Until the meteor fell, nothing notable had happened in the town of Madison since the year of its founding. The night it fell started cold and snowy. Nobody with any sense was out and about except for Frank Madison. He was sitting on the icy metal seat of his old Ford tractor driving toward the first of the driveways that he would blow out so that the owners of over sized piles of bricks would be able to drive their Mercedes and Jaguars off to their cushy jobs in the city. None of them gave Frank a second thought unless he was late with the tractor.

Frank had so many layers on that he had difficulty moving. It wasn't much of a problem since he was used to it now. It did mean that he had to look straight forward. That was why he saw the shadows first. They stretched in front of him as if one of those big rigs that used to come to the plant had plumped down in the middle of the road behind him. He couldn't turn to look back so he just prayed that death would be quick. At least he wouldn't be so damned cold anymore.

The shadows shortened, but the crash didn't come. Instead a ball of fire streaked over his head and smashed into the frozen field on his right. Frank felt a wave of warm wash over him and without thinking about it he turned the tractor into the field. The bumps and dips of the frozen furrows beneath the snow almost tossed him from his seat, but he persevered until he parked on the edge of a small crater that steamed with melted and rapidly refreezing snow.

At the bottom of the crater a large rock glowed vivid orange. It dimmed to red as Frank watched, then even the red faded leaving an ugly black rock that looked a little like the cinders on the rail line. Heaving himself from the tractor, Frank pulled out the chain that he used to rescue the cars that landed in the ditch outside his ramshackle farm.

The heat was incredible, but he managed to get a loop of chain around the rock. It took most of the rest of the night, but Frank managed to get the rock so it hung from the bucket in front of his tractor. He had peeled most of his layers off and was able to twist and look back as he reversed the old tractor out of the field onto the road.

The snow had stopped and the night was stunningly clear. Screw the Fat Cats thought Frank, I'm going home. He was shivering as he parked the tractor in his shed, but he still took the time to untangle the chain and leave the rock in a corner of the shed covered over with a tarp. It was cool enough now that he could touch it. The warmth from the rock suffused him and his shivering stopped.

He felt reborn.

In the morning Frank rolled out of bed and made it to the door before he realized that the alarm hadn't gone off. A quick check of the alarm clock showed that he was actually early, though he felt completely rested. He switched off the alarm and went to make his breakfast.

After breakfast was chores. He whistled as he fed and watered the animals that shared his farm. He took great pleasure in caring well for his livestock. Since Frank had never married and had no children, the animals took the place of family for him. He knew that his father had hoped that he would carry on the Madison name, but Frank had never found the woman who would put up with him. With the plant closing, the town seemed likely to die so it was reasonable that the name should go too.

Only after all the livestock was cared for did Frank return to the shed and the mysterious rock from the night before. He pulled back the tarp and looked at it. It was just as black and ugly as ever, but something drew him to it. He put his hands on the rock and felt an echo of the warmth it had held.

"I don't know what I am going to do with you." He said as he looked at the rock from all angles. It was egg shaped and about a meter from end to end. He tried to roll it over to look at the bottom side and couldn't budge it.

"Heavy beggar." A magnet stuck firmly to the rock, and when he checked, so did nails. He pried the nails off and covered the rock with a tarp.

Frank's truck was only slightly newer than the tractor, but it took him into town just as it did every day. He parked it in front of the coffee shop and went inside. The regulars just waved or nodded at him, while Alice put a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Hey, Madison, you didn't plow my driveway last night." Bruce was the only 'local' who hired Frank to clear his drive. He was the manager of the plant that had just been closed by the bank. He still wasn't used to thinking of himself as just another person again.

"Nope."

"Why the hell not?"

"Not enough snow," Frank said, "Wasn't worth the trip." He took a sip of the bitter black treacle that Alice thought was good coffee.

"I want it cleared out. Now."

"Nope."

"What?"

"I'm drinking my coffee." Frank took a long sip to demonstrate. "Maybe later, if I'm not busy."

Bruce looked like he was going to explode on the spot. He tried several times to put words together, but only spluttering came out.

"You're fired!" he finally said.

"OK," Frank took another sip. Alice's coffee was like that. It grew on you.

"So," Bruce said, "Who's going to clear my drive?" No one said anything, or even looked at him.

"The hardware store has a sale on shovels." Frank said. Bruce just stared at him for a moment, then stomped out of the store. Alice came over to pour Frank some more coffee.

"I do believe that this is the best coffee you've ever made." Frank said. The warmth of the cup reminded him of the rock. It felt good in his hands. The other regulars held out their cups for refills.

"Shovels," one said, "Brilliant."

Conversation turned back to its usual rut. The future of the plant. Every business in town depended on the money spent by the workers at that plant. The new people didn't spend their money in town. They drove the half hour down the black top to drink coffee with fancy names and buy their clothes with labels that said 'Designed by...'. Without the plant, everything else was going to die.

"Tell me again why they had to close the plant." Bob asked.

"Wasn't making no money." Jim answered.

"We had the best production record of any plant in the country."

"Too good," Herb said, "They couldn't sell what we were making."

"But they just put all that new machinery in," Daniel was one of the few young men left in town.

"Tax write off," Jim said.

"I wonder how much they will sell the plant for?' Frank said. He felt all the eyes in the coffee shop staring at him. That wasn't part of the normal conversation.

"I suppose they got to sell if they're closing the place," Herb said. "I don't see that it makes any difference."

"It would if the new owners opened it up again," Jim said, and the conversation turned to the possibility of someone coming in a re-opening the plant.

Frank's coffee was done, so he dropped some change on the table and left. The day was fine and cold, but he decided to walk along Main St. to the Post Office. The only mail was flyers from the stores thirty minutes down the road. Local stores didn't put out flyers, they just put a sign in the window. Too often these days it was 'Going out of business".

On impulse Frank walked into the library next door to the Post Office.

"Good Morning," the woman who spoke was Frank's age. Jennita, her name tag said.

"Good Morning," Frank replied, "Do you have any books about rocks falling out of the sky?"

"Ah, you mean meteors," she smiled at Frank and led him to a section of bookshelf. "Just leave the books on the table when you're done. It lets me count what books have been read. If you have any other questions I'll be over at my desk."

"I thought Meteors were a car."

"Over in automotive history. Next aisle," Jennita smiled again. "But they were named after the rocks."

Frank nodded and took out a book. He sat at the table and began to read. Jennita was right. He did want the rocks.

She had a nice smile. It was like Alice's coffee. It grew on you.

Frank got up the next morning and switched the still silent alarm off on the way out of the room. He glanced up at the clear blue sky and thought, snow tonight. He took extra time with the chores, talking with each of the animals and making sure they were healthy and content. Next he went over the old tractor getting it ready for the night's work.

Frank found more than his usual contentment in doing work well. It was as if he was aware of his connection to a much larger web. What he did with his life might not look important, but he had the feeling that it was vital.

It was a bit later than usual when he headed into Alice's Coffee Shop, but the regulars were all there. There was a buzz of conversation already. They looked up and waved him to his seat. Jim slid into the seat next to him.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday."

"You mean about shovels being on sale?"

"About someone buying the plant and opening it up again."

"Yes?'

"Why do we have to wait for someone else to come into town and buy the place. They would probably sell it again in a few years anyway." Frank nodded and sipped his coffee. He could feel the caffeine running through his system. The bitterness of the coffee was a balance to the sweetness of the energy it gave him.

"Are you listening?" Jim said.

"Yup," Frank said, "You and the guys want to buy the place yourselves."

"I was looking on the internet about co-ops and labour owned factories...hey, how did you know that?"

"You told me."

"Not yet I hadn't," Jim insisted, "I had just got to the part about buyers coming and going."

"Except for a local buyer, but there isn't one person in town with that kind of pull, so we would have to make it a group effort."

"So you're in?"

"I think it is the only way to save our town," Frank said, "I am glad you thought of it Jim."

"I wouldn't have thought of it except for what you said. It just rattled around in my head all night, and I woke up with the notion just waiting for me to have my coffee." Jim leaned in close to Frank, "Mary likes the idea. Things between us haven't been good since the plant closed. But she took to this like it was her that thought of it. Even if it doesn't work, it will be worth it to see a smile on her face again."

Frank just nodded. He knew the importance of a good smile.

"Whatever I can do, Jim," he said, "You just let me know."

"Frank's in!" There were cheers in the coffee shop and the others waved their cups in a toast.

"Maybe we can make this town what it once was again," said Alice as she filled Frank's cup.

"Not what it once was, what it should be," said Frank. Alice gave him an odd look and went back to wiping the counter.

Frank finished his coffee and went outside. He decided with the sunshine that a walk would be nice. There wasn't much mail, but it was nice to chat with Jim's Mary who was the post mistress. He was glad to see that smile on her face.

"I expect this office to be open on time," Bruce came in and said to Mary, "I was here at nine o'clock and the doors were still locked."

"I'm sorry, Bruce," Mary said, "I got ... delayed at home."

"Congratulations Bruce," Frank said.

"What?"

"I was guessing the way that you were chewing out Mary that they'd gone and made you Post Master General."

Bruce turned red and opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mary behind him was hiding her smile behind a hand. He closed his mouth and glared at Frank before leaving.

"He's right though," Mary said, "I was late opening today."

"There's being right, and then there's being right the right way." Frank said, "It's good to see Jim with some fire in his eyes again."

"You said it."

Frank decided to check the library again. The little vestibule at the entrance had a photograph of a Madison. Frank didn't know if it was a direct relation. There used to be a lot of Madisons. There used to be a lot of things in Madison that there weren't any more.

"Hello," Jennita said, "How can I help you today?"

"You were right about the meteor. Though when they land they're called meteorites."

Jennita smiled, "I had forgotten about that."

"It is funny how we use different words depending on where something is. You'd think that a thing was whatever it was no matter where it was."

"Words are more than labels; they talk about relationships between things too. Aren't you a farmer? A chicken on your farm is livestock, somewhere else it would be supper."

"The occasional chicken is supper on my farm too," Frank admitted.

"So what are you researching today?"

"I thought I would do some reading about how to save a small town."

"Now that is a big subject," Jennita said. She stood absolutely still for a long moment. Frank was sure that she was mentally scanning the bookshelves to decide where to send him. He found it fascinating.

"I think you should start with some recent history, then maybe some economics and perhaps some sociology. It will be a lot of reading."

"It won't be a bad thing to have a reason to come here every day."

Jennita smiled at him, and once again it felt like the warmth from the meteorite. She led him to the reading table and pulled a few books from the shelves.

"This should get you started. If you have any questions, just ask."

Frank sat down and picked up the first book. It was a history of Madison. He opened it and began reading.

Jennita interrupted Frank as he worked his way through the pile of books. He had developed a system of skimming through until a particular word or phrase caught his attention, then he would backtrack and read the interesting part.

"You must have been a go-getter at school," she said.

"Not really," Frank said, "I never liked reading." She laughed and looked at the pile of books that he had already gone through. Frank thought her laugh was as nice as her smile. "I can read well enough, but I would always rather be doing than reading."

"I came over to ask if you wanted a cup of tea. I am making some for lunch."

"I don't know," Frank said, "I've never tried tea."

"The day is full of surprises. I find a fellow who dislikes reading surrounded by books, and he has never tried tea. You didn't visit any maiden aunts who forced tea with milk and sugar on you?"

"Never had any maiden aunts. The Madisons were always big on getting married. My Dad was always disappointed that I didn't. I will come and try your tea."

"OK then, just leave the books and come this way." The librarian led him to a plain door behind the desk. Frank was surprised that there weren't more books in the room. There were a few, but they were all about library science.

"Library science?"

"Don't get me started," laughed Jennita, "I could talk all day about how libraries are organized." She pulled out a couple of pottery mugs from a cupboard and set one in front of Frank. She poured it full of a dark amber liquid. Frank smelled it.

"It is Lapsang Souchong, a black china tea. It has a rather smoky flavour."

"I'm guessing you could talk a while on tea too."

"Guilty as charged," Jennita smiled and took a long breath over her mug. For a while they just sat quietly. Frank sipped at the tea, and found it so utterly different from coffee that he couldn't decide if he liked it or not. He rather enjoyed the feeling. There weren't many truly new things in his life.

"So what brought you into the library all of a sudden?"

"A rock fell out of the sky and landed in a field next to me the other night while I was out on my tractor."

"Really?" Jennita's eyes widened. "That is amazing. Meteorites aren't really rare, but it is unusual for them to land near people."

"This was a big one. It took me most of the night to get it back to my shed."

"The big ones are rarer. I will bet that the observatory is looking for witnesses. They would love to see your meteorite."

"I don't know..." Frank remembered the warmth from the rock. "I don't think I'm ready to let the world come to my shed yet."

"Well, when you are ready we will let them know."

"Another new thing," Frank said.

"What's that?"

"Most folks I know would be trying to convince me to do the right thing, especially if it might mean money."

"I guess I'm not most folks."

"No, you're not." Frank said, "And I am appreciating it more every moment. Like this tea. It's subtle. It kind of sneaks up on you, then all of a sudden you're thinking wow, this is great."

"Subtle? Lapsang?"

"Have you ever tried Alice's coffee?"

Jennita laughed again.

"That explains the books about meteors. I think the books about small towns are more obvious."

"I thought that if you had answers about falling rocks, you would have something about small towns."

"Only towns are a lot more complicated than rocks, even ones that fall from the sky."

"Yes," Frank sighed, "They certainly are."

"How are you getting along?"

"Slowly," he said, "I can see that this is going to take a while."

"I will have to lay in more tea."

"I would like that." A buzzer interupted them.

"That's the door," she said getting up. "Go ahead and finish your tea." Jennita left and Frank could hear her asking questions. He imagined her going still a moment and then leading the person to the shelf where they might find their answers. He took another long sip. Yup, this was most definitely growing on him.

When he arrived home he went out to the shed and uncovered the meteor.

"What do you think?" he said as he perched on the bucket of his tractor. "I think she is like her tea: subtle but full of something. I was never one for talking to the girls. That's why I live by myself with the animals and talk to rocks that fall from the sky." Frank looked out the window and saw the white of falling snow.

"Don't know what you did to me, but something is different. I never talked back to people before, but I seem to have lit a fire under Jim, and I certainly got Bruce mad enough at me. This librarian too, if I ever said two word to a girl without turning red I can't remember, and here I am drinking tea and chatting like old friends." He pulled the tarp back over the meteorite. "What ever you did. I think I am liking it."

Frank patted the rock and went to do his chores and have supper. It was going to be a long night on the tractor.

It was a long night, but still Frank didn't feel as chilled as usual when the tractor chugged back into his shed. He climbed off the seat and stretched before patting the meteorite.

"Not a bad night, but we'll need a lot more snow to buy the plant. Then we need to figure out how to run it and how to sell the stuff we make. This co-op thing could save the town or finish it off. Now Jennita was saying that you were rare. I'm thinking rare might mean valuable. What do you think about me selling you to buy that plant?" He adjusted the tarp carefully. "I think I need to wait for the right time."

After chores and clearing his own lane, Frank headed into town. The coffee shop was filled with regulars and some of the other towns folk that he recognized, but couldn't put a name to.

"Hey Frank," Jim waved him over to a table at the back. "We're having a meeting to talk about the plant."

"Here?"

"Why not? The coffee's hot."

Frank sat a the corner of the table.

"This is Herb's son, John. He's a real estate lawyer."

They shook hands.

"I've been telling the guys that from what I can find out, the company that bought the plant just walked away from it. That was cheaper than closing it down properly. The bank seized it while it tries to squeeze more money from the holding company."

"So we should be able to buy the place?"

"The title is still up in the air, while they may have seized it to cover outstanding debt, that doesn't give them clear title to sell."

"They sold Bob's farm quick enough."

"They were the only ones holding paper on the farm I would guess. Here there are probably half a dozen creditors arguing over the place."

"So it is complicated and impossible or complicated and doable?"

"I think it is worth putting a proposal on the table. No one will get richer letting the place rust."

"What about running it and finding buyers for the product?"

"I've been thinking about that Frank," Jim said, "We have someone in town who knows everything there is to know about that plant -"

The door of the coffee shop slammed open and Frank heard his name called.

"Good morning Bruce."

"My drive wasn't cleared last night."

"You fired me."

"Well, I'm un-firing you. I need that drive clear."

Frank shrugged.

"Do you want it done now, or can I finish my coffee?"

Bruce looked ready to explode, then it was as all the air went out of him and he dropped into an empty seat.

"It probably doesn't matter," he said, "I expect it's too late anyway."

Alice came and put a coffee in front of Bruce. He poured milk and sugar into it and drank it down.

"I'm trying to sell the place," Bruce said, "With the plant gone I don't have the money to pay the bills. Marg didn't want to move, but I wanted to be as good as the newcomers up on the hill."

"You are as good as them," Frank said, "Annoying at times, but that don't matter." He looked over at Jim who shrugged his shoulders. "Jim and the boys have been doing some thinking about the plant." Bruce looked up at him while Alice topped up his cup.

"What kind of thinking?"

"We've been talking about putting in a proposal to buy the plant and run it ourselves," Jim slid into the chair next to Bruce. "We need someone who knows how to run it."

"You want me to manage the plant for you?" Bruce shook his head, "You've worked with me for twenty years, why would you want to continue?"

"Because you kept the place running for twenty years," Jim looked around, "There's none of us could do it. You might be an ass at times, but you've mostly been a fair boss."

"I'll need to think about it. Talk to Marg. She was going on about moving south to be with her sister."

"That's all we can ask."

"I'll get to the drive today," Frank finished his coffee.

"Tonight will be soon enough," Bruce stood and left the shop.

"There's something I never thought I would see," Herb sat down where Bruce had been sitting. "Bruce acting all human. You're right though. We need him."

"Let's get some numbers put together and we can start roughing out a proposal. We don't want the bank selling it for salvage before we get our bid in." John dragged the men back to their table at the rear.

Alice sat down across from Frank. Alice had never sat down in her own restaurant in all the years that he had known her.

"What you said about us working to become what we should be. What did you mean by that?"

"I don't rightly know," Frank admitted, "I don't think we can go back to what we were. So I guess we have to go forward."

"That's what I thought," Alice smiled and stood up again. "If I weren't married, I'd kiss you. You're a genius Frank."

Frank sat and listened to the buzz in the shop for a while, then went to the library. Jennita waved at him as he came in, then went back to talking to the young men who were standing by her desk. He went back to the table and pulled out a book. He wasn't reading long before he heard Jennita's voice raised.

When Frank ambled out of the shelves he found the young men had cornered her against the desk.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said in his best farmer voice, "I am having some trouble finding a book."

"There are lots of books, old man, go pick one," the young man said.

"They aren't all the right books."

"What does it matter? Can you read anyway?"

"Better than you, I figure."

"What?"

"I can read the sign asking folks to be quiet in the library."

The young man waited a fraction of a second too long to answer and his friends nudged him then pulled him outside.

"No fun in here. This place is so dead."

Jennita slumped against the desk.

"Thanks, they've been in before and been rude, but nothing like this."

"My name's Frank."

Jennita looked at him.

"I know, Mary told me."

"Figured, but I thought I should introduce myself before taking the liberty of giving you advice."

"Ah, and what would the advice be?"

"I think we should have a cup of your tea, and you can tell me all about it until you stop shaking."

"That," said Jennita, "Sounds like excellent advice."

In Jennita's office Frank put water on to boil and rinsed out the teapot. He didn't say anything until he had completed the last of her whispered instructions and put the warm mug in her hands. Just the warmth of the ceramic seemed to steady her. She breathed in the fumes of the brew.

"They 're just bored kids from the new development." Jennita said.

"Not just kids," Frank said, "I heard a car driving away."

"They are still kids," she insisted, "They have never had to grow up. Everything they want is just handed to them."

"Seems like an awful way to live."

"Frank, you keep surprising me. Most people would like nothing better than to have everything handed to them on a platter."

"Not you."

"No, not me either," she took another deep breath and a tiny sip. "Strong, just like you."

"Sorry, it's the first time I made tea."

"I'm not complaining. I like my tea strong," She looked at him and smiled faintly. "I like my men strong too." Frank took a careful sip of tea. It was strong, like Alice's coffee., and like Alice's coffee it got better with each sip.

"I lived in a city with my husband and kids. I worked at the central library and never thought how lucky I was to be living my life. Not until there was an accident at Pete's work. The insurance was generous, but money couldn't replace the feeling of a warm body on the other side of the bed. It couldn't change the fact that there were too many things that I never told him. I didn't need to go back to work, so I stayed home and tried to tell my kids all the things that I never told Pete." She stared into the depths of her cup for a long moment.

"I'm not sure they understood. First one, then the other went off to school, fell in love, made their own way. I decided that I had spent enough time mourning Pete. So after my youngest's wedding I gave them the keys to my house and took the first librarian's job that I found. Here in Madison I have remade myself. I am Jennita the librarian, not Pete's widow. I walk in and see all the books, and I think. This is where I am supposed to be. Here. Now." She looked at Frank over her cup.

"You are the first person since Pete died that has made me think that there might be a person I am supposed to be with." She looked down into her cup again.

"I liked your smile the first time I saw it," Frank said, "It grew on me like Alice's coffee at the shop or this Lapsang tea. I never could talk to the girls, but you make me feel like I have already known you for years - comfortable."

"So what now Frank?"

"I'd take you to lunch at Alice's, only she'd have us engaged before we got to the pie."

Jennita laughed. The sound of it was like bells ringing inside of Frank. He smiled at this woman who had suddenly become very important to him.

She reached across the table and took his hand.

"Thanks, for being there, Frank. Those boys do scare me at times."

"Let me think what I can do. They shouldn't be able to treat people like that."

"I don't think talking to them will change anything."

"No, I don't suppose it would."

The bell that indicated someone coming in to the library rang. Jennita took a deep breath and stood up. Frank stood up too.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I need to face this myself, but thank you." She kissed him lightly on the lips and went out to see who had come in.

Frank stood there for a long moment with a smile on his face. He finally sat down and finished his tea deep in thought, yet still keeping his ears open to hear if Jennita needed him. When his tea was done he slipped out and back to his books, but he found it harder and harder to concentrate.

At closing time she came by.

"Don't you have chores to do?" she asked, "I love having you here, but not if it is taking you away from something you need to be doing."

"I check on the animals in the evening," he said, "Plenty of time yet." He helped her carry the books to the desk. "I have a idea about those boys. I will tell you tomorrow." He looked at Jennita, then did the scariest thing he had done in a very long time. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. "Good night, Jennita."

"Good night, Frank." She smiled at him and waved as she locked the door behind him.

The weather appeared to be taking its cue from the warmth in his heart. Frank watched the drifts that he had been driving through with the tractor vanish. As much as he liked the extra income from the driveway work, he appreciated the extra time to spend with his animals and just thinking.

He couldn't remember ever spending so much time thinking. Thinking about economics, thinking about his friends and neighbours, thinking about Jennita. To be truthful, most of the thinking was about Jennita. Where he had always had to struggle to think of what to say to girls when he was young, now the words just came.

He went through his evening chores in a fog of bemused happiness. The animals were quiet so it wasn't too long before he was sitting in the shed looking at the meteorite.

"I have some ideas about the library," he said as he leaned back against the big tractor tire, "But I am going to need to ask for some help. I think Jim is busy enough with this business with the plant, so I am going to ask Alice. She knows everybody. If she thinks it will work, then it will work."

Frank stood and stretched.

"So unless you disagree, I will talk to Alice tomorrow," he smiled crookedly, "The cows thought it was a good idea too. If I wasn't so happy right now, I would be concerned about me. But for some reason this just feels right." He closed and locked the door to the shed and went to the house for the night.

Next day after chores he drove into town.

"How's it going?" he asked Jim as he entered the shop. His friend was sitting at the back table surrounded by papers and folders. Herb and his son were sitting beside him and helping him fill out forms.

"How much is the farm worth?" Jim asked, "We need another million to put together a decent offer. I was hoping that each of the two hundred some employees would be able to come up with ten thousand each, but lots of them are already maxed out."

"I'll talk to the bank, but I doubt there is that much in the farm."

Jim nodded, "We're close, but I want a really solid proposal. John says we might have a week. He has heard some rumbles about an offshore company buying the place."

"I'll stop in today and talk to Jenkins. He should be able to give me a ball park figure anyway. Has Bruce decided yet?"

"He hasn't talked to me yet, but Marg was talking to Mary at the post office and she thinks it is a great idea."

"Great." Frank went over and sat at the counter. Alice wasn't there. A new girl with black lipstick and a ring in her bottom lip poured his coffee for him.

"Hi, where's Alice this morning?" He peered at the girl's name tag. "Alixxa."

"She's at a meeting. Aunt Alice told me I could work here for a while."

Frank took a sip of the coffee and sighed.

"If you make coffee like this, you can work here all you want."

The girl laughed and Frank caught a glimpse of metal in the girl's mouth.

"Maybe you could help me out." She looked around the shop and shrugged.

"What do you need?"

"I was at the library and some young men came in were being rude. They scared the librarian. Can you think why they would do that?"

"Just because I have metal in me, you think I'm a punk?"

"No, no. You're younger and have a different background than me. I just wanted to hear your thoughts."

"Really?"

"Really."

She wandered through the shop pouring coffee and Frank sipped at his. It was still coffee, but it was nothing like what Alice usually served. He liked it.

"I think," said Alixxa, when she came back to refill his cup. "That they are bored." She put a new pot of coffee on to perk. "Punks like that have too much time on their hands and not enough to do that matters. We had them at home too. Kids who just didn't seem to know how to give a sh... I mean they didn't care about anything. I don't think they knew how to care. Mom was afraid I was turning into one. So she shipped me off to Aunt Alice to get straightened out."

"You don't think you need straightening."

"Nah, I'm just trying things on. Today, this is who I am. Tomorrow?" She shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Thanks Alixxa," Frank said. She nodded and went back to wiping counters.

Frank finished his coffee and walked over to the bank. Jenkins was talking to a man in a suit who was looking annoyed. They finished their conversation when the man waved his hands in the air and walked out of the bank.

"How can I help you Frank?"

"You know about the proposal?"

"You want to stay away from that Frank." Jenkins said, "You could lose your shirt real easy with that."

"How much could I safely put in?"

"Let me think," Jenkins stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, "You aren't carrying a lot of mortgage, so you could probably go two-fifty even three hundred. Like I said it is risky. You could lose the farm if it goes wrong." He leaned against the desk. "You might be better selling some land to the right people. There are developers who are desperate for places to build."

"Like the man you were just talking to?"

Jenkins shook his head, "He wanted me to point him toward someone who was close to losing everything. I told him it wasn't ethical. He told me ethics has no place in business."

"Remind me never to do business with him."

"He'd buy one of your acreages in a minute."

"My dad would spin in his grave if I sold good farm land to build houses for rich people."

"Sell the bad stuff then. They don't care. They'll bulldoze everything anyway."

"Thanks for the help, Jenkins."

"I don't know if I was a help or not," he said, "Time will tell."

Frank walked toward the post office and saw Alice on the street.

"Hey Alice," he called, "How'd your meeting go?"

"Good and bad," she said, "We are putting a local business association together. Everyone likes the idea, but no one knows what to do with it."

"It will come."

"I hope so, and soon. There are a lot of us that are just scraping by. We can't compete with the big malls down the road."

"Don't try. What I was reading at the library said that service and uniqueness are what sell."

"I heard you been spending considerable time at the library."

Frank felt his face turning red.

"She's a real nice woman, Frank." She poked him in the chest. "And you are a nice man. You'd be good for each other."

"That's sort of why I wanted to talk to you," Frank told her about the incident the day before. She just nodded. "I was thinking if we had more people in the library, they wouldn't think they could get away with that kind of behaviour. "

"So you want me to get more people going to the library?"

"Partly, but people need a reason. Maybe your business association will have some ideas."

"More problems. As if I didn't have enough already. You met my sister's kid?"

"Alixxa?" Frank said, "She seems nice enough. She makes good coffee."

"And I don't?"

"Alice, you make great coffee, but it's small town coffee. Alixxa does something different and it is good too."

"So what am I supposed to do with her. The shop is barely covering cost with just me at the counter."

"Maybe she will have some ideas."

"She certainly has lots of opinions."

"Does it hurt to ask?"

"Frank, whatever that librarian is doing to you, I approve. Bring her by for lunch some day." Alice went off toward her shop and Frank walked on down to the library to spend another day reading and soaking in Jennita's presence.

The weather continued to warm through the next weeks. Jim was frantically trying to put his offer on the table. He and John finally submitted a preliminary proposal. According to Jim, Jenkins had just sighed and shook his head, but promised to pass it along to his superiors.

Frank alternated between sitting at Alice's shop and drinking her coffee, and sitting at the library and drinking tea. Jennita didn't have as much time as she once had for drinking tea. Suddenly groups appeared and wanted to meet in the library. Jennita was delighted even as it made her busier.

