I don‘t have to
convince you, anyway. Just call Chase and see how fast he scurries here.‖
I opened my paper jumpsuit and removed the dressings that their doctor had replaced for
hospital ones; the staples still held my flesh toge ther. Although I‘d healed far enough along for
the wound to remain closed, I did need to have the staples pulled. I had a raw, disgusting 12 - inch
lesion bisecting my chest and another one where the drain from my ribs had been stitched in.
Their eyes popped at what should have left me flat on my back in some medical facility
under 24/7 ICU care.
―All you men need to back up and leave us alone,‖ Anson said. ―If this boy was going to
hurt me, he‘d have done it already.‖ He waited for all of them to retreat and   most of them did
after grabbing all their stuff off the table. Delaney was the only one who remained in the room
with his AD. He retrieved his things but left his own weapon on the table. It didn‘t tempt me. 
―You have my cell phone?‖ I asked casually.
―Cu t the BS, Lakan,‖ Delaney grinned. ―We both know that… thing   is no cell phone. Just
what is it?‖
―I call it a quipp.‖
―Short for equipment?‖
―Sort of,‖ I answered. ―You two gonna do that good cop/bad cop thing or is that just TV?
I didn‘t have a TV growing  up.‖
Delaney laughed. ―We couldn‘t get it to turn on,‖ he said candidly.
―It won‘t. I destroyed it before I turned it over to you. Even if you take it apart and
reverse engineer it, you won‘t get it to work. I‘m not saying I‘m smarter than your tech gurus
but--- .‖ I shrugged.
―But what?‖ Anson asked.
I grinned. ―But I‘m smarter than they are.‖
―We‘ll see,‖ was all he said and gestured to the door. I stood up and waited. I followed
behind Delaney minus my restraints while Anson brought up the rear. I  had an  instant four- horse
escort the minute we exited the room as all four agents fell in around us.
Traipsing do wn the hallway of ste rile white as if we were a mini - parade, we followed a
narrow maze of corridors with only a  few doors breaking the sterility of th e expanse. Making
several left turns, we eventually came to a small elevator and Delaney gently nudged me inside
as the doors opened. All seven of us crowded in, wall to wall shoulders as  he pushed the button
for LL3. The doors closed silently, no dings to   indicate we were going down but we dropped
with that initial stomach wrenching plunge. I felt nothing until the cage settled to a gentle stop.
The doors opened on a gray painted lower level that was their holding area with a sally
port into a hallway of cells not with bars but electronic doors with a  wired  glass see- through
narrow windows.
The first pair of agents went first and opened the sally- po rt into the cell area, keyed in the
electronic sequence covering the keypad so I couldn‘t see which ones they touched nor could I
hear any tones emitted by the pad.
Once the inner door opened, the next pair pushed me out of the cage and herded me
towards the cell. The AD waved me in and I went like a good little prisoner.
It was a basic 8x10 cell with a slab covered with a thin air mattress and pillow, a stainless
steel toilet w/o a cover and a sink. There was a small built- in shelf table with a chair and a TV
bolted high near the ceiling. A metal bookcase in the wall of the right corner with worn out
paperbacks on  three of its shelves.
No blanket and the AC wasn‘t pumping out cold air from the tiny ceiling vent that only a
rat could crawl through. No lights that I could control, no privacy and no reasonable chance of
escape. Then again, it would take a presidential decree and a court order for Chase to remove me.
Or an unsanctioned raid on FBI premises. I didn‘t discount any of the three or a dozen other
scenarios.
―Are you hungry? Thirsty?‖ Anson asked. ―I‘m sending a doctor down to go over your
condition too. I be lieve those staples should come out and I want to make sure no damage was
done to you from these overzealous professionals.‖
―I ate breakfast at Denny‘s,‖ I admitted. ―But I‘m still hungry.‖
―Are you allergic to anything?‖
―Nope. I can eat anything.‖
―There‘s a cafeteria on the fifth floor. They have a special today--- macaroni and cheese
or teriyaki stir fry.‖
―Both, please. Coffee with cream, extra light and sweet. Pepsi. Couple bottles of water,
too.‖
Anson relayed the orders to one of the team and slowly swung the door shut.  His and
Delaney‘s faces were the last thing I saw before the metal door blocked my view of the hallway.
I sat on the bed, leaned back against the cement gray walls and rested till my food got there.
Chapter Seventy-Four
The doctor wa sn‘t one I‘d seen before, this one was a woman. Pretty with gray tinted
dark hair, brown eyes, and fantastic bone structure as if she was a Greek statue brought to life.
She came  into the cell followed by Delaney who carried a tray with two Styrofoam conta iners,
coffee and a bottle of Pepsi. I confess I had eyes only for the food but good manners dictated that
I at least stood up to acknowledge her presence.
―Doctor.‖ I held out my hand and she shook it once, told me to get undressed as I looked
longingly a t the food. I was a little hesitant about undressing in front of her but her impatient
huff made me hurry. All I did was unzip the front of the paper coveralls and let the top hang
from my waist. She eyeballed my bandages and removed them only after she pu lled on a pair of
purple examination gloves.
―What happened?‖ She sucked in her breath. ―Heart or--- ?‖
―I was crushed by lumber falling off a log truck.‖
―A glancing blow?‖ She picked up a med tray that had come in after Delaney and my
lunch.
―No. Four of   them rolled over me. 24- 28 inches round and fifteen feet long.‖
She stopped. ―You‘d be dead if that was true. Ruptured everything in your abdomen.‖
I recited my injuries and she didn‘t believe me. ―When? When did this happen? How
long ago were your surger ies?‖
I counted. Surprised, I answered, ―five days ago. Seems longer.‖
―Bullshit,‖ she snapped. Delaney stepped forward and held a tablet up to her eyes. He had
access to my medical records. It didn‘t make for light reading. It didn‘t make her believe me,
either.
―I don‘t believe it,‖ she muttered as she began the process of removing the  e mbedded
staples. It hurt but it was a minor pain compared to how they got there. She wiped me off with
anti - bacterial scrub and then gave me a complete physical. Her hands  were quick, efficient and
gentle. She didn‘t poke me hard anywhere in the sore spots.
―Pulse, respirations, BP and temp are all optimal,‖ she announced. ―I‘d like to get a
sample of your blood.‖
Here, Delaney stepped in and demurred. ―Sorry, that‘s not possible. All we need is to
know whether Lakan is healthy enough for a four- hour plane trip.‖
―I see no reason why he can‘t,‖ the woman doctor returned slowly. ―He‘s remarkably
healthy for someone who had major surgery only five days ago. Well healed.‖
I interjected. ―I wouldn‘t wait too long to move me nor broadcast how you are going to
do it. I guarantee within minutes of an official request for transport,  Chase, and the NSA will
know. I‘m surprised that he isn‘t already on his way here.‖
―You‘re that important to the National Security Agency?‖ she asked. 
I looked at her in astonishment. ―Where have you been, doc? In a hole in outer Mongolia
since the 90‘s? I‘m like the most wanted person in the history of the world. More so than Bin
Laden and Santa Claus. I ‘m a package literally worth billions.‖
She didn‘t answer me. Delaney stepped in and told me to get dressed, we would be
leaving in fifteen minutes. ―Helicopter off the roof?‖
―No. Couldn‘t arrange one fast enough w/o using official channels or the FBI cho pper
which is all computer regulated. We‘re taking you out by car.‖ He waited until we were the only
two in the cell. ―Taking you out in Assistant Director Anson‘s personal vehicle with me and one
other guard. We thought the  fewer people who know where you‘re going and with whom, the
safer you‘ll be.‖
―Don‘t trust your fellow agents?‖ I went through the bundle of clothes that he‘d carried in
and raised an eyebrow. The clothes were a suit in dark gray, almost my size with a blue dress
shirt, black socks and  fancy dress shoes. They looked like the typical FBI clone uniform but
more expensive than off- the- rack.
―Anson‘s?‖ I asked and shook my head. ―Nope. He‘s more the blue pin- stripe type. He‘s
larger than this suit size.‖
―It was his son‘s,‖ Delaney said drily. ―He died in the war.‖
―Iraq or Afghanistan?‖
―You‘re the genius, figure it out.‖
I didn‘t say anything but stripped down to my underwear and settled into the suit. It
smelled as if it had hung inside a plastic wrapper in someone‘s cedar closet. His son  must have
outgrown it before he went off to fight; his father was both taller and heavier than me and I
assumed from the older style of the lapels and cut that the suit was several years out of fashion.
Delaney didn‘t say anything when I asked him how I looked but I had my answer when
Anson returned. He drew in his breath with almost a sob and visibly staggered. Delaney touched
his shoulder and murmured to him. I heard it but pretended I hadn‘t.
The two of them hustled me out of the basement, up through the cells and interrogation
rooms to a floor that I assumed was the maintenance area as it was full of pipes, electrical boxes
the size of small cars and a huge furnace whose  vents  reminded me of the scenes in  Die Hard
with Bruce Willis. I was sure happy I d idn‘t have to climb through them with a crazy German
sadist/thief/terrorist on my tail. Delaney caught me looking and grinned as I interpreted the look
on his face conveying the very same mental image that was in my head.
We came out next door in the basement of another building that smelled like a Chinese
restaurant and as we climbed a short set of cement steps, I saw that it  was a Chinese restaurant,
the Golden Dragon. It shared an alley between it and the federal building with a small parking lot
that he ld three cars. Two were beat- up delivery vans and the third was a dark blue Chrysler 300
with regular plates, not government ones. The other item made my eyes widen in glee. Parked
next to the 300 was a BMW with Florida plates but it was my bike.
Anson clicked his key fob, turned on the engine, opened the trunk and the doors
unlocked. He hurried over, pulled out my leather pants, jacket and threw them not at me but
Delaney.
―Get dressed, Cam,‖ he said and the agent stripped down to his boxers. The pants wer e
tight on him; I was two inches thinner but we were the same height at six foot. Where I was thin
and wiry, he was muscled and fit. The jacket barely zipped; he was a 44 long and I was a 36 but
I‘d gotten it a few sizes larger so I could layer under it. He slipped on the helmet and I heard his
exclamation as the HUD graphics stunned him. 
―You can communicate with each other and eavesdrop on the police bands?‖
―Police, fire, emergency and military channels,‖ I admitted. I couldn‘t remember if I‘d
encrypted  the channels after last talking to Mairy and Robin. I no longer had access to the quipp
to do so.
―Annie‘s cabin, Camden,‖ Anson said as Delaney sat the bike and turned the key.
Nothing happened until I keyed in the start sequence on the digital pad turning over the system to
his control. It started with a sweet roar of the pipes and he left the alley first.
―Get in,‖ the Director said. I peered in the trunk and saw my stuff, the backpack, bow and
quiver of arrows. I grabbed them, threw all in the back seat  where I was ordered to sit and buckle
up.
Once he was in the driver‘s seat, a man came out of the Chinese place and took up the
passenger side. Anson‘s key fob had already started the Chrysler and he backed smoothly out of
the alley onto the main street e xecuting a perfect three- point turn. It was late and there was
hardly any traffic which led me to believe that I had been inside the building for less than four
hours. Which considering the slow speed at which the government worked was a major
accomplishme nt compared to say --- enacting a bill.
I watched behind us as he drove the speed limit down the main avenue. We passed the
Chinese place and turned the corner away from downtown following the signs for the Interstate
but he took the secondary routes instead. I didn‘t see anyone following us and only caught one
glimpse of the BMW in front.
