Chapter Eighteen

Outside of the realm of light years, a conversation was happening. To the casual observer, the conversation would be imperceptible. From one point of view, the conversation would last less than a nanosecond within a unit of time unimaginable. From another, the conversation would last beyond eternity. To the participants involved, with limbs stretching infinitely outward and inward, twisting to avoid one another, the conversation was dire. Where these limbs intersected, universes manifested. Where they separated, universes crumbled. Observing from afar, the many acted as one—a cohesive unit with no beginning, middle, or end. In the care of these talkers were tapestries upon tapestries of doorways to and from other dimensions. The angel, Vros, after a long absence, entered this conversation with its brethren without a formal greeting.

“Kinsmen, my task is urgent. Can we now enter the lower dimension from any point along the thread?”

Vros had hoped it would be able to re-enter Moritz’s world to a time earlier than from whence it had come.

“We are still only able to follow the one moving point, Vros. We cannot undo what has been done along the thread,” the chorus of angels replied.

The chorus was overjoyed to see Vros again. Vros—the champion no one worshipped. They fully understood the urgency of the matter, and they were disappointed that there was no technological breakthrough to share with it. The entry point continued to move forward. There was no access to the home universe of Moritz before or after the point. Vros would have to return to a world no longer safe from the relentless hunger of the demon horde, the Kra’agnuk as they were known to the angels. Vros could see the shadows of Ruahadavalat and Hrel. They, along with their kinsman, Ciri, were still in the other universe. They had not abandoned and could not abandon the planet of free will. Sibr, the first visitor to Earth, spoke directly to Vros.

“The humans must be protected, Vros. If the humans come under the influence of the Kra’agnuk, we cannot predict what kind of army will breach our frontiers. Someone from the other side has achieved the unthinkable. It’s only a matter of time before the flood of demons into the human world becomes overwhelming.”

“I understand and will return to the lower dimension immediately. Is there a vessel waiting near Lake Cumberland? I received a message from Ruahadavalat to go there. If the demons seek entry, it will be there.”

A being different from the others raised his voice.

“Vros, you can use my son, Claude, if he is still there. He is like me. He has the genetic code.”

The foreign being then paused. He was almost afraid to ask the question that was on his mind.

“Is Ru still with my grandson? Is David all right?”

“No, Lloyd. Ruahadavalat was with someone else. I do not know the status of your grandson. When I return, I will inquire into his safety.”

Sibr addressed Vros, “The Kra’agnuk have stepped up activity in other parts of the omniverse. This demands our attention. We shall fill the three vacant connections to the lower universe as soon as possible. We shall attempt to open more. I myself will return when I can.”

At the moment Vros was without an earthborn body. Had he been in control of one, Vros would have smiled.

“Perhaps I can deal with the problem on my own.”

“Acting independently is unwise. Confer with the others. We have not always agreed with your past independent decisions, Vros.”

“I understand. Where most of us wish to incorporate all into our oneness, I and others like me often find it necessary to eliminate obstinate minds.”

“We can never reject you, Vros, but we can express our concerns. Our mission is incontrovertible. Our kind have tried in the past and failed to turn away from the oneness. Our methods, however, will always be open to interpretation. Go now, and stop the Kra’agnuk. We are with you always.”

---

Lester and Dave had been sitting silently in Dave’s old room for the past couple hours, waiting for something to happen. By then, Lester had acquainted himself with every knick-knack and wall hanging. He was beginning to tire of the color red, which splashed across Dave’s room like geometric blood spatter. The sound of his voice was the only other color Lester had on his palette. He stayed quiet for a while thinking Dave needed to get into some kind of a trance. Deep in his own thoughts, Lester couldn’t shake the image of Tommy’s hanging body. He could only distract himself so many times by checking his mobile device for a message from Harry which by then was more than late in coming. Enough waiting was enough.

“So, Dave, how does it feel to be back home after all these years?”

Dave’s concentration was broken. He was relieved rather than angry. It was hard to focus with a throbbing skull. Tommy’s pistol whip was a lasting legacy. The time in Bowling Green afforded some much needed rest, but it was not enough to completely dull Dave’s headaches and Lester’s grief.

“My room is exactly how I left it. It’s like they didn’t touch a thing. At least they kept it clean. I used to vacuum and dust it myself, but it looks like my mom took over. She kept it clean, thinking I’d come home any minute after I figured out how to tune out the voice that was in my head. It doesn’t really feel like home though without my mom and dad here.”

“No blueberry pie.”

“Yeah. No blueberry pie. No sounds from the kitchen. My dad isn’t here to stink up the bathroom.”

“Well, Dave, I can take care of the stink if it will make you feel more at home.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Are you feeling anything? Any vibes? Is anyone talking to you?”

“Just you so far. I’m wondering if maybe we need to go out to the lake. Ru always preferred to talk there for some reason.”

“I’m sure it couldn’t hurt. We’ve been cooped up in here for a while. My tan is starting to fade.”

Dave chuckled a little. Dave and Lester continued talking as they headed downstairs to the car.

“I’m still not sure what is supposed to happen.”

“Maybe Mr. Face just wanted you to see your family again. Maybe your folks hired him to find you and bring you back.”

“Very funny. My folks were clueless. If they were asking anyone for help, it was Jesus Christ.”

“Maybe Mr. Face is Jesus Christ. He sure as hell ain’t from around here. Maybe he came down and possessed some guy named Jesus Christ a long time ago. Started turning water into wine and shit. Started bringing cats back from the dead.”

“You talk just to talk, don’t you?”

“Pretty much. I’m just thinking out loud. I get a little crazy if it’s too quiet.”

“Do you talk out loud when you’re by yourself?”

“Who doesn’t? I mean I’ve had people under surveillance-- total surveillance. These people had no idea there was someone watching their every move. Some more than others—but every single one of them vocalized something when they believed there was no one around to hear it. I still can’t believe it. Am I just lucky to find all the people who talk to themselves?”

“Probably.”

Lester started the car and followed Dave’s instructions to Lake Cumberland. With Harry’s last message, he knew a heavily fortified complex hid deep below the lake’s surface. The complex was likely under the control of the same faction hunting Dave. They would need to tread lightly for fear of disturbing the hornets’ nest. The last thing Lester wanted to do was deliver Dave to the very people from whom he was protecting him. But if it came down to it, taking on the forces of evil sure beat the heck out of sitting around the house all day.

---

Deep beneath the surface of Lake Cumberland rested a submerged ghost town. Buildings abandoned before the flooding of the valley hid access to a fortress of debauchery and scientific achievement. While drinking, smoking, injecting, snorting, gambling, groping, and overall cavorting occurred under an eerie aquatic light in the main casino area and in private luxury suites, something far more sinister and abominable was happening in a room adjacent to the first manmade inter-dimensional portal to ever allow an agent of the Kra-agnuk entry into the world of humans. Two heavily muscled orderlies were arguing outside the room.

“I took it in last time. It’s your turn to feed him.”

“Fuck that. You have a special relationship with him. You feed him.”

“Yeah, that was when he looked halfway normal. He’s getting freaky. He scares the shit out of me. How is this even a discussion? It’s your fucking turn. Maybe he’ll say something really trippy to you like he said to me last time.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said something about trapped souls going on to serve a true god to become free through obliteration—something like that. Come on. Just go in there and drop the tray and get the fuck out. If Dolph finds out that we didn’t treat this guy right, we’re fucked.”

“Okay.”

The orderly grabbed the tray of various meats, nutritional supplements, and water and slowly entered the darkened room. A hulking figure sat stoically on a gurney. In the short time since the demon agent had infected the human, the physical transformation was remarkable and nearly complete. This demon possession was far more invasive than any hosting of an angel. An angel was always kind and cooperative to its vessel and did nothing to alter the body. The demon, on the other hand, upon entering the human shell, took over all functions, relegating the vessel’s consciousness to a tortured confine. The endocrine system was commandeered to transform the vessel into the ultimate fighting machine by generating muscle-building human growth hormone and testosterone. Bone growth was restarted to reinforce the skeletal structure. Red blood cells were created at a faster pace to provide more oxygen to all parts of the enhanced body. Ligaments and tendons thickened. Lung capacity increased. Nerve endings multiplied to improve sensation and reaction time. The calcification of the facial and skull bones created an inhuman countenance. The orderly set the protein-laden tray down and turned to leave. The beast then spoke with overgrown vocal cords.

“Where is Steve? I have more to tell him. Have I become too frightening?”

The creature seemed honestly regretful. Everything about this world was new to the demon inside. It was still learning.

“Uh, I’ll get him.”

With unnatural speed, the creature covered the distance of the room to the orderly and cut off his exit.

“Don’t leave just yet. I haven’t finished eating.”

The beast quickly sank his teeth into the orderly’s neck and began devouring his flesh. The orderly had no throat left to scream as the blood drained from his skull.

A few doors down from the grisly scene, a woman sat alone in a locked compartment. Agnes Bullock wondered if she would ever see her husband again.