It started with a Story Time group organized by one of Alice's young friends. The first day there were only three mothers and four children, but a woman from the new development noticed the group while she was checking out some books and brought her child. Soon the children's section was filled each Tuesday and Thursday morning. The mothers and the occasional father found that the stories were universal. For the first time old times and newcomers were talking about more than the weather.

The knitting circle was actually started by a woman from the development, but soon every Wednesday the reading room was filled with woman clicking away on knitting needles. Conversation began with discussion around patterns, but soon meandered into broad and fruitful paths.

Friday was the book club. Jennita would pull out the newest books and they would read and discuss them.

The library became the start of a gradual change. Frank was in the hardware store when the knitting woman came in.

"Hello," she called, "I would like to buy some paint."

"Certainly," Joe said, "What room are you painting?"

"The kitchen."

"Ah, you will want an eggshell, maybe even a semi-gloss if you are painting around the stove."

"Why?"

"Easier to clean. Any grease from cooking will wipe off much easier."

"What colours do you carry?"

"I can mix just about any colour you like."

"I was thinking a brick colour for behind the counter, and something lighter for the rest of the kitchen."

"What colour are your cabinets?"

"Dark oak."

"That should be nice, but you might want an accent colour to brighten it up." He pulled out some colour chips and passed them to her. "Have a look at these."

"Hmmm," she said, "I'm not sure."

"How about I mix up a couple of samples and you put them on the wall. Leave them for a day or two and see which ones you like."

"You can do that?"

"Sure thing...."

Frank took his bag of nails to the counter and weighed them. He wrote the weight on a paper and left it and some money on the counter. He waved at Joe, who waved back while he was showing the woman different kinds of paint brushes.

At Alice's he found a seat at the counter. A man in a blue suit sat beside him stirring his coffee.

"Hello Frank," Alice said as she poured his coffee, then she rushed off to take another order.

"Is the coffee always like this?" the man in the suit asked.

"Pretty much," Frank said.

"It's awfully strong."

"It grows on you."

"Hmmmm" The man added another spoonful of sugar and sipped. He shuddered and took another sip. By the bottom of the cup he wasn't shuddering, but he didn't ask for a refill.

Alixxa came by after the man left.

"Another happy customer," she poked at the sludge at the bottom of the cup. "I bet he wouldn't look like he was being poisoned if I had made the coffee."

"I heard that!" Alice said. "I make the best coffee in these parts. Isn't that right Frank?"

"Your coffee is just fine for me, Alice, but that fellow was struggling with it. Maybe it's the suit."

"Let me make coffee for the new people, please," begged Alixxa, "What can it hurt?"

"OK, OK," said Alice, "Why couldn't you want to do dishes?" She went off scrubbing counters.

Alixxa sighed.

"I don't want to upset her, but these guys are just not ready for my Aunt's brew."

"You may be right, but take it easy on her. This shop is all she has left."

"She has me."

"She doesn't know the value of that yet."

Frank finished his coffee and walked down toward the library. If the knitting group was done, Jennita might have a little time to talk.

Alice's Coffee Shop wasn't the only place that was suddenly a lot busier. Frank found a crowd of people wandering through the library as the knitters packed up. Jennita was busy explaining something to a young man with several earrings and a spike sticking out of his eyebrow. She waved at Frank and pointed to her office. He waved back and started the process of brewing tea. He had taken to using a random scoop from one of her many tins and seeing if she could identify the tea. Today he used something called Keemun China Black.

Jennita came in with the young man just as he was setting out the mugs. Frank picked another mug off the shelf and set it down.

"This is Sergio," she said, "The head office decided with the numbers we were generating that I needed an assistant. Sergio, this is Frank a big supporter of the library and a very dear friend."

"Hi Frank," Sergio said and shook hands, "What do you like to read?"

"Mostly whatever is in front of me," Frank replied, "Right now that seems to be cooperatives and micro-economics."

"Wow! I'm impressed," he sipped at the tea, "I am usually a coffee drinker, but Jennita is trying to convert me."

"You'll want to try the coffee at Alice's, but get Alixxa to pour you her coffee first. Alice's brew is unique and powerful."

"I'll go have lunch there. It will give you and Jennita a bit of time to talk."

They finished their tea accompanied by polite conversation, then Sergio rinsed out his mug and sauntered out of the office.

"I think he is going to be good for the library. He is a lot better at the internet stuff than I am, and he reads the oddest selection of books. I watched him pick a book off the shelf and read a page at random."

"There seems to be lots of stuff happening these days, I don't know how people are keeping up with all the change."

"It's exciting right now, later it will be terrifying."

Frank finished his tea and went back out into the main part of the library. He saw Sergio talking to the aggressive youngster who had scared Jennita. The man in the suit who stood behind him tapping his foot Frank recognized from the bank. To his surprise the man came over to him.

"DeLorne, of DeLorne and Associates," he said, "I'm looking at some land to develop and I am told that you own the land with the old gravel pit to the west of town."

"That would be me," Frank said.

"Come in and talk to me about it. I will get you top dollar for it."

"I don't know that I want to sell."

"Don't see why not. Make some money from a useless piece of land."

"The deer like it there."

"Deer." The man barked what Frank thought was laughter and handed him a card. "Get a move on Greg," he called and went out the door. The young man glared at his father's back then stalked out after him.

Frank looked at the card for a minute then went out of the library. He headed down the street to the bank.

He found Jenkins in his office doing paperwork.

"What can I do for you Frank? I only have a minute though, so if it is complicated I will have to book an appointment for you."

"That old acreage with the gravel pit," Frank said, "How much would it be worth if it was developed?"

"You aren't thinking of selling to that shark in a business suit are you?"

"Nope, but if that land is worth a chunk of money as a potential development, doesn't that give me some more leverage to raise some money?"

"Hmm, you might be right, but you would need a hard offer or re-zoning to make it work. I'd go for the re-zoning though. Once that man talks offers he isn't going to let it go."

"I'll ask Herb, he's on the Council. He'd know what I need to do." Jenkins shrugged and went back to his papers and Frank went to find Herb.

Herb dragged him over to the town office and had the clerk look up the acreage.

"It looks like DeLorne has been doing his research. That is in an area that is already allotted for future growth, so a zoning change won't be hard. The biggest problem is going to be dealing with how ticked off he will be that you didn't sell to him."

"He does seem eager."

"What ever he is offering you isn't enough. There are lots of other considerations, but acreage like that is worth a small fortune."

"Thanks Herb," Frank looked at the papers, "How about I ask for preliminary approval for the zone change. That might be enough to leverage the bank, but not so rushed that it will raise eyebrows."

"Good idea."

Frank left them the filled out forms and walked back to his truck. He drove out to the old pit and parked. He got out of the truck and walked back off the road. He could see deer tracks and raccoon.

"Sorry folks, but you may have to move."

"Glad you see it my way," DeLorne had come up behind Frank. "I'll put some two acre lots around the center here. Maybe a pond. Put some smaller places farther back. Make this a real draw for the up and coming. Come by the office. I'll have the girls do up the papers." He looked at his watch and walked back to his car. With spinning tires and flying gravel he sped off down the road.

"You know," Frank said to the gravel pit, "I really don't like him."

The trickle of changes in Madison became a flood. Stores that had been closed for years were suddenly opening as antique shops or boutiques that sold very expensive items that were useless for anything but decoration. Frank no longer knew every person he met on Main St. When he did meet someone he knew they had to stand to one side to let the flow of strangers pass.

"I don't know my own town anymore," Jim said as Frank sat signing papers. "Even Alice's is changing." The table where they sat was in the store next door to the Coffee Shop. Alice had bought it and moved most of the furniture there while her husband tore out and redecorated the original shop. Alixxa served coffee from a make shift counter at the back.

"I know, Jim," Frank pushed the papers over to his friend, "It's like the gravel pit, get the council to say it is one thing instead of another and all of a sudden it's worth more than a winning lottery ticket."

"I just hope this is enough. Jenkins told me there is an off-shore group that is trying to buy the plant. If they get it, who knows what they will do with it?" He waved his mug at Alixxa.

"You know I have to tell all the other customers that they have to come to the counter," she said, "I would never have thought chaos would be so good for business. Sergio loaned me a cappuccino maker to try out, and all these folks just pour in the door." She waved at someone who was standing by the counter and went back to work.

The door crashed open and the young man who had started the trouble at the library walked in with his friends.

"What do I need to do to get some service here?" he shouted.

"Wait in line like everyone else," Alixxa said.

He walked up to the counter and sneered at her.

"Do you know what I do to little girls like you?"

"You pay me for your coffee, just like everyone else."

"My Dad could buy a dozen places like this."

"Well run home and ask him for one, then you won't need to bother me."

He reached over and grabbed her arm. In seconds Frank stood on one side of him while Jim loomed over him on the other.

"Time to leave," Frank said. The young man just looked at him and sneered some more. The other young people watched from their seats.

"What are you going to do? If my father doesn't own you yet, he will soon enough."

"Your father can't own anybody that won't sell himself."

"You're selling that land to him aren't you? He owns you."

"You are not only a very rude boy, but you are pretty stupid too," Frank looked him in the eye and stepped closer. "If I am indeed one of your father's associates, he wouldn't appreciate you insulting me. If am not one of his associates, he will be angry that you are discussing his business with me."

"So?"

"So, regardless of who your father is, you are just a small time bully trying to throw your daddy's weight around. Do you really think I haven't seen plenty of your kind before?" He reached over and picked up a cup of coffee and put it in the boy's hand. "Here is your coffee, now run to daddy and tell him that Frank Madison is not selling his land. Not to him, not to anyone associated with him."

The boy tossed the coffee on the floor and stormed out of the shop. One of his friends shrugged apologetically before he followed. Jim stepped around the counter and came back out with the mop. He cleaned up the mess. Before he was finished someone else had come to the counter to order.

Frank left the shop with his gut churning from his anger. There were some things about the new Madison that he just didn't like. That DeLorne family was a fair number of them. By the time he reached the library he had managed to get himself back to an equilibrium.

Jennita was busy with a half dozen people waiting to talk to her. Sergio was helping a couple of kids with the computer. Frank had to content himself with a wave as he went to the reading area and picked out a book.

The book finished the work of calming him. Frank didn't remember much of what he read, but he wasn't worried about that today. He didn't think the answers he was looking for were going to be found in a book.

He sighed and put the book down. Jennita's line was just as long, but different people, so he waved again and went out onto the street.

DeLorne met him.

"What do you mean you aren't selling?" he said, "We had an agreement."

"No," Frank said, "We didn't. You never asked if I was selling, You just decided you were buying."

"You had it re-zoned."

"I had my reasons."

"What is it? Do you want more money?" DeLorne's face was getting red.

"I don't want any amount of your money."

"Nobody messes with me!" he pushed Frank with his finger, "I can destroy you. You are nothing. Nothing!"

"Pardon me, Mr. Madison," the Sheriff interrupted "Is this gentleman bothering you?"

"He is just leaving, Sheriff."

"This isn't over, Madison." DeLorne gave him a parting glare and left.

"He's been buying land all over the district," the Sheriff said, "There are some folks who are desperate enough to sell at any price. I don't think he's made anyone but himself rich yet."

Frank just nodded. He went to his truck and drove out to the farm. Even on the back roads the traffic seemed heavier. He parked his truck and checked on the livestock. Caring for the animals gave him a calm that even the book couldn't. The town had dealt with people like DeLorne before. His grandfather had been like that. Frank's father had no interest in anything but farming and his father had never forgiven him for it. By the time Frank had been old enough to remember, his grandfather was dead. Only his father's bitter stories and an over-sized headstone remained of the old man's ambitions.

When the chores were done he went out the shed and uncovered the meteor.

"I should have known that there would be the bad with the good," Frank said, "That's just the way of it, isn't it?" He sat on the stone and patted it. "I suppose I'll muddle by like I usually do. Life will go on." He left the meteor uncovered and went to cook his supper.

After supper Frank poked through some of the boxes of stuff that his parents had left in the attic rooms. It took him a while to find what he was looking for, but he didn't mind. It had been a long time since he had looked at the pictures that were all he had left of his parents.

The sound of breaking glass brought him downstairs. He saw a strange car in the drive and heard the sounds of more destruction from the shed. Frank called the Sheriff's office and reported the problem. The girl told him to stay in the house, but that was Franks livelihood in the shed, and he didn't want to think about what would happen if the punks got into the barn.

They didn't hear him come through the door. Frank wasn't surprised to see the young DeLorne and his two hangers on. They had smashed all the windows in the shed and were trying to break the tractor windshield.

"The Sheriff is coming." Frank said, "I would appreciate you leaving now." The young man who had shrugged in the coffee shop pulled on the DeLorne kid's arm.

"Come on, Greg," he said, "We need to get out of here."

Greg pushed him away.

"I'm not afraid of some punk sheriff." He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot a hole in the tractor's windshield. "I'm not afraid of anyone." He pointed the gun at his friend.

"Easy," Frank said, in the same kind of voice he used on his animals when they were spooked.

The gun swung around until it was pointed at him.

"Why do you have a big fricking rock in here?"

"It's a meteorite," explained Frank, "I haven't decided what to do with it yet."

Greg laughed.

"You mean like in those dumb movies? Does it give you super powers?" He pulled the trigger and Frank felt a burning pain run through his shoulder.

"I guess not." He swaggered over to Frank who was leaning against the tractor.

"Let me tell you a secret." He waved the gun in Frank's face. "Pay attention old man!" He grabbed Frank and pushed him over onto the meteorite.

"Nobody messes with the DeLorne's" Frank could hear the siren as the Sheriff's car approached. The other two were getting frantic, but neither one wanted to face the gun. Finally they just ran out the door.

"Chicken, both of them, but then you know all about chicken." He made clucking noises at Frank. The sirens wailed to a stop, but Greg paid no attention.

"FREEZE!" The Sheriff's bellow got the kid's attention. He turned to aim the gun at the Sheriff. Frank looked at the kid, and thought, the kid is a jerk and a bully, but he doesn't deserve to die. He lunged up and grabbed the kid's gun arm and wrenched the gun away. He threw it into a corner. Greg swung at him and clipped his face. Frank threw the kid toward the Sheriff who caught him and had him on the ground in seconds.

The pain in Frank's shoulder suddenly got worse and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He fell back on the meteorite. Frank could feel his blood running out across the stone. He felt some of the same connection he had the first time he touched it. There was an answer in there, but he couldn't grasp it. He heard the Sheriff shouting into his radio, but it was just a distant echo. The meteorite was the only solid thing in the world, and it was pulling Frank into itself.

It was cold inside the stone, and dark.

Frank floated in space. He could feel the heat of the sun on his face and feel the bitter cold on his back. The hard, unwinking stars were aloof. Space, as its name suggested was empty. Frank was alone.

The longer Frank was in space the harder it became for him to get a sense of his place and speed. At one moment he felt he was hurtling along, the next he was at a dead stop. It was disconcerting so he closed his eyes and tried to figure out what was going on. There was nothing. No breath of wind, no pull of gravity hinted at how he related to the universe around him.

He opened his eyes and looked at the stars again. They were lucky, he thought, they knew their place. Each of them had their steps in the great Dance. He was just a chunk of rock, alone in space.

He didn't know how long he was in space before he began to hear the music. Time was like the speed, sometimes it was as if millennia had passed, then he was sure it was only seconds. The music started as chords. The low notes made his teeth itch while the high notes were a bare whisper in the aether.

The chords shifted and changed, now major, now minor, now a dominant seven or augmented fourth. There were dissonances that had him ready to scream and then a resolution that brought him to tears. The more he listened the easier it became to discern, not a melody, but a direction to the music. He felt with all his being that the music was taking him somewhere. His speed of travel or time in space was only relevant in relationship to the great Song that he heard.

Yet it in the midst of the wonder and beauty of the Song, Frank realized that something was missing. Even with the breadth of the chords there was another note that he needed to hear. Tentatively, fearfully, Frank hummed the note.

As soon as he hummed that note, the space around him changed. He was part of the great Dance, a singer in the great Song. What was empty became full. Frank traveled through music more glorious than he could hear. The stars were not far off and aloof, but his family. Their song accompanied him as his made them richer. He sang hope with a nebula, and sorrow with a quasar.

Now not only was space filled with the vast fellowship of creation, but his journey had a destination. A tiny blue planet circled a small yellow star. Frank would add himself to that planet's song. He would give up his note to make the planet's note richer and more vibrant.

As he entered the atmosphere the heat increased. His outer skin was melted and reformed. Frank's song became an ecstasy of joy, of peace, of purpose. He crashed into the earth and married himself to the planet's fate.

The warmth of his love radiated out into his surroundings, he offered his part of the Song to whoever listened. And someone was listening, unaware, unknowing. He touched Frank and something of the great Song crossed between. They talked and sat in communion not seeking answers, but just to be.

Then an answer was sought, and Frank tried to put the vastness of the Dance, the hugeness of the Song into words. The connection was reformed and words became unnecessary. Frank belonged. He was not alone.

Then words were necessary. There were others who needed to hear, to dance. Frank struggled to speak. Somehow he would fit all that was into a breath of sound and air.

Then someone touched him and called him to himself.

"Frank, Frank," the voice said, (and he could hear the tears) "Frank, you can't leave me now. Please come back." There was a bolt of light that went through him and anchored his feet to the earth and sent his heart soaring.

He took a breath and opened his eyes.

Frank was lying in a hospital bed surrounded by flowers, balloons and cards, but even the voluminous clouds of well wishes couldn't distract him from Jennita who sat beside him holding his hand tightly.

"He's awake!" she shouted and a nurse came in to take his pulse. She nodded in satisfaction.

"You can have small sips of water for now. Your throat will be dry, but don't overdo it." Frank thought she was somewhat cool and aloof until he noticed her give Jennita's shoulder a squeeze on the way out.

He tried to say something, but his voice refused to work.

"Shh," said Jennita, "Don't talk," she held the cup of water for him to sip "It isn't tea, but it will do." She pushed tears away from her eyes. "Here I am being all foolish, I was looking at you in the bed and started thinking about Pete."

Frank squeezed her hand.

"I suppose you're right. Even here in Madison, there is a part of me that is Pete's widow." She smiled through the tears. "But isn't the most important part, not by a long shot." Frank smiled at her and half way through squeezing her hand again he fell asleep.

The next time he woke the room was dark and Jennita was curled up sleeping in the chair. He managed to reach the water and take a sip. That wore him out so he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

The nurse woke him in the morning taking his pulse and blood pressure. She helped him to the washroom and back.

"You're doing great," the nurse said, "You will be heading home in no time."

Frank poked at the huge bandage that covered his shoulder. He felt a dull ache.

"The bullet went right through, but it nicked an artery. The surgeon did some neat work to get it all sewn up. I doubt you will have any permanent problems with the shoulder."

Jennita came in carrying two steaming cups.

"I remember that you like coffee first in the morning. Alixxa sent you her best." Frank reached for the cup.

"Go ahead and enjoy it." the nurse said.

He peeled back the lid and sipped at the coffee. He felt warmth and strength flowing through him.

"Thanks," he said.

"Hey," said Jennita, "You talk."

"Never mind modern medicine, coffee is the real miracle drug."

"Mmm," Jennita sipped at her cup, "It is robust, but I still like my tea."

"Good, because I like the tea too. Everything in its place."

Jennita just nodded and they finished their coffee in silence.

"Hey folks," said Jim as he carried in a couple of steaming cups, "Alice figured I would be here just in time to bring a refill." He handed one to Frank, Jennita waved the second cup off.

"I think I should take this coffee thing slowly," she said.

Jim just smiled and pulled over a chair and sat down.

"How are you doing?"

"I am told that I am doing just fine," Frank said, "I am inclined to believe it."

"Good, good." Jim took a long sip of the coffee and sighed. "The guys are taking turns doing chores at your place, so don't you worry about the animals. Herb's got a crew cleaning up the shed and fixing the glass." He looked at Frank over his cup. "Everyone is curious about that rock you have sitting there."

"It's a meteor," Frank tried to sit up a bit and winced. Jennita adjusted the bed for him. "Actually a meteorite."

"You mean that chunk fell out of the sky?"

"Yup," Frank said and told him the story of how he found it. "I did some research on those rocks. One of the things I learned was that they are valuable."

"That rock?"

"A fellow found one in his field that weighed about fifteen pounds. They figured it was worth almost half a million."

Jim choked on his coffee. Jennita thumped his back until he could talk.

"How much does that thing weigh?'

"I don't really know. A lot," Frank said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. I don't figure on selling it. It wouldn't be right."

Jim just shook his head.

"I have some other news for you," he said, "Herb's boy and I were trying to pitch the numbers to the board of the bank. Jenkins was sympathetic, but his bosses were inclined to sell to this offshore group that DeLorne was pushing. Every time we said something he had some number that was bigger or smaller than ours. He just sat there smug as anything and watched us drown. No, worse, he was pushing our heads under. I just knew that we were all going to lose our shirts and that the bastard was going to end up owning all of us.

"The bank folks were just going to kick us out and sign with DeLorne's group when the Sheriff busted in and damned if he didn't arrest DeLorne right there for conspiracy to commit murder. You'd think that he'd grown horns and a tail the way those guys in suits couldn't get rid of him fast enough. John just casually laid the idea on them that if that was the kind of person these offshore people hired to represent them, what would they do the bank? They couldn't sign that offer fast enough.

"So now we own the plant. Bruce already has been feeling out the markets, and we can supply parts for windmills without having to completely retool the plant." Jim shrugged, "Who knew? Windmills. We have a crew over there getting the place in shape. We could be up and running by the end of the month."

"So DeLorne's boy did us a favour."

"What?"

"If he hadn't gone after me, it might have worked out different. Just goes to show, everyone has a place. We may not like it, but that's the way it works."

"Are you sure that rock didn't land on your head?" Jim laughed, "You never talked like that before."

Frank just smiled.

"Oops, I've got to move," Jim said, "I'm meeting Herb and John to sign more papers. It's a good thing that punk didn't shoot your right shoulder 'cause you have your share to sign too."

He waved at Jennita and left.

Frank closed his eyes for a few moments and felt Jennita's hand in his just before he fell asleep again.

He woke up when he heard the Sheriff's voice in the room.

"...yes, but he's out on bail. His kid is still in the cells. He was making threats all over the place. When he told the judge he would hunt her down she decided that he could wait in jail for trial. Funny thing that I would expect a guy like DeLorne to be crying harassment and false arrest. Instead he's almost humble. His wife's the one who owns that new wool shop in town. She just stood behind him and never said a word, but I'm thinking she has something to do with his new attitude."

"DeLorne isn't bad," Frank said, "He's just short sighted. I think his eyes got opened to the cost of the way he does business."

"Glad to see you're awake, Frank," the Sheriff said, "I don't want to tire you too much, but if you're up to making a statement...."

Frank went through the events of the day with the Sheriff, by the time he was done he was exhausted. He woke twice in the night and saw Jennita sleeping in the chair.

The next day the doctor told him he could go home as long as he promised not to do any heavy work. Jennita drove him back to the farm. Bob was just finishing chores as they pulled in. He waved and drove off.

Frank settled in his chair and heaved a big sigh.

"It is good to be home."

"I'll put some supper together," Jennita went into the kitchen and Frank could hear her poking around finding things. He thought about getting up and helping her, but the chair was comfortable and he didn't feel like moving.

They walked through the barn after supper and Frank introduced her to the animals. Jennita petted them and smiled.

She gave him a kiss at the door and told him she would come by in the morning.

Frank woke in the middle of the night. His eyes refused to close, so he put on his robe and wandered out to the shed. True to Jim's promise all the mess had been cleaned up. Someone had even polished the meteorite.

"I'm thinking I need to thank you," Frank said, "I don't know that any of this would have happened if you hadn't happened along." He sat on the rock and thought for a while.

"I think it is time I shared you with some more people," he said finally. "I've an idea that you'll like it where I have a mind to put you." Frank was feeling tired now so he walked back to the house and made a brief detour to the parlour that he almost never used. It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for. Then he went to bed.

In the morning the sounds and smells of cooking woke him. Frank wrapped his robe around him and went out to greet his visitors. Jennita had brought Alixxa with her.

"I don't know how to make coffee," Jennita said, "Alice loaned me Alixxa as long as I had her back for the lunch crowd." Alixxa waved from where she was pouring coffee into one of Frank's chipped mugs.

They ate breakfast in companionable silence. Frank went out to watch Bob doing the chores after struggling into his clothes. They sat on the porch and finished off the pot of coffee. Bob headed off to the plant and Frank decided that he would go into town with Jennita and Alixxa.

The coffee shop was full, but people, both strangers and friends welcomed Frank and made space for him to sit. Alice came over and just looked at him.

"This place just wouldn't be the same without you," she said, "I'm glad you're OK."

"I'm thinking we'll have the lunch special, Alice." Frank said, "I've been pining for your good food."

"Two specials, coming right up," Alice said she walked through the plastic sheet that still divided the two rooms and Frank could hear her calling the order to the kitchen.

"I don't mean anything bad about your cooking," Frank whispered to Jennita and he took her hand. Jennita refused to let go, so they were sitting holding hands and saying nothing when Alice brought their soup. Frank could feel the question in Alice's gaze as she brought out the sandwiches, but he just smiled at her.

"Well are you going to ask her or not?" Alice said.

"Ask me what?"

Frank pulled a tiny velvet pouch from his pocket.

"Remember I told you if I took you to lunch at Alice's that she would have us engaged before we got to the pie? It only really works if you say yes." He held out a ring in his hand.

Jennita looked at him and smiled the smile that warmed him through and through. She looked at Alice.

"I'll have the cherry pie, I think." Somehow she had put the ring on without Frank seeing it. She looked at it on her finger.

"Same here, Alice," Frank said. The whole crowd cheered while Jennita leaned across the table and gave him a kiss.

Frank walked down Main Street. It had only been a couple of months and he could hardly recognize the sleepy little town that Madison had been. He ducked into Alixxa's Coffee and ordered his usual black coffee.

"You really should try one of the fancy coffees," Alixxa said, "I'll even give you the first one free."

"I'm fine with this," Frank toasted her with his cup. He could see through the arch into the restaurant. Alice waved at him from the counter. One of the new girls came through to fill the carafe and smiled at him.

"Folks are saying you should run for Mayor next year."

"Nope," Frank sipped at the hot rich coffee, "But I think your Aunt would do well."

"Come on, Aunt Alice?"

"She got the new Business Association going. She convinced everyone that fixing up Main Street would be a good idea. She even got old-timers and the new people talking. She'd be perfect."

"Who would run the Restaurant?"

Frank just smiled at her.

"Oh no, no," Alixxa waved her hands in front of her, "I have enough on my hands with just the coffee. There's no way I want to run the whole show. You hear that Aunt Alice?" She called through the arch. "You stay out of politics and run the restaurant."

"Politics?" asked Alice.

"Frank here thinks you would make a good mayor."

"Does he now?" Alice went back to wiping the counter, but there was a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What have I done?" moaned Alixxa. She looked at Frank. "You are a terrible man. She would never have thought of it if I hadn't said anything."

"I don't know," said Frank as he laughed, "But I am pretty sure someone would have mentioned it to her." He sat and finished his coffee while Alixxa served customers and peered over at her aunt.

When he finished the coffee he went back out onto the street and walked toward the library. Every store was doing business. People were bustling along the street weaving past each other in an endless dance.

"Hey Frank," John came up to him. "The plans for the development are coming along really well. Those people you put me onto are geniuses. We've already got enough people to start on the townhouses and the detached units have a waiting list. Who would have thought that giving land to parks would make you more money not less? Come by the office and I will show you the latest plans" The younger man dashed off again before Frank could reply. The old gravel pit was in good hands.

The whistle for the shift change at the plant blew and Frank watched how everyone on the street paused for just a second to listen. Bruce was right, the whistle reminded the folks that they owned the plant, not some far away people who didn't care about the town. They had called back all the workers and he had heard that they were going to be hiring some new people.

He checked his mail and said good morning to the new post mistress. He missed Jim and Mary, but Jim had got a call from a town in another state that wanted to learn how he had put together the proposal to buy the plant locally. He and Mary had moved there for the time being while he helped them work it out.

Frank arrived at the library where Greg DeLorne was sweeping the steps.

"Good morning Greg."

The young man turned his back on Frank and kept working. It was an improvement. He wasn't swearing under his breath any more. The charges against his father had been dropped, but Mrs. DeLorne had kicked her husband out and devoted her time to her new knitting shop. Greg had been given the choice of pleading out his charge and staying with his mom or fighting it and living with his dad. He chose his mom and was given probation and community service.

Frank pushed through the doors and entered the library. Sergio waved at him from the new circulation desk and pointed to the back. Frank nodded and headed back, but first he stopped at the meteorite sitting on a block in the center of the foyer. A university had mounted it in exchange for keeping the four core samples they drilled to fasten the rock down. Frank put his hand on the meteorite and smiled, just as he did everyday he came in. He could see where it was getting polished from other people doing the same thing.