―What‘s Annie‘s cabin?‖ I asked not remember seeing it on any of my maps.
―A place where we can hook up with a way to get you to Washington safely and swiftly,‖
Anson returned watching his rear view. The agent in front was not someone I‘d seen before or
recognized. He wore jeans with a jacket over a blue denim shirt and cowboy boots.
―Who are you?‖ I scanned my memory for the agents I‘d seen in the files of the Kalispell
FBI database and didn‘t recognize him. I gripped the seat in sudden fear.
―Relax, Lakan. His name is Maven Styles, a US Marshal that I‘ve known since I was 12.‖
―Twelve? He looks like a Texas refuge and he‘s from Boston?‖
―Boston? He‘s not from Boston,‖ Anson  laughed. ―I am. I grew up in Uxbridge. No,
Maven was born in North Dakota. I met him when I went to summer camp and we stayed
friends, went to Basic Training together and fought in Iraq as MPs. He‘s also my brother - in - law.
I trust him with my life.‖
―He‘s  not in your files.‖
―You hacked my files?‖ Anson stared at me long enough that he veered out of his lane
into the median. Luckily, nothing was coming and he corrected his drift.
―Yeah. So what? Just one more thing that makes me uber- valuable.‖
He hadn‘t told me what Annie‘s cabin was nor where. I spent the next few hours
alternating between watching behind us and worrying about what we were driving towards.
Chapter Seventy-Five
He stopped at midnight, pulling off a narrow exit that looped over the highway and back
east for a half mile before it curved right and came to a stop sign. After that, he made a left
climbing a hill with a second passing lane that led to a gas station and a Stewart‘s, pulled up to
the totally empty parking lot and shut off the car. 
Waking the passenger, he told the Marshal to go use the restroom and scout out the place.
As he came back, I heard the sound of the BMW break the country silence--- mostly spring
peepers and bullfrogs.
Delaney pulled up next to us and Anson lowered the electric window. ―No one following
you,‖ he said quietly. ―No overhead eyes, either. I made a call from the ice cream place on 38
and they called Ray at the bowling alley. He said that all agents were called in three hours ago by
some bigshot out of D.C. Wanted to know where we were.‖
―Did they tell these ‗bigshots‘ we went fishing?‖ the AD asked.
―Chase Lake,‖ Delaney grinned. I knew where that was; one of the places that I had
originally planned to camp at on my trek home. Delaney looked in my window. ―How  are you?‖
―Just peachy. I need to pee.‖ I opened the door in front of him and gently pushed him out
of my way. All three of them followed me into the station. I was happy to see the Dunkin Donuts
stand inside but waited until after I used the restroom. The  Marshal went back outside to the
parking lot to watch for trouble.
The Stewart‘s had six sit- down booths, Anson and Delaney slid in and picked up the
menu. They ordered burgers  with fries and coffee. I told them the same for me but to make mine
a cheesebu rger. I slid in on the side where  neither man  sat and stared at my hands in my lap. No
one said anything until the waitress came over. She was an older woman, barely over five feet
with gray hair tucked in a bun,  wrinkles, and a tired smile. She  already carried a carafe of   coffee
and  filled our turned upright  mugs.
―Cream and sugar?‖
I nodded, both agents asked for Splenda. ―You ready to order?‖
They asked for the burger special with the works--- lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions and
were told that ketchup was on the table.
―Ten minutes,‖ she promised and retreated to the kitchen. Presently, we heard the sizzle
of cooking beef and the aroma drifted towards our noses.
I added cream and sugar to my cup and took a tentative sip. Surprisingly, it was good,
fresh   not sitting all night on the burner getting  ranker by the minute.
―So, anyway,‖ Delaney said suddenly and made me jump. ―What can you do? Predict the
future? Read my mind? Raise the dead?‖
I looked him  i n the eye. ―Still don‘t believe me?‖ Picking up my fork, I bared my forearm
and dragged all four  tines down the length of my skin tearing the flesh. Blood instantly beaded
up and it felt like a burn more than a cut. Delaney grabbed my hand and tore the fork out of my
grasp.
―Are you nuts or stupid?!‖ he hissed. He snatched several  napkins and blotted up the
blood. As he wiped, the wound gaped but the bleeding was already stopping, the skin closing
behind. In five minutes, the only sign of the deep scratches were four thin red welts which faded
to nothing by  the time our meals were on the table.
I ate, sudde nly ravenous and finished everything on my plate, eyeballing theirs for
leftovers. I ordered another two, one for me and another to go for the agent still guarding the
parking lot. Anson didn‘t say anything as I got up and brought the Marshal his dinner. He told
me thanks as he regarded me from under his sleepy eyes that missed nothing.
―How old are you?‖ He lifted the lid and picked at the fries. He ate them without using
any of the ketchup packages. It  was  un - American to eat fries without ketchup.
―Sixteen.‖
―Why does Chase want you? And Houston‘s goons?‖ 
―Because I‘m an experiment that they thought failed and escaped,‖ I answered.
―What kind of experiment?‖ I noticed that he didn‘t say ‗failed‘.
―I‘m a genetically modified and enhanced human. My mother was part of a study by Dr.
Cameron on genetic modifications to a normal human embryo. I was one of 25 pregnancies he
tampered with on the reservation. He used Native Americans, alcoholic pregnant Indian mothe rs
trying to fix fetal alcohol syndrome babies. I was his only success.‖
―You were a FAS baby?‖
―No. My mother didn‘t drink. He used her for his  control study. She was an FBI agent
who had an affair with Director Hamilton‘s married son Michael.‖
―Michael Hamilton? Holy --- does President Hamilton know you‘re his grandson?‖
―I suppose he does and doesn‘ t care. Mrs. Hamilton knew and kept it from him. She
didn‘t care that I was her grandson,‖ I said. ―She kept me locked up for two years.‖
―Locked up? What do yo u mean?‖
―I was brain - wiped and raised on her estate for two years thinking I was her son, Blake
Hamilton.‖
―Brain - wiped?‖ Anson questioned in disbelief.
―Yeah. Programmed all my memories so that I thought I was someone else, her son. She
had her techs rem ove all my childhood memories and implanted the ones she wanted me to have.
It didn‘t last and I broke out.‖
―You must have had them come back if you found your way home,‖ Delaney pointed out.
―I read your files, there were reports of sightings of you in C olorado, Idaho, Oklahoma and
Montana. The news has photos of you in the hospital at Red Lodge where you disappeared under
suspicious circumstances. How‘d you escape from there?‖
―Some friends helped me to get out. I won‘t turn them in so don‘t ask about them,‖ I
answered briefly.
―You saved a fellow Marshal, TG Muir.‖
―You know him?‖
―Of him. He handles cases mostly on the east coast. I met him a couple times on a
tracking conference for law enforcement. Tracking isn‘t something you need much of  in the
city .‖
―Works the same anywhere, just the sign is different in the concrete jungle.‖
―You track? Being Native American and all?‖ He seemed really interested so I showed
him a few of my tricks and skills.
The other agents joined us and Delaney sat on the bike  while the marshal finished his
burger.  ―How‘s she handle?‖
He grinned. ―Like a finely tuned Quarter Horse. She‘s been modified to go  faster.‖
―Up to 260 mph,‖ I said and he whistled.
―You expecting the Flash to run you down?‖
―No, Black Ops helicopters. Once Chase figures out where I ran to, he‘ ll send everything
after me. He had me tagged once--- in three separate ways.‖
―ID chips?‖
―That and radioisotope blood tags, bone marrow chip implants and  a RFID chip.‖
―Lakan, you ready to go?‖ Anson asked  f rom the passenger seat. He had switched places
with the Marshal who was now driving.
―I‘m coming.‖ I went for the back seat and slid in.  
―Del, you good to go or do you want to switch out the car for the bike?‖ Anson asked.
Delaney told him he could handle another 100 miles.
The Marshal drove faster, hovering around 85 mph consistently even as the speed limit
on these back stretches of flat lines was 70 mph. I pitied the agent on the bike, even with the
windshield and leather clothing, the wind chill would have bee n brutal.
I fell asleep waking only as the car slowed drastically and Anson gave the Marshal
directions. I saw signs of an off ramp that descended into a valley covered with heavy tree
growth. Mostly firs, second growth that would be harvested soon by the  size and height of them.
We followed the markers  for State Forest snowmobile trails heading deep into the valley
and onto unpaved seasonal roads. I watched with trepidation as the Marshal pulled into a small
cove cut out of the woods, the place was a 10x14  square foot building, board and batten with a
corrugated steel roof. An outhouse sat behind and to the left, there was a four- stall tie shed and a
smaller outbuilding that housed a generator.
His headlights illuminated a screened- in porch and a  hand- carved sign that read ―Annie‘s
Cabin.‘
―So this is the place? Who‘s Annie? Cause if this belongs to one of you dudes, there‘ll be
records and Chase will find us,‖ I protested as I pulled on the door. Delaney  was already there
with the bike and unlocking the place. The lights came on one at a time. I guessed that they were
kerosene or propane but definitely not electrical. None of the others let me carry anything inside,
not even my own stuff. It took me all of 15 seconds to look the place over.
Neat, one room with pine tongue and grooved walls and plank floors, red gingham
curtains but clearly a man‘s retreat without any of the feminine touches. Two twin beds, a pullout couch, gas heater o n   the back wall, table with four mismatched chairs and a sink in the
granite counter. A gas stove and oven. The microwave sat on a butcher‘s block next to a 12 - volt
battery and a converter that changed the juice from DC to AC to run the microwave.
There were heavy Hudson Bay blankets on the beds and a quilt laying on the couch  b ut
no food or weapons stashed. It looked as if it had been closed up for the season and just now re opened.  I waited to see if anyone was going to cook or had even brought food. They answered
my unspoken question when Delaney carried in a cardboard box wit h bottles of water and premade sandwiches,  chips, and Oreo cookies. Greedy   h ands reached in and snatched before I could
say ‗wait.‘ I was left with cheese loaf on rye. Not my favorite, I looked at it, and then up at
Anson. ―How long are we gonna be here?‖
―No more than overnight. Why?‖
―Did you bring more food?‖
―Some. We‘re not planning on camping out here.‖
―What‘s your plan to get me back to D.C.? Or to releasing George Little Bear and Leon
DeCarlos?‖
―The Director of the FBI has asked for a warrant by  Grand Jury to release both men into
our custody,‖ Anson said defensively. ―A second team will meet us here tomorrow afternoon and
take you on to the next safe house.‖
―This is a safe house?‖ I looked around in derision before I dropped the sandwich and
went outside. My bow and quiver had been stashed on the porch. I grabbed both and swiped one
of the kitchen filet knives disappearing into the woods before they had any inkling of my
intentions.
I hadn‘t gone ten feet in before I was out of their sight but I  could still  hear them  up till
twenty minutes later. By then, I‘d slipped on my fletcher‘s cuff, fitted the quiver across my
shoulder and found the nearest stream. Following the narrow band of water for a hundred yards, I
came to a crossing where many anima ls had used the easy access to cross and to water.
The trees whispered in the night air. A soft breeze wafted through with a hint of
tomorrow‘s weather, a promise of warmth but no moisture. Even here, there were still traces of
snow on the dark side of the  mountain. I could feel the weight of a sleeping giant behind me as
the earth slumbered.