---

Vros’ entry into the human world did not occur as it had planned. The genetic signature it had targeted as Lloyd, the human soul, had suggested, was repelling it. Attempt after attempt was met with devilish resistance. It was as if Claude Bullock had the “No Vacancy” sign lit and a door mat that read, “Scram!” This was alarming on multiple levels for Vros. Claude was obviously possessed by some other being. All angels were accounted for, so Vros worried that the demons or at least one demon had made the jump. Disoriented and committed to the human plane, Vros expended incredible amounts of energy to find an alternative symbiont. The pain Vros felt in limbo between his world and without connection to a human soul was jarring. It began to expand frantically in every direction hoping to find a compatible host. It didn’t take long.


Floating on a stolen dinghy on Lake Cumberland, Lester and Dave motored toward the spot where Dave and Ru used to communicate openly. The weather was unusually foreboding with storm clouds massing almost instantly. Minutes ago, Lester and Dave were enjoying the sunshine.

“Gee, Dave, I thought a romantic cruise around the lake was a good idea. Now, I’m thinking we should maybe head back. I don’t want to get struck by lightning. You have this thing with lightning.”

“This is weird weather. It’s like we brought Seattle with us.”

Suddenly, Dave’s body went rigid and he screamed in agonizing pain. His thoughts became clouded, and he caught Lester in the corner of his eye coming towards him. His arm shot out, and he grasped Lester’s neck. Lester tried futilely to break the grip by slamming his arms down on Dave’s arm. Finally Lester realized he was going to have to hurt Dave before he blacked out. Lester’s fist flew at Dave’s head from the side and nearly knocked Dave out of the boat when it connected with Dave’s temple. Free from the grip, Lester pinned Dave to the bottom of the boat.

“This is closer than I want to get to you Dave, but you’ve flipped your shit, my friend.”

“Lester. Lester, I’m sorry. We’re sorry. We overreacted.”

“We? What are you talking about? We?”

“Lester, I’d like you to meet Vros. It says you may know it by the name, Molar. The split second after Vros found my soul, it saw you approaching and did what it thought it needed to protect me. It didn’t know.”

“Hey, Vros. You and your buddy, Hrel, really need to learn some manners.”

“The connection was extremely painful. Vros was looking for my father. Vros was rejected. It was lucky to find me.”

The storm clouds began to dissipate.

“So does that mean your father is…”

“No, he’s not dead.”

Dave looked wan. His eyes were vacant.

“I’m sorry, Lester. I need to rest.”

“Well, the sun is out again. Take your time. I’ll just get back to that trout I’m trying to catch.”

---

Pam had heard Dave talk about his hometown from time to time but never thought she would visit it for any reason. Whenever Dave started talking about Somerset to Pam, she knew it was Dave’s way of remembering his family—staying in contact no matter the physical and emotional distance. The conversation usually centered on religious myopia. Dave’s father would always come up as an example. Pam, Ivy, and Anton were now in the very town of Dave and Claude Bullock. Pam was one step closer to her goal. Hrel had other ideas, and through Pam’s voice, he set in motion the steps he felt needed to occur to achieve his own ends.

“Anton, we’re going to need the soul cloaks Hrel was working on. We felt something last night. We don’t know how bad it is yet, but we need to be ready.”

Chapter Seventeen

The auditoriums were filling across the country, as workers cautiously filed into the rows. Nobody liked training classes or performance reviews; they only seemed to come when mistakes were made, and their thinly mounted pep-rally enthusiasm was merely window dressing for the witch hunt. Any time the company was gathered en masse the atmosphere thickened with fear, like coastal fog on a summer morning, bringing a slight chilling effect. The bodies shuffled in, heels dragging, plopping down uncomfortably in chairs like students on test day. Soon the room was full. In Mackinac Island State Park, Michigan. In Lake Havisu City, Arizona. In the temporarily closed due to construction repairs of Missoula, Montana. And in Somerset adjacent to Lake Cumberland, Kentucky.

The rooms dimmed and projectors rolled. There was no outdated music or the crackling distortion of old film, and there weren’t scenes of work or a cheerful baritone narrator. It was just the emblem of a hand from slightly above the wrist, closed in a fist, and grasped within was a golden, luminescent ring. It faded eventually, and the shot was of Dolph, sitting at his tree stump desk, wearing a white oxford cotton shit with the collar unbuttoned and a red striped tie loosely Windsor knotted. His elbows were propped on the desk, fingertips aligned and touching, though his palms were not. The look on Dolph’s face was not irritation or anger, but it was hardly a positive one. It was as though he had been vexed with thought, and was now caught struggling with the ramifications.

Dolph licked his lips and swallowed a deep breath before speaking.

“Discovery consists of seeing what everybody else has seen and thinking what nobody has thought. That was said by Albert Szent-Györgyi de Nagyrápolt, who I suspect none of you have ever heard of. He won a Nobel Prize over 70 years ago, mainly for discovering something called vitamin C, which, I’m sure you’ve all heard of. He had the ability that a rare few have, to go beyond the obvious and make the invisible visible alongside the obvious. And whether it’s clear to you or not, that’s what we are doing here.” He undid the cuff buttons and rolled up both sleeves mid-forearm and continued.

“There are thousands of employees in each of the different sectors of the company, but none so important to me right now as your branch – Security and Operations. Last week, we had a disastrous breach here in the Delta location, and let’s just say we’re still cleaning up the mess that was made. I’m not going to jeopardize their holiday party, but re-assigning hundreds of workers until that facility is fully operational again displeases me greatly because it is a waste of company funds that are needed elsewhere. Tonight, we are going to tune all of the grids, which is the first of the final steps in making our portal operational.” There was an obedient round of applause, long enough to be congratulatory but far short of the gratuitous wailing that accompanied awards ceremonies or political speeches. “And now that we’re here, it is critical that none of you err in your jobs.”

There were effectively three different areas the staff fell under – brains, bodies, or brawn. When Dolph first had his vision and idea to construct an inter-dimensional wormhole, the science had not yet existed for what he had in mind, and he lacked the technical ability to develop it himself. Realizing that having the proper research staff would necessitate gathering some of the top minds and radical thinkers in the fields of astrophysics, quantum science, and mechanical engineering, which would not be cheap by any means, Dolph first turned to an area he was intimately familiar with – the carnal pleasures of man. He took what paltry capital he could scrape together and got a piece of a gentleman’s club on St. Louis, slowly pushing his partners out until he had owned the place outright. It took only a few years to expand into other cities, and his money was not only coming in above the board, but also in backroom deals that allowed a massive flow of narcotics and sex to be available to clients whose appetite couldn’t be met openly. Of course, this was fine for a businessman to indulge in, be not the area a respectable businessman wanted to be in. In less time than it took to develop a small fortune in the smut and smack trade, Dolph had completely turned his profits five-fold moving into real estate and land acquisitions.

After a decade, Dolph had many connections to corporate America and government officials, and he further stoked the fires of their allegiance by re-entering the fields of vice. Before the four locations were even ground-broken, the mighty Mississippi was home to a trio of private riverboats that made his old establishments look like a children’s tea party. With his considerable resources and personal fortune, Dolph recruited the brains to execute his idea of reaching 4TH through 10TH dimensional space. He never told any of those captains of industry or govermentos his idea for fear of their ridicule or worse, a concerted effort to keep him from achieving his goal. But he did use them to secure the vast land and space to build the massive pleasure palaces which would front and fund his construction of secondary structures what would anchor the points of the portal once it was opened.

With his cadre of scientists, sexy sirens, and slick salesmen of salaciousness, all that was missing was some strong-armed sentries to keep the order and, more importantly, keep his empire safely underground and shielded. Compared to paramilitary organizations and the soldier of fortune type that ended up without loyalty like so many mercenaries, Dolph looked for a rougher, harder type – criminals. For many of them, their multiple strikes and background precluded them from even the shittiest of jobs, and faced with washing dishes or risking the income provided by their old ways, nearly every two-bit hood, con artist, petty crook and loser was on board when given the opportunity. Already fancying himself a master of decadence and a land baron, Dolph also bestowed the mantle of boss upon himself as he created his amateur army of thugs in the mold of a mob-like syndicate, save all the despotic grappling for neighborhoods and territory. He was the neighborhood, and his territory was the semi-secluded house of sin which hid a scientific masterpiece in its shadow.

Dolph looked into the configuration of monitors across from him, which displayed each of the four auditoriums on a closed-circuit feed and the current on-camera image of him. “As I have mentioned before, there are people in this country and around the world who disagree with the scientific discoveries we are attempting here, and in order to succeed in our goals, they must fail. Our progress and studies frighten them, and they refuse to see that we have the chance to reshape humanity and allow humankind the ability to explore this universe far faster and more vastly than they could. We have the people in place to develop it. We have the people in place to fund it. Now I need to make sure that I have the people to protect it.” There was urgency in Dolph’s tone, as well as in his face.