Jennita was reading to a group of pre-schoolers in the children's room. She wiggle her eyebrows at him without missing a word in the story. Frank slid into the room and sat in a leather arm chair and listened to the sound of his wife's voice doing what she loved.

There was nowhere he would rather be.

Flies buzzed thick in the air and Leaper's tongue darted everywhere. He hadn't seen them this thick in all the weeks since he'd got his legs. He planned to eat until he was as big as Old Bull, who had eaten Jumper yesterday. It was important to keep a respectful and safe distance from the huge frog. He ruled the pond with an iron tongue; but one day it would be Leaper that sat in that hollow stump.

"Bird!" came the call from across the pond and Leaper splashed into the warm water and peered up. He saw a shadow pass over. He didn't feel the shudder of water that meant it had landed. After a brief time Leaper climbed back up onto the lily pad and went back to the catching of flies.

Life was good.

The afternoon went quickly and Leaper stuffed himself with so many flies that he could barely move. He rested under the water and soaked in the warmth and oxygen in his favorite spot under a huge pad. He was close enough to hear Old Bull, but far enough away to be safe from the big frog's appetite.

"Gather in," Old Bull said, "Come in close. We will sing, we will speak, we will eat." His tongue flashed out and a little frog jumped further away. Old Bull laughed and swallowed a mosquito.

The night was filled with mosquitoes and song. Though Leaper was too young to sing the mating, he listened and felt the urgency of its call. It thrummed through him with a promise that he felt more than understood. The old frog was talking again.

"It is as tall as the rushes and has legs like a tree," Old Bull said, "Still as death yet deadly quick. Your only hope is to hide deep in the mud. The slightest twitch will give you away."

"Have you ever seen it?" a small frog asked.

"Come close, come close and I'll tell you how I escaped its beak."

The frog hopped a little forward and Leaper closed his eyes. He knew how this would end. Sure enough there was a splash followed by Old Bull's deep chuckle.

"Be wise young frogs. Be cautious. Eat but don't be eaten." Old Bull chuckled again, "Unless it's me that's doing the eating. "

It was just the way that life was. Leaper had hatched from his egg knowing that he could be a meal for anything bigger than him. Anything smaller was a meal for him. Still, he sunk under his pad and into the mud. That could have been him. It wasn't part of his plan to be a snack for another frog.

Days in the pond were all pretty much the same. Leaper lay in wait for the flies and avoided the many creatures that lay in wait for him. He learned that the ducks weren't interested in eating frogs, but some fish that were. It was strange that life could be always a matter of life and death yet stupefyingly boring at the same time.

It wasn't like when he hatched. From the moment he left the egg he swam away from everything in the pond that was larger than he was. That was just about every living creature in the pond. His whole world was the patch of green slime on the edge of the water. Most of his egg mates vanished. They were eaten by fish or birds, even insects.

Leaper was astonished when he woke one morning and realized that he had grown a leg. He wasn't sure what it was good for. Flailing it about only sent him in circles. The arrival of the other leg let him swim in a straight line again. By the time he grew the front legs, his tail was shrinking and he had learned that there was a great deal more to life than green slime. The first time he hopped out of the water and breathed air was a matter of huge excitement; he just avoided a swoop by a kingfisher.

He grew in size as the summer progressed, but he also watched the many ways that a frog could die; his egg mates eaten by Old Bull, or swallowed by fish, or birds, or raccoons. Leaper was always just a little bit faster or just a bit luckier. He ate horse flies and even dragon flies now. The days grew hotter and the water receded. What was once wet muck, perfect for hiding in, became hard and cracked.

Leaper found a place in the pond that was opposite from Old Bull's stump. Even though he was more than double the size he had been in the spring, the big old frog was still a danger. Leaper had seen him eat a fish just the other day!

He sat with just his eyes out of the water, watching for the big juicy flies that stumbling drunkenly through the late summer air. There was a shudder that ran through the water that made him freeze. It didn't return, so he relaxed. It must have been the wind. It was blowing hard enough to make waves on the small bit of open water that was left in the pond.

The shudder came again, smaller this time. Leaper listened to the sounds around him. Nothing had changed. The flies buzzed and bumbled and he could hear another frog, one of his few remaining egg mates just a couple of hops away. Whatever it was seemed to be moving away.

He saw a beautiful big fly and willed it to come closer. It flew this way and that; always slightly out of reach. Leaper swam toward it. Bigger size meant bigger appetite. He was still always hungry. He didn't plan to let that fly go to his egg mate. He reached a shallower part of the pond and got his legs set under him. The fly came almost close enough and he jumped forward and snapped out his tongue.

Two things happened at that moment. The first was expected and pleasant. His tongue struck the fly and pulled it into his mouth. He snapped his mouth closed and swallowed the still buzzing fly. The second thing was that a huge beak stabbed out of the air and gripped his leg with a deadly force. Leaper was lifted high into the air and he realized that he had been caught by the heron that Old Bull had talked about.

He was about to die.

Leaper tried to squirm and jump, but the bird had him tight by his leg. He saw the cold eye of the heron. He thrashed about harder, but the immense bird ignored his efforts. It had no more pity on him than he had on the flies that he ate. The heron tossed him into the air and Leaper saw that vicious beak stab toward him again. He tried to swim in the air, but it had no effect.

But the beak missed. Maybe it was the wind, maybe Leaper's attempts to swim in the air actually moved him. He bounced off the beak and dropped past the heron's eye, for a moment Leaper lay on the great bird's back. As it swung its head around to find him, Leaper rolled off and splashed into the water. The water was shallow, but the mud was soft and he buried himself deep. He felt the shudder of the bird's feet landing just beside him.

He lay still. His leg throbbed, but he concentrated on not moving. He allowed not the slightest twitch. He was afraid that the fly's faint buzzing would betray him. After an eternity, the foot lifted and was placed down further away. He lay in the mud even after he felt the slashing movement of that beak and knew that his egg mate had been devoured. He didn't move even when he felt the heron's feet pull out of the mud and leave the pond.

Even when Leaper felt the heron leave, he stayed in the muck. His leg hurt with a fiery agony that consumed him. He held absolutely still. He was certain that the slightest movement would result in the pain getting even worse, though he could hardly imagine how it could be worse.

All day and through the night Leaper huddled in the muck. The pain ebbed and flowed. Each time he thought about moving, it would come back and he'd freeze up again. Only hunger finally drove him out of the mud.

He croaked in misery as he pushed himself from the mud into the warm water. Once he was in the water he just floated and occasionally trapped a fly that came too close to him. As the sun dropped below the trees, Leaper used his front legs to pull himself under a floating log. He spent the night under that log, and the next day and the next.

He spent his time dividing his attention between fighting the pain of his twisted leg and trying to assuage the hunger. He learned that his leg had been broken and pulled out of its socket. He could no longer swim like a frog. He just paddled with his front legs and floated on the surface.

The remainder of the summer was a time of pain. He ate and floated and tried to convince himself that he was healing. He wasn't sure that he believed it. The days were getting shorter and the flies were fewer. The pain gradually faded, but it never left him.

The cold days arrived and the frogs buried themselves in the mud. Leaper was able to dig himself down with his three remaining limbs. He half hoped that he would be one of the ones who didn't wake up in the spring.

He froze solid from the outside in. The mud froze solid and ice covered the pond. Ducks waddled around on the ice before flying south. Fox and deer used the pond as a short cut. Snow covered the forest. It fell deep enough that the deer huddled in the deep woods. The fox were scrawny with hunger and only the crows had enough to eat. Late in the winter even the crows were starving. They picked and squabbled over bones that were white and bare.

The snow grew deeper yet and covered the bones. The air was so cold that trees cracked and burst. Frozen birds fell out of the branches. The frogs, though, were safe under the snow. They were frozen, but not burnt by the cold. The mud and snow protected them. A few were too close to the surface and dried and fractured. Some were dug out by raccoons and chewed up into food that kept the raccoons alive in the cold.

Finally there was a day that was warmer than the day before, and another that was still warmer. The snow started melting. It formed rivulets on top of the ice until it dug through the ice and joined with the water below. Now the forest was about water instead of cold. Everything was wet.

As the cold gave way to wet and then to warmth, the frogs began to thaw. Some were eaten as they crawled out of the mud, but more were not. They began to sing. The sound of song filled the woods. Frogs met and mated and laid eggs in the water that spread across the floor of the forest.

Leaper woke from his winter sleep and forced his way out of the mud. His leg no longer pained him, but it still didn't work well. He stayed under the log in the shade and ate whatever came past. He was bigger than many of the frogs now, though still tiny compared to Old Bull who had emerged to rule the pond from his hollow stump. Leaper was unable to swim. He could float and move himself around with his front legs, but his strong back legs were useless. One was twisted and deformed, and trying to use the opposite leg just sent him in uncontrollable circles. He couldn't hop well either. So what he did was sulk under his log and trap flies.

Spring crawled slowly past. If life had been boring before he was crippled, now it was excruciating. Leaper felt like everything had frozen along with the joints in his left leg. The other frogs avoided Leaper because they were never sure if he was going to ignore them or try to eat them. He did catch and eat a few of the young hatchlings. It was too much work to feel bad about it.

The pond went through the same changes as it had the year before. As the summer brought heat, it also brought a lack of water. Leaper was safe under his log where the water was deep enough that he could just float through the heat. He watched the heron, or another one like it come and create terror in the pond for three days before it left for no more reason than it came. It left no mangled survivors to share Leaper's life.

He wasn't sure why he stayed hidden under the log. Since all he did was eat and float in the pond he had bloated to almost the size of Old Bull. Old Bull was a dangerous frog that had the muscle and weight to rule the pond. All Leaper had was the size. Crawling out from under the log was almost impossible for him now.

He didn't know what would have happened if he hadn't wakened one chilly early fall morning to find Old Bull floating beside him.

"Thought I'd come over and meet my rival," the big frog said.

"What?" Leaper swiveled his eye to look at the other frog. "You're Old Bull, you rule the pond. I'm just..." He waved his hand at his bloated self.

"You're just the only frog I've ever seen survive the heron." Old Bull gave him a push. "That means something."

"What?" Leaper paddled back under the log.

"Don't know," Old Bull said, "whatever you want it to mean, I guess."

"Is it the same heron or different ones?"

"Does it matter?" Old Bull snapped up a fly with his tongue, "Did it matter to that fly whether it was you or I that ate it?"

Leaper shrugged.

"Think about what I said," Old Bull said, and swam back to the shore. Leaper watched his powerful kicks and wondered what part of the conversation he was supposed to be thinking about.

The days got shorter and colder. Leaper puzzled at his conversation with the Old Bull. He didn't dare to try to swim over to ask, and the old frog showed no sign of coming back to explain himself.

Then one particularly cold day snow fell from the grey sky and Leaper let himself sink to the bottom of the pond where he dug himself into the mud for another winter. Though his leg didn't pain him this year, he still found that he didn't care whether he woke in the spring or not.

The winter passed much like the one before it. Some lived and some died. Some ate and some were eaten. The snow fell deep and cold and ice ruled the forest for months. The warmth of spring once again disappointed Leaper and pulled him from the mud. He surfaced and listened to the chorus of life echoing through the pond. He sighed and snapped up a fly.

Leaper floated and looked over at the hollow stump. There was something odd about it. Evening had set in before Leaper realized that there was a cloud of flies around the stump. Old Bull would never let that many flies gather. He paddled over to the stump and after great effort he pulled himself up into the stump. He found Old Bull's skeleton sitting there as if waiting for Leaper to come.

"So, I guess this means you aren't going to explain yourself," Leaper said to the bones. He turned and looked out over the pond. The flies were still there, so he started eating them. The bones got pushed aside and somehow Leaper didn't bother to make the trip back across the pond to his log. The hatchlings came and he ate the slow ones.

The stump forced him to move around more. He couldn't just float and wait for the food to come to him. He started hopping again. It was slow and painful at first, but soon he got the trick of getting his good leg centered behind him. The small frogs kept a more respectful distance. A bird fell out of its nest and Leaper ate it. Even the older frogs looked at him differently after that.

The warm days of summer were well upon them when a tremendous storm rocked the forest. It left a new tree lying across the pond and the water ran faster and cooler through the pond. That in itself wasn't bad. It just meant that a different kind of fly mated and grew in the pond to be eaten by the frogs.

It was a day after the storm that the Leviathan made its first appearance. Leaper was lazily snapping up flies and watching a frog swim across the pond. There was a sudden swirl in the water and the frog was gone. That frog wasn't the last one either. The huge fish ate frogs like they ate flies. The frogs stayed close to shore, but even there they weren't safe. Leaper watched as the fish ran itself into the shallow water to eat several frogs before turning and swimming back to the deep water.

It was death to go near the water, but it was death to stay away too. The summer sun was drying up all the water but the water in the pond. Leaper wasn't too hard off in the shade of the stump, but he could smell more than one frog that had chosen to die of dehydration rather than consumption.

"Dig down into the muck," Leaper told the frogs, "Find ways to stay wet and alive." Each day more would risk jumping into the pond and the lethal swirl would show that the Leviathan had eaten them.

The heron arrived and landed in the shallow water. Leaper watched with interest. There were two deadly creatures hunting the frogs, but maybe they would hunt each other too. The heron stalked through the pond with impossible grace. Leaper could see much better from the stump and he wondered how any frog could survive that beak. The huge bird ate one frog, then a fish. Just after it swallowed the fish, the Leviathan attacked. There was a heavy swirl of water and Leaper could see the open, toothy jaws of the great fish close on the leg of the heron. The heron screamed and stabbed at the fish with its beak.

The pond echoed with the sound of the battle as the heron struck at the fish and the fish tried to pull the bird into the deep water. Blood dripped from the heron into the water, but the bird was just too big. Finally it pulled loose and flew away into the forest calling forlornly as it went.

The frogs went back to living on the fringes of the pond. Some were eaten by the Leviathan, and some by other animals who seemed to sense that the frogs were unable to hide in the water. Leaper sat in what was now his hollow stump and watched the pond become a place of death and despair.

About a week after the battle between heron and fish a new creature arrived at the pond. It stood even taller than that heron and was covered with strange growths. It leaned on a small tree like it had three legs and carried another branch and a small log. It had to be the strangest creature Leaper had ever seen.

The giant put the log down and opened it up, It fussed with some stuff that was in the log, then flipped the lid closed. It reached down and plucked a small frog from where it cowered under some leaves. The giant impaled the frog on a tiny stick and threw the still twitching victim into the water. It fastened a red and white rock to the thin vine that connected the dying frog to the branch in the creature's hands. Leader crouched down further in the stump and watched.

The creature let the rock go out into the pond and it floated on the surface. It leaned back against a tree and let out a groan. Then it did nothing. It did nothing for the rest of the day except pull things out of the log it carried and eat them. Leaper wondered why it didn't eat the flies that buzzed in clouds around its head. Occasionally it pulled in the dead frog and attached another in its place before throwing the thing back out into the pond.

The sun was going down behind the trees when the red and white rock disappeared. The creature shouted and pushed itself onto its feet and began pulling on the branch which was now bending like a reed in a windstorm. Leaper looked at the other end of the line and saw the deadly swirl of the fish. It had eaten the frog and was now fastened to the branch the creature held by the thinnest of vines. Leaper could see the line and watched as water ran down its taut length.

Sometimes it seemed as if the fish was going to pull the creature into the pond, other times it was being pulled toward shore. Once or twice the fish leaped out of the water and Leaper marveled that even the giant could stand against such a beast.

The light was almost completely gone when the creature's branch broke just as the Leviathan was almost on the bank. The creature jumped into the water and grabbed hold of the fish. There was water and mud being flung everywhere, but gradually the creature pulled the fish onto the shore. Even on the shore the fish refused to give up the fight and the creature had to wrestle it into submission. The log was knocked aside and the remains of the branch trampled into the mud.

Finally the fish was still and the creature danced and howled around its corpse. It pushed some things back into its log and put a heavy vine through the fish's mouth and gills. It left the pieces of the thin branch and picked up its small tree, then the creature slung the Leviathan across its back and limped into the black night.

In the morning Leaper surveyed the damage from the titanic struggle. The water was stilled churned up and muddy. Plants were crushed and broken and he could see the bodies of several frogs lying in the mud. There was a trail where the giant had left half carrying, half dragging the huge fish.

The creature had left a host of strange things tangled in the brush beside the pond. Leaper when out to investigate and found short vines that were smooth to the touch. He picked up a piece of the creature's branch and leaned on it as the creature had leaned on its tree. It did ease his bad leg.

He found a piece of the red and white floating rock. It was just the white with a bit of the red attached. As he picked it up he saw the shadow of a kingfisher, but as he lifted the piece of the floating rock the bird turned away. Interesting, thought Leaper, and he put the piece on his head while he picked through the rest of the things left behind by the giant creature.

Leaper spent the rest of the day moving strange things from the bushes to his hollow stump. There were things that looked like small fish or frog but with hooked teeth that looked cruel. He thought of the frogs that had been impaled on them and shuddered. He placed them carefully, not wanting to stick himself on the barbed teeth. He didn't know why he went to all the effort, but there was something compelling about the bits and pieces that he found.

Summer waned and the extra flow to the pond meant that it didn't dry up as much as before. Now that the Leviathan was gone the frogs returned to the water gratefully. There weren't many left.

"Dig deep this winter," Leaper told the frogs, "Survive to mate and lay lots of eggs in the spring. We can't afford to lose anyone to foolishness."

He hopped around the pond with his branch and the creature white thing on his head. Leaper tried to encourage the other frogs.

"This was a really hard summer," he said, "but next year will be better. The Leviathan is gone."

But when he sat alone in his stump and thought about the past summer he almost despaired. Between fish and bird and giant they had suffered a great deal. The frogs were at the mercy of whatever predators happened their way. Losing the slow and the foolish was part of life, but the Leviathan and the giant had taken even the swift. Another summer like this one and there might not even be a remnant left.

Leaper buried the strange collection of thing he'd taken from where the giant had dropped them. He dug deep into the mud. For the first time he wanted to make it through the winter.

The snows came and the frost, the winter passed as it always did. Most survived and some did not. Leaper was one of the first to climb out of the mud and join the song.

This spring was different. Leaper had sulked under the log after his first winter, and he had woken late at the end of the singing his second. This spring he was awake and fiercely focused on the need to repopulate the pond.

He sent his bass voice out over the pond and watched for females to respond. Other species croaked and squeaked and called too. He'd never felt anything like it. The song filled him and made him forget his twisted leg as he put his whole being into his song.

A female hopped up tentatively and another male bullfrog came out of the reeds to mount her. Leaper roared and threw himself at his rival. They banged up against each other. The other frog was smaller; but Leaper's bad leg made it an even match. After one crashing blow, Leaper's hand fell on a short length of reed. He picked it up and used it to balance himself. This time he over-powered his smaller rival. The other frog fled while Leaper mounted the female.

Leaper won battle after battle for the females. He was vaguely aware that other bullfrogs were mating in other places around the pond, but he ruled the stump and the space around it. There would be lots of eggs this year. Lots of tadpoles, and many more frogs the year after.

The end of the song and the mating season left Leaper exhausted and content. He didn't have long to rest. The extra flow of water brought more fish to the pond. Small fish - fish that liked frog's eggs. Leaper jumped into the water and tried to catch the fish, but with his bad leg he was too slow. Instead he positioned himself near the eggs and snapped up fish like flies.

"Protect the eggs!" Leaper called to the frogs. They came and for a week the big frogs gorged on fish. Suddenly the fish stopped coming. At the same time the extra flow of water ceased. Leaper thought it was a good sign. The extra water had brought nothing but trouble. It was time that the pond went back to normal.

The eggs hatched and the tadpoles had to fend for themselves. Some would start growing legs within weeks, but the bullfrog tadpoles would take two years. Last year's hatch were huge in comparison and voracious in appetite. Leaper left them. It was up to them now to make the shift from tadpole to frog.

Maybe it was all the fish that Leaper and the other frogs ate protecting the eggs, but it seemed like he'd never seen so many little frogs trying to make sense of the world beyond the water. He even restrained himself and ate only the really slow and very foolish ones. In a matter of weeks the pond went from being bare of frogs to crawling with a myriad of tiny frogs. They were hungry too. Leaper could hardly eat a fly without almost tangling tongues with some minute hopper. They were cute, he just wished they weren't such a nuisance.

A pair of kingfishers had built a nest high above the pond. They were swooping down and snatching up frogs and minnows with equal ease. Leaper remembered the kingfisher ducking away from the white and red thing from the giant's log. He dug it up and found a length of the thin branch that had a sharp point on one end and loop that he could hold on too to ease his leg. The kingfisher eggs had hatched and the nestlings were being fed constantly by their attentive parents. Leaper watched, but they were barely making a dent in the horde of frogs that had crawled out of the pond.

He was watching the day that the nestlings learned to fly. Spring was giving way to summer and there was a pleasant buzz of flies around. Suddenly a tiny bird slashed across the air and looped back to its nest. Another followed, then another, then the air was full of tiny swooping birds. The spectacle was repeated the next day and the next.

It took about a week for the little birds to learn how to hunt frogs. At first it was funny; they would splash into the water and come out with a minnow or tadpole in their beaks, or sometimes nothing. The first one to snatch a frog from the shore dropped its prey before it got back to the branch. It returned, but instead of retrieving the dying frog from the ground it took at different one, and dropped it too. Soon all the tiny birds were attacking frogs and dropping mortally wounded prey all over the pond.

Leaper slapped his white and red head covering on and jumped into the middle of the fray. But the small birds paid no attention to the covering. The parent birds were calling to their young, but the swarm didn't stop. One dove to attack Leaper and he lifted his branch to ward it off. The young kingfisher impaled itself on the point. Its shrieks cut through the air and reached the young birds in a way that the adult scolding had not. The rest of the flock attacked Leaper.

He pulled his branch from the still flapping kingfisher and waved it at the other birds. They twisted out of the way and darted back in trying to stab him with their beaks. He knocked one out of the air and it rolled on the ground shrieking like its now still nest mate. The rest continued their attack. Leaper crouched down and braced himself for a moment. Then he launched himself straight up and snatched a bird out of the air like it was a fly. The rest of the young kingfishers vanished into the tree. Leaper swallowed the bird, then he ate the dead one. The last was still fluttering on the ground, trying to escape him with a broken wing.

Leaper looked up into the tree before he gulped down the still living bird. The feeling of it fluttering inside him reminded him of the day the heron almost ate him. He hopped back to his stump and took up his watch over his pond. The kingfishers hunted the fish in the pond, but never again attacked the frogs on the shore.

The small birds grew bigger and eventually vanished from the pond. The frogs ate flies and minnows and anything else that was foolish enough to get too close to them. Leaper hunted mice and other tiny creatures that he had never paid attention to before. He wore the white and red covering all the time and carried the branch with him. The blood of other creatures joined that of the kingfishers. For the first time since he found the bones of Old Bull in the stump he felt like he ruled the pond.

Then the herons arrived and everything changed again.

Leaper had been watching for the single heron that he had seen before and had almost eaten him years ago. But this year the trees filled with herons. They stalked through the water eating fish and frog with impunity. Leaper was sure that they wouldn't be impressed with the head covering. Yet again, the frogs were forced to cower under whatever safety they could find. The only freedom was found at night when the herons slept.

Leaper was hunting through the woods when he noticed something glinting in the moonlight. It was a spider web. He'd seen plenty of spider webs, and eaten his share of spiders too. What caught his attention was the huge moth struggling in the web. As he munched on the moth, he wished that he could find a web large enough to trap a heron. That was when he thought of the rest of the bits and pieces from the creature's log.

Leaper sat in his stump and held the pieces in his hands. He especially liked the smooth ones with rings at each end. There should be a way that he could weave them into a web. The herons stalked through his pond and he worked with the oddments. He needed something to hold that deadly beak shut. Something to control the head. Some way of managing a creature many times bigger than he was. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if he did capture a heron. He didn't think even he could eat it. Though given half a chance, he was willing to give it a try.

Two days passed before Leaper had something that he thought would work. Now he had to figure out how to make it happen. The heron wasn't going to just stand and wait for him to catch it with his tangle of oddities. The spider could just weave its web and wait for the fly to get stuck. Only when the insect was well and truly caught did the spider come to claim its prey. Leaper's web wasn't big enough to hold a heron, nor was it sticky like the spider web. He tried throwing it, but it tangled, He was picking up his web from one of his attempts when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. As he jerked his foot back he pulled a strange copy of a frog from under the leaves. It was one of the creature's things. He thought of the battle with the huge fish and he had the beginning of a plan.

Leaper laid out his web carefully on the surface of the lily pads before the sun rose. He watched from his stump. The birds avoided the web. If he had enough he could make the pond safe just by spreading it over the whole of the water. He wanted to trap a heron, not scare it away. He banged the soft floor of his stump in frustration. For this to work the web had to be as invisible as a spider web.

The next night he tried fastening it to the underside of the lily pads. Once again the birds stayed away from where the net lurked. He moved the net again and tried it in the midst of some weeds. Again the herons avoided it. Leaper gave up in disgust. He was, after all a frog, not a spider. Maybe if he could wield a tree instead of a piece of a branch he would be able stab a heron as he had the young kingfishers. He let the net lie and went back to planning.

He sat in thought through the next day as the herons ate their fill from his pond. One of them walked very close to the web before veering off. Leaper thought of how still Old Bull had sat before he lunged to the attack. Patience was the key. He waited and watched. By the third day of the web lying in the weeds the herons were ignoring it. That night he moved it to where he wanted it. It only took a couple of days now before the herons were once again ignoring it. The web did nothing and they were too busy consuming frog and fish to be deterred for long by something as limp and harmless as this web.

That night Leaper set the rest of his trap and waited. At dawn he took his place under the log where he could see his web and most of the pond. What was more, he could feel the vibrations in the mud and the water. In his hand he held the line that was like spider web it was so thin and hard to see. Now it was time for patience.

Leaper had watched the herons closely and they all followed one particular bird who was bigger than the rest. That bird would be to the herons as Leaper was to the frogs. Control that one and he would, maybe, control the flock.

Lesser herons stalked past and Leaper watched them, but didn't move. He waited all day, but the big heron didn't come near. The next day was the same. The herons seemed to have staked out territories and the biggest heron was on the other side of the pond where it would be much more difficult to lay the trap.

That night Leaper fastened his branch he used to hunt birds and mice to his his back with more of that fine line then swam to the other side and scouted out the new territory. He didn't come here much. He had worked out a way to swim with his one good leg, but it was slow and cumbersome. He set out his web and took up position below a large lilly pad. This was much more risky. If the bird saw him it would snap him up as easily as a tadpole.

He waited. The sun was high in the sky before the herons dropped out of the trees to hunt the pond. There was less for them to eat. The abundance of frogs in the spring had been brutally thinned by the herons. It would end today. He had watched carefully as the herons hunted, especially the biggest one. They were masters of patience. They would stand completely still until frog or fish thought it was safe and make a move. Then there would be a lightning swift strike and the heron would swallow and wait for its next prey. When they moved they moved one foot at a time very slowly to cause the least amount of vibration in the water.

Leaper thought they were strongest when they were slow. They had time to think and plan. It was during that flashing attack that they were vulnerable, but only if he could avoid that beak.

He watched from under his lilly pad, line in hand, ready to pounce. Frogs too knew how to move with deadly swiftness. He had snatched a bird out of the air. He was a predator. The heron landed in the water near Leaper and stood still until the ripples of its landing passed. It lifted a leg and slowly placed it back in the water nearer Leaper, then it stood still again. Another step another pause.

The heron was towering over Leaper now. He wondered how it didn't know to stab its beak through the lilly and capture him. Then the beak did come down, but not into the lilly, it snatched up a small fish and swallowed. The heron took a step and it was standing over Leaper, blocking out the light of the sun. Leaper felt rather than saw when the heron's head was in the right place. He pulled on the line in his hand and the thing from the creature's things that looked like a frog followed the line into the sunlight.

The heron's beak stabbed down into the water, through the center of the web that Leaper had spread the night before. He was already pulling the web tight around the beak knowing that the bird would throw its head up to swallow. The pull on the web yanked Leaper out of the water and he was just able to hold onto the lines. The not-frog with the barbed teeth was caught in the heron's beak near where the web trapped it shut. Leaper held on to the web until for the second time in his life he landed on the back of a heron. This time he didn't roll off.

He pulled at the web and forced the heron's head toward its neck. Leaper jumped away and the line pulled him back, but he'd swung around the heron's neck. The bird still wasn't sure what was happening and tried to swing its beak free. Leaper used the motion to wrap more line around the heron's neck and beak. Then the heron began to flap its wings and stagger in the water. But it didn't know what it was fighting and it was panicking. The web was tight; the trap was closed. Leaper took hold of the his branch

On his next swing he gripped the web and the line so he would be in the heron's line of sight. He pointed his branch with its bloody point at the herons throat.

"Yield or die," he said, and suddenly felt foolish since he was sure that the heron wouldn't understand him. Yet the heron dropped its head and stood still.