The deer came out of the brus h with a whisper of a hoof   in the leaves. I didn‘t hear it as
much as I saw its eyes glow in the faint moonlight. It wasn‘t a doe but a b utton buck; this early a
doe wouldn‘t have dropped her  fawn yet and I wouldn‘t take a pregnant deer. Luckily, this one
was a young male that weighed around a hundred twenty and the perfect size for me to manage.
After all, I  had to lift and drag it back to  camp.
I sighted and waited for him to turn sideways; a front- on sight could lead to an arrow
bouncing off his chest bone and a wounded deer suffering lost in the forest.
He came out, nose twitching as he scented the air but I was downwind as  I let the str ing
go and the broadhead hit him in the heart. He leaped forward, ran a few strides and dropped
nearly at my feet.
I raised my head to the sky and sang a song of thanks praising the buck‘s spirit and gift
before I cut his throat to bleed him.
The gall bladder I set aside along with the glands in his rear legs before I gutted the
carcass. Using the tendons in his back legs, I tied a branch between his hocks and dragged the
kill back to the cabin. It was a messy, tiring job hauling a hundred pounds of dead an imal on my
own. I left the guts for the wolves, foxes and bears whose tracks I had seen by the water.
Chapter Seventy-Six
They‘d given up calling for me but had posted a guard. Even with all the noise I was
making dragging the carcass no one heard me until  I stood behind the Marshal and tapped him
on the shoulder. He spun around in shock nearly hitting me with his gun. If I hadn‘t ducked, I‘d
have had a new hole in me.
―Jesus! Where the hell did you come from? And where the hell did you go? Michael,
Cam! He‘s back!‖
All three of them joined me in the yard as I hung my kill from the hook on the edge of the
porch. I started skinning it and Maven helped me. We had the deer quartered and the  back strap
cut into steaks  in minutes.
I cooked for them using what I could find in the cabin and scrounged from the yard. New
wild garlic and onions were just coming up and there were plenty of dried spices inside. We ate
well; venison steaks pan- fried with rice and dried tomatoes, coffee and Oreo cookies for dessert.
The sun was just coming up when I crawled into bed but not before I warned them to
hang the deer meat high enough so that bears couldn‘t reach it. I he ard coyotes howling in my
sleep but that wasn‘t what woke me. No, it was the smell of frying meat and fresh cof fee. I rolled
over on the couch and nearly fell off onto the floor; I needn‘t have worried about stepping on any
of the three--- all agents were up and already eating. I looked around, there wasn‘t a clock in the
cabin that worked, only one stuck at 6:40 that needed new batteries.
―What time is it?‖ I had a mouth that tasted as if I‘d eaten old cigars and gunk stuck to
my eyelids. Drool caked my lips and the smell of day- old sweaty men was a tang that oozed
from the cabin almost thick enough to see. I suspec ted that I smelled no better. There wasn‘t a
shower handy to rectify the problem nor was I going to brave the nearest cold water stream. 
―Any water?‖ I asked and Anson turned on the tap. Clear, clean water flowed with a
groaning of pipes. He had started the generator and primed the well.
― It‘s eleven thirty. I‘ve got some warmed up on the stove if you want to  wash up and
there are new tooth brushes on the porch,‖ he told me. I used the port- a- potty, found towels and a
bar of soap as I made myself halfway presentable. Put on clean clothes that the FBI men had
brought with them. Over that, I pulled on a camo pair of coveralls that the owners had left in the
cabin. I noticed that the agents had changed into everyday clothes, as well. Jeans, Carhartt  shirts,
and  jackets. Knives hanging from their belts in sheaths and their shoulder holsters with extra
ammo clips.
They‘d left me gravy with biscuits and coffee, a fairly decent camp breakfast. I ate
quickly, not sure when we‘d be picking up to leave.
Delaney and Anso n acted as if they were waiting on someone. The longer they waited,
the antsier  they grew. I went outside and was told not to leave the clearing,  not that they could
have stopped me short of handcuffing me to a tree or shooting me.
I paced the perimeter of  the yard listening for any sounds out of the ordinary but all I
heard were the normal ones of  jays, squirrels, crows, and mice. Anson came out with his face
pressed close to his radio and from the frowns, the news wasn‘t making him happy.
―Let me guess,‖ I broke in. ―Your second team was compromised and/or is missing. Or
you can‘t contact them.‖
―I can‘t reach my agents.‖ He gave me one of those looks and I refrained from saying ‗I
told you so.‘
―Any of them or just the secondary team?‖ Delaney asked. I  studied the radio.
―What frequencies are you using? FBI dedicated or something else?‖ I asked.
―We set something up by burner phone,‖ the A D said in frustration. ―And in code so no
one could listen  in.‖
I rolled my eyes again. ―We‘re talking about the NSA  and their Sonic program. You have
heard about Sonic, right? The 24/7- 365- day monitoring system of every cell phone, landline and
IP address around the world?‖
― Of course, I know about it,‖ Anson said grumpily. ―I also know there aren‘t enough
techs to listen in on  real - time even on key phrases  like ‗bomb‘, ‗nuclear‘ and ‗package. ‘ ‖
―Let‘s hope so,‖ I returned. ―For the sake of my continued good health and  freedo. ‖ 
Anson shouted for the other two to load up and again, the Marshal rode the BMW out
first. We sat in the Chrysler and waited for Maven to call back with the okay. Once Anson heard
that, he drove slowly onto the dirt road being careful to keep the high crown of the gravel road
from tearing out the oil pan. When he hit the pavement, he let out a sigh  of relief and hit the gas.
―At least we have a  chance of  outrunning anyone on the road,‖ he muttered. We rode
down a state highway that meandered through the lower hills of the Rockies before they climbed
into the monster driving hazards for which they we re famous.
The route he chose bypassed the major cities and made use of backcountry   roads. Places
where we could land a plane and fly out without attracting too much attention.
―The next stop is at Long Knife,‖ Delaney said and I looked up from the paperba ck I‘d
found at the cabin. It was an old western called  “The Half- Breed” by Peter Dawson. Well - worn,
the spine  was broken , I‘d nearly finished it even though reading in the car made me sick to my
stomach.
―Is that where we‘ll fly out of here?‖
―I thought I‘d put you on the bus,‖ he retorted. 
―Hope it‘s a private plane. I need ID for a commercial flight.‖
―Anyone ever tell you you‘re a smartass?‖ Delaney asked turning around to stare over the
seat. His eyes grew huge and I turned to see what had alarmed him.
Coming up behind us  was a large box van with a cowcatcher  grille up front. It was
coming fast, one of the few vehicles we‘d seen on the road. Anson hit the brakes and in front of
us, I saw a road block composed of black SUVs and police cars. There was no  sign of the BMW
or the Marshal.
I leaned over the front seat and wrenched the wheel right, screaming in Anson‘s ear to hit
the gas. Unquestioning, he did as I asked and we flew off the shoulder into the trees and down a
shallow slope. Tearing a path through  young aspens, it was only my reflexes that kept us from
running into a trunk large enough to stop us with lethal force. That and the fact that this area had
fallen victim to a forest fire only a few years earlier and had been razed. New growth was only
i nches thick.
We flew down the slope and disappeared from the view atop the highway. Only when I
said brake did Anson hit the brake pedal and the car slewed sideways, rocked and came  to a rest
on the edge of a deep ravine. The airbags went off and the windo ws shattered into a million
pieces that glittered in the sun.
I bolted from the back seat grabbing my pack,  bow, and quiver of arrows. Reached into
the front window after scraping the glass out of the way and dragged a shaken pair of agents
through. Neithe r was hurt, airbags and seatbelts had done t heir jobs but both were in shock,
anyway.
―Hey. ‖ I tugged at their weapons and that roused them. ―You okay? Grab what you can,
we need to run.‖ I popped the trunk.
Pulling out their spare clothes, gear and what food and water I could carry, I h anded them
the rest  and b ullied  them into moving. B ut not before I tossed a lit rag into the gas tank.
―C‘mon, you old dudes! Run!‖ I took off and they followed me into the heavier
underbrush below the fire- scarred ridge. I  led them down a deer trail deep into the woods opting
to put distance between us and our pursuers. When I had done that, I would set about erasing any
sign we might have left behind. They stopped behind me when the hollow thump of  the car
exploding echoed  towards  us.
The woods folded around us, the trees so close that if the two hadn‘t stayed on my
footsteps, neither of them would have seen the o ther. Trees grew thick competing for space, their
branches forming skirts around the trunks and  thickets  that we  had to push through.  Thickets that
scraped our arms and faces, thickets that left our clothes sodden yet the pair kept up with me on
the uneven ground.
Pine needles and ferns covered the ground hiding roots and rocks that might trip up an
unwary hiker. We  were traveling at a run; not paying any attention to what was underneath our
feet. We were intent on making as much distance from the pursuit as we could.
We‘d gone at a steady rate for an hour; both of them had sweat running from their faces
and staining their shirts. Both of them had opened their outer coats and the top buttons from their
dress shirts. Both of them were breathing harsher than I would have liked but I put that down to
nerves.
I pulled them under a bushy hemlock where we crouched beneath the piney scented
branches and caught our breath. I dug through my pack for a map, all I found were my food
packs, spare socks and fire starter plus a compass and magnifying glass. 
―What are you looking for? Do you know where we are?‖ Delaney asked. He went
through his own stuff and found a state map, creased and folded, fifteen years old or more.
―Will this help? I found it in the cabin.‖   I barely remembered the area, let alone the
topographical contours of this place; I‘d seen the map only for a minute or  two and  that had been
Kalispell.
I opened the faded old paper and sighed with relief. It had the towns, state highways,
unpaved roads, state parks and national forest with an  insert of the area. I was hoping for contour
lines to show me the lay of the terrain but the map sh owed me the rivers and highest peaks at
which we now found ourselves.
―Damn,‖ I grumbled under my breath. ―I wish I had my quipp.‖
Anson reached into his pockets and dug out a plastic evidence bag with several pieces of
what used to be my  cell phone. ―Can you do something with this?‖
I snatched it back. Nothing had been disconnected from the circuitry; the wiring was still
intact and the battery in the bag. It was still usable if I could put it all back together. I was
working on that when  Delaney‘s two- way produced static and we heard Maven‘s voice come
through in a whisper.
―Mike? Cam? Can  you hear  me? I‘m hiding in a barn off the road just down f ro m the
roadblock. Over.‖
―Don‘t answer him,‖ I said snapping the last piece into place. The  unit sampled my DNA
and vibrated to tell me that it was functioning. Their faces were solemn in the gloom under the
tree and the heat from their bodies made it a bit musty.  They looked at me and questioned my
last comment.
I scanned the radio‘s frequency a nd located its user‘s coordinates. The GPS put Maven
firmly five miles down the road past the road block and in the middle of a cluster of large
vehicles. Probably a mobile command center.  And his friend and brother- in - law  were smack
dabbed  in the middle o f it all.
―You sure you know this dude?‖ I asked with a dry mouth. ―Five - million- dollar reward
would tempt the righteous.‖
I showed Anson the information on the quipp and his face set in grim lines. ―What now?‖
Read ing   the map,  I  located our exact position . We were on the south slope of an
escarpment th at dropped two hundred feet a  hundred yards from where we hid. Called the ‗Little
Gorge‘, at its base was a swift white- water stream that cut through the gorge and prevented us
from crossing over to the weste rn slope. If we hiked higher, we would hit peaks of 12 - 13,000
feet without the proper gear; i.e. food, clothing, tents or boots.