“These people are terrorists, splinter cells from within the government who use their power and connections to further their own agenda. We discovered one of their moles and had them subdued, but there was an escape. Fortunately we have them and an accomplice on their way back to us so that we can access the damage to our security structure, which is why I need hyper-vigilance and no more sloppy errors as we enter this critical phase. Because they won’t be tolerated. Or forgiven.” He sighed and looked down, knowing he’d said all that he could and now part of his success would be dependant on their capabilities.

“Now here’s a short film about binding techniques.”

---

The school bus was hardly a low profile vehicle, but Bronco wanted something big and powerful to get him to Kentucky. Breaking into the service depot was easy, and rigging the transmission was even easier. And if he ran into any trouble, they’d have a hell of a time getting him to pull over.

“GIMME FUEL, GIMME FIRE, GIMME THAT WHICH I DESIRE,” Bronco shout-sang along with the Metallica CD playing in his headphones. He pumped a black gloved fist, which, in metal fashion was fingerless and had chrome studs at the wrist. In the back rows, Angie and Harry were hogtied and gagged with duct tape. Harry came to and saw Angie looking and him regretfully. For a moment he struggled and tried to break loose, but it was useless. Angie was still looking at Harry, who drew his gaze back to her, and she shook her head confirming her own attempt and failure to loose the bonds. She nodded over to the front of the bus, and Harry saw the stringy jet back hair and small hunched form at the wheel in the dim interior safety lights of the bus cabin. School busses were not engineered for quiet, and the engine growled as Bronco pushed it hard, racing along the highway in the dark of the night.

There was hardly a car or truck on the road, and Bronco was making excellent time heading to Somerset. Bronco was primordially simple – eat, sleep, hunt, kill. As if some branch humanity never fully made the evolutionary step, the fruit it bore was Bronco, and he lived only to challenge the very concept of survival. Life for him was very much the speed riffs in a Metallica song – beautifully brutal, hard and fast. The lyrics were like a mantra, orders from a higher power that understood the struggle of living and the delicate line between life and death. As far as he was concerned, to live was to die, you fought fire with fire, and blackened was the end. Dolph or Marv would call him, sometimes frequently, sometimes with weeks and months between, but always with a challenge, a mission that brought him no particular joy in undertaking, but satisfaction at the end when he knew he’d completed it. And he didn’t complain about the generous money he was paid, which would allow for all the Metallica memorabilia he could horde and show after show when the band toured.

In the confines of the bench seats, Harry tried to rotate his adult body within the less than ample space that could accommodate a child sitting properly and not a man trussed like a sow. He finally managed to get onto his back, which allowed him to have his hands somewhat available although they were connected to his ankles. He wiggled to the edge of the seat and Angie leaned in from across the aisle. Angie got kicked in the face a little as they tried to maneuver into the right position where Harry could grasp the gag tape off her. After a few failed attempts, he managed a finger to hook into the corner and start her mouth free. Angie pulled back once he got his fingers around the tape firmly, and stretched her mouth now that it was unbound.

Harry did his breakdance, spinning and turning in the seat until he was back facing Angie. She leaned in and they clumsily bumped heads, both shaking it off and neither upset about the accident. “Sorry,” she said, wincing empathetically. Her second approach was more graceful, and she tried to grab the edge of Harry gag tape in her mouth. Angie nibbled on Harry’s face and cheeks, trying to get a hold of the tape without actually taking a bite out of his face to get a hold of it. It was endearing to Harry, as frustrating as it must have been for Angie to not be able to pull the tape off, and slightly enjoyed the gnawing on him she was doing. With a harder bite, Angie got a piece in her teeth and jerked back a few times to pry it loose from Harry. The tape had taken a few strands of Harry’s straggly facial growth with it, but left more sticky tape remnants than it took hair.

“Who the fuck is this guy,” Harry whispered at Angie.

“I don’t know. Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Probably the U.S. I don’t think we could have been out for more than half a day.”

“I didn’t see any signs while I was awake, but from where we were, if it’s been that long we’re maybe in Wisconsin or Illinois or Indiana.”

“How do you figure?”

Angie explained,” They’re roughly halfway to Somerset, and since we’re not dead, we’re probably going back to Dolph.”

“Do you think we can get the drop on this guy?”

“You tell me,” she said, wiggling her bound fingers and smirking.

“We have to try and get these things off,” Harry instructed. “If we can at least get free, of these, we have an advantage. He looked up at Bronco, who was rocking his head to the music, oblivious to the plotting that was going on behind him.

They started to look for a screw or point sticking out of the seat frame to snag their bonds, but struggled. Bronco was not paying any attention to them, and was not too focused on the road, otherwise he’d have kept his headlights on and not been goofing along with the song.

“DARKNESS, IMPRISONING ME, ALL THAT I SEE, ABSOULTE HORROR. I CANNOT LIVE, I CANNOT DIE! TRAPPED IN MYSELF, BODY MY HOLDING CELL!”

Bronco was fully into the song, and toggled the switch, flashing the lights along with the chugada-chuguda-chah chugada-chuguda-chah chuguda-chah of the guitars and drums synchronizing their one riff. The song drove hard into the finally and Bronco racked the lights in a flurry, cutting them off like the stage lights at the end of the performance. He was so moved by it that he didn’t bother to turn them back on, even when the next track came on. Had he, Bronco would have possibly seen the Mini Cooper that was wheeling back onto the highway from the concealment of the lowered shoulder. Then they certainly would have seen his high beams and not ventured back onto the road at low speed, putting themselves in front of the bus which barreled along far beyond safely or the speed limit.

When the bus slammed into the back of the Mini Cooper it was flung back onto the shoulder like a fly being swatted away from a picnic dish. Bronco frantically tried to correct the bus, which lurched back and forth before locking into a skid. He tried to regain control, but the speed and size of the bus was now in charge of their direction, which turned into trajectory was the bus slid off the road and then flipped as it went down into the shoulder. Harry screamed to Angie to hold on, as he tried to wedge himself into a position of safety.

---

The couple in the car were stunned, and when Bronco came over to them, they could barely comprehend that he was pulling them out of the car, which may have registered that he was trying to help them, which he was not.

“HEY BRONCO!”

He pulled them out and threw them on the grassy lip of the road. From his boot he drew a knife and moved at them, attacking the woman first.

“AM I EVIL? YES I AM!”

Bronco slit the woman’s throat and held her mouth closed while he pinched her nostrils. The man started to move, but Bronco kicked him in the stomach, winding him long enough to lunge and do the same to him.

“AM I EVIL? I AM MAN, YES I AM!”

Bronco looked at the Mini Cooper and got in. It was banged up to hell in the back, but the axle was intact and it drove. He pulled it up onto the road, around the silent shell of the bus. He went back in and found his headphones and put them into his pocket. Harry was in the midsection of the bus, having been vaulted from his seat, but appeared not too badly hurt, considering he survived a bus flipping. Bronco grabbed him and got him out of the fuselage. Strength can be a misleading attribute, as it is seen relative to things such as height and weight, and Harry would have been impressed at Bronco’s raw power carrying him if he wasn’t dealing with a slight concussion.

Bronco put Harry in the Mini Cooper’s back seat, which was even smaller now with the crushed backside. “SORRY BRONCO! THE SHORTEST STRAW, PULLED FOR YOU!” He went back to the bus, looking for the girl. Bronco hardly thought about women and sex, although those feelings were similar to a warrior’s lust for blood and combat, and he probably mistook one for the other sometimes. She was attractive, not ugly like the woman who’d birthed him, and he could not find her. He stepped out and looked at the tipped bus, perplexed.

“OH SHIT, MAN. FUCKING CLIFF BURTON, MAN!

Bronco bowed his head and spoke his tribute to the girl, who he’d realized was thrown from the bus before it landed on her.

“WHEN A MAN LIES, HE MURDERS A PART OF THE WORLD. THESE ARE THE PALE DEATHS WHICH MEN MISCALL THEIR LIVES. ALL THIS I CANNOT BEAR TO WITNESS ANY LONGER. CANNOT THE KINGDOM OF SALVATION TAKE ME HOME?”

Was a tear forming in his dirty eye? He didn’t have time to think about it, as the moaning from a patch of tall grass got his attention. It was the girl, and she was alive. She was in worse shape than the man, but still alive, and Dolph had insisted Bronco not kill them if he could help it.

---

On a stretch of road headed east, both Pam and Ivy were asleep. Anton was driving, helping them close in on their destination. Both women suddenly bolted awake and gasped. Neither one realized it was Hrel and Ru, conscious inside them and startled by the burst of power that coursed through the portals around the country, and made them both hear the screaming cries of angels and demons from their home dimension get louder as the boundary momentarily thinned between universes. They didn’t speak to each other, but they knew they both awoke with a bad feeling, and discussing it would only make it more real.

Chapter Sixteen

“Do you mind? Can we get a little privacy here? I thought I was in Canada, eh, not China, eh.”