He'd done it! He'd trapped the heron. Leaper still hung by one hand from the tangle of the web and line tangled around the heron.

Now what was he going to do?

He swung back onto the heron's back and looked at the mess. He started to untangle the lines so the heron could move again. It was hard to do one handed so he slung his branch over his back and went to work, He was half finished when his bad leg slipped and sent him tumbling off the heron's back. He landed on a lilly pad and lay stunned. The big heron called out and Leaper watched another heron appear beside him and lean down. This is it, he thought, I'm done now. He couldn't even wave his puny branch at the other heron since he'd landed on it and felt it snap beneath him; at least he hoped it was the branch. It wouldn't matter in a second anyway.

The second heron didn't eat him, but put its beak beside him in what had to be an uncomfortable position. It waited. Leaper pulled himself together and climbed onto the beak. He was lifted gently back to the trapped heron's back where he finished his untangling job. He stood unsteadily on the heron's back and looked out over the pond. All the herons were looking back at him, as one they dropped their heads in submission.

Leaper was going to just drop the tangle into the water, but a thought made him stop. He didn't want to have to continually be rescued by the other herons. He slung the mess over his shoulder and pointed toward his hollow stump. The heron walked around the pond, then knelt down so Leaper could slide off onto the ground. He turned and looked the heron in the eye and pantomimed eating, then pointed at himself, then around the pond. He made a sharp motion with his hand. The heron stood up and made a loud call, the other herons flew up into the trees.

The big heron stood right there like it planned to stand there all night. Leaper shrugged and dragged the web into his stump and untangled them. How was he going to keep from falling off? He needed something to hang on to. He thought he could use part of the web to go on the beak and head, If he changed things just a little the heron would be able to use its beak to feed. He didn't want the bird getting too hungry. He wished he could be as comfortable on the heron as in his stump. He didn't want to have to stand all the time. Maybe some kind of platform that he could sit on?

Leaper climbed out of the stump and hopped toward where the creature had dropped all that stuff. Maybe he had missed something. He needed a new branch too.

He found a new piece of the giant's branch. and tugged at it. The loop was caught in some branches over head and when Leaper looked up to free it he saw some things that were caught in the bushes above him. They'd been there almost a year and still hadn't rotted. Leaper took whatever he could. He turned around to see a raccoon eying him. It licked its chops and began walking forward as if Leaper were already caught. With all the stuff dangled about him, he might as well have been.

He was furious at himself. He was never this careless to let a predator come up on him unawares.

If he was going to go, he wasn't going to go without a fight. Leaper dropped everything he was carrying and let out a roar. He charged at the raccoon like it was another bullfrog after his mate. The animal's eyes widened for a moment, then its mouth dropped open as if it expected Leaper to crawl right in. Instead Leaper clamped his mouth on the animal's nose as hard as he could. An instant later the heron's massive foot came down on the raccoon's tail. It shook its head and flung Leaper into the bushes, then yanked its tail away from the heron and ran into the woods. Leaper thought he heard it whimper as it went.

The heron's eye was peering at Leaper as he dragged himself from the bush. The heron nodded once, then started to move the pile of things that Leaper had collected to the stump. Leaper picked up his branch and limped back to the stump. He climbed in and went to sleep.

Sometime in the night, while his pond mates were cavorting in the water and singing in celebration, the jumble of things from the creature's horde came together in Leaper's mind. When he woke he climbed out of the stump and began seeing if his vision would work. There was a flat thing that had loops on both ends. If that would go over the heron's back with something to hold it on, he could steady himself with his feel. The trap could be fixed with some extra lines to give direction to the heron.

It took a couple of days for Leaper to arrange everything to his satisfaction. During those two days the herons stayed in the trees except for the one who watched over Leaper. Wondering how foolish he was going to feel if this didn't work, Leaper waved at the heron that towered over him and signaled for it to kneel. The immense bird immediately crouched down. Leaper tried to lift the flat piece up high enough, but even crouched to the ground the heron's back was too high. It was watching Leaper though and gave a brief hoot. Another heron flew over and landed beside them. There was a brief exchange, and it lifted the stuff onto the bigger heron's back. Leaper crawled around and fastened things until he was sure that it wasn't all going to slide off the moment he climbed up.

He fetched his white and red covering for his head and his branch, then clambered up onto the seat on the heron's back. He took hold of the lines that went to the web around the bird's beak and head and gave a little tug. The heron turned to look at him and Leaper pointed up. The heron stood and Leaper looked out at the pond from a whole new angle. He'd been too concerned with not falling off to pay much attention before.

At one end there was a ridge of mud and sticks that held back the water. Below that Leaper could see water winding into the distance with weeds and trees on either side. He knew that was there. Frogs often wandered up and down the bank, especially at mating time. In the other direction there were again weeds and brush along winding water. In the distance Leaper could see the faint outline of another ridge of mud and branch. The heron walked around the pond, slowly at first, then quicker as it became clear that Leaper wasn't going to fall off.

The heron gave a call and the other herons flew out of the trees to land around them. Then they started to walk downstream from the pond.

"Wait!" Leaper said. He tugged on one line and the heron turned to look at him. Leaper pointed to a place in the pond. Not far from where he had sulked under the log for an entire summer. The heron walked over then looked at Leaper. He motioned the bird to crouch. The bullfrog that had fought him the hardest for mates in the spring sat in the mud with just his head out of the water.

"Hopper, you're in charge now," Leaper said, and pointed at the stump. The other frog's mouth dropped open and he stared at Leaper. A fly came out of Hopper's mouth. Leaper laughed and signaled up to the heron. They walked away from the pond. Leaper didn't look back.

The herons followed the water. One of the herons made a quick snatch and then suddenly looked around with a frog caught in its beak. All the rest stopped and stared at it, then looked back at Leaper.

"I can't let you starve," Leaper said, though he was sure they couldn't understand him. "Eat the slow and the foolish. It is the way it is." He accompanied his speech with what he thought was the opposite of the sharp negation he had used earlier. The heron he rode must have understood his intent because it gave a short call. The heron with the frog bowed deeply, then swallowed the frog. From then on as they walked, the herons hunted fish or frog as they could.

They walked all day, then instead of resting in the trees, they formed a circle around Leaper, who took a much needed swim, then fell asleep instantly. He woke once in the night to see the herons gathered around him then went back to sleep without thinking how strange it was that he took comfort from their presence.

The next day he made them stop more often so he could swim. It was also easier to catch flies down at ground level. The herons hunted while he rested, but always one stood over him. At the end of that day they reached a body of water that made his pond look tiny indeed. The water stretched as far as he could see even from the back of the heron.

Each heron took flight as it reached the big water. They circled above until Leaper's heron reached the water. It looked back at Leaper. He swallowed and pointed up. Without any other warning the heron leaped into the air and the entire flock headed across the water.

Once they were in the air Leaper could see the edges of the water in every direction. The herons were headed to a bit of land that sat in the water like an immense lilly pad. When they reached it the other herons circled around until Leaper's heron had landed on the shore. As soon as they touched down the others flew away back the way they had come.

The heron took Leaper along the shore. Leaper noticed that it seemed nervous. It wasn't acting like a hunter now, but prey. He didn't want to meet what could eat the heron. They followed the shoreline with the waves washing over the heron's feet. There was a huge rock up ahead, half in and half out of the water. Then the rock moved.

There were small turtles in the pond. They were hardly big enough to eat tadpoles. This was a giant turtle. It could snap up Leaper and hardly notice. It could eat the heron and still be hungry. Still, the heron walked closer. It stopped a few good hops away from the turtle and crouched down. Leaper slid off the heron and let himself slump to the ground. He waited until his leg starting feeling normal again. Then he waited a little longer. The turtle had shifted so its back was to Leaper and the heron. Leaper pried himself up with his branch and hopped a little closer to the turtle. The heron stirred nervously but didn't move any closer.

Another hop closer and Leaper gave a roar. The turtle spun faster than Leaper could have imagined and a head snapped forward. Leaper leaned on his branch and waited for death. Instead the turtle stopped close enough for Leaper to touch its face. A strange sound came from the turtle.

"You've brought me a strange one, Spearbeak," the turtle rumbled, and Leaper realized that it was laughing.

"My name is Leaper."

"I can see that," the turtle said, "and your mind leaps higher than your legs. I am Grandmother Turtle. Spearbeak has brought you here so I could teach you to speak."

"We are speaking," Leaper said.

"But you are talking to me," the turtle said, "and all creatures can talk to me. You need to be able to talk to Spearbeak and she to you."

"So why couldn't we before?"

"Would you converse with the flies that you eat?" Grandmother Turtle said. Leaper thought she sounded sad.

"What would they say to me?" Leaper asked.

The turtle laughed again and shook her head. "Not much that you would care to hear. Come," She turned around, "follow me."

Leaper hopped along after Grandmother Turtle. He could hear the heron, Spearbeak, following too. They reached a rock wall that reach up as far as Leaper could see. The turtle reached up and scratched the rock. Dust fell down on her, but she kept scratching. Gradually Leaper could see something in her scratches. It was a frog with an odd shaped head. It was him, he touched the head covering. The turtle kept scratching and now it was Spearbeak now, with the web and the other stuff that Leaper had fastened too her.

The turtle turned and breathed on them.

"Now you can talk to each other," she was sounding sad again, "for as long as you live." She walked away and left the two alone.

Leaper turned and looked at the heron.

"I am Leaper," he said.

"Spearbeak" the heron said.

"Why did you come in such numbers to my pond?"

"It was safe," Spearbeak said.

"A fish almost ate one of your flock last summer."

"Scratchlegs," Spearbeak said, "he told us of his battle."

"He won," Leaper said.

"He escaped," Spearbeak shook her head, "If he'd won, he would have eaten fish for a lifetime, at least from the size of the fish that he described."

"We called it Leviathan," Leaper said, "A giant creature came and caught after a huge fight and dragged it off into the woods."

"A human," the heron fell silent for a long time. "I wondered when I saw the hat you wore."

Leaper put his hand to his head.

"Your spear too," she said, "As sharp and swift as my beak. I knew when I saw your spear at my throat that you were our only hope."

"You'd better explain," Leaper leaned on his spear and rubbed his twisted leg.

The heron crouched, "We can talk as easily while I carry you."

Leaper climbed up on the heron. He couldn't believe that something so strange could feel so comfortable. The heron took off and headed toward where the rest of the flock was waiting.

"The humans," Spearbeak said, "are poisoning us. We went to our nesting grounds that have been ours since the beginning, and we started to get sick. The young died first, then the old. I finally had to take my flock and leave. Scratchlegs led us to your pond. We were hungry from fear of eating at the nesting grounds."

"So you had to eat more than just the slow and the foolish," Leaper said.

They flew in silence until Leaper saw the flock waiting where the creek met the lake. Spearbeak landed in front of a heron.

"Scratchlegs, lead the flock until my return," Spearbeak said, "I am taking Leaper to see the nesting grounds." The other heron nodded. Spearbeak took off again and flew with Leaper away across the lake. Leaper looked at things and waited for words he never imagined to come into his head. It was an amusing game until he saw the boat and the humans.

"We should be safe up here," Spearbeak said, "Even most humans leave us alone." She flew on for a while and Leaper saw a strange thing on the shore. It looked like an ant colony gone mad.

"The humans live there," Spearbeak circled above the town. In the center of the town Leaper could see a circle of green, and people pointing up at them. "They dirty their own nests, but that is nothing to what is troubling our nesting ground."

"Show me," Leaper said.

"That's next," Spearbeak said, "but we will stop and rest and eat before we go there. You mustn't eat so much as a fly while we are there."

She stopped at a tiny marsh beside the lake and stalked fish while Leaper ate flies and whatever else he could catch.

"I don't see any frogs," he said.

"The humans hunt them," Spearbeak said, and Leaper thought of the human fishing and casually impaling frogs on hooks for bait.

The sun was slowly sinking so Spearbeak took Leaper to a tiny pond deep in the woods. A beer can glinted from the bottom of the pond. No frogs sang and few animals moved in the woods. Leaper slept poorly. He dreamed for the first time that he could remember. He dreamed that he grew huge in size and burst out of his frog skin to become a human who put a tiny Spearbeak on a hook to catch a giant fish.

"All these words in my head are worse than swallowing a live bee," Leaper said, "I'm never sure if one will sting me."

"I think I understand," Spearbeak said, and crouched for Leaper to climb into his saddle.

They flew away from the town until Leaper saw a forest of dead trees.

"That is our nesting ground," Spearbeak said with a mix of pride and sorrow in her voice. She circled low and Leaper could see the bones of herons white against the dark mud.

"Is there anything of the humans here?"

"One thing." Spearbeak headed upstream to where the river widened and the bottom was gravel. A barrel sat on one bank. Black leaked out of the bottom. Spearbeak landed in a tree on the river bank.

"This is as close as I dare come." Leaper didn't answer. He was thinking of the human carrying a tackle box by the handle. Even a human wouldn't be able to easily carry this barrel. But there were loops on the rim and Leaper could imagine something catching those loops and lifting it up.

"We'll need ropes and hooks," Leaper said, "and lots of help."

"The humans will have rope," Spearbeak said, "but it will be dangerous."

"No," Leaper said, "I think that may be the easy part."

They flew back to the flock and Spearbeak explained to the rest of the herons what Leaper needed. In the early morning before the sun rose they took to the air and flew to the town. The herons picked up every loose bit of rope that they could find before flying away toward the nesting grounds. Spearbeak had them stop well short of the poisoned ground.

Leaper went through the ropes, picking and choosing until he had eight ropes that he thought would do. Eight herons picked up the ropes while Spearbeak carried Leaper and they headed upriver to where the human's poison was seeping into the river.

"Have them drop the ropes on the barrel then wait in the trees," Leaper said, "You'll have to drop me on the barrel then go wait with them."

"I will help you," Spearbeak said.

"Can you tie knots?" Leaper asked, "There will be danger enough by the end."

"I will help you."

"Very well, but stay well clear of the poison."

The herons tried, but the ropes wouldn't stay on the barrel. Spearbeak had to hold them while Leaper peered at the way the thin fishing line was attached to the leaders forming the heron's harness. He had to tie eight knots. The fumes on the barrel made his skin burn, but he tied and checked each knot. He had a feeling that they would only get one chance at this.

Finally the knots were done, but Leaper's skin blistered and he was almost blind from the poison.

"Call the herons, don't let them any closer than they need to be to grasp the ropes." Leaper said in a rasping croak. He heard Spearbeak call to the other herons. He felt the heron's beak gently pick him up and put him in his saddle.

"We fly to the town. We can't stop or we might poison the whole lake."

"Then what?" Spearbeak asked as they lifted off.

"We give them back their poison. Even the humans must have someone wise enough to know what to do with it."

They flew and the moving air eased the burning in Leaper's skin. He could see the shadows of the herons flying. He could hear Spearbeak calling encouragement to his flock. The sun shone down warm on Leaper's back. Back at his pond he would be soaking in the warmth and eating flies. Maybe he would be talking to the new frogs, telling them tales of huge fish and herons and humans.

"We are here," Spearbeak said, "Where should we put it?"

"Find the circle," Leaper said, "It is the heart of their town. Leave it there."

He felt the herons slow and circle down until the barrel touched the ground. Then the herons that carried the ropes flew away. Leaper heard the humans shouting and wondered that he understood them.

"Those were great blue herons carrying that drum?"

"Careful, it's marked poison!"

"Is that a frog riding that heron?"

"Maybe its the Heronmaster!"

"Call the police, they'll know what to do with that poison."

"I'm thinking someone needs to check out that heron nesting grounds. It's near the old quarry, if someone's dumping there it could poison the whole lake."

"See," Leaper whispered, "Someone wise enough."

Spearbeak flew up and away from the town.

"I'll get you to some clean water and you'll be fine," Spearbeak said.

"Take my hat and my spear back to my pond," Leaper said.

Spearbeak said nothing for a long time.

"It will be done," she said finally.

They circled down and landed. Leaper could hear the other herons calling. Spearbeak called back.

"There is lots of marsh around the pond," Leaper said. "You can take your flock there until the poison is gone from your nesting grounds."

"I will tell Scratchlegs," Spearbeak said, "You are my Heronmaster, and I will stay with you."

"What is a Heronmaster?" Leaper asked.

"You are," Spearbeak said, "the human named you."

"Take me where I will not poison what comes after me." Leaper felt his hat and spear gently taken from him by heron beaks. He heard Spearbeak saying something to the herons, but he was using most of his concentration to hold on. He barely noticed the heron take off.

They flew for a while until Spearbeak glided into a gentle landing. She walked along the beach until Leaper could see Grandmother Turtle. He couldn't see anything else. It was as if she was more real than the rest of the world.

"Back so soon?" she asked.

"I've done what I needed to do Grandmother," Leaper said. "I've come to die where the poison in me will do no more harm."

"The poison is in both of us," Spearbeak said. Leaper thought of the heron patiently standing nest to him handing him ropes.

"We came to end our lives with you and each other."

"My children," Grandmother said, "Who said this was the end?"

And she laughed.

Hopper sat in the stump wondering when Leaper was going to come back and kick him out. The herons dropped out of the sky around him and he shrank back into the stump, but then he thought of Leaper and jumped out at them. All of the herons bent their heads to him,. Then one put Leaper's strange white and red head covering beside him, another placed Leaper's branch down. Hopper looked at the things and up at the heron.

Life was good.

"Six months. That's all you've got."

Brad paused with his beaker of beer half-way to his mouth. The speaker's shoulder-length, grey-streaked hair stood in stark contrast to his own military regulation, shorn cranium and cast shadows making his expression hard to read. The sound of the party drifted through the trees, laughter from the nearby campfire, the bright moonlight and the copious quantities of homebrew had created a mellow atmosphere.

"Are you an economist, too, Steve?" he asked mildly.

Steve smiled. "Economists have a hard time predicting the present. This is based on an observation of an old friend of mine. He's dead now, but for all the redefinition of the word "recession", it's been spot-on throughout my lifetime and, according to him, right back to the 1980s. The next crunch is in six months time and it could be the big one. Get your assets out of stocks and the banking system in five."
They continued their stroll around the periphery of the fire. "What do you suggest as an alternative?" asked Brad. "Gold?"

"Perhaps as a stop-gap measure, so long as it's physical and not vulnerable to seizure. It might even carry a premium if vaulted reserves are commandeered but I was thinking in terms of more useful materials. Copper for power, nickel and iron for batteries and magnets, that kind of thing. Your first priority, though, is to buy some land and get the permaculture started like we just did."

"With the exception of the beer," Brad raised his drink, "it seems a very spartan, boring diet."

"Boredom is a luxury for the living," Steve countered. "While your society limps along, you can spend the surplus on luxuries, imported food or cheap Chinese junk if you prefer; having a sustainable alternative just gives you a plan 'B'. None of us has taken out massive loans we don't expect to repay, we just hedged our bets."

Brad smiled. "Chinese junk isn't that cheap any more, old timer."

Steve snorted his assent. The twenty-year age gap between himself and the twenty-year-old couple sometimes led to this mild teasing. "Then buy whatever fleeting distractions you whipper snappers suckle on these days!" he countered without rancour.

"I intend to!" insisted Brad, "People have always predicted the end of the world and yet, here we are."

"I can't argue with that except to break it down by civilization. Every society had its doomsayers and they were wrong every single time; except the last one."

"And you think this might be the last one?" he inquired, sceptically.

Steve shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Personally, I'm amazed that it's lasted as long as it has but it's certainly given us a desperately needed breathing space," he looked directly into Brad's eyes. "so long as we don't squander it, yet again."

Their route had brought them to the edge of a grassy clearing. About to cross into the open, Brad was steered back into the tree line by a light pressure from Steve's hand. As they skirted the open area, Brad caught sight of two writhing bodies on the far side. They circled the clearing in silence and continued into the woods.

"Wasn't that..." Brad began.

"Who cares?" Steve interrupted.

"Does her husband know?"

"Possibly," Steve's reply was guarded. "That's between the two of them."

"He has a right to know," Brad insisted.

Steve stopped in his tracks. "Does his wife have a right to know, too?" he demanded.

"Yes, I suppose she does."

"Why the hesitation? With all your rules you are so keen on applying to everyone around you, doesn't the same rule apply to all?"

"Well, that's not really..."

"Any of your business?" Steve finished for him. "No, it's not. Not at all."

"What kind of society do you hippy anarchists think you are going to have here?" scoffed Brad. "There need to be rules or conventions at least."

"There is the golden rule," insisted Steve. "'So long as harm nothing, your decisions are yours to make.'
It's the only one we have and yet already you are on the verge of breaking it."

"But they are cheating on their partners! They are the ones causing harm!"

"No, they are making choices. Your desire to cause trouble is what triggers the harm."

Brad glanced back towards the firelight contemplatively. Reading his reaction, Steve reassured him.

"Jen's not likely to be taking advantage of the situation, here. She's as uptight as you are!"

"I've seen the way Coyote looks at her, right in front of me!" Brad exclaimed bitterly. "It's really insulting. I ought to..."

"It's not meant as an insult, it's meant to be honest. Coyote is an honourable man – he'd not go behind your back. Storm, on the other hand, is more sleazy and waits until a woman's partner is not around. Not that any of that matters. I'm pretty certain that while Jen might be flattered, the end result is the same."

"But if she did, would you tell me?"

"Of course not! That's between the two of you!"

They wandered out of the trees and onto the track running across the property, back to the highway in one direction, into the hills with their neighbors in the other. A row of empty cars led to a motley collection of old RVs and battered trailers parked around the turning circle. Some of the mobile homes were lit, another rocking rhythmically and obviously in use. Brad no longer felt free to discuss his relationship and cast around for another subject. He gestured towards the firelight glow higher up the mountain. "What are they like, your neighbors?"

"Total rednecks," Steve replied. "They just use it as a weekend retreat with no plan or foresight. Fun to party with, though, unlike the fundamentalists across the valley."

"They both sound like we might have more in common than your bunch back there," Brad observed.

Steve finished his drink and shook his head. "I doubt it. The hicks just assume everything is going to return to normal, as if humanity's preceding two million years were the anomaly, and you know religious groups better than that."

"What's wrong with religion?" demanded Brad, defensively.

"What's wrong is that everyone needs to behave exactly like them in order to be 'good' and therefore accepted. We accept anyone who allows others the same freedom they desire themselves. You might have to adapt but I think you'll find it easier to do so here and there are still a few plots left if you want to buy in."

"I thought you had already bought it. Isn't that why you threw this party?"

"It's held in trust through the foundation. We each bought in as a group and we get first crack at who gets to buy the rest for the next few months. We'd like to populate the entire block among ourselves before it opens to outsiders."

"The Walker foundation?" exclaimed Brad. "I work for the government. There's no law against it, of course, but the military takes a pretty dim view of them. Besides, they are a rip-off. You'd better make sure you really own what you think you own."

"Spoken straight out of Fox News," scoffed Steve. "The foundation employs legal loopholes to keep all its assets in a legal limbo. The land is not ours, nor is it the foundation's and it can withstand any legal attempt to confiscate it from either. It's actual ownership is safely hidden in the legal quagmire the wealthiest citizens created to protect their own assets. The government or the military couldn't find your name on anything no matter how hard they tried."

"The Walker foundation, though," Brad insisted. There's something sinister about it. Nobody even knows who's in charge now that Walker's dead."

Steve smiled, knowingly. "Yes," he agreed. "That is a mystery that, I'm sure, will keep the intelligence services busy chasing hierarchies for a long time to come."

Brad examined Steve's face quizzically as they followed the road towards the highway. "Do you know something?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "I know nothing more than anyone else but..." he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "after you've worked with the organization for a while, you get a feel for how it works."

"Then what can you offer me as reassurance?" Brad demanded.

"Nothing but my gut feeling," Steve insisted.

Brad shook his head. "I'll feel better making my own arrangements, thanks. I'd rather not trust anyone I don't have to."

"Do you think you can make it alone?" demanded Steve, incredulously.

"That's a strange question from an anarchist."

Steve sighed in exasperation. "Anarchy doesn't mean no rules, it means no ruler. We have our rules that we either accept or reject. We just let each other know in advance what rules we're playing by and then make sure we stick to them."

"But it just can't work," insisted Brad. "My father was in Somalia..."

"I know," interrupted Steve. "We talked about it at your wedding."

Brad was surprised. "You did? He never mentioned it."

Steve smiled. "I'm not surprised; he didn't like the conclusions. I pointed out what a rough neighborhood that place was in. Congo, Zimbabwe, Sierra Leone - all countries with endemic violence and strife. I asked how the locals felt, whether they wanted the old regime back. When he said they did not, I generalized the question to 'which is worse – bad government or no government'? He concurred."

"You're aiming to live like they did?" scoffed Brad.

"No. A decade ago, that might have been the only option but the foundation's research has left your private sector in the dust. Scaling down industrial processes for one thing, research into new materials for another. Whereas a corporation might have to do a million experiments to find a useful combination, we have a million people doing a single experiment and releasing the results, positive and negative, to all. The results speak for themselves."

"There's no way there are that many Walker-anarchists!" Brad protested.

"Probably more," insisted Steve. "but the foundation's philosophy appeals to many people. To us, anarchy is not a goal to be brought about. Having seen how close to the edge the rich are prepared to take us without compromise, it's an inevitable situation to prepare for."

"Are you prepared for someone trying to take it away from you?"

Steve looked at him sideways. "Why should they when they can produce their own? Look, let's suppose I have something you want and I'm not prepared to let you have it. I have nothing worth risking your life for. Even if you could take it and you kill me, there are others who don't want to be next in line so it makes more sense to deal honestly. Take a look around you. It's early days yet but it is working. For a word of advice: if you're going to set up your retreat, don't stock it with valuable, irreplaceable goods and make sure it's near people who care what happens to you."

Brad's sudden silence made Steve decide that Brad had already made such preparations and, in all probability, they did not fit with their own model. He kept silent; some people liked to keep their stash a secret. The overhanging trees cast shadows over the rutted track and they both focused on keeping their footing in the darkness. Brad paused to look back and assess their distance from the parked vehicles.

"I know you and Jen are close..." Brad hesitated.

This was a conversation that, for the past two years, they had avoided by unspoken, mutual agreement.
Steve squirmed internally. "Yes, we are. As unsuitable as I am, I'm her best friend as well as a non-threatening male she needed at the time."

"She told you?" Brad's hoarse whisper was barely audible.

"I didn't know either of you well, back then, but I knew something was wrong. I overheard her talking to Sam on the phone. Being her cousin, I suppose that was logical but for all her good points Sam is too butch to be good at female communication. I've probably spent more time in girl-talk over the years so what started as translation finally led me to take over."

"And she opened up to you?"

"Eventually. I asked the occasional question or made an observation but mainly I just listened. Sometimes she complained that I made her talk about it but I only let the conversation go where she let it."

"But I'm her husband!" spat Brad.

"You were deployed!" Steve snapped. "Besides, she needed you to be her husband and not her girlfriend. It's sad that I'm the best she could come up with but at least I was there."

"It helped," Brad admitted grudgingly. "It helped a lot."

Steve softened. "For what it's worth, Samantha made it quite clear that having sex with her cousin would be an instantly dumpable offense. There are lines she and I just don't cross." Silently he added, "although sometimes it feels like we just skipped over those bits."

"She sometimes jokes about my having 'the girlfriend, the mistress and the girl I spend too much time with'," Steve continued, "but she knows I wouldn't risk losing her."

"What about Kate?" asked Brad trying to disguise his suspicion. He had always been puzzled and a little resentful of their arrangement. Samantha was a big girl, as tough as any he'd come across in the army; a real Sigourney Weaver type. If it were just the two of them, he would have no doubt as to who wore the trousers, or carried the whip, in that relationship. Kate, on the other hand, was soft and feminine. A little overweight, not beautiful but bubbly and good hearted. He could imagine Samantha and Kate together with, perhaps, Steve, with his cultured mannerisms verging on effeminate, making the tea afterwards. Except that the only time he and Jenifer had shared space with them during a visit, neither had been interested in each other sexually. Their awkwardness at sharing the bed had showed him that they were not used to that situation. Apparently, their menstrual cycles were synchronized as they had spent a long while teasing Steve with complaints about feel fat, weird looking and ugly before collapsing into fits of giggles. Trust Steve to take the male dream and turn it into such a mundane reality – give him two girls and he becomes a third! Still, it did make him a little more comfortable with him around his wife.

"Kate was is a mutual friend, not a relative," Steve's response snapped Brad from his reverie. "Besides, that was Sam's idea."

"Really?"

"Yes. Kate was averse to getting into a relationship but getting to the level of frustration that leads to stupid decisions. Sam's exact words were 'for God's sake, Steve, will you help that poor girl!'"

Brad's eyes focused as he took this in and only Steve's pressure on his elbow reminded him that they had reached the narrow track leading back towards the fire. They turned into the avenue, blindly following the glow.

"Now you see why I love her so much?" asked Steve.