Descending would bring us back to the road where we were sure to meet with NSA
agents. No mention of   the Intelligence community  of any search underway for me but the
Internet and News Stations were still going crazy about my escape. Possible sightings of me
entering Canada, of me in Kalispell at the Denny‘s and my subsequent capture by FBI agents at
gunpoint.
There were pictures  t aken  from the front of the Denny ‘s where the photographer  had
panned the crowds. Faces jumped out at me, faces that I saw in the crowd made my mouth dry
up instantly, my  hand's sweat and my stomach cramp in fear. Aiken‘s face stared back at the
camera and behind him were Morrell and Andrews. I didn‘t see Chase or Cameron but I knew
both were in the shadows somewhere. 
Chapter Seventy-Seven
I knelt at the edge of the trail and looked over the precipice where deer had made  a dip in
the trail on the very lip of a hill that would have taxed the skills of a climber from Everest. It
would take more mountain goat than human to climb down it yet it was clear that many mule
deer had used the path from the erosion left behind in the dirt and scree.
The trees eking out a living were thick enough to hide a human. Barely. The underbrush
of ferns, briars, and other plants provided browse for a variety of  ungul ates. Behind me, Anson
and Delaney lay stretched out, thin, parched and weary beyond belief. I had pushed them to the
very limit of their endurance. We‘d spent the better part of the day and night running  from Aiken
and his men and  now, we were  hiding in the dark of the night.
I had found a way across the gorge by bullying the agents with threats of leaving them
behind, had managed to carry them across after making a crude bridge with downed tree trunks.
I‘d walked across while they had sat and slid on their butts.
Delaney had complained of splinters and that he could have just waded in, that the stream
was no more than  ten feet wide but when I pointed out that it was a Class IV white water, he‘d
swallowed his protestations and agreed it wouldn‘t have been as easy as he thought.
―I‘m right. I‘m always right,‖ I said and he twisted his lips as he called me a know- it - all
and asshole in the same breath.
―Hey, old man,‖ I said softly over my shoulder. ―How are you two?‖ My answer was a
heartfelt groan.
―I may be old but I  have the gun.‖   Anson finally had the breath to speak.  ―How long can
we rest?‖
―Depends.‖
―On what?‖
― On  how far back Aiken   is,‖ I answered. ―He tracks almost as  fair as I do and you two
lea ve a trail a blind man could follow.‖
―You ‘d  leave us behind?‖ Delaney sounded…scared. Course he probably couldn‘t find
his way back without me and knew it.
―I won‘t leave you out here alone.‖ They were exhausted, none of us had eaten more than
two meals in the last 36 hours. We hadn‘t had time for me to hunt, Aiken‘s  men had pushed us
relentlessly.
The trail was steep. Hands and knees steep and I had my doubts that the  ti red  men could
handle it. I wanted to find a place to hole up and rest but it would have to be someplace that
wasn‘t on a map or on the Internet. Someplace like a cave or an old mine that had been forgotten.
I checked using the quipp and had just located a  few places when the battery died,
rendering the device useless. It went back into one of the coveralls pockets along with my
essentials--- compass, glass and striker stone.
I pushed the bow back onto my shoulder and turned to face them. Behind them was the
top of the ridge covered by firs and pines. It was  rare that any  deciduous trees grew this high and
the air  was thinner than they were used  to, making exertion such as they experienced   much
harder for them. We were at 12,395 feet above sea level, 7000 feet  higher than Kalispell.
―Stay here. I‘m going along the ridge to find someplace to rest up where we‘ll be out of
sight and safe.‖
―No,‖ both said. ―Wait for us. We‘ll be ready to go in five more minutes.‖ 
―I‘ll be back. I‘m looking for an old mine. T his area was honeycombed with them. You‘ll
be safe here. Anyone finding you would have to come from below and you‘d see or hear them
first. You have your guns. Besides, you‘re the FBI,  they won‘t shoot you, they want me.‖
―What about your friends?‖ Delaney asked .
―I can only hope that your FBI people have them in custody by now,‖ I answered slowly.
―I‘m not going back to Chase. Leon and George know that.‖ I hesitated, left them a full bottle of
water and slipped off into the thin cover along the rim of the ledge.
The beginnings of blackberry flowers brought a sweet scent  to the air along with the
stronger one of cedar, moist earth and rock. I caught the faintest whiff of bear and sulfur coming
up from the lower part of the hill, sometimes from above me and sometimes, it smelled as if it
were right next to me.
I got careless or tired. My feet slipped on a bare patch of granite the size of a carpet and I
fell on my side for twenty yards,  sliding off the rock and onto t he gravel and loam of a run- off
that bisected th e slope and went down in a gully I thought we might use to reach the bottom of
the hill.  Rather than fight gravity, I let myself go  in a crab- walk on my butt, stopping on a small
hummock of grass and moss.
Nearby was a small spring chuckling out of a cleft  in the rock and next to a series of rock
slabs that formed a sort of arch. Man- made, not natural, it drew me in with the teas ing mystery of
all adventurers.
I used my striker stone to start a small fire, broke off a branch from the driftwood that
had fallen inside the opening and wrapped a piece of my undershirt around the end using pine
pitch to hold it on. And to feed the material like a wick once I lit the torch from the fire. I had to
crawl in on my knees but after fifteen feet, the flames soared upwards, indicating that there were
an air source overhead and more open space. I stood up carefully as the torch flared to a flame
nearly six feet high.
The sputtering flames went straight up illuminating a vast ceiling overhead where soot
from larger, older  fires  had marked the lowest part of the cave. This wasn‘t a mine although it
bore the marks of humans working it; evidence of natives clearing a space for living quarters.
The floor was smooth, relatively clean of debris and the walls were painted with Native
American art done in charcoal, red and yellow ochre and white chalk. Images of deer, buffalo,
birds and handprints as well as human forms. Spirals of the four winds and other religious motifs
native to the area‘s tribes.
Exploring the cave, I found anot her entrance in the rear that offered a secondary escape
route but I didn‘t take the time to follow it all the way. I did use my nose and sampled fresh air
with a hin t of willow and wild onion, skunk cabbage and mud indicating that the tunnel probably
exited  in or near a swamp.
Retracing my steps, I crawled back and through the narrow entrance which reminded me
of the layout of an Eskimo igloo and returned to the two agents. Both seemed clearly more
animated than when I‘d left them and were standing, pacing  the perimeter of the small clearing.
As I materialized in front of them, both jumped in fear.
―Jesus! Don‘t sneak up on us!‖ Delaney complained.
―You find someplace for us?‖ Anson asked. I nodded. In a few terse sentences, I told
them of the cave and they  were game to follow me.
As tired as they were, even after the hour‘s rest, they barely made it without serious
injury. The worst part wasn‘t  the slide down the granite slope but the hike up the short trail.
Every stone, root and  hole  seemed to jump out a nd encounter their dragging boots. At the very
last ten feet, I had to carry Anson with his arm on my shoulder to the entrance and feed him
forward towards Delaney. Both agents hesitated at the darkness of the hole.
―Afraid of the dark?‖ I mocked, knowing  that would rouse them. ―Don‘t be. I already
scouted for bears and beasties. There‘s nothing in there but old pictures. Not even a limp cave
bat.‖
Delaney had brought a battery lantern with him and that made it easier to crawl through
the tunnel. I‘d left t he torch at the other end but it had gone out, finally burning out the rag wick.
Once inside, both men made it to their feet and inspected the cave. It was the size of a
small dining hall with a ceiling like the vaults of a cathedral. The lantern threw mor e light than
my torch and exposed details I hadn‘t seen with my light.
There was an upper gallery with more rooms carved out of the rock and worked stone
breastworks. Scattered on the terrace floor were broken pot shards and arrowheads. Some tribe or
remna nts of one had used this place as a redoubt.
I couldn‘t see any way up without building a ladder but Anson found a way. He showed
me a series of holes cut in the flat wall beneath the ledge sized for a finger‘s breadth and toe
width. Like the Anasazi cliff dwellings, you had to start off with the correct hand or halfway up,
find yourself unable to reach the next one. Would tire and fall to your death.
―Left foot first,‖ I said analyzing the possible patterns. ―Can you make it?‖
―Do we have to? We can rest here and then try when we‘re not so tired.‖
―Okay, then. Try to start a fire. I‘ll bring in some wood but keep it small. Cook whatever
you can of anything that‘s left to eat. I‘ll go find us something more substantial,‖ I decided.
―Water?‖
I dropped my pack  and handed them the last two bottles. The empties I had kept in the
hopes of refilling them. ―Look for a water source  in  here. Caves usually have some kind of runoff or shafts that have filled. Don‘t go into any if you find one--- they could be full of ee ls or have
undercurrents that could suck you down so deep no one would ever find your body.‖
I showed them how to use a shoelace to lower an empty into a depression.
―Boil it before we drink?‖
―There are some iodine tablets in my pack but that‘s all we ha ve. Use them sparingly,
until I can find a spring.‖ I hesitated. ―Don‘t come out unless I call for you. If I‘m not back in
four hours, climb as high as you can and try to pick up someone on your two - ways. Or your satphones.‖
―We didn‘t bring ours,‖ Anson admitted. ―Even encrypted, the NSA can track us by it.  I
didn‘t plan on being stuck in the middle of Hiawatha- land and without a means to communicate
with the bosses.‖
―Do you even trust your boss?‖ I returned. ―If your friend could sell you out for five
million ,  what would the Director do for 50  mill s? A billion?‖
―Are you worth that much?‖ Anson whispered.
Delaney answered him. ―He can raise the dead, Michael. Can you put a price on that?‖
On that note, I left them on their own.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
I stood absolutely motionless, my arm drew back on the bowstring as the agent passed in
front of the buck I had trailed  tirelessly for the last hour. It freaked and bolted as it caught his
scent, eliciting a rapid response from the man I knew as Morrell. His  weapon of choice for
hunting humans was a Tec- 9 and he fired it on  single shot. The bu ck took two steps and was
down . He cursed, went over to the carcass and kicked it but didn‘t bother to check if it was dead.
I waited for ten minutes before he moved off  and only when his radio crackled did he do
so. His conversation was brief, someone else had reported seeing signs of human passage three
miles due south of our position. I knew  it wasn‘t from us, we hadn‘t made it that far or near the
ridge that was being described to him.
When I was sure he was far enough away so as to not hear me, I checked the buck. He
had hit the animal in the gut but it was still alive and suffering.  Slitting  its throat, I eased its pain
and marked the spot where it lay so I could return to it later.
Tracking Morrell was easy--- he was nowhere near the woodsman he thought he was and I
made it all of twenty feet from him before I triggered  his sense of being spied on. He froze and
slowly turned his head around. I was standing in the shado ws under a large cedar tree wearing
camo. He could only have seen me if I moved and I wasn‘t stupid enough to do that. I could have
taken him then and there, but I was more interested in finding the NSA agents‘ base camp.
Blue jays squawked to the left of  him and distracted his eyes away from my position. His
weapon came up so fast that it could have qualified as an old West fast draw. When the noise
turned out to be a bear cub, Morrell cursed and backed up, clearly alarmed at its presence. Which
meant of course, that Mama was close by. I waited curious as  to what he would do, being an
Easterner without any idea of what a grizzly was capable of, he had no clue what he   was in for
and I  certainly wasn‘t going to offer suggestions.