It couldn’t be pron he was after. The unshaven redheaded man was in the company of an incredibly gorgeous woman. The bookstore proprietor in the southern Alberta town of Lethbridge made a mental note to check the router and keystroke logs later in the day. The redheaded man would eventually leave the tiny space carved out of the store that was known as the “cyber café”. Then the bookstore proprietor could pry and pry to his voyeuristic heart’s content.

At this point Harry looked more like a derelict and less like a federal agent. Alongside Angie Ahern though he looked more like a successful man of the arts—too consumed with creating to be bothered with regular grooming. Downloading and executing a utility that would enable him to encrypt his outgoing and incoming traffic and route his requests through a Brazilian-based proxy server was the first thing Harry did after the shopkeeper left. The utility would also overwrite any temporary files, erasing any evidence Harry had used the machine. Harry didn’t know the people who ran the proxy, but he knew they wouldn’t be looking at the traffic. They didn’t even know their machine was being used as proxy server and would never know. Each character Harry typed into a field on a webpage, he followed with many random characters that landed nowhere—an activity to befuddle a keystroke logger if one happened to be in use. It was tedious but necessary.

“Are you really ready to plug back into the world? Can’t you take a little vacation?” Angie pleaded with Harry.

“I can’t imagine Lester is worried sick about me, but it has been a while since we had a chat. I just have to check a few spots. And, no, I can’t take a vacation. Not now, after all that’s happened. Our little visit with Mother Nature was vacation enough.”

Had they found themselves in a less forgiving season, Harry and Angie might never have made it out of the woods. But Harry was able to find time to relax and even recharge amongst the conifers as members of the Blackfeet and other tribes had done many years before. Time together gave Harry and Angie a chance to get to know each other on a deeper, more intimate level. Harry never imagined he would find himself so close to Agent Ahern. Out of one of his most traumatic experiences followed one of his now most cherished. It was a story he would have shared with Nana Turquoise. Instead, all he could do was visit the website he and Nana had set up after she began her cancer treatment. Harry noticed that folks continued to post memories and condolences in the guestbook. The impact of her loss continued to echo.

Harry got back to business and checked his few personal email accounts. Before he could get to Lester’s message amongst the spam, Harry spotted a note from his old college friend, Jose. Jose didn’t send too many mass emails out, but when he did, they were certain to be truly LOL funny. This particular message linked to a video entitled, “Johnny Cabbage is back!” Harry was in no rush and had prepaid for the minimum one hour. A Jose link was a link you opened; your sense of humor depended on it. The video would be yet another break from business.

What Harry and Angie saw was a rotund older bearded man in a green jumpsuit completely out of his element. It was as if Zabba’s TV Electronics found the last man on earth they would want to act as their spokesperson and made him just that. His dance moves were uniquely awkward. He missed cues and beats, and the editing of the spot did nothing to conceal these mistakes. There were moments in the commercial where the man was obviously and haltingly reading from cue cards. The entire effect was mediocrity that was sublime in its humor. Angie and Harry looked at each other working very hard to stifle their escaping laughter. Then Harry saw something at the end of the video that stopped his laughter instantly. A black-haired beauty stared right into the camera and said, “Tell ‘em Johnny Cabbage sent you.”

Harry paused the video.

“What?”

“I’m positive I’ve seen this woman before.”

“What do you mean? No. Let me guess. She’s a porn star.”

“No.” Harry shook his head at first to reply in the negative and then in pure disbelief. “Last week, a couple days before things blew up in Seattle, I was swimming laps at the gym. When I got out of the water, she was there. It seemed like she was watching me, but then I assumed she was just checking out the gym or something. I didn’t give it a second thought.”

“Wow. That’s some coincidence.”

“I know. What are the chances? Seattle isn’t too far from Vancouver, so it could have been her I suppose. Weird.”

Harry eventually found Lester’s note. He logged into the shared account and read that he was to get to Lake Cumberland ASAP. In Lester’s words, “Double A will have to wait.” A few days apart from each other, and the two partners had a lot of catching up to do. Harry tried to be thorough yet concise in his briefing to Lester on the events that had transpired at the Fallen Angel. Angie was able to fill in details about the Lake Cumberland branch and what she knew about the powers that controlled the network of “portals”. As much time as she spent with Dolph Hauser, she never really did get a chance to find out if anyone was pulling his strings. From Angie’s experience, Dolph was at the top of the hierarchy. His mission was to bring an end to the angelic dominance of earthly affairs. This meant opening the door for the demons—busting it wide open.

---

At nearly the same moment in time, nearly on the other side of the planet in Wuppertal, Germany, a man sat before his computer on the verge of tears. Moritz was saying farewell to his closest friend. They had accomplished many daring deeds together—far more than Moritz could imagine accomplishing on his own. Before Moritz found his friend, he was a machinist at a chemical plant. He worked during the day and drank himself to sleep every night. Since meeting his friend, Moritz had killed a number of people. His friend called these people impediments to unity. Breaking down these impediments had been empowering for Moritz, but it was power he felt he owed to his friend.

“Warum kann ich mich nicht nach Amerika fliegen?”

“If we had the time, my friend. But I must leave immediately. I must leave you. The situation in America is unstable. Our comrades there are in a weakened position.”

These were words only Moritz could hear. Anyone peeking through his window would see only Moritz. Anyone listening in would hear nothing.

“Wirdst du wiederkommen?”

“I don’t know. I would like to very much if I can. You have been a tremendous ally, and I thank you for all you have done to help unite the universe we love. I wish I had more time to thank you.”

Moritz was still stunned that watching one internet video of a portly green man selling electronics had prompted his friend to want to leave for America that minute. But his friend had always been right. He trusted his friend absolutely. There was some message in the video that Moritz could not comprehend, yet his friend could. Moritz tried to be strong. He had served his part in history. He would now act harmoniously with the world alone.

“Auf wiedersehen, Vros.”

“Good bye, Moritz. Perhaps some day, you’ll join our fight in the other space.”

With those words, Vros extracted itself from Moritz’s being.

---

“HEY, BRONCO! THANKS FOR THE RIDE.”

After a couple days following the torrid trail of Turquoise and Ahern through the Canadian wilderness just north of Montana, Bronco was in need of a shower, and his breath smelled of squirrel stew. From the side of the road though, he appeared to be well equipped, so the trucker felt obliged to pick up the strange little man to see just how much a ride out of the wild was worth. The little brown-skinned man looked almost sad to be leaving the forest.

“Where you headed? You look like you’re a little further north than you’re used to.”

“O BRONCO, GOT LOST HUNTING, MAN.”

“You can call me Doug, not Bronco. Can I take you back to your vehicle?”

The trucker was a little put off by Bronco’s tone. Here he had saved this poor little guy from exposure, and Bronco wasn’t excited at all. He seemed almost disappointed.

“MY CAR BACK IN USA, BRONCO.”

“Holy Shit, man. You’ve done some hiking. Well, I’m headed to Lethbridge. I can drop you off there, and you can make arrangements to get back.”

“THAT’S FINE, BRONCO. MANY THANKS.”

“What’s with calling people Bronco? Is that slang where you’re from?”

Bronco looked at the man and cracked a radiant smile.

“BRONCO!”

Doug shook his head and set his mind to other things. Bronco continued to think about the only two things he ever thought about—his quarry and thrash metal music.

When the truck finally arrived in Lethbridge, Doug was glad to get rid of the company. Bronco seemed to be affected by strange ticks that Doug could see manifesting in his peripheral vision throughout the duration of the journey. It almost looked like Bronco was listening to music in his head and banging his head in time. As Doug drove away, Bronco pulled out his satellite phone to call his client. Marv picked up at the other end.

“Bronco. Where are you? What’s the status?”

“SAVED MONEY, BRONCO. HITCHED A RIDE. SO FUCKING METAL.”

“Yeah. Where are you?”

“LEFBRIDGE. IS NICE, BRONCO.”

“What about Turquoise and Ahern? Tell me you’re still on them.”

“BIG TOWN, BRONCO. YOU CHECK PHONES INTERNETS CAMERAS. IS BIG TOWN.”

“So they made it out. Fuck. This is a joke.”

“I FIND, BRONCO. BIG TOWN NOT TOO BIG. THE SOUND OF HOOVES KNOCKS AT YOUR DOOR.”

Marv muted the phone and looked over at Dolph.

“I cannot understand this fucking retard. He says he’s in Lethbridge now.”

“Bronco is the best, Marv. He was born to hunt. He’s a natural hunter raised in the God damned jungle. If he’s in Lethbridge, chances are Turquoise and Angie are there or were there. Tell the follow team to get to Lethbridge. And tell Bronco he’s doing a great job.”

Marv took the phone off mute and dove back into the conversation.

“Bronco, thanks for the update. Keep up the good work.”

“YOU HAVE BEEN DYING SINCE THE DAY YOUR WERE BORN, BRONCO.”