"One in a million," agreed Brad and stopped dead on the edge of the circle of firelight and his voice took on an edge of jealousy. "Will you look at that!"

The circle of home made seats around the fire was much as when they had left it, their occupants had changed or moved around slightly in the random motion of interactions but it was his wife who had caught his eye. And Storm sitting in rapt conversation showing unmistakable sexual interest.

"Yes, look closely at that," whispered Steve. "Particularly, Jen's face. You should know it well enough, so read the details."

Jen's shoulder-length blond hair was distinctive in the firelight in the chair next to Storm's straggly gray beard. She was smiling and paying attention to his advances but her glances around the perimeter indicated she was doing so awaiting their return. A leering comment elicited a brief flash of annoyance, quickly buried and another search. Against the bright firelight, the two of them were invisible in the shadows.

"Storm takes the scatter-gun approach of making a move on anything that moves in the hope that some day, someone will say 'yes'," Steve explained. "Jen, I suspect, is wondering whether it's worth tolerating him just to make it clear to you that she does not approve of you disappearing on her with who-knows-who."

"I'm just going to get another drink and ignore her," snapped Brad, petulantly.

Steve looked at the young man with disapproval. "That invites escalation. If you two insist on playing these games rather than being open with each other then you should defuse the situation."
Steve handed Brad his own cup. "Go to the beer table and get a drink for each of you, then hand hers over, give her a kiss and tell her what we were talking about."

A familiar, drunken roar of laughter drew Steve's attention to a small group standing upwind of the fire.

"Me, I think I'd better go and rescue Sam and Kate from our hick neighbor."

Big Jessie laughed again and asked "So how do you two get along?"

"We're both screwing the same guy," replied Samantha. "That gives us something in common."
The group laughed again and Kate peeled off at Steve's approach, welcoming him back with a kiss.

*******

On a cold, gray afternoon the following spring, Brad drove his jeep back into the turnaround. He was surprised and a little annoyed to find it deserted. They disembarked and stood in the mud and drizzle.

"I thought you said they were here," he accused Jen. "That was a lot of gasoline to waste on a wild goose chase."

"The last I heard, they were," she retorted. "I haven't been able to get in touch with them in months so you know as much about their whereabouts as I do."

She sniffed the air. "Someone's burning wood. Let's check out the clearing."

They walked back along the road until they came to the side-track. The overhanging branches had been cut back far enough to accommodate vehicles and the surface had been embedded with rocks to provide a firm surface. They followed the makeshift road around the twists and turns until it reached the familiar clearing where it grew into a hundred foot loop around the periphery. Parking spots were built onto the outside at regular intervals. Three were occupied with recreational vehicles, one of which was Steve's familiar one.

It had changed a little since they had last seen it. Pipes and cables led to a nearby array of solar panels and a rack of wide eight-foot high perspex cylinders filled with a green, bubbling liquid.

"I'll be right back," said Brad and moved to the treeline to urinate.

The door to the RV swung open and Samantha looked out, her hand on the AK-47 hanging on the wall. She relaxed when she recognized them.

"Hey!" she shouted to Brad. "Don't waste that! That's perfectly good nitrates and phosphates, come and add it to the tanks!"

Brad stopped mid-flow and sheepishly adjusted his clothing. He and Jen walked to the vehicle.

"Sorry we didn't let you know we were coming," Jen apologized as they climbed the step, "but we couldn't reach you by phone."

"You should have tried the web," Samantha chided. "there's no phone signal out here so once they outlawed web connections to the phone network, there was no point in keeping our number. Coffee or homebrew?"

The interior was a little musty but the tiny pellet stove in the corner gave a welcoming glow and heated the small space nicely. Jen sat themselves at the table. "Coffee, please," replied Brad and used the toilet in the rear, self consciously closing the door.

"We haven't been able to afford that for a while," Jen observed. Real or imagined, the slight hint of resentment in her voice left Samantha riled in the effortless way only family members can achieve.

"We do without a lot of things you probably take for granted; utilities, services, police protection."

"Do you have much trouble with that out here?" asked Brad, returning.

Samantha, scooping the coffee into the permanent filter, shook her head. "One or two overly curious types but there's always someone around to make sure they won't come back in a hurry."

"Maybe you should move back into town," retorted Jen.

"And hand what little we earn to some landlord and utility company?" snapped Samantha. "We're better off trading among ourselves out here." She pumped up the pressure on the stove aggressively and ignited the burner.

Brad shifted uncomfortably in the presence of a family squabble and cast about for a change of subject. He pointed to the stove. "Gasoline? Alcohol?" he asked.

"Butanol," Samantha corrected. "Distilled from the digested algae in the tanks. It needs sterile conditions and the right mix of nitrates and phosphates but the yield is good, if a little slow. We've been keeping several different strains and selecting the best one as they evolve."

Jen's aggravated growl indicated that she had taken the comment as a personal slight against her beliefs and Samantha found herself in a non-reconciliatory mood. "It works," she stated, flatly. "That's why you are paying ten dollars a gallon and we're running our vehicles on smoke, pee and sunlight."

Stepping in, Brad said "Closer to fifteen, even with the military discount."

Samantha thought referring to a compulsory price cap as a "discount" was stretching the definition but let the comment slide. "It's not going to improve. Better to get out while the getting's good."

Brad shook his head. "Best to stay close to the center," he said. "By going to the periphery, you're setting yourself up to be cut off."

Samantha smiled. "We prefer to think of it as being left alone."

"That's not going to last," said Brad, darkly. "Congress is beginning to bat around phrases like 'under-utilized national resources'. Its meaning depends on who's using it but this setup of yours would probably meet most definitions. You need to start building something permanent here."

"We can't. This is zoned as recreational land. We had to install the well and leech field secretly. Even the food plants had to be grown around the existing trees."

Brad was shocked. "Then what's the point of having this place?" he demanded. "I thought this was supposed to be your refuge!"

"In the event that they can't enforce that law, it will. In the meantime, we keep a low profile and make sure we're ready to make the transition as and when required."

The water boiled and Samantha began pouring it through the coffee. "How about you two? Do you have an exit strategy?"

Brad shook his head. "Don't need one. They'll always need the military."

"They'll need a military, not necessarily the one they have now. Simply from the economic point of view, they can't afford it. I've heard that the pentagon is pushing through a massive reorganization and dissolving most of the battalions."

"Yes, but they don't want anyone to leave."

"Can they stop you?"

Brad shrugged. "Not as such but anyone who quits gets instantly recalled as a reservist which means half-pay." He laughed at Samantha's shocked expression. "It's academic. I like the job security. In fact, I might sign up for one of the new Homeland Security detachments; I've already had the urban warfare training. You might want to consider signing up for a civilian role before they start drafting. There's a lot of demand for programmers on this new crystalline technology."

"I'm not surprised. That's anarchist technology to get around the corporate stranglehold on processing. There are few who have a flair for it and, by definition, aren't going to be prepared to work for the state. Besides, there's no link between our online personas and their official government id. They wouldn't know who to draft." She hesitated and stared mistrustfully at him.

Brad raised his hands in a reassuring gesture. "Don't worry, I won't give you away but I am curious. Is it really so different to ordinary computers?"

Samantha relaxed and produced a tablet from a cupboard over the table. She pulled the wooden frame apart and held the foot square crystal sideways on to demonstrate the stratified structure. "Completely different. For one thing, the power requirements are so small that this lower layer generates enough from the ambient heat. The next layer is processing, then the display and the top layer reacts to touch. The processing capabilities are so great that biometrics are a freebie."

Brad's brow furrowed. "I thought I heard that it was much slower than real computers."

"For linear stuff, it is, but it's massively parallel. The greatest challenge was preventing everything happening at once."

"Yes, I remember Steve working on that."

Samantha shook her head. "Steve's an engineer. He helped come up with the design to connect the transistors into logical processing units. Programming those units to do something useful is a different skill entirely."

"Your department?" asked Brad.

"Maybe," replied Samantha, pouring four cups of coffee.

"Perhaps you can explain to me what 'Legion' is," Brad continued. "I'm not asking if you were involved with it but I keep hearing people talk about it. Some kind of negotiation software?"

Brad's face contained nothing but curiosity. Samantha's judgment was that he knew nothing of the fact that she was one of its key architects and kept her face expressionless. "Not really, it's a way of having a conversation with everyone at once. It balances a variety of inputs, splits and rejoins threads. It can be useful to find a common policy or simply create a new form of mass communication.

Jen had been getting increasingly exasperated, as was often the case when her cousin and her husband bonded over technical discussions. She accepted the proffered drink in poor grace and picked up the extra cup. "I'll take Steve his drink," she said, looking for a reaction from the other two. Brad was oblivious, as usual, and Samantha indifferent.

"He's up at the workshop," said Samantha. "Head for the north side of the clearing but stay on the path. Don't wander off."

Jen took the drinks outside and kicked the door closed behind her with slightly more force than was necessary. The sun was setting behind the trees and there was plenty of light to see the well-defined path even without the LED lights marking the trail head. She climbed the hill spilling some of the drink as she stumbled over roots until she came to a clearing containing a well-lit wooden frame covered in nylon tarpaulins. She stuck her head around the flap. "Steve?" she enquired.

A four-wheeled chasis sat in the middle of the floor and Steve was tinkering with an engine set on a crude workbench running along one wall. He looked up from his work as she entered.

"Jenny!" he smiled, "I didn't know you were coming!"

She leaned into his embrace but turned her head off to one side. He gave her an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

"Brad's geeking out with Samantha," she said with a hint of resentment, handing him the coffee. Do you think there's something going on between those two?"

Steve smiled and shook his head. "No, she would have told me. She's very good about that."

Jen sat on a tree stump. "He just seems oblivious to me when she's around," she said. "The last time we were here he was wandering around in his underwear and then freaked out when I got back at him by getting changed under the covers instead of in the bathroom."

Steve was genuinely surprised. "I didn't notice."

"No, you two just stripped off oblivious!"

"You'd be the first of our friends to have never seen us naked. It's not a big deal."

"Not to you, perhaps."

"Poor Jenny," said Steve, not unkindly. "Trapped with a hippy mind in a repressed body or, perhaps, the other way around. You are going to have to let something go before you tear yourself apart."

It was a conversation they had had many times before over the phone. Jen smiled sadly. "I miss our talks," she said. "I miss my best friend."

He hugged her again. "I told you to set up a web connection. It's the only way to communicate out here and it's free of government interference."

"That's for pedophiles and spammers!" she spat.

Steve was irritated. "That's just propaganda," he insisted. "Even under the first version, networks like that were quickly isolated and reported. As for the spammers, they've ended up building the second version for us. They didn't know it, of course, they thought they could take it over like they did the first but ownership of their nodes was seized before they realized what was happening. It gave the rest of us a broader network than we ever had before."

He wiped his hands and produced a tablet similar to Samantha's. His fingers danced over the surface. "On the subject of which, touch here."

Jen stared at the screen. A simple confirmation message and a thumb-square was all that was visible.

"What is it?" she asked.

Steve winked. "Trust me," he said.

"No," she said.

He handed her the tablet. "Well, read it anyway," he said.

Holding the screen by its edge, she took the tablet and the message changed to an acceptance confirmation. She realized that the square was a decoy.

"What did you just do?" she demanded.

"Transferred ownership of one of my nodes over to you. Congratulations, you're connected."

Jen was apoplectic. "You have no right to do that! What if it gets traced? Brad could lose his job because of this!"

Steve was apologetic but adamant. "Relax, they can't be traced. Even without the encryption, every node is private property and requires a separate search warrant. Its contents don't even belong to its owner and information as to the exact ownership of an individual node simply doesn't even exist. They are in a legal limbo between private and collective property."

"The law can be changed!" insisted Jen.

"A fat lot of good that will do them," Steve reassured her. "It's physically impossible to trace them, let alone extract any useful information without being granted access. Keep silent and there's no way they will even know you have a connection."

"What if they trace the radio signal?" she protested.

"It's an ad-hoc network. You could be talking to any computer or peripheral in the house. If something else happens to pick it up and do something with it, that's not your fault." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Trust me on this, sweetheart. There's no way I would take risks with your safety. Think of it as a potential lifeline in case things get really bad."

Unable to refute his logic, Jen accepted the situation albeit with bad grace. "As an emergency resort, then. I'm not going to draw attention to it."

"That's your choice," Steve stated. "There's no need to be concerned, though."

Mollified, she nodded to the engine. "What were you working on?" she asked.

"A power cube. A miniature generator capable of burning pretty much any kind of hydrocarbon and switching between machines. And that," he pointed to the chassis, "is the beginning of our next generation RV."

"What's wrong with the old one?" asked Jen.

"Too many parts that can't be easily replaced. This one is going to be built from the ground up so we know how to repair it and keep it running. The only real security is to have complete control over the supply chain."

"Aren't you taking things a little far?" she challenged him.

"If I am, what's the downside?" he retorted.

Jen shrugged. "Does everyone around here do that?"

"Those of us who have the time," said Steve. "Once I've completed the design, the others can make use of it at their convenience."

"Like Katie?" she asked with a hint of jealousy.

Steve's mental gears ground at the conversation's new direction. "Jenny," he said, levelly. "You and I are not lovers, nor can we be. Katie has got a place saved here. She comes up whenever she can but while she's still got a job, she spends most of her time in town."

Jen flushed. "I don't want to join your little harem!"

Steve winked. "Your invitation would take a lot of negotiating! Everyone is involved by mutual consent. What you see," he gestured around the workshop, "is all I have. I'm not taking advantage of anyone, nor do I have anything to offer other than myself. Come on. Let's head back down before your paranoia gets too dramatic." He immediately detected the hurt look that flashed across her face and softened. "I'm sorry. I know you have your reasons to be mistrustful in general but you are perfectly safe here. I'm sure we can control ourselves."

"Speak for yourself," she responded.

A look of mortification flashed across her face, unable to believe she had said the words out loud. Steve pretended not to have noticed and held open the flap to the outside.

"Let's get back to the others," he said.

She brushed away his proffered hand and they walked back down to the RV in silence.

*******

The spotlight from the helicopter swept the neighborhood, stabbed through the closed drapes and briefly illuminated the naked bodies on the bed. Her head resting on Steve's chest, Jen squinted against the light.

"That's annoying!" complained Steve. "Does that happen a lot around here?"

"They're just looking for curfew breakers," mumbled Jen. "They could use infra-red but I think this is just for show."

Steve squeezed her shoulder. "No offense but it's going to be good to get away from 'civilization' again."

She looked up into his eyes. "Please don't go," she pleaded. "Brad's been posted to one of those temporary bases near a city, he can't tell me which one, and I hate being stuck here all alone."

Steve squirmed uncomfortably. "Has he mentioned you joining him?"

"He's been putting them off, supposedly while we sell the house, but they want all military families to move onto base."

"The word 'hostages' springs to mind," Steve commented wryly, "but it might be safer for you than out here."

Jen shook her head, sadly. "He couldn't say anything directly but he doesn't think so. If the army insist on buying the house from under us, he wants me to make for his refuge."

"I brought you all the fuel I could spare," said Steve. "It works fine in gasoline engines and it ought to be enough to get you three hundred miles or so if you drive carefully."

"That will be plenty. I just need to get to..."

Steve gently put his finger to her lips. "I don't need to know," he told her.

She smiled and took his finger into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. Steve took a deep breath and slowly withdrew the digit. "Don't tease an old man," he chided. "I'm taken, not dead."

She grinned, mischievously. "You needn't worry. I made a pact with God to save myself for my husband." She stiffened and a familiar black expression crossed her face. Steve moved his hand from her breast and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"From what you've told me," he said, "I'd say God didn't hold up his end of the bargain."

She shuddered. "There was a time when I'd have argued with you over that. Why didn't you just leave me as I was? Why did you make me change?"

She curled up on his arm. Steve stared at the ceiling. "Think about how miserable you were, back then," he said. "You have a libido as big as mine and an upbringing at odds with your nature – a recipe for total self-loathing. The more you repressed it the worse it is when it explodes, not to mention dangerous. You needed to come to terms with your own personality before it tore you apart. It always puzzled me that the creator of the Universe didn't have anything more to concern Himself with than who you are having sex with."

"So, according to you, it's alright for us to sleep together?" she asked with a trace of bitterness.

"Me? Hell no. Samantha laid down the law on that – we can fool around as much as we like but no penetration. The wrath of God might, for some obscure reason, lie in the afterlife but the wrath of Sam is waiting for me when I get home. Best to stick to the agreement. I doubt Brad would be so flexible but at least I can leave you with plausible deniability. You two need to sort it out between you before involving someone else."

"I don't think Brad would go for that."

"Then you might have to reassess your own position because one way or another, that's where it's going to end up."

"It's not that simple," she protested. "I do miss him you know. Not just male company but him specifically. I would have joined him at the military compound but he says it's too dangerous. Besides, he'd want the same deal and I'm not sure I could handle that. God, that sounds so hypocritical, doesn't it?"

"Very," Steve agreed. "You can choose your rules but they apply to everyone."

"How would you feel if Samantha had someone else?" she challenged him.

"She does. Or at least I think she does. She likes to know in advance but my preference is not to know."
"Storm?" she asked.

Steve snorted. "No, he tries but I doubt she'd go there; that's just bad taste. I was thinking Bob. I know they've had a thing in the past so I can imagine if he had not other prospects..."

"How about Kate?"

"She'd be perfectly entitled to but I really can't imagine her doing so," he replied. "She's happy with how things are but, in a general way, it's anomalous to her nature."

"So what makes you so special?" she retorted.

"The ability to cross gender boundaries," he replied, levelly. "It's not exactly flattering to be considered 'one of the girls' but I figure my ego's big enough to take it."

"The same moves you used on me?" she asked, not unkindly. "What happened to her?"

"You don't want to know."

Jenifer leaned up on her elbow. "I've opened up to you," she said. "More than I ever have done to anyone. Why won't you tell me?"

Steve sighed. "I got a phone call at three in the morning," he sighed. "I checked her backside for damage."

"Christ!" said Jenifer, deflating. "It's a dangerous world out there."

"It was for him," said Steve, grimly.

"The foundation got him?"

Steve shook his head. "This was before Walker-anarchists started sanctioning reprisals. Even before she joined us. No, this was an unknown assailant with a personal take on karma."

He regarded her evenly, waiting for the question that was obviously on her lips. She shook her head. "You're right. I don't want to know."

He swung his legs off the bed and started pulling on his clothes. "We need to get going. It's going to be light, soon."

"Curfew doesn't end for another couple of hours," Jenifer protested.

"It's too conspicuous on the open road at night but it's easier to get past the checkpoints this close to town. It's better if we leave just before dawn."

"I'm not leaving, not yet," Jenifer objected.

"What?" Steve exploded. "Have you any idea the risks I took getting you the fuel? Untaxed fuel in an unlicensed vehicle and an unpermitted driver? I'd have never lived to see the outside of a prison!"

"Brad told me to have it ready for when the time comes. That's not now."

Steve's body shook in exasperation. "How bad does it have to get? If not now, when?"

Jenifer's stubborn streak hardened. "I'm not going!" she said.

Steve glared at her. "Then good luck. I've taken all the chances I dare. From now on, you're on your own."

He left her in the bedroom and walked into the garage. His car, squat and home-made with an electric motor at each wheel, a fully charged battery bank and a power cube under the hood stood ready and unloaded. The bright yellow stripes stood out starkly against the scuffed, black bodywork indicating that the vehicle would explode rather than submit to robbery and that there were others who would avenge any attack. The protocol, now known to all on the road, had saved his life more times than the tough shell or any weapons he carried. He turned off the light, opened the door and pushed it into the driveway before re-securing the doors. The house was lifeless, no face appeared at the window to say goodbye. Angry, he drove silently into the night.

Once clear of the checkpoints, he fired up the generator to recharge the batteries and drive the motors directly. Despite the muffling, the noise was loud in the early morning on a road deserted other than a few refugees emerging from their night-time hiding places. As depressing as the sight was, he stared blankly ahead and tried to think of something else. Such was his distraction, he almost missed the ambush.

Just over the brow of a hill, he came across the burned out remains of several vehicles across the road. He slammed on his brakes and shifted into reverse but there was no sign of movement in the vegetation around the road. One car had been violently pushed out of the way leaving a route through, all indications of an ambush that had gone wrong. He shut down the power cube and in the silence heard gunshots over the brow of the next hill. He crawled forward, stopping in plain sight until he could see what was going on. In the dip in the road a vehicle, an official looking vehicle, was stopped in a pool of radiator fluid. Its occupant was crouched by the front wheel, his leg sticking out at an awkward angle, sheltering from a volley of fire armed only with a pistol. The leg of his federal uniform was stained with blood and a shotgun lay discarded at his feet.

Steve assessed the situation through his binoculars. Ideally, he would detour around the trouble but he could barely spare the fuel. On the other hand, this did not look like it was going to last very long and experience marauders knew better than to attack a marked vehicle such as his own. They would, almost certainly, focus on their prize rather than antagonize the foundation. He suddenly caught a clear view of the defender's face and cursed. He set his tablet on the dash, recording and streaming the events although he was unsure whether his foolhardy behavior would warrant any response should things go wrong. Switching on his lights, he drove slowly and purposefully towards the fray. The facial recognition software picked out half a dozen antagonists, masked but, should the need arise, recognizable. The shooting died away as he approached, stopping next to but slightly back from the stricken vehicle.

The silence stretched out as he regarded the group, their anger mixed with uncertainty. He picked up the remote detonator, a dead-mans switch in clearly recognizable black and yellow, depressed the button and stepped outside holding it aloft in plain sight.

Steve turned to the defender. "If you want to live, put down your gun, Bill."

The officer did so and the leader of the marauders handed his rifle to a compatriot and stepped forward, his empty hands spread wide.

"What the hell, dude?" he demanded. "He's not one of yours! Why are you trying to make trouble?"

"This isn't foundation business," Steve conceded, "just personal interest. I figure his vehicle's not going anywhere, you've already got that, so I figure it's down to him now. You don't want him here, he doesn't want to be here and I'm prepared to take him away. Seems to me, that saves a lot of trouble all around."

"You want him?"

"I'll take him." Steve looked towards Bill and twitched his head in the direction of his vehicle.

"We want to search him first!" demanded the marauder.

"Don't push it," snapped Steve.

Bill made a move towards the rear of his vehicle intending to retrieve some of the contents. Steve glared at him. "Don't you push it, either."

With Bill safely in his car, Steve reset the switch, climbed in next to him and slowly drove on. Bill stared at the orgy of looting back at his vehicle.

"Bastards!" he snapped.

"You got off lightly," responded Steve. "I didn't think you guys were patrolling this far out any more."

Bill leaned back in his seat. "You sleep with the wrong guy's wife and suddenly your boss decides a check is in order," he responded wearily. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"You've turned a blind eye to some of our activities in the past. I figured we owe you one."

Bill stared at Steve's face and recognition dawned. "I know you! You're with the group over by Beaver creek!"

Steve nodded. "We've always got along and I don't relish the thought of starting over with your replacement."

Bill laughed harshly. "I might be cutting my own throat here, but you've little to worry about on that score. Nobody cares what happens outside the towns any more and the cities have just become death traps. The official line is to leave you guys to it."

"That's reassuring," Steve observed, "so there's no reason not to make our camp more permanent?"

Bill shrugged. "Who's to say 'no'?"

They reached a side road and Steve slowed down. "There's a homeland security checkpoint about fify miles down that road. I could drop you off within walking distance, if you like."

Bill recoiled at the offer. "You might as well have left me back there as hand me over to those bastards!" he spat.

Steve was puzzled. "Aren't you both feds?" he asked.

Bill regarded him incredulously. "You really have been out of it, haven't you? There is no federal authority any more, everything's fallen in on itself. Sure we still get paid but that's just numbers on a computer, they're worthless. Nobody accepts them any more. Each town is pretty much a law unto itself. As for the HS, let's just say that the military-industrial complex has got simple. They've cut out the middle-man."

"Industrial?" asked Steve. "What's to make these days?"

"Food," stated Bill. "That's the only thing of value, these days and they are finding that nobody starves quietly. Genetic modification is taking up all the resources they have to get enough production out of the farmland within transportation distance. The biotech companies are the only ones to have come through this unscathed and they are at each others throats trying to put each other out of business."

"Out of business?" exclaimed Steve. "Haven't they moved on from that mindset yet?"

"They're on top of the heap, and want to keep it that way!" Bill explained cynically. "Once they improved the yields, they locked them into their own formula of fertilizer and started an arms race to sabotage the opposition and hijack their strains."

"What effect is that going to have on the heritage strains we use?" asked Steve.

Bill shrugged. "Nobody knows or cares. Not losing their residency permit is all that matters to them."

"They throw people out? That explains the constant flow of refugees."

"And now, I'm one of them," commented Bill.

"Any who make it out to our place, we give them a crystal tablet if they don't have one, starter pack of seeds and point them towards an unpopulated area," Steve explained. "If they make it, we have a new trading partner and if not then it's a small enough investment to write off. I figure we can do the same for you."

Bill shook his head. "No need, I'll be fine."

"How about your leg?" asked Steve. "Our doctor usually sticks to contraceptive stints in the vas but he's pretty good with bullet wounds."

"You have a doctor?"

Steve gave an embarrassed smile. "Actually, he used to be a plumber but he found the principal was the same. They do have a vet over at Greenwater if you prefer."

Bill examined the wound on his leg. "No, it's not deep. The bullet just grazed me but do you know the commune about twenty miles east of Greenwater?"

Steve nodded. "We trade with them all the time. Medical supplies, mostly. They find our distilled mistletoe abortificants as useful as the next lot but they're squeamish about producing their own. They're a good bunch but are you sure you would be welcome, there? I don't want to leave them with my problems."

"They owe me a big favor," said Bill. "My wife and daughter have been living there for months."

"Someone had a foot on both sides of the fence," observed Steve wryly.

Without chagrin, Bill replied "And when the fence went up, decided he'd be safer out here with you lot. It may not be pretty," he gestured towards a ragged group of refugees by the side of the road ahead, "but it's better than the alternative."

Bill stared sadly out of the window as they drove past. A woman with a child of no more than thirteen caught his eye. She grabbed the girl, pushed her forward and pulled down the front of her dress as the child struggled in terror. Bill screwed his eyes tightly shut. The gesture, the look of sheer desperation would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.

His voice shook as he asked, "How do you do it?"

For all his feigned indifference, tears welled in Steve's eyes too. "After you've done all you can, there's no alternative," he said. "You think you're hardened to it, but it never gets any easier."

The rest of the journey was silent and they drove into the commune in the late afternoon. The barricade was opened as they approached and they were both welcomed with little ceremony. Steve drove Bill to his encampment, a makeshift affair of lumber and tarpaulins, where his slim bedraggled wife burst into tears at his arrival and approached hysterics at his injury. His daughter, a dirty, ragged eight-year-old in a home-made dress, was sent for the medic.

"We'd better get some maggots on that to clean out the wound," he observed. "Let's get you to the medical tent."

Bill hesitated, looking distrustfully at Steve.

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve offered, "I'll sleep in the car tonight."

"I've had dealings with Steve before," the medic reassured him. "Your family will be perfectly safe with him."

"He's trustworthy?" asked Bill.

The medic hesitated. "Honorable," he opined.

Steve slept in the car that night, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding. There were sufficient relays between to communes to allow real-time communication and he told Samantha where he was and what he had learned.

"When are you coming home?" she complained.

"Tomorrow," he reassured her, "assuming I can scrounge enough butanol to make it in a single shot. Otherwise it might take a little longer. In the meantime, it sounds like we're on our own, now, so let's start moving on the defenses we talked about."

"The whole thing?" she asked.

"I don't see why not. Once they are in place, it will make it easier to set up the forge without worrying about giving away our presence."

Samantha nodded. "I'll let everyone know," she said. "Kate says 'hi'."

"Love to you both," said Steve. "See you soon."

After ascertaining that there were no complaints about his conduct, a formality, Steve was allowed to leave the next day. He received the fuel he needed in exchange for the promise to deliver several containers of phosphate compounds, used in the newly invented osmotic capacitors, north of his own settlement. It would involve an extra journey and refueling when he got there but it was a price worth paying.

It took most of the next day to drive home and half of the commune were at the bridge to greet his arrival. He was briefly flattered at the attention until he realized that it was not for his benefit. As he reached the far side and passed the watch towers, there was an explosion, the bridge collapsed into the creek. The group surged forward and began the long-planned process of assembling the drawbridge.

"Go and park up then give us a hand!" snapped Samantha. "Your vacation is over!"

The creek was wide and fast-flowing. A determined attacker could, perhaps, swim across but without the old bridge they were protected from vehicles. There were two drawbridges with a small island in between. The guard towers were on the far side and the island could be used by travelers, safe from the outside but no threat to within. Big Jessie came down from his territory with some of his group offering to help in the construction and was perplexed by the lack of enthusiasm with which it was received.

"I know we don't mix much," Jessie protested, "but we don't mind doing our share. It's for our defense too!"