When big Mama bear charged o ut of the brush, he managed to get off two or three rounds
before the grizzly hit him full bore. His scream was magnificent,  full - throated  with terror and
echoed. I would have bet that his fellow agents heard it all the way to Fort Meade.   It scared me
enough to remain frozen and watch as she mauled him to death, going for his liver and guts,
satiating her winter- long hibernation. Two cubs joined her. She seemed to totally ignore the
rounds that had pierced her hide. I barely saw any blood on her.
When there  wasn‘t enough left to identify the man, she stood up on her hind legs and
afforded me a close- up of the bullet holes. They had merely grazed her heavy bones and not done
much damage at all. Bellowing, she stared directly at me.
I spoke in Siouan, thanking  her for defeating my enemy and she ambled off without a
backward glance, her cubs trailing obediently behind.
There  were blood and tissue scattered everywhere. I went through what was left of his
gear, removing his weapons, radio, canteen,  maps, and sat- phone. The rifle was useless, she had
mangled the barrel and no bullet would manage to explode from it without blowing up in your
face. Taking the gear was a calculated risk, his remains were clearly the result of a bear attack
but bears didn‘t need cell phones, guns or maps. Aiken would know something; some human  had
taken those objects.
I debated whether to try and backtrack Morrell or bring back the deer to the cave; opting
finally to bring needed food to the agents. I found the spot where I‘d cached the  buck, luckily the
bears hadn‘t touched it.
Dressed and quartered, I managed to carry a side back, leaving the rest up a tree for the
return trip. I could have dragged the whole thing but I might as well have started a bonfire with
signs depicting my position to one and all.
I moved cautiously, scanning in 360◦ before I committed to a movement. Because I was
being hyper- vigilant, I caught the faintest blur of motion out of the corner of my eye. 
Staring past the deer‘s shoulder hanging o n   my own, I picked out two men gliding
through the woods to my left. Both wore Real - tree camouflage and carried hunting rifles. They
appeared to be  locals,  not Federal Agents and were comfortable in the woods. If they were locals
from the Government offices, they would have to  be out of the Colorado office stationed near the
Air Force Base. They clearly knew how to maneuver in the terrain, wore the appropriate gear and
only luck had kept them from spotting me before I had seen them.
If they had been Natives, they would have smelled the deer carcass and recognized the
odor of blood.
Once more, the spirit guide of my great- grandfather stepped in to tweak fate. The mama
grizzly came between me and the men, forcing them to back up slowly as she rambled her way
through the thickets between her and them. She ignored them but they did not stick around to
tempt her patience. They were long gone when Morrell‘s two - way radio crackled with static in a
query over his position and failed check- in.
The grizzly looked up from her feeding, saw  me, smelled the deer meat and stood to her
impressive seven - foot  height. I knew she had scented my kill, her nostrils flared and she
surveyed me, the intruder in her realm. Dropping back to all fours, she chuffed and went about
her business. Rolling logs a nd digging through them for grubs was the only thing on her mind.
I told her thanks in Siouan and asked for her blessings as I turned my back walking away
from a top predator in perfect safety.
Back at the cave, I crawled in after calling softly before I stood. The light from the
lantern flickered on and both men flanked me, guns drawn. With me in the crossfire.
―You‘d shoot each other,‖ I pointed out as I dropped the meat.
―Looks like it but we angled it so we wouldn‘t,‖ Anson shrugged. He eyeballed the de er.
―You gonna butcher that?‖
―Well, our food out here doesn‘t package itself in nice, neat plastic. So yes, I‘m going to
cut it up. We can smoke what we don‘t eat.‖ I deposited my stolen gear on the cave floor and
both men went over the collection.
―Did y ou kill someone to get this?‖
―No. I didn‘t have to. Mama Grizzly did it for me.‖ Delaney picked up the Tec - 9 ammo
clips.
―Where‘s the gun?‖
―You ever see what a large Grizzly bear is capable of doing to a steel car? She bent that
barrel like it was overcooked spaghetti. Anyone tries to shoot with it--- well, they‘ll blow off their
face or hand. Or both,‖ I said grimly. ―I took what was left that she didn‘t destroy and what we
could use.‖
―Will the agents know you took them?‖ Anson asked.
―Once they find the remains, they‘ll know a bear killed him. Maybe they‘ll think the bear
dragged off the rest. She did maul his pack and his clothes.‖
―Did it…eat him?‖
―Guts and innards,‖ I agreed. ―That‘s one critter you don‘t want to piss off.‖
― Of course,  you being Indi an might have something to do with getting the bear to help
you,‖ Anson said and I stared at him. I wasn‘t sure if he was being sarcastic or truthful so I
ignored his comment as I cut the venison into steaks,  chunks, and strips. Most of it, I fileted into
thin strips, laying them out on Morrell‘s space blanket.
Back outside in the woods and this time it took me twice as long as normal to collect
what I needed because I was both searching for green willows and watching for enemy stalkers.
The willows I found downslope near the beginnings of a small stream. I took a few from
different spots so that there wasn‘t an obvious bare patch. Cutting the lathes close to or under the
soil, you would have to be actively searching to find it.
I‘d taken one of those parachute cord bracelets from the dead man and used it to tie the
bundle of willow switches together which left my hands free for my bow. I must have been a
strange looking creature to the animals in the woods.
When I approached the cave, I made sure that it was  from a different direction and to
leave no tracks. Waiting, I scanned the entrance and surrounding area using the corners of my
eyes, the part that senses movement in the unconscious section of the primitive brain. It did not
sense danger so only then, did I crawl through pushing the bundle before me.
In my absence, one of the agents had made a small cooking fire and had scrounged camp
ware. I laughed. A metal hubcap made a great frying pan laid on the coals and the dead man had
obliged us with a few pots  from his backpack. Boy   scout stuff made of cheap tin and folded
inside itself.
They watched curiously as I sat on my haunches and wove the willows into a grill- like
lattice that I set against a small, natural overhang in the back wall of the cavern. Transf erring a
handful of coals, I started a secondary fire making it burn hot and fast so that there was a large
bed of coals. Laying the meat on the lattice neatly, I made sure no piece touched another or
overlapped as I filled the entire surface of the smoking rack.
―The trick is to keep the fire going and the smoke constant. Don‘t let it go out or the
flames get too high,‖ I said. ―I‘ll bring back more firewood but it‘ll take me awhile. I can‘t cut it
all from the same place nor pick up all the dead wood.‖
―E at first,‖ Anson urged. ―You‘ve got to be hungry. Exhausted.‖
I nodded slowly. ―I am but not a good idea. Too full, I‘ll be sleepy and less cautious.
Besides, one of us needs to be on guard.‖ I eyed the cooking steaks and took a small piece. It was
hot but waving it cooled it off enough to eat and I chewed slowly.
Venison wasn‘t fatty, it was a lean meat and this one had come off a deer just out of
winter but it was rich and meaty. Juices flooded my mouth. I wanted to sit down and eat the
whole thing but my  instincts warned me not to do so.
Sighing, I licked my fingers, picked up my bow and crawled back out into the forest.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
I crouched under a blackberry thicket with a bundle of dry, dead branches that lay near
my hand. I‘d almost been ca ught flatfooted by four men and I was stuck in the briar patch with
my bow on my back. Out of reach. Any movement, no  matter how slow, to reach for the bow
would draw their instant attention.
They moved ten feet apart and were clearly hunting prey. Human p rey. Worse yet, one of
them was recognizable even though it had been years since I‘d seen him. Aiken. My blood froze
as I remembered being in the same situation years earlier and in another state. My hand twitched.
I wanted desperately to reach for the bow and nock an arrow yet I knew that any movement on
my part would trigger an instant reaction from Aiken.
I assumed that they had found Morrell‘s remains and from their quiet comments learned
that they knew a bear had taken him. One of the three was sure that his death was entirely natural
and the other three argued that no bear  would have any interest in  the human equipment. Aiken
cursed them, warning that voices carried even as low as a whisper. 
A blue jay landed near my head, bobbing its bright eye as he stared at me, trying to
decide if I was a threat, a meal or part of the environment. He fluttered his wings, maintaining
his precarious perch on the thin canes and dive- bombed Aiken as he neared me.
The jay caused a rapid reaction as all four men pivoted b ut it was Aiken that shot first. I
watched in horror as the blue jay was obliterated in a shower of feathers as a silver tube hit the
bird.
Their  guns were not familiar to me; these looked more like modified hand weapons
capable of   firing a tranquilizer dart yet I also saw a .308 Weathersby rifle slung across Aiken‘s
back. Now that would take down Mama Grizzly with the right shot and I  knew Aiken was
capable of that.
He stopped, almost past me and turned around to survey the small cleared area where fire
an d wind had torn through, leaving enough space for sunlight and briars to take over the rough
ground.
―Brings back memories, doesn‘t it, Lakan?‖ He spoke in a conversational tone. ―I
remember finding you in a place very much like this once before. Do you re member? I know
you‘re out here, I found your fingerprints on Morrell‘s gun barrel.‖
His eyes swept the clearing, searching for the shadow that shouldn‘t be there, the smallest
quiver of a branch where there was no wind. I could not expect help from Tungasila‘s spirit
guide and to pray for help from the grizzly would be to risk her death from a bullet wound.
When a sign did  come, I almost didn‘t make use of it--- the shock to me was nearly as
great as theirs.
A girl walked out of the trees. Clad in pure white ceremonial buckskins, beaded with her
hair in braids and feathers, she was an Indian maiden straight out of the history books. She put
her fingers in her mouth and whistled, startling all of us. As they swiveled to track her by
gunpoint, she ran for the t rees.
I saw them shoot her, but not one of their darts hit; they could not for she was a ghost. A
chindi.
Only Aiken turned back but by then, I had  lost my paralysis and stood, brought up the
bow and nocked an arrow. Let the string go but I knew it was a miss before he saw me and dove
to the ground, shouting for his men to return.  I bolted downhill, taking huge leaps that would
have impressed an elk yet he was up and after me.
I felt a sting in my thigh and brushed against the coveralls without slowing down. My
fingers found a tear in the material and a thin scrape along the outside of my leg with just a small
trace of blood. The damage was less than the wound I‘d made with the tines of the fork so I
ignored it. The trank dart had only  creased  me, not injected me with its powerful payload.
I headed for the thickest part of the forest risking a look behind when I thought I had
sufficient distance from them. Aiken was still coming, his face in a grimace but he had his two way at his mouth and was shouting orders and directions into it.
I leaped an old stone foundation, an old cabin had once stood there and all that remained
were a few laid stones with trees growing out of what was once a 14x14 square.
―Lakan!‖ he shouted. ―Stop! If you don‘t stop, I will order DeCarlos and Little Bear
terminated!‖
Right then, I knew that they were already dead and stopped with a roar of grief. Beneath
my feet, the rocks shifted and trembled. I aimed and let another arrow go hitting him in the
center of his chest just as he triggered his own weapon. I swore that I saw the two projectiles
cross each other‘s path before they hit their intended targets. 
Mine struck over his black heart yet he casually pulled it out as if it were a rubber suction
tip from a child‘s toy. His bobbled  in  my chest over my left lung, rising with my heart beat. I
pulled it out, my movements sluggish and there was blood on the tip of the  strange ly  hooked
canister that was the size of a woman‘s lipstick.
My knees wobbled. The other men caught up to him and surrounded me. I raised my bow
with an effort; it weighed as much as a grizzly bear. Before I could shoot any of them, three
more darts hit me. Time slowed. But not of my doing. This fractured block of time  was of
drugged perception  as a  massive overdose of sedative coursed through my bloodstream. I fell to
the ground. This time, there was no flying through the air and a water landing to carry me away
from capture. This time, there was no Great- Grandfather to save me.