“Fucking, eh, Bronco. Fucking, eh.”

---

Harry and Angie agreed it would be best to stay out of the States for a while and head towards Winnipeg. The chance of Dolph and friends waiting for them at a border crossing directly to the South was too great. The bus was cheap and anonymous. Harry thought about stealing a car to give he and Angie more opportunities to talk, but he was afraid of the heat it might bring. As it turned out, the bus wasn’t all that full. So Harry and Angie settled into a pair of seats over a back wheel. It didn’t have to be an entirely nonverbal trip.

“What’s going to happen when we get back, Harry?”

“I don’t know. Everything is extremely different now. If you stay on, I don’t get to see you. If you don’t stay on, which is what you’re probably going to do, then you go underground and I risk my entire career if I have contact with you. It’s not looking good for you and me, kid. Not to mention, there is a war going on, that 99.99999% of the people in the world have no clue about.”

“So that’s it then. We just say ‘good bye’ and go our separate ways. It doesn’t matter what decision I make.”

“No way. I don’t have a problem putting my ass on the line to see you. It’ll be tough, but we can make it work if it’s what you want.”

“You could just quit, you know. Go underground like me. Then it would be easy.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for anything else. I do what I do. I’m good at it. I’m saving the free world on a regular basis. I guess I’m hooked.”

“Everybody has a passion, an addiction. You could do worse with yours, but could you at least think about the possibility of another life?”

To Harry it seemed like they had known each other for years. Was this how it was supposed to be? They just clicked in a way that Harry could never remember happening with any other woman. He kept coming back to the idea that he was in a euphoric haze and that once the haze had cleared, he would be able to think more practically. But the fact he was conscious of the concept of infatuation even in his current state reinforced the idea that he was thinking clearly. It was staring him in the face—he loved Angie Ahern.

The bus driver pulled over abruptly and left the bus momentarily. There seemed to be a stalled car on the side of the road. The bus driver returned with a man, obviously the owner of the car. Apparently the bus driver made an agreement with the man to drive him to the nearest service station where he could get help. The man didn’t look suspicious to Harry. A few exits later, the bus left the highway to indeed drop the man off and give the other riders a chance to stretch, eat, and void on a toilet that wasn’t moving. Angie and Harry stayed on the bus.

A short while later, all the passengers were back in their seats and heading east again. The full-day trip was almost over. Harry and Angie arrived in Winnipeg in good spirits looking forward to dipping back down into the States. The border crossing would be more difficult without his credentials, but Harry was Harry, and he knew once he had a chance to talk with the border agents, he could pass freely.

Harry and Angie left the bus depot, and then Harry went limp to the ground. Angie followed him down. A few meters behind them, Bronco sat in a car with his gun barrel leveled. Both shots hit their marks perfectly and silently. There was only a second or two between Harry feeling the needle sting his backside and then losing all motor control and consciousness.

Chapter Fifteen

Lester crept down the hallway, crouched low and hugging the wall. His left hand held one of the Glocks out and at the ready, while his right arm was cocked, holding the other and prepared in case whatever tripped the alarm managed to be behind him. He moved quickly to the kitchen and brushed the lace curtain aside, enough to peek out towards the street. An older model truck was about 30 yards away, idling in the street, lights on but unoccupied. Hardly subtle, Lester thought, but a quick getaway sometimes trumped stealth – and he was sure whoever was there didn’t realize Lester was maintaining an alarmed perimeter and coming out armed.

There was a doggie door in the kitchen, so Lester gently pried the flap back enough to scan the area in front of the place. There was no movement or sound around him, but in the distance, he saw a shadow. Under the far streetlamp, a burly man scuttled across the street towards the car. The older man was oblivious to the fact that Lester would hesitate little to squeeze a couple of rounds into his knees and then ask a few questions while he bled, but it would never devolve into that since he was in his truck and on his way to neighboring block to deliver the morning edition.

Clicking the safety back on both the guns, Lester took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead and eyes. He wasn’t drawing people out after him, he was moving farther away from finding out where the Bullocks were and keeping an eye on David. Lester grabbed his things and wrote a note for Jamie, thanking her for her hospitality and apologizing for his hasty departure. Wrapped in the folded paper was a stack of $20 and $50 bills, and the mention of a down payment towards the next time he came to town. He planned to make Somerset and the Bullock home by dawn, but as well as that would work out for him, he had not expected agents Kroger and Radley to be gone without a trace.

---

Inside the Bullock’s home, there was not a single indication that Radley or Kroger had been there. The equipment and proof of occupancy by way of food wrapper and trash were all gone. Lester didn’t spend too much time inside, especially if the missing Bullocks were really being looked into by the FBI. Nothing said suspicious more than a black man in a missing white couple’s home in the South, no matter how progressive people thought or what the true circumstances were. The last place Lester wanted to go was anywhere near David, but since he was out of touch with Harry and now the two agents were gone, having an ally around would have to pay off more than the threat of putting Bullock in jeopardy.

After switching out for another rental car, Lester ended up back at Tommy Liu’s. Tommy had never made a response to the message Lester left for him, but that didn’t trouble him until he pulled up and saw the splintered frame of the front door. Unnoticeable from far, Lester could see the door had been knocked in and later reset to conceal that fact, so only a person close enough to open the door could tell. Lester immediately pulled a gun out and ducked in the entryway. He slowly pushed the front door open and tried to survey the inside. As the door opened slowly, it revealed an interior that had been tossed and rifled through. And in the center of the room was Tommy, hanging from the overhead fan, his hand tied behind him and feet no more than an inch from the ground that could have anchored him.

Lester felt sick to his stomach. Not because he’d never seen a corpse dead in that manner, but because his friend Tommy had died helping him, and he was responsible for it happening. He could tell himself that Tommy would have taken care of a threat and known what to expect from a dangerous situation, but that was no substitute for the truth. The piss and shit had not soaked through Tommy’s pants that much, and Lester figured he had not died too long ago, even though the blood was pooling in purple bands at Tommy’s wrists and neck where he was bound. The place had been flipped pretty seriously, and Lester ran into the back end of the house through more debris and broken pieces of cool kitsch looking for one thing only – David.

There was no blood, no body, and no sign of David, which may have made Lester comfortable if he’d been riding a more optimistic streak, but given the wreckage, there was a good chance that David may not have escaped or hidden or avoided the trouble that Tommy dealt with. There was no time to reason it out, as a bullet whizzed past his head. Lester fell backwards as plaster and chips of paint sprayed on him where the slug hit the wall. He’d managed to find himself at the back of the main hallway and used his falling momentum to get close enough to the back bedroom and crawl though the doorway, where he scrambled to kick the door shut.

“Mr. Phfister,” said an unfamiliar voice,” please come out and talk with us.”

“Nah…you’re welcome to come back here. I promise I’ll let you tell me who sent you before I kill you as quickly as possible.”

The voice shouted from beyond the door. “Sure, well come back there. We’ll talk.”

Lester had gone into the attached bathroom and broken the towel bar from it’s mount. He stood with it, ready to swing backhanded at the first person who come through the door, and drew one of the 9mms. He was lucky to hold his grip on it as a shotgun blast tore the door apart, leaving only the bottom half still closed and intact. To spilt the door, whoever was holding the shotgun had to be close, and Lester knew that having one person in between him and however many others there were out there gave him the benefit of cover. He flung the towel bar out into the hallway, where it hit the wall and careened down the corridor, causing the man there to squeeze off a shotgun round into the ceiling. As the man was startled, Lester spun around low and saw the temporarily distracted gunman, who was helpless to defend against the three quick shots Lester fired into his midsection.

Shots flew overhead through the doorway and through some of the surrounding wall as Lester waited outside their line of fire until they stopped to reload. He went over to the half-door, which had even more holes in it, like something out of a cartoon where it resembled a hunk of swiss cheese, and was able to see the dying man in the hall, who in an unintentional last effort dropped his shotgun far enough away that Lester would have to risk venturing out just to get it, and even still not be sure how many rounds were left in it. “I still wanna talk,” Lester said. ”I hope you’re still planning to come on back.”

“C’mon, Lester, we don’t want to kill you. If you tell us what we want to know, we may only leave you for dead.”

Lester recognized Kroger’s voice. He and Radley weren’t at Bullock’s because they were probably trailing him.

“So somehow you intercepted my call and came here. That was your big plan?” Lester tried to get them talking, stalling for time to come up with some options. A flat out gun battle would not end up in his favor and he needed to find an advantage. “How did you dipshits ever get hired in the first place?”

“Now now, Lester, who’s the dipshit here? We didn’t need to intercept the call, just to see where you were dialing and then run a trace against the registered address. And besides, you didn’t even know parts of your agency had been compromised,” taunted Radley. “Your own stupid luck delayed this by dropping off Bullock before you arrived. Our other people came ‘round for his parents. We were just the clean up crew in case our intel was correct that you or your partner had picked up Bullock and made it to Somerset.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you’d found him, either,” Lester challenged.