Steve winced. By blind chance, he had stumbled directly onto the problem. He cast about for support but found everyone else had suddenly become very busy with their tasks.

"Not necessarily," he whispered and pulled the big man to one side.

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Jessie.

Steve hesitated. "You're our neighbors," he said soothingly. "We provided you with seeds, helped you get your crops established and even supported you with food while they matured."

"We know that and we appreciate it," Jessie replied. "So what's the problem?"

"We've also ignored some of your activities. Those forays outside by some of your boys, the ones where they return with more goods and less ammunition than they left with. We don't approve, we don't like it but we've let it slide up until now."

Jessie stiffened, "Now?" he asked.

Steve brought out his tablet, stroked the screen and handed it to Jessie. "Look familiar?"

The screen was cycling through a series of faces, usually staring down the barrel of a gun, complete with biometric information. They weren't even masked and were easily recognizable from Jessie's group.

"It was an accident, so they told me. They laid a mine in the road and he didn't stop when they tried to warn him."

"Of course he didn't stop!" snapped Steve, "Would you? They killed a Walker-anarchist! Whether it was through negligence or malice makes no difference – their faces are now marked."

Jessie looked around him, the tension was building and both groups were on edge, ready for trouble. His gaze returned to Steve. "What do you intend to do about it?" he asked with a hard edge to his voice.

Steves response was slow and deliberate, obviously much-considered. "You have put us in an uncomfortable situation. You are not one of us but we have treated you, by and large, as if you were. That, we can no longer afford to do. Strictly speaking, we should deal with it ourselves but then the survivors who weren't involved in the incident would have to fight back, there would be loss of life on both sides and everybody loses. Alternatively, we could just make their whereabouts known and let others take care of it, although we would be called on to meet our obligations and then the same situation arises. At the very least, if someone turned up at the gates regarding this issue, we'd have to let them in and offer any assistance they require. Even if we were willing, we cannot afford to side with you against the foundation."

"I it really an issue, though?" asked Jessie. "I figure they have bigger fish to fry and if they don't know where they are..."

Steve sighed. "You might last a while, there are more than a thousand individuals on the 'sanctioned' list, but six months ago, there were fifteen hundred and six months before that, nearly three thousand. The foundation was set up as an alternative society and it's coming into its own very quickly. If you could see some of the names on that list who have been dealt with, you'd realize just what low-hanging fruit you are."

To Steve's exasperation, Jessie's mind remained anchored to a single point. "Are you proposing to turn them in?" he demanded.

"Damnit, Jessie, I don't have to! Their raids have been logged, they have been identified and even a cursory glance makes it obvious that this commune is the center of their activities. The only question remaining is when they get around to it and what you are going to do, not us."

Jessie's mind raced. "How deep are we in? How does this work and what can we do about it?"

"They can't be found here," Steve insisted. "Cut them loose. We'll turn a blind eye if you feed them or supply them but do not shelter them. They're tough and this vicinity is pretty quiet, they can survive outside for a while but no more raids. Perhaps if things quiet down, it might be assumed that they have moved on."

Jessie's eyes lit up. "How long?" he asked.

Steve thought long and hard. "Okay, probably not," he admitted. "but, slim as it is, it's the only chance they've got."

That afternoon a small convoy of two vehicles left the commune. Its departure went unnoticed and unrecorded – all of the video pickups happened to be busy elsewhere at the time.

*******

"It's gone! It's all gone!" A combination of weak relay links and Jennifer's near-hysterics made her words almost unintelligible even over an audio-only connection.

"Calm down, love," said Steve soothingly. "What's gone? What's going on?"

"There was no food, the neighborhood was on fire so Brad sent me to the retreat. It's been cleaned out, all the stuff he set aside is gone and now it's getting dark and there were these people on the road and..."

"Okay, stop!" Steve interrupted her. "You drove out there in the car, yes? How hard is the ground? Did you leave tracks?"

"Yes I did. I don't know about the tracks! What do I do?"

"Can you make it over here?" asked Steve, without much hope. "Even part-way, I could meet you on the road."

"No, the fuel you gave me is almost gone and there's nowhere else to go."

Steve forced down the concern and tried to focus on a solution to the problem. "First tell me where you are, the map co-ordinates for preference."

She did not have them but gave detailed directions as to how to get there. Steve was appalled, the combination of isolation, easy access from the highway and a valuable stockpile of irreplaceable goods was tailor made for the kind of theft that had taken place. "What the hell was Brad thinking?" he exploded. "He should never have set that place up, let alone sent you there!"

"Please, Steve. I'm scared. Those people on the road, they might have followed me."

"Okay, here's what you do. Find some bushes, push the car into them and cover it. It's getting dark so make sure you push it, don't start the engine. Take your sleeping bag and hide yourself as far away from it as you can. Stay in the bag, it makes you harder to spot in infra-red, don't start a fire or draw attention to yourself in any way. I'll arrange with Sam to come and get you."

Her voice sounded far from reassured but grateful. "Thanks, Steve. Tell Sam I'm sorry for being such a pain."

"Listen," said Steve insistently. "If there is trouble, if you can't stay hidden and they capture you then you are going to have to keep your head. The deal is twenty thousand calories in food if you are unharmed. Otherwise, it's a toss-up whether the HS or the foundation gets to them first. Remember that, repeat it to yourself until you can recite it by rote. Now stay quiet and safe."

Steve terminated the connection and leaned back in his chair. Samantha glared at him from the doorway. "Are you going?" she demanded.

Steve was torn. "What's your opinion?" he asked.

"It's a dangerous journey. She's not an asset, she's pretty useless and that food is a big chunk of our winter surplus. She's going to take us all down with her."

Her logic was irrefutable, her anger obvious. "We might have to trade for food over the winter," Steve conceded, "but we would manage."

"You won't get much sympathy," insisted Samantha. "They've all had to turn their backs on family."

"Is that what you think we ought to do? Hang her out to dry? This isn't a family squabble any more, it's life and death."

Samantha stared into his eyes. "You'd go anyway, wouldn't you?"

Steve squirmed uncomfortably, his mind racing through the possibilities. It had to be his decision. Even if he stayed, if he left Jenifer to her fate, he might end up resenting Samantha.

"I'd rather not find out," he said.

"Go and get fueled up," she replied in resignation. "I'll bag up the food."

Steve hated driving at night. The image intensifier gave a restricted field of view and the black and yellow foundation markings, no guarantee of safety at the best of times, were less visible. He had tried rigging up a light to illuminate them but found the interference limited his view still further. Progress was slow on the circuitous, debris-filled roads around the town and it was almost dawn by the time he reached the turnoff. He bumped slowly along the dirt track and his heart sank as he approached a fire in the middle of the road, a ragged bearded figure squatting on the far side. He stopped the vehicle and turned on the headlights to illuminate the scene. He emerged carrying the sack of food in one hand and his crystal tablet in the other, stepped into the firelight and turned full circle with his arms outstretched to show he was unarmed. The figure nodded his approval.

"You've got the food?" he growled.

Steve threw the bag at his feet without saying a word. The man flicked open the top and gave the contents a cursory glance.

"It's not enough," he said.

"It's what was on offer," stated Steve.

"It's not enough," the man repeated.

"Do you think I can turn around and get more?" Steve challenged. "That's the offer. Take it."

"Or leave it?" he grinned evilly.

"No, that's not an option," insisted Steve. "You can come out ahead on this or you can go bust. Your call."

"The girl tells a lot of wild stories. The HS and the foundation fighting over her? We found her vehicle and she's not HS. Doesn't seem to be foundation, either."

"She's not," conceded Steve, "but I am. Harm her and you only have me to contend with. Harm me and then you've got the foundation on your tail."

"And they are involved how?" he challenged.

Steve held up his tablet for inspection. "That circle I did when I first got here? There are three people whose faces got logged, plus your own, none of which are currently sanctioned for foundation attention. You'd better make sure nothing happens to me before I tag them with 'all clear'."

The balance of power had shifted. He gestured to the bushes nearby and a figure emerged holding Jenifer by the arm. Her tear-stained face was terrified but she carried no bruises and her clothing was intact. Steve kept up the pressure as his tablet beeped.

"Four," he said. "The deal was 'unharmed'. If you broke that, you should have run while you had the chance."

"We never laid a finger, or anything else, on her," snapped the man. "We're hungry! That's all that's important to us right now."

Jenifer broke free and buried her face in Steve's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, tenderly. She nodded with muffled sobs.

"Did they..?" She shook her head.

"They threatened to but they didn't."

"Go and wait in the car," he told her. He glared at the still-seated figure.

"So, we've kept our part of the bargain," he insisted. "Do you intend to keep yours?"

"Of course," Steve held out the tablet. "Put your thumb here."

The figure shied away. "What for?" he demanded suspiciously.

"To terminate the contract. You don't try to take her back and that food is what I claimed it was. That way, we're both protected."

Reluctantly, he thumbed the agreement. "So the foundation has no beef with us, right?" he asked.

"You've made no friends but nobody is out to get you," Steve assured him.

"How about the HS?"

"That's a different story. You kidnapped one of their wives and he's going to come looking for her. If I were you, I'd make sure you are long gone by the time that happens."

The man looked sick. "Those pictures..." he said.

"...are for foundation use only. They don't get released. Nothing gets handed over the the HS."

The man rose from the ground and started kicking the fire out. He made a circling motion in the air with his hand, ignoring Steve completely. "Get everything together and move out," he shouted. His four companions emerged from their cover and gathered up their belongings. The man scooped up the sack and together they cut across the fields, away from the road.

Steve joined Jenifer in the car and turned back towards the highway. She stared ahead, immobile.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

She nodded, dumbly with an air of irritation which annoyed Steve. It wasn't that he expected gratitude but... Actually, he did expect gratitude but Jennie hated being beholden to anyone. It was an admirable trait, he reflected, so long as you had the self-reliance to back it up.

"I hope you've got some proof of Brad's status," he said.

"He gave me one of his cards," she said, "but I don't want to jeopardize his position by bringing him into any of this."

"What you want probably won't come into it," insisted Steve. "I used too much fuel getting out here so we're going to have to take a more direct route back. This close to town, there's a chance we could run into a patrol."

Jennifer gasped. "If I'm seen in a foundation vehicle, that's going to cause him real trouble!" she protested.

Steve looked at her sideways, slightly bemused. "You really don't know how things work, do you?" he said, pulling over to the side of the road. "Let me see the card."

She handed it to him and he examined it carefully. It was a standard military business card with the Homeland Security logo emblazoned boldly across the top and Brad's details below. After a few experimental twists, Steve set to work bending, scuffing and twisting it. Jennifer squealed and lunged towards him. She stopped short, shaking with rage, and stared at him.

"Would you care to explain?" she demanded as he handed the card back.

"What does it say now?" asked Steve, restarting the car.

"It's barely legible!" she protested. "What did you have to do that for?"

"I was hiding his rank," Steve explained. Jenifer examined the card once more. A deep scratch had neatly and apparently by accident, obscured that part of the card.

"Why?" asked Jennifer.

"We'll see," replied Steve dismissively. "Keep it close and if we do hit trouble, leave the talking to me and back up anything I say."

For a while, it looked like they might be lucky. They skirted the town with its burned out suburbs encountering no military or law enforcement, only a few downtrodden residents trudging towards the fields and trying desperately not to draw attention to themselves.

As the ruined urban sprawl turned into farmland, they picked up speed on the cleared roads and hope was beginning to dawn as the fields became less intensively cultivated and centralized civilization receded. His hopes were dashed as they crested a hill to find a barrier across the road, backed up with an armored car – its canon pointing directly at them. Steve kept his head and slowed down, pulling up alongside a car that was already there, its latino occupant desperately waving papers to a circle of gun-toting guards. A circle of guns instantly surrounded the vehicle, an incredulous sergeant staring into the window. There was a substantial amount of antagonism between the foundation and Homeland Security resulting in a stalemate. While not apparently deliberate, they avoided each other rather than press the issue. The HS organized no systematic action against the foundation and their staff appeared on no lists sanctioned for reprisals, although there were rumors that such entries were hidden as being in abeyance. Even Steve did not know the outcome of this foolhardy endeavor.

Keeping his voice even, he asked "Who's in charge, here?"

Still puzzled the sergeant claimed that position.

"Then perhaps your men have somewhere they should be?"

Warily, the sergeant nodded to the circle and they moved to the other vehicle where voices were being raised. "Your papers?" he demanded.

Steve glanced at Jenifer, who handed over the card. He stared at it, turned it over to check the back and then glanced incredulously at them. "That's all she has? How about you?"

Steve shook his long hair and asked "Do I look like I'm carrying papers? Some officer wants his wife taken 300 miles across the wasteland safely and without fuss. He didn't exactly give me travel orders. When our escort left us five miles back, they told us we were on our own. You boys aren't even supposed to be here."

The sergeant squinted at the card trying to make out the details. To Steve's right, the driver of the other vehicle was hit in the stomach with a rifle butt, his papers blew away in the wind and the soldiers began beating him. Steve concentrated on the task in hand.

"Why didn't he send the escort all the way?" he demanded.

"Would you volunteer?" asked Steve. "I didn't."

The sergeant snorted and stared into Steve's eyes. "I'll just have to check your story, make sure she is who she claims she is."

His gaze did not waver as he waited for Steve to make the next move. Steve reached down beside his seat and slowly withdrew his hand as the sergeant's hand hovered over his sidearm.

"The colonel said you might need official confirmation, in which case he told me to give you this."

He handed over a golden krugerand, an ounce of pure gold. It vanished into the sergeant's hand with the skill of a magician.

"Everything seems to be in order," the sergeant announced loudly, returning the card. It was a piece of overacting that was completely lost on his men who were engrossed in their activity. He gestured the guard who raised the barrier and allowed them through. Steve drove steadily, keeping an eye on the group and ready to gun the engine if the armored car's turret so much as twitched. They were ignored. The sergeant walked calmly over to the prone figure on the ground, pulled out his pistol and shot the driver through the head while his men began to ransack his vehicle.

Jenifer was pale and Steve gritted his teeth. Non-engagement or not, he still felt like a coward.

*******

With the borders secured, work began on setting up more permanent accommodation and the encampment slowly transformed into a small town. For defense, the houses remained together with their different territories radiating out to the creek or the cliff. Log cabins were by far the most popular despite a bottleneck in transparent polymer for the windows. Its manufacture was a byproduct of some of the plants they grew and, despite a year of stockpiling, it would be another two before they had enough. As a temporary measure, many of the vehicles were scrapped and their glass, along with many of their other parts, were scavenged into home construction.

Steve, Samantha and Kate kept their new RV, partly for transportation and trade but also as a private sleeping area. Unless they were particularly tired, the two girls alternated between the vehicle and the main bedroom. Jenifer spent most of her time in the RV but would occasionally join the main group for company.

Samantha spent much of her time working on communications and enhanced algorithms for the Web, Kate worked their crops and tended the animals while Steve researched new designs and built much of what the community needed. His pride and joy was the industrial facility.

While many of the processes were designed to be amenable to all with minimal specialized equipment, some still required high temperature and pressure. He built a forge, smelter, glassworks and bakery off to one side of the town center, making full use of the heat required for each. His design proved very popular among other communities as the word spread and, combined with Samantha's work, provided them with a very comfortable trade status.

As winter set in, the roads became treacherous and trade slowed, a notification interrupted their evening meal. It was Sue's evening to monitor the guard towers, a mainly automatic task that was mainly left to motion detectors and shape recognition algorithms, and she contacted them directly rather than raise the alarm.

Her face appeared on the screen as Steve accepted the call. "The HS are at the gate," she said, blankly.

There was an explosion of activity as Kate opened the gun cabinet and handed out the weapons. They were home-grown variants of the AK's simple design using separate propellant and projectiles. Most were low-speed hydrocarbon/steel combinations offering a good rate of fire but little penetration. Steve grabbed the sniper's hydrogen/shaped copper combination to keep the mix effective.

"How many?" he shouted across the room.

"Just the one," Sue replied. "He says we've got his wife."

All eyes turned to Jenifer, who blanched.

Brad was waiting on the island, the inner drawbridge was raised. Steve lowered the narrow footbridge and turned on the lights. Not the powerful searchlights but bright enough to illuminate the area. He gestured Samantha and Kate to remain and led Jenifer to the waiting figure. His uniform was crumpled and stained, his demeanor hard and his eyes dead. He ignored Steve and concentrated on Jenifer.

"I thought you'd be here," he said. "We found the scum that grabbed you and they told us a foundation vehicle had picked you up," a cold smile crossed his lips, "eventually."

He reached roughly for Jenifer. "She's coming with me, now. Come on." She darted behind Steve and put her hand on his shoulder.

"No!" she said. "I'm staying."

Steve stiffened and stood his ground.

"It's all over!" he snapped. "The HS are going to start pushing out, garrisoning your little communes and populating them from the towns. Your little hippy experiment is over, it's failed and you lost. Your only hope, now, is with me."

Jenifer looked back for reassurance but could see nothing in the darkness. She hugged Steve's arm. "Then I'll stay here. I'll stand, fight and die among people who care."

Brad's temper exploded. "Bitch!" he yelled, dragging her out from behind Steve. "Do you know what I've done for you? I set you up the retreat, I kept attention away from you! I even went AWOL to find you and you choose this man-whore over me?"

In a swift movement, he backhanded her across the face and reached for his pistol. Stunned by the sudden violence, Steve lunged for the weapon but too slowly and too late. A shot rang out, seemingly quieter than the sickening splat of bullet-in-flesh. Brad's body jerked backwards and he sprawled on the grass, his blood soaking into the mud. Steve turned to see Kate at the head of the bridge, her shaking hands holding the smoking rifle. Samantha crossed behind her and gently took the weapon from her unprotesting fingers. Jenifer stared at Brad's body in shock, her emotions broiling. His breath came in shallow, gurgling gasps, his eyes unfocussed and his limbs twitched. The silence following his death ratlle, stretched interminably.

Steve took a deep breath and turned to Samantha. "Take everyone back inside," he said reaching down and grabbing Brad's corpse by the collar. "I'll fire up the smelter."

He caught her puzzled expression. "I'll make sure there's nothing left," he explained.

Half an hour later, feeling that the smell of burning flesh would never leave his nostrils Steve returned to the cabin. The neighbors, wisely, had chosen to remain distant from the proceedings and he had been grateful for the solitude. Samantha was sitting alone at the table with her connection active.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Uploading the record of what Brad said."

Steve was appalled. "Was there any point in my trying to hide the evidence if you're just going to broadcast it?" he demanded.

Samantha smiled, pityingly. "My love," she said, "that's not how it works. I should know, I've been working on the foundation's Web since its inception. Nobody has access to those files."

Steve's brow furrowed. "They why upload them?"

"So that the Web can assess them and release conclusions. It balances Legion's inputs, among other things."

"But the Web is just data storage and communications," Steve protested. "What is there to process the files?"

Samantha shook her head. "Crystalography is not silicone. There's no difference between data and process. Think about how Legion works, don't you think it might keep former responses on file and apply them to new situations?"

"I suppose so," Steve conceded uncertainly.

"Now, can you say with certainty that you've ever uttered a sentence you haven't already heard before? Does that make your though process any less original?"

Steve considered for a while. "Are you saying the Web can think like a person?" he asked, finally.

"No, it thinks like the Web," said Samantha. "If there is going to be a war with Homeland Security, I want to make sure we're ready and the Web has already made contingency plans. Trust me."

Steve nodded and leaned against the wall in exhaustion. "I'll just take your word on that," he said. "Where are Kate and Jennie?"

Samantha nodded towards the bedroom. "Curled up in there. They're both in a state of shock right now."

Steve nodded and started to remove his coat. "I'll go and sleep in the RV, tonight."

Samantha put her hand on his arm. "I think they could both use the comfort," she said.

Steve looked into her eyes and saw nothing but tenderness and concern. "Go ahead," she said. "I'll join you later."

Bob wandered down to the marsh for a bite to eat. He followed the trail, not paying much attention to anything but the surface sounds of the forest. His antlers snapped off the few branches that stretched over the path far enough to tangle with them. Bob was at the top of his game. Folks told him he was an ugly, short tempered creature, but since he was a moose, that was a fair description. The cows liked him just fine; and it wouldn't be that long before before he started bringing in the cows.

"Hey, Bob," A squirrel ran out on a branch out in front of him. "Something off today."

"What?" Bob squinted at the squirrel, "I'm just heading down to grab a bite. It's safe enough."

"Telling you, something is wrong."

"Get out of my face." Bob swung his antlers and snapped off the branch just after the squirrel jumped away. He listened to her swearing at him as he ambled away. He did admire her repertoire of curses, even if they were directed at him.

He was the majestic moose; he gave the rack on his head a heft. A very fine majestic moose indeed. He could hardly wait for the ladies to be ready.

At the edge of the woods, Bob stopped and listened carefully and tested the wind. She might be a squirrel with a brain hardly bigger than the nuts she ate, but she was one of the forest's early warning systems. It didn't hurt to be a little extra careful; not that he would ever tell her that.

The air was quiet and he didn't hear anything but the usual twittering of birds. It seemed safe enough. He walked out into the clearing and squelched through the mud to the marsh. He was knee deep in the water when a duck paddled past.

"Hey," the duck said, "How's it going?"

"Mmmmph," Bob said through the succulent plants in his mouth.

"I wish I could stay here all winter," the duck said, "I don't like the idea of flying through the war zone. I lost one of my best friends last year."

"Tough," Bob said, and left it to the duck to decide if he was being rude or sympathetic. The duck quacked and flew off. Bob guessed that he had decided on rude. It just meant that Bob could eat in peace before the sun came all the way up and made it too warm.

He gorged himself on the tender plants of the marsh. This was his favourite time of the year. He was carrying a full rack. He felt strong and sexy and soon the ladies would be coming and begging him for what only he could give them. It was also as safe as the forest ever got. Nobody wanted to mess with a bull moose....

Bob's head came up and he tested the wind. Maybe it was just thinking about the ladies but he was sure he'd got a whiff of a cow feeling at the edge of horny. It was early, but it wasn't impossible. What better way to finish his breakfast than with some great sex?

Bob followed the scent deeper into the swamp. It got stronger and he knew he was right. He thought about what he was going to do to this lovely lady. He heard her grunting. It was true, she was as horny as he was. He was sure she was just around the bend. Oh boy, was he ready to do his part!

That was when he heard the rattle of some other moose's antlers in the trees. Immediately he went from horny to enraged. No punk interloper was going to snatch this moment from him. He bellowed and ran forward. Water, plants and mud flew away from him. Bob was the most powerful inhabitant of the woods and no one, not even another bull moose could go head to head with him.

He splashed into a clearing and looked around for his rival. He felt a sharp pain but pushed it aside. Nothing mattered but getting to that horny cow before anyone else. Another pain spiked through him and he stumbled for a moment. He tried to get his feet under him, but they wouldn't cooperate. He fell and the weight of his antlers pulled his head under water. He needed to breathe, but he just didn't have the strength.

The last thing he felt was something cold and sharp on his throat.

*****

Nick munched on a mouse that had been too slow to react to his approach. The world was a dangerous place. A dog eat dog kind of place, or more accurately, a wolf eat mouse kind of place. Nick grinned and looked around for any other slow creatures. He wasn't really hungry, but he would also take what he could get. This area seemed to be too quiet now. All the meal sized creatures knew that he was around.

Nick walked along the path taking in the smells of the forest. There was the underlying scent of the earth which was a richer and deeper smell than the scent of the rotting remains of some owl or hawk's meal that lay under the browning ferns to Nick's right. It was too far gone for Nick, at least when he wasn't really hungry. There was some water to the left, but Nick knew that there was an easier access ahead and always a chance of a slow or stupid creature that could become his next meal.

He got to the watering spot. He smelled the musky scent of a cow moose, but he didn't let it concern him much. He wasn't any threat to the moose and no moose would bother him. He was lapping up water when he felt the immense weight of a moose land on his tail.

"What did you do with Bob?"

"Bob?" Nick said while he tried to decide if his tail was broken.

"Bull moose, really cute rack, bit dense but very good at what needs to be done at mating time. "

"What would I have to do with a bull moose? I'm not crazy."

"He's missing."

"Like I said, what's that got to do with me?"

"You've got a nose and an attitude, you find him or find out what happened to him."

"Why would I do that?"

She leaned a bit on his tail and a whine leaked out between his teeth.

"Cause if you don't I, and all my lady friends, will come stomp you into the mud."

"You bitch," Nick tried to twist around far enough to get his teeth into the moose. He wondered if his tail was going to come right off.

"I'm a moose," She leaned a little more, "The bitches are your kind. You find out what happened to Bob or you're a mud puddle."

"How do I find you if I learn what's happened?"

"Like I said, you're the one with the nose." The cow lifted her hoof from Nick's tail. "You want me, ask for Irma." She walked off through the woods leaving Nick's tail aching. He tried wagging it and pain shot up his back.

"Stupid cow," Nick said and holding his tail carefully he went back to the den to talk to the pack. He smelled several small animals and even saw a squirrel run in front of him; but he was afraid to hunt and maybe bump his tail. The sun was at its height. Normally he'd be lying by the den soaking up the heat, maybe they'd be planning a hunt for the night, maybe even moose. Nick occupied himself with fantasies of dragging Irma to the ground and tasting her hot, rich blood flowing between his teeth.

The only other wolf at the den was Jen, a young bitch who just flipped an ear at him when he came out of the bracken.

"Where's the Alpha?"

"Sleeping," she said, "like any sensible wolf."

"Hmmph," Nick said and tried to find a way to lie down that didn't send spikes of agony through his tail.

"What are you doing?" Jen asked.

"My tail hurts," Nick said, then yelped when he bumped against a tree.

"What happened?"

"Some cow moose named Irma stepped on it."

"A moose stepped on your tail?" Jen snorted. Nick could see that she was trying to keep her laughter quiet, but her whole body was shaking. She lost the battle and howled while she rolled helplessly down the sandy bank. Nick tried to pounce on her, but his tail kept bumping into trees or the bank and he'd yelp. Every time he yelped she'd howl louder.

"What is all this ruckus?" The Alpha crawled out of the den. Jen and Nick immediately crouched respectfully, Nick couldn't help a small whimper as his tail twinged.

"Nick's tail's hurt," Jen said and Nick could see that she was almost howling again.

"A moose stepped on it," he said, resenting the need to explain something so humiliating to the Alpha.

"A moose stepped on your tail?" the Alpha said, "Were you sleeping with your tail on the path?" There was something strange happening to the lead wolf, suddenly howls of laughter erupted from him. He was joined by Jen. The other wolves joined in the laughter as they heard the story.

Nick buried his nose under his paws and tried not to whine like a puppy. Then he felt a cold nose nuzzling at him.

"Get up Nick," the Alpha said, "you'd better tell us the whole story." Nick looked up at him. He could see the Alpha's jaw still dropped in amusement, but there was something else in the old wolf's eyes. That helped him get up. Just as he did he felt sharp teeth in his tail. They gave a hard pull and he felt something snap in his tail. He let out a long howl of agony and the rest of the pack joined him. He felt the connection he always did with the pack. The howl went from agony to something like laughter as he realized the pain in his tail was all but gone.

The pack stopped howling and they sat looking at him expectantly.

"I was getting a drink at the creek where the sundown trail crosses it. I scented a cow moose, but I wasn't hungry so I didn't pay it much mind. Next thing the crazy cow had her big hoof planted on my tail and wouldn't let up. She figured I killed her friend, a bull named Bob. I told her that even I didn't mess with bulls around this time. She just crushed my tail harder and told me that I'd better find out what happened to him or she'd find me and stomp me into mud."

The other wolves were growling.

"Prey animals don't tell us what to do."

"We should just go hunt her down."

The Alpha let it continue for a while then stood up. Instantly the pack was silent.

"How many of you have hunted moose in the fall? Adult moose, not barely grown calves." The pack was silent. "Yes, we could probably take her down, but it wouldn't be easy. She'd kill at least one of us, maybe more. What if she has friends who help her? Are you willing to attack a herd of moose?" No one said anything.

"So, what do we do?" Nick asked finally.

"I'm thinking you'd better go look for Bob," the Alpha said. Nick opened his mouth to argue, but the Alpha continued; "For the good of the pack, Nick."

"For the good of the pack," Nick said.

"In the winter, Nick, the snow is deep and everything changes, for now we keep the cows happy," the Alpha's jaw dropped in humour again, "and off our tails."

Nick ducked his head at the Alpha then headed toward the swamp.

"Where you going?" Jen asked as she fell into step with him.

"The swamp."

"What for? It's the wrong time of day for frogs."

"I'm thinking like a moose."

"Ha ha, right," Jen said, "So what does a moose think about?"

"Food," Nick said, "and their food is in the swamp right now."