Aiken‘s face loomed over mine and he tore the bow and quiver out of my hands. He
answered my unasked question by opening his coat and expos ing a bullet and arrow- proof vest.
―Special  made because we know you favor broadheads,‖ he grinned. ―Base, this is
Geronimo One, the  target  is acquired. Possib le OD, the  subject  has taken four, I repeat, four
doses of Special K.‖
The light flickered at the edge of my vision. My body struggled to absorb the massive
dose of Ketamine that I had taken. I felt time shift again in the middle of his words, his mouth
paused midway, his eyes unblinking as I sat up. And fell over. Crawled on hands and knees, my
breathing a series of constricted grunts as if my lungs were paralyzed. I wasn‘t sure how far I
could make it before time stretched back to normal. I knew it wouldn ‘t be enough so I kept
crawling even when I wanted to lay down and die. Let the waves of sedation take me to that
place where life was not compatible with living.
I threw up, each successive wave of retching made me feel worse and in the middle of
one bout with my head hanging between my braced hands, spittle and drool strung from my
mouth. I looked up to see a jagged side of the mountain broken by huge rocks and gnarled brush
that fell away towards a river several hundred feet below.
Here was the ridge and cliff face that I was searching for, the backside of the cave where
I‘d stashed the FBI agents. For all the good it did me, they were too far to help. I would never
make it around to them. Above me, frozen in the air hung a black helicopter with the sides open
and men hanging out on ropes and tethers. Some had binoculars in their grip  and were in the
process of rappelling out, to join Aiken and to find me. It didn‘t matter that time was frozen in
the arctic past, I was too incapacitated to do much more tha n watch. I didn‘t have any weapons
on me, Aiken had removed all mine and the only piece of equipment I still possessed was the
backpack. It had a rigid aluminum inner frame and tough nylon belting. I managed to stand
upright and with the last of my strengt h, threw  the pack at the rotors.
As soon as it left my hands,  the backpack froze, motionless and unmoving like the rest of
the world. Or at least, near me. I was reasonably sure that it affected  everything  not just those
things close to me.
So, I jumped a fter it in a shallow, desperate dive. As my hands took hold of the nylon,
time stretched as the material did, I pushed the frame into the rotors, let go ,  fell into the dangling
rope and soldier just as the incredible stasis broke around us.
The man on the rope screamed in terror, the rotors shrieked in a high pitched howl, metal
blades vibrated at unheard of stress as pieces of hot  broken steel cut through metal and flesh with
equal ease. The chopper exploded. Two of us swung at the end of a rope no longer  tethered to
anything but air as the rest of the crew followed the burning wreckage to the canyon floor. There,
what was left turned into a fireball. 
The black- clad BlackOps roper  and I managed to spin on the rope, catch a tree‘s crown
and bounced our way from branch to branch. What I remembered  most was the familiar smell of
pine and cedar before we hit the ground. I fell as a limp doll,  unconscious and rubber- limbed as a
drunk that came through an accident without a scratch where a sober victim would have  been
killed. The other agent must have landed  near me. But for all I knew, he could have landed on
top of me and I wouldn‘t have known or felt it. I neve r felt myself touch the ground.
Groans woke me but only to the point that I realized someone was alive.  I wasn‘t sure if I
classified as one of the living and I was equally unsure if it was one of the crew members who
had survived. It could have been Aiken and I was willing to bet that of all the people on the
helicopter and the ground forces, that it would be the NSA agent that made it out alive.
Someone was dragging my unresisting body by the shoulders away from the burning
wreckage. The smell of roasting flesh and Avgas caused a retching at the back of my throat. I
vomited all over my front and that smell  was worse than what was around me.
I couldn‘t see who was taking me away; all I could see where my feet. Both my boots and
socks were gone and from the state of my coveralls, I thought I was nearly stripped bare from the
force of the explosion. Whoever it was removing me didn‘t take any special care as they hauled
me over torn metal, broken branches and shattered rocks. The only thing I didn‘t hit was
something on fire. That debris, my rescuer went around.
I tried to speak but my voice was disconnected, my comprehension that of a shell shocked war victim. He seemed to haul me for miles or for hours and finally, I was dropped
under the shade of some tree where it was cold and smelled fresh.
Only then did I see the face of my rescuer and my heart sank. Blacke ned by soot and
fresh blood from a gash on his forehead, Aiken stared dow n at me with a blank expression and
from the look in his eyes, I suspected that he was concussed for he didn‘t seem to understand
what was going on.  I didn‘t understand what was going on. To my utter consternation, he asked
me who I was and what had happened.
―We crashed,‖ I mumbled and he shook his head leaning closer and closer until I realized
that it was because he was falling. His head hit me in the face, chin smashing into my nos e with a
force greater than a punch. My nose broke and blood gushed. Unfortunately, most of it went
down my throat making it hard to breathe. I lost what little awareness that I had, floating on a
wave of pain, firefly sparks, iron in my mouth and a persistent ringing in my ears.
An equilibrium of sorts was reached as we lay together. Cast adrift from my own senses,
I migrated towards his. I saw inside his mind, his hopes,  dreams, and aspirations. I saw his brain
swelling and dying from the force of the exp losion and I was glad. And then, ashamed for even
his life was precious. So, I put aside my own dislike and healed those things I could do without
taking too much from my own. I  healed  his broken bones, organ failures, ruptured spleen until all
that remained were his memories and swelling brain.
That was the hardest part for me and if I hadn‘t been down that road before and had the
practice, I would have taken too long to repair, losing those memories forever. Many  areas of his
brain were dark, dead and dying. As I triggered the return of their function, it drained me almost
faster than I could recover with each cell and neuron.
As I finished, he shifted off my body and lay next to me in a quiet sleep that was neither
sleep nor unconsciousness.
I had to get  up and get away before he woke but my body refused to move still bound by
the concrete accumulation of animal tranquilizers. 
The ground trembled under my back. I wasn‘t sure if it was more helicopters landing or
approaching agents running up to me. I barely suppressed a scream when two people dropped to
their knees at my side, hands busy roaming over my flesh and finding spots that hurt when they
touched them. There were many.
Their voices were annoying buzzes in my ears and it wasn‘t until I opened my eyes that I
could read their lips. My ears did not work past the loud buzzing.
It was the two FBI men that I had left in the cave, both were armed with Sig Sauers as
they checked me over. Anson‘s lips formed words. ―Lakan. Lie still, you‘re bleeding and your
arm and legs are broken for sure. I‘m not so sure about anything else. Can you move anything?‖
I couldn‘t hear my answer but I felt the words in my chest. I thought I said, ―you have to
move me before the rest of their team gets here.‖
―Your back or neck co uld be broken.‖
―Doesn‘t matter. Is anyone else hurt?‖
Delaney must have said something but I couldn‘t hear it. Anson said, ―can you hear me,
Lake?‖
I watched his lips. ―No. I‘m reading your lips. My ears are --- .‖
Delaney leaned in towards my face. ―The agent in the climbing rig is badly hurt. The rest
of the chopper crew are toast.‖
―Toast? Burnt? All in one piece?‖ I asked and he shook his head in denial.
―Not enough left to call hamburger,‖ he said frankly. ―Even beyond your skills.‖
―Bring  me climber,‖ I said and he said no vehemently.
―Too much damage to move him, Lake. He‘d die before I dragged him two feet and
you‘re hurt bad ly . Too badly to heal anyone but yourself.‖
I pushed against Aiken and used him to get up, ignoring the sharp surge of broken bo nes.
I had to fight against the two men‘s protest not to move. Finally, they gave in to my
determination and steered me towards the injured man.
It was weird walking without hearing any sound, even the thumping of my own heartbeat
was missing. I found the  man from the  zip line  lying tangled in the remains of his rope and
downhill from where I‘d landed.
Both of his legs were broken in compound fractures and the bones bleeding through the
skin told me that one of his major arteries was in jeopardy. Not severe d all the way but close
from the spurting of blood. I grabbed that first and healed it before he could bleed out.
His insides were a mess. The more I explored, the more I found and each successive
healing brought me to the edge of total collapse. I did just enough to keep him stable before
Anson and Delaney dragged me away, yelling something but I still couldn‘t hear them.
Trying to read their lips became nearly impossible as their faces grew darker and slower.
I was moving away from them at the speed of  sound when I felt  myself picked up and thrown
over someone‘s shoulder. The rest of my recollections were fragmented and hazy. As if seen
through the lens of a kaleidoscope. I scarcely remembered them, I knew I didn‘t understand
them --- they were broken and painful.
Chapter Eighty
Anson slapped my face to rouse me and the first face I saw wasn‘t either one of theirs. It
was Aiken‘s puzzled face that caught my attention  and  reminded me of my present si tuation. He
spoke and  I still could not hear anything save  for a curious rushing sound in both ears. Even my
own voice did not come back to me. 
Someone must have told him so, for he picked up my hand and placed my fingers on his
lips. The better to read them, he thought. His eyes had lost that sharp, harried look  but his
question stunned me.
―Why?‖ he asked, his face pale under the sun brown of an outdoorsman. ―Why did you
save me?‖
―You remembered?‖ I asked painfully, aware that I was a sitting duck and that he could
capture me at any time.
―I remember dying. Yet,  you risked your own life and liberty to save mine when I was
destroying yours. Why?‖
―Isn‘t it enough that I did?‖ I returned.
―No. It would  have been smarter to let me die. You hate me. I wouldn‘t be here now,
ready to bring you in.‖ He looked over at the two FBI men with their weapons aimed at him. I
couldn‘t see their mouths move but they must have said something to him for he replied.
―I know you wouldn‘t let that happen, Assistant Director Anson. Or you think so. My
death wouldn‘t stop Director Chase or Dr. Cameron from sending another team or coming
himself. I‘m living proof of the reason that they‘ll never stop searching for him. Nothing you can
do will stop them.‖
―What happened to George and Leon?‖ I asked in fear for I had to know the answer. To
his credit, he hesitated.
―We picked them up in Canada at the border, tagged and released them. They didn‘t
know they were tagged until we cornered them at the rendezvous point on the river. Mr. Little
Bear drowned trying to escape across the river and Mr.  DeCarlos disappeared into the woods
near there. No one had been able to locate him, even with the tags. We suspect he‘s dead, too.
The  microchip only works if the subject is alive.‖
―You didn‘t kill him?‖ I searched his face, reading the micro - tells that revealed if he was
lying or not. I saw no evidence that he was telling me anything but the truth before he said it.
―No. But that doesn‘t mean someone else didn‘t do it.‖ He paused. ―Chase likes to get his
hands dirty and Cameron has developed a taste for field work, too.‖
―If Leon is alive, he‘ll find a way to the rendezvous point,‖ I said. He held up his hand.
―Don‘t tell me. I don‘t want to know.‖
―Why? I thought all you wanted was to capture me and bring me back to them.‖
―Lakan, you saved my life. I was dying and you stopped to heal me. I would have
forgiven you if you‘d just stayed with me until the end. No man should die alone but you gave
me life, knowing that I would come after you.‖
―Maybe I did it so you would understand and let me go,‖ I suggested  and he laughed.
―You healed my brain and saw my heart, Lakan Strongbow. You think I didn‘t see who
you are?‖
He hauled me to my feet, all six foot two of him and held me as I wobbled. While I‘d
slept or been unconscious, my body had healed enough so that  my broken bones were no more
than aches yet I was so exhausted that standing was still an effort. Behind me, I heard odd
rumblings that became noises, the babbling of everything around me all jumbled together in an
onslaught of noise that my brain had trouble decoding. Until suddenly, I heard individual voices.