“Like I said, we’re just clean up, and you’re a loose end. Even though we’re all operating as cells, some of us got together and figured out that we create the infrastructure, not handlers or desk jockeys or politicos. There’s money to be made and power to be had out of all of this. And when you look at the shit coming down the pipe…well, there’s no such thing as good or evil. It’s just whoever holds the key to the door. We’re the gatekeepers.”

“Fucking arrogant is what you are,” said Lester. He had found something of use in the bathroom – a can of Lysol, and shook it heartily. He flipped over the wastebasket and put it inside. “You going to come here and finish this or what?” Before they could answer, Lester lobbed it into the hall on the other side of the door. A few shots were fired, but only out of surprise. But Lester wanted to add to that surprise, and fired a few times until he hit the aerosol can, which shot the crude projectile down the hallway, giving him a chance to spring up and see where Kroger was at down the hall and fire until the clip emptied. Kroger groaned and fell down.

While he was decent on the draw, the Glock itself was not a terrifically accurate small caliber gun by Lester’s standards. He was lucky to have hit Kroger, his skill surpassing the average German gun’s calibration. Not that he’d have been much better off hitting him had a Beretta been available, but Lester was somewhat impressed that the lightweight composite gun worked so well in his favor.

“What’s that Kroger?”

Lester smiled as Kroger sputtered blood, coughing and fighting for his last breaths. Radley checked him, but there was little he could do to keep his partner alive. Angrily, he fired down the hall, and his accomplice did too. When the salvo stopped, Radley tried to compose himself. “You know Lester, you’re not such a bad guy, but now that you’ve gone and shot my partner, I feel obligated to return the favor.”

“We’re not even close to even for what you did to Tommy,” he snarled. “I only wish it was you Dex.” Lester took the empty clip out and tossed it into the hallway. “I only wish it could have been you.” He cleared the chamber and threw the gun into the hallway as well. “I’m coming out now, so don’t get all twitchy.” He slowly put one hand out, then the other, and slowly moved into view. He stood palms out, raised high, hoping that they were not the shoot first, shoot more later type. “Let’s just be cool, okay?” He raised his hands slowly, putting them behind his head submissively.

Dex and the other agent had their guns raised, but as Lester slowly went down the hall, stepping over the dead man and showing his lack of aggression, they relaxed but didn’t completely lower their weapons. “That’s close enough, Lester,” Radley said. “You’re too dangerous to allow any closer.”

“Normally I’d take that as a compliment, but seeing as how I’m surrendering, your flattery is not quite overwhelming me.” Lester stopped as they instructed, and slowly went down on one knee, then the other. “Look, take me to your leader or whatever and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

Radley still held his gun, but lowered it to his waist, while the other man looked to him for instruction. He nodded, and the nameless agent holstered his gun and reached for plastic tie cuffs to bind Lester.

“You’re not going to torture me like you did to Tommy,” said Lester.

“Radley paused and thought about it. “I’m undecided on that Lester.”

Lester’s hand gripped the other Glock tucked into the collar of his shirt behind him, unseen by either of the men. In one motion, he drew it and fell forward, firing twice at Radley, hitting him in the hip and chest, which made returning fire even more difficult as he raised his gun back at Lester. The other agent fumbled the ties and tried to go for his weapon, but Lester already had the drop and shot him three times, knocking him back and into the corner. Lester got up and stood on Dex’s wrist until he dropped the gun he clutched on his way down. "Wasn't asking. I was telling you you're not going to torture me."

“You’re not going to get away with this,” he spat. “We are everywhere.”

“Then I won’t have any trouble finding you. This one’s for Tommy.”

A shot rang out in the silent afternoon. And something stirred in the back.

---

Ivy had gone to The Roxy (which just goes to show that every North American town has a club with said name) per John Cabbage’s invitation Tuesday night and settled in at a booth with John and some of the locals he knew. She had enjoyed The Big Dirty Band, but admittedly wasn’t very into rock music. She had nursed the cider they’d bought her but didn’t keep close to the pace the rest had maintained. Cabbage was a good fellow, and his buddies were decent, blue collar workers who every once in a while liked a cold drink and the hot atmosphere of a live show. Ivy was just interested in watching them interact, telling jokes and sharing tales about the misfits they were when they were wild and younger.

Occasionally, some bold young man would come by and try to strike up a conversation with Ivy, who would smile politely but not have any interest. Those who didn’t get the hint were often intimidated by the stares of Ivy’s de facto chaperones. As it neared midnight, the group thinned out until it was just John and Ivy. She hadn’t said much during the course of the evening, but now that they were alone, she felt like she could talk to him in a frank, uncensored way that his friends had prohibited. While he was little less than a stranger to her than his buddies, she felt what she was going to talk to him about wouldn’t be dismissed.

“Do you think it’s weird to put stock in your dreams?”

“No, not really,” he said. “You have to have something that drives you or motivates you.”

“I don’t mean, like, your dreams, and you want to be an actress or fashion designer. Like having a dream that seems like its trying to tell you something.”

“Well, what’s your dream telling you to do?”

“I feel like I have to go somewhere. Is that strange?” Ivy took a sip of the cider, which was no longer cold and was starting to get flat, but she made no face or indication.

John scratched at his beard and smiled. “You’re just not the type of person who stays anywhere for very long, are you?”

“Well, no, but…”

“You have to figure out where you want to be, not where you need to go.”

Ivy was about to protest, and explain her many years of traveling. She was going to tell him about the lake, and the voice that felt like it was turning her waking hours into daydreams. But that didn’t matter when she took in what he said, and realized that she not only needed to figure out where this place was that was now consistently in her dreams as well as get there. Maybe it was the place that would make her want to stop traveling. She didn’t know, but she would find it and stop her gypsy-like existence, either taking root there or at least staying until she’d decided on the place.

“I guess it never crossed my mind to see it like that. I’ve always felt compelled to move on and never was at ease, but it was going that I though was pushing me. I never though about heading for someplace because I was thinking of staying.”

“Well, wherever you think that place is, try and stay.”

They smiled, and she reached for his hand and squeezed it. He put his paw over her hand and patted it comfortingly. “It’s late for an old man like me. You kids can stay up all night, but I’ve got to stagger back to my cave and hibernate.” He pushed himself along the curve of the booth and stood. “You’ll be okay if you stay?”

“Sure…I think I can handle your town.”

Ivy smiled and Cabbage turned, lumbering off through the thinning crowd, waving to her without looking as he made his way out. She crinkled her fingers in a small wave back even though he didn’t look back. The club was changing over as the live bands stopped, and The Roxy turned into Cavern Shadow, a darkwave and fetish club. The interaction on the street was limited but both sides looked disdainfully at each other. It was as though the daywalkers were having their last hurrah and heading home as the nightcrawlers congregated under cover of night. Hard, mustached men and frail, pale man-children locked eyes as they crossed, each thankful they were not the other. Ivy figured she’d stay a short while longer just to watch some of the freaks and take in the spectacle of elaborate makeup and clothing.

While the darkly dressed denizens seemed to be socializing and greeting each other as they entered, a group over by the bar was doing no such fraternizing. Koben ran his long, stick-like fingers over his bald head as if he was petting a cat. He and Ulrich had made Ivy at the studio the night of the storm and after losing David Bullock at the restaurant, split from Morgana and Turel to follow her. They were certain that this young girl had some knowledge of Bullock’s whereabouts, and were not leaving until they’d found out what they wanted to know. Ulrich sat stoically like a gargoyle in sunglasses next to Koben, who’d stopped fondling his head and was now tracing the scars on his face that ran down his jaw. Koben was pissed at Morgana for not showing up as they’d discussed, and Turel was still crying over getting hurt. Feeble, he thought of them. Weak, fragile souls who frightened at the first sign of resistance. That was why he preferred Ulrich’s company, though he rarely spoke, it still made him feel like he was with somebody dependable.

Ulrich nudged Koben and pointed at Ivy, who was watching the first wave of kids hit the dance floor. The club was nearly as full as when the bands were playing earlier, and crossing the room took some zigzagging and navigating, as a straight line would not make it through. They made their way to the table where Ivy was still and stood in front of her view of the club.

“Hey man, what’s up,” she asked.

“You come with us,” Ulrich said.

“What?” Ivy was actually tiring politely rejecting the suitors who’d come along all evening.

Koben spoke. “He’s not going to ask you again. And I’m not going to ask you at all.”

Ivy had wished she’d left with John, or had him around because the two night goons were crossing from creepy into scary.

“Men seem to have the worst manners.” The voice came from behind them, just loud enough to cut through the music blaring on the soundsystem. Koben turned around slowly to see who’d said it, but Ulrich just dropped to the ground. The base of a glass mug slamming against the back of his head was not hear over the music, but it’s effect were clear. Koben was swiftly gripped by his groin and went limp. He would have doubled over but he was grabbed by the throat and held up, then thrown up against the wall next to the booth hard enough to allow him to join Ulrich motionlessly. “Only a lady knows how to treat a lady.”

