“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.
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.
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