―I can hear you!‖ I shouted and there wasn‘t silence because I could still hear birds,
rustling trees and even the groaning of the earth. My grumbling stomach. With hearing came the
sharpening of my other senses.  
All of us looked as if we had come through an explosion. We had. Clothes ripped to
shreds, torn, soot covered with blood- soaked rags. Faces in desperate need of washing and
trimming. Hungry eyes. The FBI men looked a day or so cleaner than I , Aiken the worst. But
Delaney and Anson had weapons and gear where Aiken had nothing on him but me. He checked
my ears.
―No blood, no concussion. That‘s good. Follow my finger,‖ he ordered and I pushed that
digit down.
―I‘m healed, no concussive side effects, no ruptured tympanic membrane. Question is,
what are you going to do about us?‖ I snapped point blank. I thought I knew the answer but I
wanted him to vocalize it.
―Hell, Lakan. What do you think? You saved my life, you made me the same as the
Jacobi  girl, like Mike Faraday and the others you healed. We‘re part of your underground family
now. I could no sooner turn you in than I could myself.‖ He went through his pants and pulled
out a slim sat- phone, obviously one that the two FBI had missed. They had the grace to look
embarrassed. Instantly, the two had him under the sights of their guns but I turned slowly and
told them to holster them.
We listened as Aiken contacted his home base. They were frantic, trying to get info on
the chopper and its crew.
―This is Rogue One, Base. Come in, Base. This is Rogue one. Do you copy?‖
There was a burst of static and their voices rose, calling, one after the other so that all
were garbled.
―Shut up!‖ Aiken shouted. ―I can‘t hear you!‖
―This is Chase, Aiken,‖ a louder  voice broke in. ―Give me a sit- rep.‖
―The chopper crashed,‖ Aiken reported. ―That kid --- he did something, threw something
big into the rotors and the whole thing blew apart. Jacobson made it out alive, I gave him basic
first aid and left him at the crash site. He wasn‘t hurt bad, caught a tree on the way down.‖
―The boy,‖ Chase demanded. ―How is the boy? Have you acquired him?‖
―He‘s dead, Chase. We hit him with four doses of Special K and the chopper blades took
his head off at the shoulders.‖
There was  utter silence for a moment. ―Cameron said he can use his DNA.‖
―No can do. The body burned in the chopper fire.  The o nly   thing left is a handful of his
hair I snatched off his head before it exploded in the heat.‖
I grimaced at the image o f my head and bra ins doing that and nearly yelped as he pulled
out a handful of hair, grinning at me as I grimaced back.
―What are your coordinates?‖
―Thanks for asking about my health. I‘m fine, by the way. A few sprains, cuts and a mild
concussion,‖ Aiken spoke dryly. ―I  found the two FBI agents. They were left behind by the boy.‖
―Bring them in. Where are you?‖
Aiken looked around. We were at the bottom of a ridge between two mountains. Both
sides were rocky with tall conifers covering most of the slopes but I could see  a thin trail winding
across the one ridge.  ― Somewhere over the next ridge. I'll get back to you when I calculate my
position. Out. ‖ He thumbed the off button.
Spirals o f smoke trailed la zily across the sky, residue from the crash  and miles away. We
were  in Horseshoe Canyon  if my memory served me. A box canyon, the only way in or out was
directly in front of us and led to a Forest Service road out. The trail I saw on the ridge went only
to a rocky outthrust that stood over the valley and dropped five hundr ed feet to the Dolores
River. It wasn‘t a route that two desk agents and a previously injured pair could manage.
―They‘ll be sending another chopper to pick us up,‖ Aike n said. ―You should go.‖
I looked at the pair and interrupted before they could protest. ―You can‘t come with me
and I‘m not coming back with the FBI or the NSA. I have to find Leon and my friends. Will you
let me do all that or are you going to be a part of killing  the god your doctor  has created? Killing
me?‖
Anson looked at me steadily, his face dirty, scratched by briars and limbs with a three day - old beard. ―Don‘t you know, Lakan Strongbow died in that helicopter crash?‖ He held out
the last of the backpacks with the last of the gear and supplies. Somehow,  they   had found my
bow and quive r, the quipp and two canteens.
Delaney took off his Carhartt coat and placed it over my shoulders, squeezing me as if I
were a favorite son. Aiken handed me his maps.
―North is that way.‖ He pointed over my shoulder back towards the wreckage of the
chopper. ―I would suggest that you avoid that area, Chase will have teams scouring the crash
site. I‘d go west and then cut back north but don‘t tell me. If I don‘t know, I can‘t lie.‖
I shook their hands and before I could feel the lump dissolve in my throat, I  faded into the
brush. I was gone from their sight in minutes but I caught the low murmur of their goodbyes far
longer until the slow thunder of approaching Black Hawks drowned their voices out.
Fear made me forget my exhaustion and I made as many miles that night as I could wring
out of a body made sluggish by the healings I had performed. Through it all, the sound of the
helicopters and men hunting drove me on.
Chapter Eighty-One: Epilogue
I stood at the border between the US and Canada, twenty feet from t he degraded fence
that divided the First Nation Reservation lands of British Columbia from  US soil. Three days of
playing hide- and- seek with Chase‘s men had worn me to a thin shadow. I‘d barely had time to
eat or drink, hadn‘t slept more than 15 minutes snatched wherever or whenever I could take it.
Along the way, I‘d found signs left by other natives--- rock cairns laid in subtle shapes of
Abenaki lore, feathers left in places where that species did not live. I heard the calls of marmots
and coyotes where t heir feet did not  tread and knew some other Native American shadowed me.
The sound of something large rustling in the trees brought my senses and weapon up. I
leveled the bow on the spot, lowering it when a large equine head popped out of the bushes,
follo wed by the rest of a paint horse. A bay paint  gelding upon which a boy rode. A youth from
the First Nation as the Canadians called their native population.
He wore old, faded jeans, a t- shirt under a ratty old army jacket with the name
TSING‘ILLI‘ on it. H is hair was cut short, black and spiked over his ears and topknot. His eyes
were the black of a snapping turtle and I noted with weary amusement that he held the horse
between his knees so that his hands were busy with a .30- 30 Winchester rifle. What my Great
Grandfather called a bush gun. He spoke in harsh gutturals and I automatically translated as he
asked me who I was.
I told him my secret warrior name and he responded in kind, telling me that the others
were waiting for me.
―Others?‖
He nodded. ―Little Bear. DeCarlos, the woman, and her brother. The white men that you
sent ahead.‖
―Little Bear? I was told that he drowned.‖ I was glad but surprised. He tucked the rifle
into a saddle scabbard on the left side of the horse and offered me his hand. I jumped   up, nearly
missed because I was so tired, settled my rump behind the cantle of what was an old Sears
center- fire saddle.
―The border  has been patrolled by many white men with guns, infra- red and search
helicopters,‖ he said, the curiosity evident in his b land voice. He was asking who I was that had
elicited such a vast response from the government. ―They say you are one of the old gods
walking the earth. A great Healer sent from  Wakan.‖
I snorted. ―What I am is a tired dude in need of food, toileting and b ed. In that order.  I
can promise if it doesn't happen soon, I‘m going to have a tantrum.‖
It was his turn to snicker as he kicked the paint and it reared straight up into the air. I  slid
off to land on my ass in the middle of a patch of briar canes,  tearing at my arms and face.
―Oops,‖ he said, not at all apologetic.
I leaned back on my elbows. ―What‘s your name?‖
― Nathan Onadauga.‖
―I apologize, Nathan Onadauga. My name  is Lakan Strongbow.‖ He leaned over and
gave me his hand, pulling me up and onto the  h orse‘s rump once more. This time, I held on as he
nudged the paint into a trot through the brush.
Twenty minutes later, we emerged on a hill leading down to a valley that was  beautiful,
white foamed streams, grassy  meadows, and housing that was both practical and blended into the
environment. It wasn't the typical poor Indian  village. He rode up to a double wide on a cement
foundation and around back to a small four stall stables where he told me to dismount. I slid off
and he followed, leading the paint  inside. There were other animals in stalls, equally as fine as
the paint. Only when he was done with the horse's care did he  tell me to follow him to the house.
We went in through the back door, into the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean. Around the
square pecan table  was seated six people I thought I would never see again. Leon, George, Mike,
Robin and Maiara all  leaped  to their feet and hugged me. From another room,  the Jacobis and the
Senator joined us. In fact, everyone who had helped me was there. Except  for Rachel and my
great- grandfather but I could feel them too.
Marshal Muir came out of the back bedroom and said hello, but it was the Senator who
told me what was up to date. He had carried in a laptop, open to a page with impressive seals and
dire warnings on top secret clearances. He set the laptop down on the kitchen bar counter.
―Lakan, it‘s good to see you and in relatively good condition,‖ he started and I held up
my hand.
―Hold that thought. I gotta use the facilities or I‘m gonna die.‖ I ran  to th e bathroom and
sat, letting myself sink into that stage that preceded sleep. In fact, it was the banging on the door
from several disgruntled people that woke me. I nearly fell off the pot and called out that I was
almost finished, they were determined not  to let me have any sleep before they learned what had
occurred in the last week.
I washed my hands, sloshed cold water on my face but it didn‘t help the bags underneath
or the tiredness that dragged at my entire body. The door swung open and almost took o ut the lot
of them, even Maiara was hanging onto the jamb.
―Lakan, this can wait until you get some rest,‖ she said and steered me towards one of the
bedrooms. I followed her blindly and let her push me onto a queen sized bed with a soft rose
Indian blank et where she pulled off my jeans and tucked the covers over my head. Then, I was
vaguely aware that she guarded the door, refusing to let anyone in the room. I slept for over
eighteen hours, not even the hunger pangs of the last two days woke me.
It was, h owever, the smell of frying onions and garlic that teased my nose and stomach
enough to roll over and peer blearily out at the closed door of a bedroom I couldn‘t quite
remember. The walls were tan, painted and the ceiling an off- white with throw rugs made  from
rag strips. They were colorful and soft on my bare feet. I looked, someone had stripped me down
to my underwear.  I hoped that it wasn‘t Maiara that had seen me naked but then, I wasn‘t too
upset if she had. I would rather have seen her in that condit ion, I would rather have had her all to
myself, alone and loving. But, like everything else in my life, that would have to wait until I
wasn‘t afraid for her life and mine.
Getting up required almost more energy than I could muster but I managed. Seems lik e
that was all I did lately, manage.
There were clean clothes in the closet and a neatly folded set atop the pine dresser. It had
a mirror behind it on the wall and I stared at myself, not recognizing the raccoon faced scarecrow
that stared back at me.
The scared determined look in those eyes haunted me. I was still afraid, still worried that
I really hadn‘t escaped from Chase, Cameron or the US government.
Slowly, I pulled on the clean clothes, smoothed down the t- shirt over my scars. It still
hurt to be nd over but someone had thoughtfully provided me with slip - on deck shoes. Everything
in my size so that they should have fit perfectly but I had lost weight in the  week- long  chase
through the National Forest.
The kitchen was busy, with Mairy behind the sto ve in an old  flowered apron tied in front.
She was cooking burgers, bacon, fried potatoes for an army while Senator Lourdes was tearing
up lettuce leaves, George was shredding carrots and Mike was smashing garlic bulbs.