It was smoky and the lights were pulsing, but Ivy knew she’d seen the woman before. Pam was unaware until she’d gotten that close to realize she’d identified Ivy as Dave’s (and her) crush as well. That moment of recognition like two dogs sniffing each other’s assholes was amplified by the energy between the two of them as both Ru and Hrel sensed each other’s mark on the women. Neither knew they were each being hosted, but the angelic residue from Pam and Ivy’s contact with them was like looking at a motel comforter under black light.

“Those guys are going to keep bothering you if you stick around. Why don’t you come with me?”

“You know Brother Dave,” Ivy asked although she knew the answer.

“Oh, intimately.”

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s a long story…but I’m not surprised that I ran into you.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s probably back in Somerset…I think he’s looking for a friend. Come on, I’ll explain.”

Pam took Ivy outside by the hand. Ivy’s grip was so dainty, and Pam felt a surge of strength as she acted as protector to this young ingénue. Outside the club, there was a Town Car waiting for them and they got in. Anton turned to Pam. “Did we take care of everything?”

“Pretty much. Now pull into that alleyway.” Anton tuned the corner and then crossed the street into the alley.

“This’ll take just a moment, Pam said.” She and Anton got out, and went to the trunk. He opened it and Pam looked down at the hogtied bundles.

“You were right. Your friends were here. And I kept my word and didn’t tell them you told me so.” Anton lifted Turel out and pushed him into a trash can. He was still unconscious after the beating Pam had put on him getting him to reveal the spot Morgana was squatting in in Seattle. Anton pulled her out next, and Morgana was in similarly bad shape, but with duct tape on her mouth.

“If I ever see any of you again, I will kill you, and you know I’m serious,” Pam said as Anton pushed her on top of her fallen comrade. “You understand, right?”

With the one eye that was not swollen shut, Morgana blinked in affirmation. Trunk closed, they drove off.

“I’m Pam, and this is Anton,” she said, formally introducing herself to Ivy. “We need to find Dave, but we think if we find his…uh…friend Ru first, that can help us. Do you know Ru?”

Ivy held her fear back, and flatly answered “no”. This Pam, she worked with Dave, but she was able to find her and knew about Ru, who she’d told no one about – it was not necessary for her to share her experiences with her. But Brother Dave would be able to help her.

“My name’s Ivy. Are you going to Somerset?”

“I think I’m going to have to,” said Pam. “But I hear it’s real nice…there’s a beautiful lake there. Lake Cumberland. Its on the other side of a pair of hills in a valley. I know this is odd, but do you want to come with us if we go?”

Ivy couldn’t say no having heard Pam describe the place from her dreams. “Yeah, I think that would be a fun little adventure. I need to get my things, but we can go right away.”

“Well, Anton, you heard the lady…”

---

Lester went into the back bedroom where he’d heard the sound. It was coming from the bathroom. From behind the shower curtain, there was movement, and Lester brushed it aside to find a groggy David Bullock. He was wincing as he held his head. “I’ve got a concussion,” he said.

“What happened,” asked Lester and he looked at the caked blood that crowned Dave’s scalp.

“Tommy said I needed to hide and keep quiet because he thought some people were coming, but before I could say anything, he totally clubbed me, and then I woke up in the shower just now. What’s going on?”

“We’re disappearing for a few days, and then we’re going to Somerset to meet up with Harry…hopefully. And once we get together, you’re going to take us to where you found Ru…or where it found you.”

Lester keyed in a message to Harry, who he hoped would check one of the different email accounts he was sending it to. The message was SAY HI TO NANA, and it went out to Harry’s work and two personal accounts, as well as a voice mail on the customer service line through the Department of Weights and Measures that Harry could access. If he happened to get the message, it told him to log into a specific account they’d shared the password to where Lester would send information. He had no idea where Harry could be or what his situation was, but hoped that Harry could make it to Somerset and meet him by Sunday. It was only Tuesday night, and Lester knew that he should stay out of Somerset until the last possible moment, just to keep him and Dave out of the crosshairs of any of Radley’s pals.

“Dave, how do you feel about car museums and fresh blueberry pie?”

Fictional Reality

So imagine my surprise when I saw we are posted upon by none other than Brother Dave himself...except it wasn't completely.

A (or the) real Dave Bullock stumbled upon our tale after the ubiquitous self-Google. Here's his site and more about him. If there are any Lesters, Harrys, Pams, or Ivys, check in with us!

Chapter Fourteen

As a captive, one could easily find himself in a prison much worse than Tommy Liu’s house. Tommy’s house was a sanctuary combining the best elements of East and West. At first glance, it was extravagantly simple, yet it contained many artifacts of mystery and wonder. Dave could have amused himself with a puzzle box, the Zen garden, a vintage Galaga arcade machine, or even countless stories from the amiable Tommy, but all he asked of Tommy was a pen and paper. Lester reassured Dave again before he left for Somerset that staying with Tommy was a protective measure. Dave knew it was protection he would not be able to deny.

“Lester, whom do you really work for?”

“Lester? Yeah, we don’t want to confuse Tommy. You can call me Lester.”

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“Dave, as off-the-wall as all this angel stuff is, it doesn’t even matter who I work for anymore. Right now, I’m working for you, Dave.”

“But you’re calling the shots.”

“Some people are good at talking into a camera to a bunch of people they can’t see. Some people are good at dealing with situations. I’m one of those guys who deals with shit. People are after you, Dave. And my bosses and our buddy, Mr. Face, don’t want anything bad happening to you. No one has caught up to us so far, and I ain’t about to let that happen. Tommy’s good people. You’ll have fun here. If anything happens to me, he knows what to do. I just need to figure out what’s going on in Somerset. Our guys were supposed to meet up with your folks.”

“Can’t you just call your guys?”

“I wish I could. Our organization is a little compartmentalized.”

“It sounds like your corpus callosum is severed.”

“That’s the left brain-right brain bridge, right? Yeah, it definitely feels a little like that sometimes.”

After Lester left, Dave fired off a text message to Pam. Last he saw her, she was being whisked away by Hrel, and he had yet to respond to her text from a few days earlier. The contents of the message:

I m ok. Safe I think. Want 2 see how this plays out. What happened with Hr31?

Dave didn’t get the instant response from Pam he was used to. As tragic as it was to see Misty go, Dave would never be able to forgive himself if anything bad happened to Pam because of their closeness. Dave resumed his quiet meditation and waited while Tommy listened to a Bach fugue in the next room on a sound system both Harry and Lester would have appreciated.

---

As much as he loathed the idea, Lester forced himself to get back in the car to make the final stretch of highway to Somerset. He was really digging the vibe at Tommy’s pad. Hopefully Lester would be able to get a little more perspective in Somerset without too much of a hassle. Then he could get back to catching up with his old friend. On the surface, Lester played like everything about his current operation was a major inconvenience, but the fact was he and Harry had stepped into something huge—much bigger than any geopolitical shenanigans they had pulled in the past. Dave’s knowledge and his encounters with Mr. Face were telling Lester that a war between inter-dimensional beings was real, and the conflict had found its way to Lester’s home turf. His duty to humanity now trumped all other allegiances.

As he arrived a few hours later in Somerset, Lester wasn’t sure what he would find at the house in which Dave Bullock grew up. He was looking forward to sitting down with Mr. and Mrs. Bullock to find out what his colleagues had told them about David and his role in global security. Maybe Mrs. Bullock would have some fresh-baked blueberry pie, and she would offer Lester a piece. One of the few things Dave mentioned about his parents was the awesomeness of his mother’s blueberry pie. Lester was really getting his hopes up. When he finally rang the doorbell, he was surprised to see a much younger man open the door dressed strikingly similar to how Lester himself was dressed.

“Uh, can I speak with Mr. or Mrs. Bullock, please?”

“Uh, they’re not here. Sorry.”

Before the man had a chance to close the door on him, Lester spouted out a string of numbers and letters.

“ECHO-FOUR-DELTA-NINER-OH-NINER-CHARLIE-TWO-NIINER-OH-DELTA-OH-FOXTROT-BRAVO-ONE-CHARLIE-ALPHA.”

“OH-SIX-EIGHT-FOXTROT-FOXTROT-ALPHA-DELTA-DELTA-FOXTROT-TWO-TWO-CHARLIE-BRAVO-DELTA-OH,” the man replied.

They were on the same team. The completion of the code proved it. The man at the door was now more surprised than Lester.

“Well, holy Seahawk shit! You must be one of the Seattle guys. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Things changed a little. May I come inside, please?”

The house had been transformed into a command center with laptops and satellite networking equipment strewn about. There were slices of pizza but no slices of blueberry pie. Lester’s heart plummeted.

“Let me guess. Someone got to the Bullocks before you guys did.”

“If you know something about it, we could use all the help we can get. I’m agent Dex Radley, by the way.”