Jen went quiet as they followed the trail to the swamp. The sweetish smell of poplar gave way to the sharp scent of spruce and cedar. The ground was damp and covered with moss and needles instead of grass. Nick smelled the rancid water and knew they were close. He sat and breathed in the other smells that surrounded him. A rabbit was holed up somewhere to his right. An owl left droppings over on the other side of the path, probably the rabbit's kin. He could scent the strong musk of moose from early in the morning, and squirrel.

"Wait here a minute." Nick moved up the path to where the squirrel scent got fresher.

"@#*$%&*_+_**&^%#@#$%^&*" a chattering squirrel sat in a branch well above Nick's reach and hurled abuse at him.

"Hey squirrel," he said, but was interrupted by another stream of cursing. He sat under the tree and waited. The little red creature kept up the invective and tossed a pine cone at him as well.

"Look," Nick said, "I can't reach you. I just want to ask you a question. Answer it and I won't hunt you today."

"Liar," the squirrel said, "Liar, liar, liar, no one listens to squirrel until it's too late. Then blame the squirrel for not warning. I told him it wasn't right. He didn't listen. Why would you listen?"

"Who didn't listen?"

"Stupid moose, thinks he's bigger than everyone."

"Well, he pretty much is bigger than everyone."

"Still, didn't listen to squirrel, now he's gone. Horny cows bellow and stand on tails. We know, we watch, we watch. Everything that happens we squirrels see." The squirrel chittered laughter at him.

"What wasn't right?"

"Don't know, the morning was angry. The time was wrong. What do I know? Wolf not hunt?"

"I won't hunt you today," Nick said. He walked on toward the swamp. Behind him he heard the squirrel chattering, then a squeak and silence. Jen came up to him.

"Some squirrel ran out on the path and stung its tongue out at me."

"I promised it that I wouldn't hunt squirrel for the day if it answered my questions."

"I didn't promise," Jen said. Nick shrugged his shoulders then put his nose to the muddy ground. The scent of moose was still there. He followed it to the water's edge. As he expected the scent went straight into the water. It was too old for the scent to linger much over the water. He wasn't sure what to do next.

"Ask the duck," Jen said.

"What?" Nick looked at her and she grinned.

"I've never eaten duck."

"What will you do if I have to talk to a moose?" Jen just panted then licked her chops. Nick laughed "At least wait until I've finished talking with him."

He walked up to the edge of the water and called out to the duck.

"Hey duck!" the duck glanced over at him and quacked, but didn't get any closer to them. "Go back in the woods for a moment, Jen." Nick said, "I think your drooling is making him nervous.

Jen huffed, but she went back into the forest.

Nick hopped on a small tuft of grass and balance precariously while he looked for the next place to move that would bring him closer to the duck without making him look like he was hunting it.

"I hate this time of year," the duck said when Nick got closer. "I'm going to have to fly through the war zone soon."

"War zone?"

"It's terrible," the duck shook himself and turned upside down in the water. Nick waited for its head to reappear. "Terrible," the duck said through the weeds in his beak. "I lost a friend last year."

"That's tough," Nick said.

"That's what that moose said this morning," the duck said, "I couldn't decide if he was being sympathetic or rude."

"He's a moose."

"Yeah, and you're a wolf, even if a strange one."

"Which way did he go?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm going to hunt him down and eat him." Nick said and let his tongue hang out.

"Fine then, either way there will be one less nuisance in the world." The duck turned upside down in the water again then said when he came up; "He wandered off that way." The duck went head down again as Nick started to retrace his steps to shore. Jen came running out of the woods at full speed. She launched herself out over the water at the duck still bobbing upside down in the water. It righted itself just before she landed and took off with a squawk.

Nick made it back to shore and shook the muddy water from his fur. Jen dragged herself out of the water. The mud plastered her fur to her body. It was so thick that even shaking as hard as she could didn't dislodge it.

"You're going to have to find some clean water and wash it off." Nick said as he tried not to laugh.

"I didn't think a duck could move that fast."

"It's lucky that you can't really fly."

"I almost got it."

"Right," Nick snorted.

Jen spat a couple of feathers from her mouth. ??"There's some clean water this way," she said, "then we'll find some more animals for you to talk to." She squelched off through the mud. Nick followed her. It seemed as good a direction as any.

They walked along the edge of the marsh. Jen stopped to shake every so often, but the mud clung to her fur like burrs. It started to stink as it got drier and thicker. Nick could make out the spruce and cedar around them, but the combined smell of Jen and the swamp was drowning out other more subtle scents.

He could hear the quacking of ducks, maybe including the one that Jen tried to catch. Jays called out to each other that wolves were on the prowl. The sun was sliding into the forest and leaving them in blue dusk. There were brief stirrings as the small creatures of the woods poked their heads out into the evening and froze as the scent of wolf emerged from the punk of swamp.

Jen finally found a clean enough pond with a bit of sand to walk into it. The moon had risen on the other side of the swamp and put white edges on the reeds and trees. As soon and Jen immersed herself the smell of the putrid mud receded and Nick could make out some of the other messages carried by the wind.

"Wait here," Nick said, "I'm going to take a wander and smell out what's what."

"I'm not getting out of this water until I smell like a wolf again," Jen said.

"Stay in there long enough and you'll smell like a frog," Nick said, but she didn't reply. She was trying to shake under water.

Nick padded further along the shore. There was a faint scent that teased at him. It smelled like death. It got stronger as he went. Maybe he would find Bob and everything would go back to the way it should be. It wasn't Bob. The smell was coming from a beaver that was swollen and ripe with being dead. It had been dead at least a few days before Bob vanished, so it wasn't part of the mystery.

He went on a little further and picked up another scent under the death smell. He dropped his jaw and laughed to himself. This was the explanation for Bob's disappearance. Irma wasn't going to like it, but that was life as a cow. Maybe he should go on and see for himself, but at that moment he heard Jen give a brief call so he turned and bounded away. He'd be able to find them tomorrow.

"Damn Jeb! That was a wolf. I almost had a shot at him too. You must have moved and scared him away."

"Alright, but tomorrow we're getting that wolf."

"Quiet, Jen," Nick cocked his head and listened hard.

"Can we go now?" Jen said, "I'm cold and I still smell like the swamp."

"Well, I guess that's why we don't hunt duck," Nick said. "I thought I heard something odd, but it's gone now."

The two wolves loped back to the den.

"You should have seen it," Nick told the pack as they lay around the den, "I thought she was going to just fly away like a bird."

"I almost had it," Jen said, "I had feathers in my mouth."

"Can't eat feathers," the Alpha said. He sat by the entrance to the den. His mate, Nick's mother lay by his side. Jen's mothers lay beside her mate at the each of the clearing.

"Time to hunt?" asked Nick.

"Time to hunt," the Alpha said, "but stay clear of the moose, we don't want any more tails being stood on."

The eight wolves vanished into the dark night. Nick made sure that Jen wasn't following him. He wanted some time away from the swamp smell. He headed upslope and scented the breeze. The moose would be in the valleys where there would be open meadows and young poplars. That was good mouse hunting and even rabbit, but the thought of moose made his tail ache and the Alpha had said to stay away. There'd be mice where he was heading and maybe more.

He threaded through the trees following a line that was more a suggestion than a path. The trees thinned and moonlight shone through yellowing leaves to leave confusing shadows on the ground. There could be a mouse standing in shadow beside a light area and Nick wouldn't be able to see it. That was fine. He wasn't hunting by sight.

Nick took in the rich scents that were carried on the cool night breeze. The was the underlying scent of the soil which was a mix of death and life. The trees had their own particular scent and the flowers too. He could smell overripe berries and the black bear that was gorging on them. He adjusted his track to avoid the bear. Smaller predators were out; fox and bobcat, weasel and skunk. He heard a tiny death squeak as an owl snatched a mouse from the forest floor.

Nick sifted through the layers of the air and found a scent that make him drool. Rabbit. He stood and let the air flow past him and he build up a picture of where his prey was hiding, no not hiding, eating. It was eating the leaves of the wintergreen that covered the forest floor in places.

He crept slowly forward until he could actually see the rabbit moving in small hops across the wintergreen. Nick wrinkled his nose at the wintergreen smell, but he could almost taste the rabbit. One of the random hops brought it close enough to Nick that he could pounce. In an instant he was on the rabbit and ready to tear out its throat.

"Wait!" the rabbit said, "I can tell you something."

"What kind of something?" Nick growled. He kept his paw firmly on he rabbit. He could feel the rapid beat of its heart and smell its fear.

"You're the wolf that's looking for the moose."

Nick just growled in response.

"He was seen chasing after a cow moose that wasn't there."

"Even a bull moose isn't that dense."

"There was a scent, but no cow, a call, but no bull. My year's mate's brother's cousin's last year's mate's litter eldest saw it."

"And what do you expect for this information?"

"My children are abroad tonight. Don't hunt them."

"And you?"

"I am prey rightfully caught, just be quick."

Nick thought about what the rabbit had told him as he crunched its bones. How could there be the scent of a cow without a cow? It didn't make sense. Of course rabbit, while tasty, were on the small side. There must be a simple explanation. Tomorrow he would talk to the moose and then it would be her problem. He licked the last of the blood off his lips then headed back to the den.

He woke before the sun and loped toward the grassy meadow where he was most likely to find Irma. The early morning air was cool and damp. Scent didn't travel far in the still air, but sounds seemed to come from great distances. It felt like he could hear everything that was happening in the whole world.

"Jen," Nick stopped and sat on the path, "You might as well come out now."She stepped out out the brush and shook the damp off her fur.

"I though you might want company," she said, "in case they tried to step on you again."

Nick just nodded and headed on down the path."Don't try to eat the moose," he said over his shoulder.

The reached the meadow just as the twilight of early morning was lifting. Nick didn't see any moose, but he didn't really expect to. Those creatures were about as paranoid as one could get and still go out to eat. They were prey, even though they were very large prey.

"I have a message for Irma," he called into the still air.

"I'm hungry," Jen said, "I didn't get much more than a mouse last night."

"Should be plenty of mice here, just don't go too far."

There must have been plenty of mice because soon Jen was hopping and crouching and occasionally there would be a small squeak and some crunching.

"What do you want?" a young cow moose came out into the meadow. "Why is she eating all the mice?"

"She's hungry," Nick shrugged, "and mice are easier to catch than moose."

The moose took a couple of steps back from Nick. Jen looked up and grinned at her with a mouse tail dangling from her jaws.

"Just tell Irma that I want to talk to her." Nick said, "We'll wait here." He pounced on a mouse that ran between him and the young moose. The moose ran off into the woods. Nick could hear her crashing through the brush long after he'd caught his second and even third mouse.

"Good hunting," Jen said after they each had caught at least two paws of mice.

"Keep hunting, but stay close," Nick said, "a big moose is coming this way. To his surprise it wasn't Irma that stepped out of the woods, but a bull. The spread of his antlers was wider than Nick was long. Used properly they were deadly weapons, and this bull walked like he knew exactly how to use them.

"Are you the wolf that's looking for Bob?"

"Me?" Nick said and tossed a mouse into the air before swallowing it. "Why would I be looking for Bob?"

"Because some fat cow stood on your tail and told you too."

Nick nodded, "Yeah, that would be a good reason. What's your interest in Bob?"

"Let him stay lost."

"I do that, Irma and her friend trample me into the mud."

"If he shows up," the bull said, "I'll trample you into mud." He tossed his antlers. "I should crush you right now and be done with it."

"You want Bob out of the way so you can grab his harem, right?" Nick said, "Don't the cows want to be impressed at your masculine prowess?"

"There's younger bulls I can crush."

"But Bob is too much for you is he?"

The bull snorted and lowered his antlers. Nick crouched ready to dodge the charge he was sure was coming. Then a streak of fur came out of the grass under the bull and Jen fastened her teeth on the bull's masculine prowess. Nick heard a higher squeak than he'd imagined possible come from the bull and it twisted and danced trying to either crush the wolf or throw her off.

"Stand still," Nick said, "Or she'll bite it right off, then where will you be with the ladies?"

The bull stopped and stood absolutely still. Nick could see the whites of his eyes. He could also see that the fear was turning rapidly to rage.

"Drop him, Jen." Nick said, "I suggest you leave quickly and quietly," he said to the bull, "I have no interest in a fight to the death here," He bared his teeth and growled, "but just say the word and we'll go." He heard Jen growling off to the side. He could smell the blood dripping off the moose and drooled at the thought of eating moose. The bull walked off, just a little stiffly. He stopped at the edge of the trees.

"This isn't over wolf!" He shouted, then vanished into the trees.

"It's never over until you're rotting or digesting," Nick said.

"What a disgusting thought," Irma said as she stepped out of the woods.

Jen looked up an Irma and grinned.

"Don't even think about it," Irma said. She looked back at Nick. "What have you learned? It isn't that I don't enjoy watching Ted humiliated, but you need to stay focused."

"Ted," Nick stopped and glanced back where Ted had vanished, but without the crashing of a bull moose walking through the woods. He raised his voice a bit. "Ted was quite interested in me not finding Bob. It seems he doesn't think he's bull enough to take on Bob." There was a sudden crashing and trees swayed and fell.

"I don't think it's smart of you to be pissing off Ted," Irma commented.

"I think it will be a while before Ted is thinking about pissing," Jen said and let her tongue dangle. It gave her a charmingly insane look, Nick thought.

"Well, as long as you figure out what is going on with Bob before Ted kills you."

"Bob is chasing after a cow in full rut," Nick said, "I could smell her myself."Irma peered down her nose at Nick.

"I find that highly unlikely," she said.

"You aren't just a bit jealous are you?" Nick said, "Some other cow is getting him first?"

Irma glared at him.

"I would know, we all would. It is early not just by days but by a moon. It would be....abnormal."

"I smelled it myself," Nick insisted, but he remembered what the rabbit had told him. "Unless there is a way for there to be cow scent and no cow."

"It is too early for that too, and even Bob wouldn't be such a fool." Irma turned and left.

"They scared all the mice away."

"I think you ate them all, Jen."

"I almost got to eat moose." Jen looked at him and laughed. "I got a taste anyway." She bounded away and Nick loped after her.

They spent the rest of the day dozing in the sun at the den. Nick's mind kept running over Irma's reaction to the rabbit claim that there was a cow but no cow. It looked like she knew what it meant. She probably knew about the bull thing too. Either way, he told himself, it was no longer his problem. His life, and his tail was safe from the cow moose, though probably not from Ted the bull.

When Nick woke the sun was behind the trees and the sandy bank was cooling. His tail hardly hurt at all. It was wonderful not having the threat of Irma's big hooves hanging over him. Bob had just run off after some other cow and Irma was jealous. He never realized the love life of moose was so complicated. Fortunately the only thing he needed to worry about now was catching more mice or another rabbit.

The wolves split up again to hunt, Nick headed uphill. He had no wish to tangle with either Ted or Irma and the idea of smelling swamp didn't appeal to him. Maybe he would find one of the rabbit's relatives. Once again he followed the scents of the night and walked through the boundary between the spruce and poplars. The moon lay down confusing shadows, but his nose and his ears gave him a sharp picture of the forest. Tonight the forest was quiet. Even the mice weren't moving much and he didn't smell any trace of rabbit that was fresh.

Even so, Nick wandered most of the night. The moon went down and he heard the disconsolate hooting of an owl that was faring no better than he was. Finally he returned hungry and grumpy and threw himself on the sandy bank. It wasn't that he couldn't deal with being hungry, but it was fall, he shouldn't have to be hungry. Maybe he should have gone down to where the moose were and hunted the mice in the meadow.

He closed his eyes and sent himself to sleep, better that than ruminating about his failure. He was awakened by the warmth of the sun on the bank. The other wolves were flopped down and enjoying the last of the season's warmth. It wouldn't be many moons before they were huddled for warmth in the stuffy den. Jen would somehow manage to grab the warmest spot.

"Did Jen go out again already?" Nick asked.

"mmph," The Alpha lifted his head and looked about. "Must have. I didn't see her come in. Go find her." He put his head down on the bank and closed his eyes, but Nick knew he was waiting for Nick to go out in search of his pack mate.

Nick sighed and put his nose to the ground and followed Jen's trail. It meandered through the forest like a bumble bee's flight. She started going uphill, but on a different angle to Nick. He wondered why the old rotten stump had held her attention for long enough for her to lie down to watch it. From there she went back downhill toward the meadow where they had talked to Ted and Irma. Nick hoped that she hadn't tried to get another taste of moose. His jaw dropped in a grin at the thought. Who knew that moose could squeak like mice? Her path finally took her to the meadow where it wandered all over. He didn't think she had much luck. They probably ate too many mice when they were there earlier.

From the meadow she wandered away down hill toward the swamp. There were only a few places that it was easy to move from the forest to the swamp. The underbrush was thick even for a wolf. Jen's trail brought Nick out to where she had tried to catch a duck with that flying leap. It wandered about as if she were trying to find where the duck nested. It was probably sleeping safe in some tiny tuft of weeds in the middle of the swamp.

Her path started to follow the edge of the swamp toward that rank beaver. He hoped she wasn't eating that, her breath would stink for days if she had. Then under the stink of the beaver he detected another scent, two really. One was a whiff of fresh meat, the other was making his hackles rise even though it wasn't familiar.

He forced his way back into the brush and followed the trail from where he couldn't be seen. It was slower going here, as he needed to weave over and under and around trees and stumps and fallen branches. Both the scents were getting stronger and it was easy to follow them. He reached the spot where the beaver had been and saw that something had dragged it into the water where it could float away. Where the beaver had been was a large bone with bits of meat still on it. Moose meat, Nick could tell from where he was. That other smell was strongest here too.

Jen's scent went right up to the bone as Nick would have expected it to, but then it changed. He could smell blood and fear. Her trail led into the trees just ahead of where he was. He crouched and forced himself to go on. He didn't need to go very far before he found her, or at least what was left of her; something had cut off her head and paws and stripped her of her skin.

Fear and grief and rage poured out of him in a long howl. He heard a duck taking off, then a sharp bang, almost like thunder, but not as deep. There was a last despairing quack, then a splash. He didn't stop to look, but took off running the other way. There was something very wrong and he figured the moose knew more than they were telling. It was time to let them know that wolves could be dangerous too.

"Did you hear that?" Jeb peered around them in the boat as if whatever had howled would come flying out of the trees to attack them.

"I told you. It's just a dumb animal. It's already forgotten that bitch. Wolves are just cold blooded killing machines."

Nick ran through the woods on a line that was as straight as Jen's had meandered. He arrived he ignored all the scents and sounds of the forest. The sun had gone behind some clouds and the air was cool. He arrived at the meadow and put his nose to the ground. He had followed Jen's trail, now he was looking for an older one.

Ted's was easy, the bull moose had come straight to them, then run straight away. He had stood in the trees at the edge of the clearing and listened to them talk with Irma. There were branches and even trees broken where the moose had taken his rage out on the undergrowth. He had headed off deeper into the woods afterwards, his tremendous antlers doing surprisingly little damage. Nick didn't think the bull could help him, so he went back to the meadow and put his nose to work again.

Irma's trail wasn't as clear as the bull's. There was no blood trail, she had been to the meadow several times and Nick tracked her around many loops before he found the freshest trail. She was a canny old cow and very clearly didn't trust Nick. He grinned, she was going to learn just how right she was.

He followed the trail away from the meadow. She didn't stay on the same trail for long, but switched from one to another. Her direction stayed about the same though. She was headed toward a series of clearings that were the result of a fire from before even the Alpha's time. The wolves traveled through them in the winter season threading through black burn trunks and white snow drifts.

Now, in the early fall, they were filled with tall grass and young poplars. Nick could smell where Irma and other cows had been eating the tops of the tender trees. He found a bedding place, but it wasn't one of Irma's. The cow moose's trail meandered through the long narrow meadow. She stayed to the fringes, occasionally crossing from one side to the other.

Her scent was getting fresher. Nick was moving much faster than she had. She was probably bedded down for the warm part of the day. Like the wolves, the moose liked the dusk and twilight to move. The sun was dropping rapidly and she would be on the move again soon. He wanted to catch her before then.

He loped faster as the scent grew stronger until he came to a spot where her scent seemed diffused over a large area. He was close to where she was resting. Since her nose was almost as good as his, he didn't have much time to find her.

The grass here was tall, high enough for the moose to lie down and be almost invisible. Trails through the meadow crossed and re-crossed. Nick circled and sifted the layers of scent. She had walked around before bedding down, but she hadn't left yet. He wouldn't miss a trail that fresh.

He was so focused that he almost stepped on the mouse. It squeaked at him and he snapped it up and swallowed without thinking. He heard Irma's weight shift as she lifted her head. She knew something was wrong, but now he knew exactly where she was. He bounded through the last screen of grass and landed in a crouch in front of her nose.

"Don't get up," Nick said, "It's time we had another little talk." He bared his teeth and grinned at the cow moose. It would take her a few seconds to get to her feet. Time in which he could do serious damage.

Irma looked at Nick with what he guessed was loathing.

"I should never have involved you."

"No," Nick snarled at her and the loathing shifted to something else. "You should have left me out of it and my pack mate would be alive. You knew all along what happened to Bob, and now you are going to tell me."

"No," Irma's breathing quickened, "I didn't know, really. I thought you wolves had done something to him. Then, it was safer for you to look for answers than me."

"Safer!" Nick snarled so close to Irma's face that she could only see him out of one eye. "Tell me about the scent of cows without a cow, or a bull with no bull."

"We don't talk about it," Irma was practically panting now, "It's bad luck to talk about them."

"It's going to be very bad luck to not tell me," Nick said, "You had information and didn't tell me. It's time."

"We call them the Lost Ones," Irma said, "I don' know where they come from, but they stink of danger. Every year they come to areas around here and they try to lure the bulls with the scent of cows that don't exist. We hear calls from bulls that aren't there. Bulls, cows, even calves go missing or die in front of us. I had a calf just fall over and die right in front of me one year. He was just a year old."

"Tell me more about these Lost Ones."

"They aren't like us," Irma shuddered, "They move on two legs and carry branches around. They look weak, they're deaf and nose blind, but they can see like a hawk, and they don't need to touch you to kill you. It's something to do with those branches they carry. If they point one at you, you're dead. And they kill everything. Birds, squirrels, rabbits, moose, even wolves and bears."

"If they are so dangerous, why haven't I heard about them?"

"You're young, and you've spent most of your life in this forest. For some reason it's protected from the Lost Ones."

"Why not stay here all the time then?"

"There are too many of us for the forest to support. The trees are taking over the meadows and we need the meadows to eat. Out there there are broad tracks of land that have been ravaged, but they have young trees to eat. We wander back and forth, sometimes the season catches us in the wrong place and we die."

"The season?"

"The death season, when the Lost Ones come and kill us and leave our bones in the woods. The scavengers grow fat. The wolf packs out there follow the Lost Ones and wait for death to strike so they can eat."

"You said that it wasn't the right season."

"It isn't, I'd know. It's when we are ready for the bulls. That isn't for a moon yet."

"So something is wrong?"

"More wrong, there is just something not right about the lost ones."

"What else can you tell me?"

"Well," Irma shuddered more, "they have these horrible claws at their waists. They use them to cut animals into pieces. I watched them cut up my dear little bull."

"If I find you haven't told me everything, I'll be back." Nick bared his teeth again, "I may come back anyway. Where ever you go, I'll find you." He bounded off into the grass and headed for the den. He needed to talk to the Alpha.

The sun had gone down and Nick was running through the dark night. He reached the den before the other wolves left for the night hunt. The way that they turned and looked at him told him that they had waited for him. Ears and tails dropped as they saw that Nick was alone.

When Nick tried to tell them about Jen what came out was a howl of pain, grief and anger. The others joined him in the howl. They didn't know the details yet, but the loss was shared in their song. The moon shone down on the pack and their howls seemed to echo off its face and spin in new harmonies across the world.

Irma heard the howl and shuddered in the grass nest where she still laid. Ted thrashed at the trees in rage as the howl roiled through the secluded glen where he had gone to heal his wounds and salvage his dignity. Small creatures all through the forest froze in place and waited for the awful sound to cease.

"Listen to that," Jeb said, "I'm sure glad that we're out on this island."

The three men stretched and spat into the fire. Jeb tried to hide his nervousness at the howling of the wolves that seemed to go on forever. Dan leaned his loaded gun against a tree outside the tent. Soon the camp was quiet except for the snapping of the fire and the howling of the wolves.

The moon had sunk into the trees before the howl ended. Nick told the pack about finding Jen's remains. He told them about his conversation with Irma about the Lost Ones.

"You will not hunt the Lost Ones," the Alpha said, "If we kill them, others will come with traps and poisons to hunt us. They kill without thought, but they don't allow others to hunt them.

"An Alpha led his pack in a land far warmth-ward of us here. The land was fat with animals that were slow and content. The Lost Ones had divided their land into small meadows with wire that kept their creatures docile but didn't slow the movement of wolves. They hunted the small cousins of the moose, but they took shelter in the midst of the Lost One's slow creatures. The wolves decided that if they couldn't hunt their rightful prey, they would hunt what presented itself.

"The big slow creatures almost lay down and died in from of them. The wolves grew sleek and content. Then one of them was caught by a cruel jaw. None of them could free their pack mate. When they returned in the night the jaws were there, but their pack mate was gone. Death rained from the trees above them, and only a few escaped.

"The few that were left hid in the deepest woods they could find and licked their wounds. One went out to find food for his pack and brought back some meat. The wolves died, one by one in agony, their back broken by the Lost One's revenge. Only one survived to return cold-ward with a dire warning. 'Stay far from the Lost Ones'"

Nick crouched before the Alpha and whined.

"Is there nothing to be done?" he asked, "It is wrong that they can kill without retribution."

"They cannot know that we are here," the Alpha said, "For the good of the pack."

"For the good of the pack," Nick said.

"For the good of the pack," the rest of the pack echoed.

Nick told them how Jen had followed him and how she had taken on the bull moose and made him squeak like a mouse. The pack laughed and others told their own stories of Jen and her life on the edge of madness. None of them hunted that night, but they shared and grieved their loss until the sun started to rise. They huddled together and drew comfort from the warmth of the pack.

Nick left the den in the morning and wandered aimlessly through the woods. He didn't have anything to do. He wasn't hungry. He missed Jen. He found himself down at the swamp near where Jen died. The rancid scent of the swamp rolled over him and made him miss her even more. Then another scent caught his attention. It was the scent that was all around the spot where Jen lay. Without thinking he bounded into the woods. He felt a burning pain across his flank and heard a bang like a small clap of thunder.

Once in the cover of the forest he turned and looked, and snarled at the Lost Ones. They were standing on some kind of small island. One was waving a stick and yelling at the other two. The island rocked and Nick thought, hoped, that it would tip and they would be swallowed up by the swamp.

It wasn't to be. They made the one waving the stick sit down, then used other sticks to move their island away. For some reason that Nick didn't fully understand, he followed them on the shore. He kept carefully in the shade, and peered at them through the trees. The Lost Ones, left the swamp and entered the lake. Nick followed to the edge of the water and watched them move to a small island a short run's distance from the shore.

He lay there through the day watching the island. The wound on his back annoyed him, but he'd got worse wrestling with Jen. The Lost Ones stayed there through the day. In the evening the small island carried them back toward the shore. The island stopped in the middle of the swamp and the Lost Ones held their sticks and looked toward the shore. Nick backed away from the shore and ran toward the moose's meadow. He couldn't hunt the Lost Ones, but he could warn the moose about where the Lost Ones were hunting.

He reached the first meadow where he and Jen had caught mice while waiting for Irma. Remembering that made his heart race. He could smell moose near by, but he ignored it while he let the memory run through his mind. A shadow rushed him from the shadows of the forest and bowled him over.

Nick rolled and dodged as massive hooves thundered around him. He was seconds from being dead, but his nose identified Ted as his attacker. The bull was doing his best to turn Nick into a mud puddle in the meadow. Nick remembered how Jen dealt with the bull. He launched himself straight up into Ted's belly.

Feeling Nick's teeth in his belly seemed to drive the bull mad. He spun madly and tried to dig Nick away with his antlers. The combination of spin and antler finally tossed Nick into the deep grass. Nick could taste Ted on his tongue. The big bull was hardly scratched, but Nick didn't care. His fury was burning in his gut. Instead of running away like any sane wolf would when faced with an enraged bull moose, Nick scrambled to his feet and launched himself at the moose.

The sweep of antlers just missed Nick and he sunk his teeth into the bull's neck. Once again he was thrown off without doing any serious damage to the big animal. Ted came after him and Nick had to dodge the huge hooves and vicious antlers. Nick's anger moved to a new level. The rage flowed white hot and made him something different than he had ever experienced. He didn't care whether he lived or died, but this prey animal that dared attack him was going to breathe his last before the night was done.

There were no more direct attacks. Now Nick jumped in and pulled back. Sometimes his teeth drew blood, and others he danced away without any damage done. Ted spun and stomped at the wolf. When he tried to catch Nick with his antlers, Nick drew blood from Ted's nose. In spite of Nick's killing fury the animals were almost evenly matched. Ted was unable to catch the wolf, but the wolf wasn't doing any real damage.