Robin looked up and tossed me a beer, Sam Adams Boston Lager. I found a can opener
in the silverware drawer, popped the cap and took a healthy swallow. It tasted as good as I
remembered. Just about the time that I‘d swallowed half of it, Mairy called for everyone to sit
down and eat. We traipsed into the dining room and sat wherever at the large oval maple table
covered with real linen tablecloth and china plates.
The table was heaped with  food-- - mashed potatoes, gravy, French fries, bacon
cheeseburgers on potato bread buns. Homemade coleslaw, potato salad and a huge garden salad.
Ice tea, beer, and coffee went round the table. No one sat next to anyone in particular but just
grabbed a spot on the long benches in lieu of chairs while Robin and Mike took the opposite
head and foot of the table.
Mairy raised her beer and all of us gave her our undivided and eager attention. ―I want to
thank all of you for helping Lakan and my brother and  me  in escaping from the Government.
Without your help, Lakan would be imprisoned and we would most likely have been terminated
to prevent him from escaping again.
―Some of us have given their lives or given up their life to be here. You are not forgotten,
your sacrifice will be remembered and celebrated for all our lives. And yet, we are still not safe.
Chase and Cameron have made Lakan‘s capture a prize worth more than anything in recorded
history , more than anything in this world.
―Everyone will be suspect; everyone could be tempted to turn him in for the reward.‖ She
held the bottle up. ―To those who perished a nd suffered so that we could be free.‖
All of us drank to those gone but not forgotten and then, dug into the feast. I took some of
everything, ate all of it and went back for seconds. After filling my plate, I was aware of a
strained silence and looked up to see the entire assemblage staring at me with open mouths.
―What?‖ I asked around a huge mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy.
―No one‘s ever seen anyone eat quite like that, Lakan,‖ Mairy said smiling.
―Yeah? Well, I‘ve got to replace protein every time I repair something,‖ I retorted.
―You haven‘t healed yet?‖ Mairy asked, worried. ―I thought everything was done.‖
―Mostly,‖ I chewed and swallowed. ―Just some residual internal soreness.‖
George spoke up. ―When you‘re done eating, if ever, Lakan, we need to get moving.
―Moving where?‖ Deliberately, I took another cheeseburger even though that was
pushing it. My stomach almost felt too full.
―The Tribal Council wants to meet with us and determine the best place and scenario to
hide you,‖ he answered me. I pushed the plate away and stood up.
―I‘m ready.‖ Mairy moved towards my side and George shook his head.
―Just Lakan and I.‖ Mairy looked unsettled.
I haven‘t had him to myself for more than five minutes!‖ she complained.
―After Lakan sees the Elders, Maiara, you can have him all to yourself for days,‖ he
promised. He looked everyone in the eye and nodded again as he picked up keys left on the
spotless counters.
Mairy kissed me and I felt her hand slip something into my back pocket. Or it could be
that she  was fondling my butt cheeks, or checking what was inside them. Her eyes misted as she
pushed herself away.
―I love you, Lakan Strongbow. Come back to me.‖
Frowning, I followed George Little Bear out to a shiny new Dodge Ram pickup and slid
into the passeng er seat. George told me to put on my seat belt and I obeyed him.
He pulled out and drove past the collection of neat double wides and trailers. All of them
had barns with livestock, mostly  horses, and cattle. In fact, it looked no different than any village
on the rez back home. Except maybe cleaner and more prosperous.
―How far is it?‖ I asked.
―Not far. About 15 miles down the road. There‘s the Tribal Council House, Medical
Clinic, and other assorted government buildings. They run things about the same here, except the
Council allows the RCMPs to have jurisdiction on Reservation land.‖
―That means that they can arrest me?‖
He nodded. ―But they won‘t extradite you if they did arrest you. Especially knowing the
circumstances.‖
I looked at him. ―They know abo ut me?‖
He stared straight ahead and there was a pregnant pause before he spoke. ―I told the
Elders and they went to the Captain of the station. He agreed to listen to you before he made a
decision.‖
―George--- .‖
―Lakan, the only way for you to survive is to have some kind of protection from a
governmental agency. Canada is the least likely to screw you over.‖ His gaze softened. ―It‘s for
the best, Lakan. You‘d have a chance which is more than Rachel had.‖
―George, I tried to go back for her--- .‖
―I know yo u did. Both Roan Horse and Leon told me that you tried but she was already
gone before Mike got you out of there.‖
The truck rolled smoothly down the well - paved road, tires humming as he cruised at 70
mph so it wasn‘t long before we‘d done the fifteen mile s.
Coming into the complex was just like driving into any government bureaucracy center.
Even the buildings had that sterile boxy look that Federal designers favored.
The truck drove up to one that was slightly less ugly than the rest and George shut off t he
ignition, opened the door and hopped out onto dusty gravel.
I did the same, noting that the busy parking lot was filled with both rental vehicles and
Canadian government sedans. The  rez  plates were different than the regional BC plates, kind of
unique a nd looked like the ones on Wyoming cars with an Indian chief in a headdress in the
center of the license plate.
We walked up to the front doors, smoked glass so that we could not see inside but they
were operated by   laser sensor s and opened as we approached them. There was a sudden pop as
the pressurized air inside displaced with the influx of outside air.
The inside was a surprise. It was filled with Native art from more than one tribe. I saw
medicine bags and cradleboards from the Cheyenne next to scr imshaw walrus tusks from the
Inuit and Tlingit  tribes as well as pottery from the Navajo and Hopi and textiles from Incan and
Mayan. In the center of the reception hall soared a genuine Lakota teepee, made of lodgepole
pines and painted buffalo hides. Painted  with victory scenes from the Battle of Little Big Horn.
A woman waited for us, dressed in a neat pair of skintight jeans and smartly tailored
blouse with  a  western  motif. She was clearly of First Nation ancestry with black hair and deep
brown eyes.
―I am Linda Ponyboy, Mohawk,‖ she greeted in a soft Canadian accent. ―Mr. Little Bear,
Mr. Strongbow. Please follow me.‖
I couldn‘t tear my eyes away from the incredible artifacts and artworks as we marched
down a hallway done in subtle gray and sandstone red, the walls covered with paintings and
wool rugs that were priceless. She stopped at a door painted gray to match the walls and pushed
it open to reveal a conference room, a large table at which a group of 12 men sat waiting.
―Thank you, Ms. Ponyboy,‖ the one at the head spoke as he rose and came around to hold
out to hands to George. They introduced each other and then the rest stood as George said my
name and the name of my ancestors, stopping as he reached Great- Grandfather‘s name.
―Please sit. George, you can wait in the next room and Ms. Ponyboy will bring you
coffee,‖ the elder who had introduced himself as Nathaniel One Sock said. I asked them to repeat
all their names again so that I could remember who was whom.
He started first as George went through the door that I hadn‘t seen recessed into the wall
next to a row of large windows that looked out on the complex and surrounding woods which
surprisingly, was closer than I had suspected.
―Please, Lakan. Sit down,‖ One Sock said courteously but I heard the  implied order in his
voice. He gestured to the last empty chair and I hesitated. Number thirteen.
The chair was hideously uncomfortable. Something under the leather pricked me through
the stiff cushion and no matter how I shifted, I couldn‘t get off it. No ne of the others seemed to
mind their seats as they settled back  into  the plush black leather.
All of them looked like natives, all were dressed casually with no one in a business suit.
With the exception of the spokesman, One Sock, they were all around 30- 35, fit and  generically
the same demeanor which struck me as odd. 
―Is it warm in here?‖ I muttered and ran my fingers around my collar, suddenly sweaty
and tight. I swallowed, my throat felt as if I had chewed on chalk, dry and pasty; when I lifted
my hand to rub at the lump, it refused to obey my command to rise.
Tingles of heat spread from my back, up my spine to resonate at the nape of my neck.
Sudden ice cold numbed my head and I could not hold it up so I did not see the entire table of
men stand until they were all gathered around me. M y chair flew backward  under one‘s hand and
12 men circled me. I heard the door open and struggled to rise, to call George to help but nothing
I could do or say came to pass under my control. Someone grasped me by the hai r and jerked my
head off my chest where it had fallen.
Looking into the brown eyes of the man who held me, I was aware that the face belonged
to someone vaguely familiar. One of Aiken‘s men. Named Andrews or something. He spoke
over his shoulder and stepped aside to gather my wrists together, placing me in federal
handcuffs.
Cameron‘s blue eyes smiled back at me and over his shoulder, Chase and George Little
Bear waited patiently for my eyes to focus and acknowledge them.
―George?‖ I gasped and nearly choked as he stepped aside to show me a woman standing
behind him. I knew that face, that slender body but the last time I‘d seen her, she was a spirit.
―Rachel? I don‘t understand?‖
―They promised me her life if I brought you in, Lakan. I‘m sorry but that and  the $50
million will go a long way towards providing care and hope to the people of Wind River.‖ He
picked up Rachel‘s hand and he led her away. She went without a  backward  glance to me.
―I take it these aren‘t Tribal Elders?‖ I asked past the growing cons triction in my throat.
―Agents culled from both our agencies and the Canadian government,‖ Chase told me. ―I
have looked forward to this day for years.‖ Taking out a device from his pocket, he jammed a
Taser into my belly, letting the voltage seer  my muscl es until I could no longer keep my brain
active.
―Welcome back to your real world, Lakan,‖ Chase said and Cameron‘s laugh was the last
thing I heard before I saw Rachel and George‘s departing backs.
The m ovement  made me aware that I was still alive and it brought astonishment with that
idea, still alive and with some sense of my surroundings. I knew that I was being transported via
helicopter back to the states and from there, into a military transport plane where efficient medics
and Cameron kept me drugged and totally immobile. It wasn‘t until I was fully conscious that I
recognized my last destination as a room done  in washable tile so that the blood could be hosed
off, bars across the open wall that looked out over an observation deck, no creature comforts at
all.
The drugs wore off as Cameron supervised my unloading into a sterile operating suite,
slid my unresisting body onto a steel table locking my wrists to restraints at the ends of cross - like
arms while my ankles were pulled as far apart as possible.
All my joints ached. I rattled the cuffs and they were more than plastic, leather, more than
good old fashioned American steel. These were vanadium steel, hardened tougher than the steel
used in the Titan rockets and unless I possessed a laser cutting de vice, I wasn‘t getting out of
them anytime soon.
Cameron cut off all my clothes, attached my IVs to a pole welded to the side of the steel
autopsy table and looked down at me. ―Well, Lakan. We call this the ‗Screaming Room‘. Want
to know why? After all, yo u are the star attraction that this place was built to accommodate. I
expect that you‘ll be providing us with quite the show for the next few years.‖ 
He was right. I christened the room with my agony, blood, vomit, body fluids and curses
until my mind broke. But that didn‘t stop him or Chase for as long as my body supplied them
with medical miracles or genetic anomalies for I was his research. His Guinea pig. Those who
used me never gave me the opportunity to escape nor did they ever remove me from the
restraints or the prison cell. In time, my tortured screams became part of the ‗Scream ing Room‘s‘
legend.
I was more animal than human, existing in a world encompassed by the four walls of the
cell and the two torturers in the name of Science and Greed, a sadistic doctor‘s plaything and
source of income for my body‘s unique blood and cells.   I was the ‗Screamer‘ of the ‗Screaming
Room‘, lost and forgotten to all the world but most important of all, to myself.
The End.