“Lester Phfister. I’ve got our man, Brother Dave.”

“Wait. He’s here now? I’m not sure here is the safest place for him.”

“Don’t worry. He’s in a safe place, and it ain’t here.”

“Where?”

“I’m keeping that one to myself. Unlike management, I like to paint the big picture for folks, but in this case, I really can’t risk anyone drawing a map to Dave. But you’ve got to let me know everything about his parents.”

“I’m with you. Well, Agent Kroger and I showed up Saturday morning to brief the Bullocks on their son and, of course, to keep an eye on them. They weren’t here, so we waited. We knew Claude would be giving a sermon the next morning. He didn’t show up to church on time or at all. Now the FBI is involved since we’re talking about missing persons.”

“FBI?”

“Don’t worry. Since it’s code 624, we’ve got overall jurisdiction. There was no forced entry. Both cars are here. We haven’t found any DNA evidence. Our timeline has them here Friday night. The only lead we have came from a neighbor down the street. He heard a car stop in front of the house around three A.M. well before we showed up on Saturday. The bad guys have them, we’re sure of it. We haven’t been contacted by the bad guys in any way to try to make a trade. It seems it was Claude and Agnes Bullock they were after. As usual, management doesn’t tell us if they have any significance other than they’re David’s parents.”

“Shit. I can’t go back now. We ran into some busters back in Washington. I’m sure they’re talking with their friends out here. The timing of this really has me rattled. We find Dave and Dave’s parents around the same time they do. Something ain’t right.”

Lester and Dex traded more details as Lester toured the house. He had to laugh a little when he arrived at Dave’s room. Dave had been holding back. It seemed the old Dave had much more in common with Lester than the new Dave. When it was all over, Lester promised himself he would get Dave on the basketball court, take him to a Rush concert, and of course show off the Nova. Lester was really missing the Nova.

Lester knew the Bullock house was off limits now. He made a big but necessary gamble by coming in the first place. Lester made a concerted effort to conceal his and Dave’s whereabouts. That meant staying out of contact with management. Running into another set of agents wasn’t the problem. Lester convinced Radley to keep quiet about bumping into him, at least for the next forty-eight hours. It was the fact that the Bullocks were abducted that left Lester a little uneasy about what eyes and ears might be aimed in his direction. When he got back to the rental car, Lester called Tommy on the encrypted mobile phone Tommy gave him.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s all fucked up over here. I’m not going to be able to make it back for a little while. I’ve got a little fishing to do, and it ain’t fish we’re talking about. How’s our boy?”

“He’s a little dull. I think you over-hyped him. He just meditates and writes.”

“He’s probably writing his memoirs. If you get a chance to read it, let me know if I’m portrayed in a positive light. This could become an historical document, and I don’t want to go down in history looking like a piss bubble.”

“Sure thing, Les. I’ve got my white out handy. I promise, you will come across as no less than an asshole.”

“I really appreciate that, Tommy. Stay cool. I owe you mucho for this. The drinks and women are on me when I get back.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything I could need or want. We’ll see you soon.”

“Peace.”


If he was being watched now after visiting the Bullock house, Lester could not even contemplate leading his pursuers back to Dave, the man of the hour. The ability to play host to an angel was a quality in short supply according to Dave. Those with the gift were often drawn together by nature of their connection to the higher plain. This attraction was a dangerous link to have if anyone of the few were to be discovered. The link to the exposed person would become a liability, bringing death or much worse at the hands of any demon supporter aware of the significance of the exposure. Much worse could mean possibly becoming a tool for demonic purposes.

Lester wandered aimlessly around town looking for signs that he was under surveillance. His paranoia was a finely tuned instrument, and nothing extraordinary struck him as he shopped for souvenirs and ended up buying a porkpie hat. He made his own appearance a little more extraordinary. If they were following him, Lester needed the bad guys to reveal themselves. He didn’t want them to lose track of him as he led them to nowhere in particular.

Lester found himself a couple hours later west of Somerset in Bowling Green. He had always wanted to see where Corvettes were manufactured, and his proximity gave him an excuse to visit. Lester found a quaint coffee shop downtown and asked his waitress if she knew of any good bed and breakfast establishments in town.

“Honey, if you’re looking for the best bed in town, it’s mine. I can make a mean omelet too, so I got breakfast covered for you.”

Lester wasn’t expecting such hospitality. The middle-aged woman wasn’t unattractive, but Lester didn’t want to put anyone at risk if he didn’t have to. He especially didn’t want to endanger a woman who apparently lusted after him.

“I appreciate the offer, Ma’am, but I’m no good like that. I couldn’t impose on a fine woman like yourself.”

“Honey, don’t flatter yourself. I should have chose my words better. My son and I run a B and B.”

Again, Lester hesitated for he had a growing affection for the woman who took care of his dining needs for the past half hour. Thinking back on the day’s events though, nothing, other than his circumstances, convinced Lester that he really was being watched. A couple good nights of sleep in a warm bed were dangling right there in front of him. Jamie and her son would be good company too.

“Well, if your omelets are as good as this blueberry pie, how can I say ‘no’? Show me the way.”

---

During the drive over to Jamie’s, Lester called Tommy again on the secure mobile phone.

“Hey, Tommy, can you put Dave on? We’ve gotta talk next steps.”

“Sure thing, piss bubble.”

“Did you read his memoirs? It’s that bad?”

After a brief pause, Dave came through on the other end of the line.

“Hello.”

“Dave, I’m sure Tommy already told you about how I can’t make it back. Your parents are missing, and I’m worried someone might be trying to follow me back to you. So I’m having them follow me somewhere else. If they show up, then I’ll know who we’re dealing with and possibly who abducted your parents. If they don’t show, we can continue on with the Cumberland expedition. Is there anything else I can take care of in Somerset in the meantime aside from trying to find your parents?”

“My parents know nothing. I can’t believe they got sucked into this.”

“We thought maybe they would use your parents to flush you out, but they don’t seem to be making any demands or leaving any clues. This whole thing is frustrating as hell.”

“You can’t really do anything else. Just try to find them.”

“I’m trying. I’m hoping the other guys make a play, but it’s not looking good.”

Lester felt bad after talking to Dave. There wasn’t a lot he could do except wait around like bait on a hook—waiting at Jamie and son’s B&B. Jamie’s Victorian house seemed a bit ostentatious for a waitress and single mother to be living in, but Lester soon found out from Jamie’s son, Colin, the house had been in the family for four generations. Lester insisted on staying in the smaller and less accessible of the two available rooms. He vowed to be as unobtrusive as possible. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by too many country comforts. The sixteen-year-old Colin had a similar build to Dave’s forcing Lester’s hesitation to resurface. He was putting these people in peril possibly. The fact that Colin looked a little like Dave made him even more of a target if those after Dave somehow made it out to the B&B. Now Lester was hoping his paranoia would be unfounded.

The encrypted phone wasn’t the only thing Tommy provided to Lester. Tommy lent Lester a few spy gadgets just in case he’d need them. There were a couple remote micro-cameras which Lester set up at strategic locations leading up to Jamie’s house. Lester was using them as sensors for early intrusion detection. Jamie’s house was in a fairly unpopulated area away from a main road, so Lester wasn’t expecting a lot of traffic. Lester was also strapped with dual Glocks and a heap of ammo. There was a shotgun in Lester’s suitcase.

Colin offered to barbeque for dinner, and of course, Lester couldn’t decline. After a meal of mutton that put to shame the barbeque Lester had back in Kansas City, Colin discussed the problems he was having with girls, and Lester imparted what wisdom he could to the awkward boy while they sat on the porch waiting for Jamie to return from her shift. When Jamie finally made it back home, she found her son and Lester had formed quite a friendship. Colin got back to cleaning up.

“You’re not a musician, are you?” Jamie asked Lester.

“No, ma’am.”

“It’s just the hat and all. I thought you might be a jazz musician or something.”

“No ma’am.”

“I appreciate you taking the time to hang out with my son. He doesn’t get a lot in the way of male role models.”

“It was my pleasure talking with your son tonight, Jamie. He’s a fine young man, and if he doesn’t tell that Allison girl he likes her soon, I’m going to have to whoop him.”

Jamie laughed. “Yeah, he’s not much of a ladies’ man yet, but that’s part of his charm.”

The three said their good nights, and Lester settled into bed. It didn’t take long for Lester to fall asleep in the overly decorated little room. Lester dreamt of a sprawling unimaginable bass line thumping and undulating to the beat of one hundred skeletons in a giant fish bowl. The skeletons were scraping to get out of the bowl while the bass line grooved and curdled the thick water in the bowl. The whole time during the dream Lester kept telling himself, “I’ve got to remember this when I wake up. This is the greatest bass line of all time.” Shortly after three in the morning, the alarm in Lester’s phone that was set to go off when someone tripped the micro-cameras sounded waking Lester from his near perfect dream. Lester grabbed his Glocks.

“Motherfucker.”