Nick had no idea how long they were fighting before Ted slipped. The bull spun too hard to try to catch the wolf and for a second he went to his knees. Nick was on the moose, not at the animal's throat, but to tear at the moose's hind leg. He wasn't able to completely hamstring the big animal, but for the first time he did significant damage. The moose had to favour its back leg and it was just a little slower to move.

That was the beginning of the end. Nick scored another attack at the same leg and almost tore out the entire tendon and Ted only had three legs. Now the moose was trying to escape, but Nick was there blocking every attempt to run. The moose fell again and Nick tore out the other hamstring. The moose could no longer stand. Nick crouched in front of the big bull.

Ted dipped his head to Nick. Even if Nick walked away now, the moose was doomed.

"I was raised on stories that it wasn't possible for a single wolf to bring down a bull in his prime," Ted spoke between gasps of pain. "The stories were wrong."

Nick nodded his head in his turn. The rage had dissipated and left him empty. He had won an impossible battle, but he no longer cared. Jen was gone.

"I came to warn you," Nick said, "the Lost Ones are hunting down by the swamp."

Ted just nodded and dropped his head to the ground as if the spread of antlers was too heavy for him to lift.

"Don't leave it unfinished," Ted said and lifted his head. Nick launched himself at the moose and tore out his throat. It was so fast that he didn't get any of the blood on him. Ted sighed and fell over on his side. Nick howled again. He sent his rage and grief and triumph into the night.

The other wolves came to the sound of his howl. They gathered around and joined in. When the howl ended they feasted. The entire pack ate until they were ready to burst.

"I would never have believed it," the Alpha said, "What made you decide to kill a moose?"

"He started it," Nick said. The other wolves laughed

"Stupid moose," the Alpha said, "tasty, but stupid."

They lay about the partially eaten moose for the rest of the night and into the day.

"I would have thought Jen would be the one to go after a moose," one of the other wolves said.

"She did," Nick said, "She showed me the way." He got up and wandered off into the woods. Jen had gone after a moose indeed, and she had done it for his sake. He wasn't finished with this. He loped through the woods to the meadow where he had talked to Irma. She wasn't there, but he put his nose to the ground and started on her trail. It led him back toward the place where he had battled Ted to the death.

Halfway there the scent trail led off in a different direction. He followed it to where Irma stood knee deep in water and ate water weeds.

"Have you come to hunt me too?" Irma said.

"No," Nick said, "I came to warn you that the Lost Ones are hunting the swamp by the lake. I don't want them taking anyone else from our forest."

"So what do you plan to do about it, are you going to kill them too?"

"The Alpha has forbidden me that hunt."

"So then," Irma said, "I will avoid the swamp until the Lost Ones are gone." She went back to her eating. Nick headed back to the lake shore. He lay in the bush watching the island.

He saw the small floating island with the Lost Ones float back to the island. The clouds were coming up and the wind was splashing water over the Lost Ones in their island. Waves were developing whitecaps and the temperature was plummeting. He watched them carry things to the island and he wondered if they were leaving, but night fell with the small island still there.

Nick lay there until late at night. The wolves would be sleeping in the den, or still eating the moose. He walked down to the beach and down into the water. He swam the distance to the island. It was a short run, but a long swim, but he made it to the island. He didn't step onto the shore yet. The Alpha had said that the Lost Ones were not to know that the wolves were there. Of course they did already since they killed and mutilated Jen, but the Alpha's words were not to be ignored.

Nick walked carefully around the island until he found some rock that led from the water up onto the island. Irma had said that they were nose blind. He followed the rock up to where he could see their strange dens. He could hear regular breathing from inside the dens. The Lost Ones were sleeping.

Nick padded carefully through the clearing. He smelled the entry to each den. In front of one was an odd looking stick. It had a stink that put his hackles up. His flank ached briefly in sympathy. This was one of the Lost Ones killing sticks. Nick picked it up carefully, half expecting it to turn on him and strike him dead.

The stick was heavy and cold. Nick carried it to the water and swam out as far as he could manage before he dropped in. He returned to the dens, but didn't find any more of the sticks. He walked around to where the little island was attached to the larger one. He could smell more of the sticks along with moose meat.

Everything but the odd little dens was stuffed into the Lost Ones' small island. It was attached to a large tree by a heavy vine. His teeth weren't good at cutting, but he gnawed through the foul tasting vine. The small island drifted and bobbed on the waves, but they pushed it onto the shore as much as anything else. Nick took the vine in his mouth again and swam away from the shore pulling the small island after him. As soon as he cleared the shore the wind snatched the small island from him and whisked it away.

Nick swam toward shore. He was cold and exhausted. He dragged himself onto the shore and shook the water out of his fur. He ran toward the den and his pack without looking back.

Through the night the weather got worse. Rain fell from the cold, grey clouds. Just before morning it turned to snow. When the three men crawled shivering from their tents, the fire was out and the ashes soaked.

The snow kept falling until all trace of the men was covered in white.

Act 1

Hotel room 205. The room is dark within, a door opens and light spills in from the hall. There is a bathroom (which is lighted seperately on stage) near the door, a bed and a small desk with a chair on the far side of the stage. Three young men enter, a small man carrying a bag (Jason), a tall and muscular man carrying a bag and dragging a cooler behind him (Joe), and a third very average looking young man with a bag of his own (Bobby).

Bobby
Well, this is the room.
(flips on a light switch)

Jason
(looking around the room)
Yes, this should do nicely.

(Jason plops down onto his back on the bed, face staring up at the ceiling.)

Jason
My God, Joe; how long has it been?

Joe
Almost two years.

Jason
Too long, my friend; too long.

Joe
Beers?

Jason
(Sitting up)
Please.

Bobby
Sure.

(Joe gets three beers out of the cooler and hands them out)

Joe
Did you get someone to cover your shift or did you just call off?

Bobby
Gary’s covering for me.

Joe
That dude always works.

Bobby
Yeah, he said he needed the money anyway.

Joe
You didn’t tell him what you were doing, did you?

Jason
I sure as fuck hope not.

Bobby
(laughing)
Why the hell would I do that?

Joe
I don’t know, man. I was just making sure.

Bobby
Well no, I didn’t tell him what I’m doing, who I’m with, or where I am.

Jason
Did he ask?

Bobby
He did.

Joe
What’d you tell him?

Bobby
I made some shit up about a family reunion out of state.

Joe
(nodding)
Nice.

Bobby
Your trust in my competence warms my heart, Joe.

Joe
You can’t be too careful.

Bobby
Seriously though, the place ain’t the same without you guys.

Jason
I’d imagine not.

Joe
I couldn’t stand working there.

Bobby
Yeah, it can be a drag.

Joe
Besides that, we’ve done all we set out to do.

Bobby
How so?

Jason
Meeting you fulfilled our purpose.

(brief silence)

Joe
I tell you about the buck I shot last week?

Bobby
No, where did you hunt?

Joe
Out behind my Uncle’s place.

Bobby
How big was he?

Joe
It was a good size.

Jason
It wasn’t that big.

Bobby
You went too? I didn’t know you hunted.

Jason
I don’t. I like to watch. Anyway, it doesn’t matter; the deer Joe shot would not be considered large by any stretch of the imagination.

Joe
It put up a hell of a fight, though. The damn thing must’ve been mad. I was crouched down behind some bushes, overlooking a little meadow. It had just got there when I stood up and shot it. But Instead of taking off running away it turned and came barreling right at me. Man, the fear in its eyes… Fear and anger. That thing was pissed the fuck off. I managed to dodge out of the way, of course; and it just kept on running. Thing damn near hit me, man. Eventually I caught up to it, laying on its side, breathing its final few breaths.

Bobby
Damn.

Joe
The fucker was still looking at me with that same intensity though, that same mad rage. Man, it was a rush! The ground was shaking when it was running at me… I never seen nothing like that before. (pause) I made some jerky out of it, froze the rest.

Bobby
Bring any?

Joe
Nope.

Bobby
That was kind of a shitty story, Joe.

Jason
You know what’s great about deer? No one calls the cops when you kill one. They can scream and kick and struggle and ultimately perish before dozens of witnesses; and yet the killer who was plainly seen by all around not only gets away with it, but is congratulated. Hell he can carry the corpse over his shoulders and he’s showered with high fives and accolades.

Joe
Kill a person though…

Jason
Exactly. That’s why I like dear.

Bobby
You get in trouble if you make jerky out of people too, I bet.

(Jason and Joe laugh)

Joe
I bet you’re right.

(brief silence)

Bobby
You said you guys have done this how many times before?

Joe
Six.

Bobby
So what? Does that make you serial killers?

Jason
Technically speaking, yes; but there are so many negative connotations that come along with the word and I don’t think it accurately describes what we do.

Joe
That’s right, we’re making the world a better place. One scumbag at a time.

Jason
Listen, Robert; I know I’ve asked you plenty of times already but I feel that I need to ask you once more. Are you absolutely certain that you can do this? Because once it’s done, my friend; there is no undoing. It will forever change you and there can be no going back.

Bobby
I know. I’ve been picking up on what you’ve been saying, Jason. Every time you’ve said it, as a matter of fact. You’ve told me this a half dozen times and as I’ve told you before; yes, I am ready and willing and committed to doing this. We’ve picked the right person, someone useless to society who has no one to miss him.

Jason
Understand that this is the last chance you will have to back out. Once he’s here, it’s a done deal and we will finish what we have set out to do.

Bobby
Damn it, Jason; I’m not backing out! For the last fucking time, I’m in!

Jason
Alright. That’s all I needed to hear.

(momentary silence)

Joe
I’m pretty psyched, myself.

Jason
I don’t know what’s better, the anticipation or that cold feeling you get in the aftermath.

Joe
During.

Jason
During?

Joe
During is the best part. Shit, I don’t know, I can’t come up with words the way you do, Jason. Like in the middle of it. When it’s happening, you know? Thought goes right out the window and you have to rely on your instincts, the way man was intended to live.

Jason
It is all rather primal isn’t it?

Bobby
If it’s half as great as you two make it sound, it’ll be worth it.

Joe
It’s worth it.

Jason
It’ll change you, Robert; elevate you to a new level. You’ll feel power like you’ve never felt before. You’ll be a new man.

Bobby
I guess I’ll find out tonight.

Joe
Yes, you will.

Jason
Tell us more about who you picked. What was his name? Michael?

Bobby
Mikey, yeah. He fits every requirement you gave. He has no family. His parents died when he was young and he was raised by his grandparents, both of whom died within the last three years. He dropped out of high school, has no real friends, deals drugs, and has been in and out of trouble for what seems like forever.

Joe
Sounds like a real lowlife.

Jason
Good. It’s important that he be someone no one will miss.

Bobby
Yeah, that’s Mikey alright.

Jason
No one to miss him. No one to mourn him. No one to cry alarm.

Joe
Someone deserving of his fate.

Jason
That’s all we ask.

(a brief silence is shared between them)

(Bobby’s cell phone rings, he looks at the caller ID)

Bobby
It’s him.
(flips phone open)
Hello? Yeah, Room 205. You gotta go through entrance C around the back on the East side of the building… Not far from the dumpsters… Yeah… Alright, man… Uh-huh. Later.
(flips phone closed)
He’ll be here in a few minutes.

Joe
Fantastic.

Jason
So how do you know this Michael character?

Bobby
We uh, went to school together.

Jason
You were friends?

Bobby
Yeah.

Jason
What happened?

Bobby
Ah…
(shrugs)
You know. People grow up, they grow apart.

Jason
So it’s nothing personal?

Bobby
Ah, no. No, it’s nothing personal. I mean, I don’t like him; but it’s nothing personal.

Jason
Good. It can never be personal. What we do is for the betterment of mankind, not to accommodate personal vendettas.

Bobby
Right, I know.

Joe
So why him?

Bobby
Well, he met all the qualifications you gave to me. No family, no real friends; someone no one will miss.

Jason
Yes, we’ve established that much. But what makes him deserving of death? What justifies bringing a premature end to his existence? If we killed everyone with no family there’d be no orphans left in the world.

Bobby
He deals drugs.

Jason
You mentioned that.

Joe
Really, though; of all the evil deeds in the world… Selling drugs seems like kind of a minor thing.

Bobby
Yeah, but he sells to kids. And when we were young, he used to think it was funny to hurt people; physically and mentally. There was this retarded kid we went to school with, he tormented him endlessly. Beat him up, made fun of him. One day the kid stopped coming to school. And he was like that to everyone, not a pleasant word to say to anybody. Always putting them down, making them feel worthless. When I went to talk to him the other day, to find out if he was still… you know, rotten or whatever… Well, he was. I mean, he was nice to me and everything but the other people; he just sort of shit all over them.

Jason
So he’s an asshole?

Bobby
Yeah.

Jason
That’s a start, I suppose.

Joe
A drug dealing asshole who sells to kids.

Bobby
He’s a rapist too. Not convicted, but I know of at least one person he’s raped.

Jason
A rapist? Now we’re getting somewhere.

Bobby
And he has herpes.

Joe
Herpes are forever.

(brief period of silence)

Jason
Yes they are.
(clears throat and holds his beer up high)
Gentlemen, a toast; to life; may it be plentiful for those who deserve to have it

Bobby
And over before they expect for those who do not.

(They drink)

Joe
Glad to have you with us, Bobby.

Bobby
Thanks. I just hope I don’t fuck anything up.

Jason
All you have to do is remember to be calm, be cool, and be cordial. These will be his final moments, and it is important that he be at ease so as not to raise alarm.

Joe
Can’t have any witnesses, of course.

Jason
Or screaming. We can’t have any of that either. It tends to draw attention.

(A knock sounds at the door. All three men look in the direction of the door but no one moves at first.)

Joe
That was fast.

(The knock comes again and this time Jason moves in the direction of the door. He opens it and greets the person, still off screen.)

Jason
Hello, you must be Michael. My name is Jason, come on in.

Mikey
(walking in)
Call me Mikey.

Jason
I believe you already know Robert…

Bobby
Hey Mikey.

Mikey
What’s up, Bobby?

Jason
And the big lug back there is Joseph.

Joe
(grim smile and short wave)

Jason
Now please, make yourself at home. There’s beer in the cooler over there. This is a smoking room, so if you want to smoke go right ahead.

Mikey
This is the party?

Jason
This is the party.

Mikey
What the fuck kind of sausage fest did you invite me to, Bobby?

Bobby
It’s not –

Mikey
If I start hearing banjo music I’m leaving.

Joe
You better hope your fast enough, princess.

(Mikey’s jaw drops, he stares at Joe silently. Joe and Jason laugh a little, Bobby joins nervously. Mikey shakes his head and laughs it off.)

Mikey
Do you want me to call some girls or something?

Bobby
Nah, man. It’s cool. These guys are cool.

Mikey
Alright. Just a little strange, you know?

(brief awkward silence)

Mikey
Hey listen, you guys want to smoke a joint?

Joe
Spark it up, man.

Mikey
Hell yeah. Grab me a beer.

(As Mikey pulls a small wooden box from his pocket and pulls a joint from it, Bobby grabs him a beer and brings the bottle over to him. At this point everyone should be sitting somewhere save for Jason who continues to stand. Mikey should be on the bed, Joe on the cooler, and Bobby at the desk chair or some-damn-where. Mikey puts the box in his pocket and holds the joint in his mouth while trying to twist off the cap to the beer. He is unsuccessful and pulls his hand away in apparent agony.)

Mikey
Ow damn it, anyone got a bottle opener?
(Joe hands him one, Mikey opens the beer and hands the opener back. He stops to examine the bottle in his hands.)
What is this anyway? Red ale… What’s a red ale? Is that like Killian’s or something?

Joe
(stifling a laugh)
No. It isn’t anything like Killian’s. Killian’s is a lager, and not even a really well done one at that. Ales tend to have higher alcohol content and more of a hop and malt presence… Killian’s is kind of like amber water with a little fizz. This is a real beer. Drink a little; you’ll understand the difference soon enough.

Mikey
So you’re a beer nerd, then?
(laughs a little)
That’s cool, I guess.
(takes joint out of mouth and sips at the bottle)
Wow. Yeah… I see what you’re saying. That’s a lot heavier than the shit I usually drink.

Joe
Life is too short to drink shitty beer, Mike.

Mikey
I guess so.

Bobby
You’ve never had red ale before?

Mikey
Man, I don’t think I’ve ever had any kind of ale before.

Bobby
You’ve been missing out.

Mikey
Clearly… Shit Bobby, it’s been a while. What have you been up to?

Bobby
Not much, dude. I work a lot, go to school… That’s about it, really. You?

Mikey
I get by. I’m still doing my thing, you know?

Bobby
Yeah.

Jason
What exactly is it that you do, Michael?

Mikey
Mikey, man; don’t call me Michael. Anyway, I don’t know. I do a little of this, a little of that; whatever I can do to get by. I cut grass, smoke grass, sell grass… That sort of thing.

Joe
You work?

Mikey
Sometimes. Like I said, I cut grass and I sell grass. I guess I’m working two jobs when you think about it.

(Mikey lights the joint and hits it, offers it to Jason (who refuses) and then to Bobby. Bobby takes it, hits it, passes it to Joe who does the same and then passes to Mikey; thus creating a rotation between the three until the joint is too small to smoke)

Joe
That’s it, though? That’s all you do?

Mikey
Of course not, I drink too. I watch a lot of movies and I listen to a lot of music.

Bobby
Sounds like fun.

Mikey
Yeah, it’s alright.

Bobby
Still doin’ the same old things, then.

Mikey
Yeah, pretty much.

Joe
You get a lot of pussy doing what you do?

Mikey
Yeah, you know. Bitches, right? Man, I can have any woman I want, any time I want.

Joe
How’s that?

Mikey
It just is.

Joe
I mean, how do you do that? No offense, but you’re not much to look at.

Mikey
Man, I don’t give them a choice.

Joe
Really? I don’t t ake you for much of a charmer.

Mikey
Sometimes if you want to boof ‘em, you got to roof ‘em.
(laughs at his joke, others exchange glances)
I’m playing, guys; I’m playing. Haha. Anyway what about you guys, what are you into?

Jason
A little of this, a little of that... You know.

Mikey
Haha, Man, are you always such a prick?

Jason
Mostly, yes.

Joe
Yeah, I’ll back you on that.

Mikey
(smiling, nodding.)
Funny shit.

Jason
Is it?

Mikey
(shrugs)
I think so.

(momentary silence)

Mikey
Hey Bobby, you know who this dude reminds me of?

Bobby
No… Who?

Mikey
Old man Winkler.

Bobby
I haven’t thought about him in years.

Mikey
Yeah, me either. But this cat is like Winkler reincarnated. That old dude didn’t care what he said to anyone. He’d say some straight mean-ass shit and you just had to take it. Remember the time he called Dave a Jew-faggot?

Bobby
(laughs)
Yeah.

Mikey
Man, Dave was pissed. He still talks about that shit sometimes. Thing about Winkler though, people tried to get back at him but he was too fucking smart for any of it; you know. Casey tried to egg his house one time…

Bobby
(smirking)
Yeah, I remember that. Winkler ran out of his house and chased him away with a pitchfork before the kid threw his first egg.

Mikey
I don’t know how that old bastard knew Casey was there man, but he knew.
(both laugh at the shared memory)
I always thought he’d cheat death itself. But I guess no one lives forever, you know?

Jason
Well said, Michael-

Mikey
Mikey.

Jason
-no one lives forever. Eventually, for each and every one of us, our time will come. Some sooner, some later.

Joe
Some much sooner than others.

(momentary pause in dialogue, Joe and Jason trade glances)

Jason
So what’s it like being a drug dealer?

Mikey
(looking a little shocked)
What?

Jason
Being a drug dealer… What’s that like? Seems like it’d be pretty dangerous.

Mikey
I’m not a drug dealer, man.

Jason
I thought you said you sell grass?

Mikey
I do. But that’s all I sell. I’m a pot dealer, not a drug dealer. I don’t fuck around with nothing else, just weed; and weed’s just an herb, a perfectly natural plant that you’d be able to find growing damn near everywhere in the wild if it weren’t for idiotic bureaucratic policies.

Jason
Alright, whatever; what’s it like? Is it dangerous?

Mikey
Nah, it’s not dangerous. It’s cool, man. You’d be surprised how many average, run of the mill, good people smoke bud. The stereotype of the squinty-eyed dirty jobless losers is such a tired and false cliché, man.

Jason
You say ‘man’ a lot, don’t you?

Mikey
Haha. Yeah, I guess I do. Mostly just when I’m high though.

Joe
And how often are you high?

Mikey
Okay, now that you’ve put it like that I guess I say it all the time.

Bobby
You’ve always smoked a bunch of weed, huh Mikey?

Mikey
What can I say? I like the grass.

Bobby
How often are you smoking these days?

Mikey
Oh a few times a day, I suppose.

Joe
Wow.

Mikey
Hey, I like getting high. It’s not a crime.

Joe
It is in this state.

Mikey
Fair point. Anyway, the body builds up a tolerance, so I end up smoking more to get buzzed.

Bobby
Didn’t they bust in the restroom in school?

Mikey
I didn’t get busted , man. They thought it was me but they couldn’t prove it… I got out of there just in time. Flushed the joint and ran the fuck out the back door before Mr. Simmons got there.

Bobby
They knew it was you, dude.

Mikey
Probably, but they didn’t have any proof. Man, if they could have proven it I would have been expelled… Not that it would have made much difference, really. I dropped out like a month later.

Jason
Dropped out? How far away were you from graduating?

Mikey
Light years. I was in my Senior year, but I was nowhere near graduating.

Jason
So you just dropped out of school and started dealing drugs?

Mikey
If you wanna put it like that, I suppose so.

Jason
Interesting.

(awkward silence)

Mikey
(half smiling)
They almost expelled me another time for crashing like three computers in the library. Thankfully though I had an alibi.

Bobby
You’re not really going to tell this story are you?

Mikey
Well I think they should know.

Bobby
You’re a jackass.

Mikey
The night before it happened, I ate this fucking massive jalapeno burrito... The fucking thing burned all the way through my body. I think it may have been a little old too. Anyway, the day I caused the computers to crash… From downloading some porn, by the way; I had this terrible nose hair-singing diarrhea. All kinds of the people came in there while I was dropping these atomic shit-bombs; they were coughing and gagging and choking and shit. Obviously proud of the power my anus wields, I had no problem claiming the shit as my own whenever someone would talk about it.

Joe
So your alibi was that you took a really nasty shit?

Mikey
Pretty much, yeah. It was like hot lava shooting out of my asshole. It was really bad. People talked about it for weeks. My asshole burned for days, man.

Jason
That’s… Really impressive, Michael.

(momentary uncomfortable silence)

Mikey
Where’s the music?

Jason
Pardon?

Mikey
The music, man; don’t most parties have music?

Jason
I suppose they do.

Mikey
Well where the hell is it? Some music would probably liven this party up.

Joe
We don’t have any.

Mikey
What the fuck? No chicks, no music… Some party.

(silence)

Joe
So you’re a music lover.

Mikey
Hell yeah.

Joe
You been to any good concerts lately?

Mikey
Yeah, I been to a bunch of concerts. Actually, that’s how I got to really know Bobby. We went to school together, but we didn’t really know each other. So we were at one of those thousand band festivals, no real headliners just a bunch of locals. I was underage, but they were giving me beer at the stands. I saw Bobby there and he was bummin’ about some shit. I forget what it was.

Bobby
(slight hesitation)
Uh… My girlfriend. I’d just busted her making out with some other guy in the crowd.

Mikey
Bitches, man… Anyway, I got him a beer, smoked him up, and we were pretty much bullshitting the whole night. I gave him a ride home and after that we were friends.

Bobby
Yup.

Joe
You two been real close?

Mikey
Yeah, kind of I guess. More then than now. Shit, Bobby it’s been almost a year hasn’t it?

Bobby
Something like that.

Joe
What happened?

Mikey
Oh you know, people grow apart. I think he was trying to get away from smoking dope all the time and shit like that.

Bobby
Yeah, that was part of it.

Mikey
Well what the hell else was there?

Bobby
You mean you don’t remember?

Mikey
I guess not. I don’t recall doing anything to you.

Bobby
Are you really going to act like you have no idea what happened?

Mikey
What? Why? What happened?

Bobby
Are you kidding me? That night at your little bonfire party… My sister.

Mikey
Dude, no. I didn’t want that shit to happen.

Bobby
Well it happened, didn’t it?

Mikey
Yeah, but-

Bobby
And you let it happened, Mikey you son of a bitch. You let it happen.

Mikey
Man, I didn’t know that was about to go down. I didn’t have anything to do with that.

Bobby
It happened at your fucking house!

Mikey
That wasn’t me, though. Come on man, you know that. It was those punk assholes she brought with her. I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking hanging out with those dicks in the first place.

Bobby
(Stands)
You fucking let it happen!

Mikey
Man, calm down Bobby. I didn’t know what was going on. They were playing around giggling and I left them to grab a beer. I came back and something else entirely was going on.

Jason
This sounds like something very personal.

Mikey
She was into it, man. She was teasing them and playing around. They were… kissing on her and grabbing her… in various places. And she was playing along.

Joe
She was raped then?

Mikey
Yeah. One moment she was all into it and I was like “whatever.” And then things took a different turn. Someone did something she didn’t like and she told them to stop. But they wouldn’t stop. She told them again and again but they weren’t listening. So I tried to step in; tried to get them to stop.

Bobby
But you didn’t get them to stop.

Mikey
What was I going to do, Bobby?! There were four of them!

Bobby
You could have done something.

Mikey
I told them to fucking stop. I told them, man; over and over again. I tried to get them off of her, but they had me outnumbered; they just shoved me to the ground and kicked me a few times... Man, I called the fucking cops!

Bobby
(stands up)
It doesn’t- Just shut the fuck up, Mike! Alright? You just shut the fuck up!

Mikey
What else could I have done?!

Bobby
I don’t know, Mike… I don’t know.
(shakes head and sits down, runs hand through hair)

(silence… Joe opens another beer)

Mikey
I didn’t want anything like that to happen; not to your sister. Shit, not to anyone.

Bobby
Just… Just shut up for a minute.

Mikey
I’d have stopped them if I could, Bobby. Shit.

Bobby
Yeah.

Mikey
It’s an ugly fucking world we live in, man.

Bobby
Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?

Mikey
It didn’t happen to you, Bobby. It happened to your sister.

Jason
Well this is certainly turning into a downer.

Bobby
(stands)
Excuse me.

(Bobby walks across the room and enters the restroom, his hand covering his mouth as he moves. When he walks in, the lights on rest of the stage go out and the lights in the bathroom go on. He is pacing, nervously; his hand running repeatedly through his hair in anguish, tears running down his cheeks; he sniffles a bit but does not sob.)

Bobby
Fuck. I can’t do this… What the hell was I thinking? … Why did I think this was a good idea… I can’t fucking do this… It’s a human life… A friend…. I-I can’t… Oh God, what was I thinking?!... I’m such an idiot! Such a fucking idiot!
(Walks over to sink and stares at himself in the mirror)
You’re a damn asshole, Bobby. You know that? What a stupid, evil piece of shit you are. What the hell were you thinking? DAMN IT!!!!
(As he shouts damn it he slams his fists down on the sink top. At the moment that he slams his fists down, the lights go back on in the room to reveal that all eyes are staring in the direction of the restroom)

Mikey
What was that?

Jason
Probably just still pissed off over what happened.

Joe
You alright in there, Bobby-o?

(Bobby kicks a trash can)

Mikey
Should I-
(Starts to stand but Jason ushers him to sit with a hand)

Jason
(moving towards the door)
I’ll go talk to him.

(Crosses room and enters bathroom, lights go back out in the room so that only the bathroom is illuminated. Bobby is still pacing around and muttering to himself.)

Jason
Hey. What the hell are you doing?

Bobby
I can’t do this, Jason. I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.

Jason
It’s a little late for that now, wouldn’t you say?

Bobby
I can’t do this.

Jason
Yes, you’ve mentioned that. This wasn’t supposed to be some personal vendetta, you know? You swore this wasn’t personal.

Bobby
Can’t we just call it off?

Jason
I’m afraid that’s not possible.

Bobby
Yes it is, Jason. Yes it is. He’s still alive, we haven’t started anything yet. He can just as easily be allowed to finish up his beer and leave without ever being the wiser of what could have happened. No one gets hurt, no harm is done.

Jason
Damn it Robert, I fucking checked with you to make sure you could still do it; to make sure you were still committed to this course of action… And what did you tell me?

Bobby
I… I don’t remember.

Jason
Don’t remember? It was scarcely ten minutes ago.

Bobby
Listen, that was before-

Jason
No you listen. We’ve agreed on countless occasions that this was a good course of action. You yourself have said that this friend of yours meets the requirements I gave you. Having met him, I can’t help but agree with your initial assessment. We are not backing out of this.

Bobby
I won’t say anything, Jason. Mikey doesn’t have to know, no one has to know… Just let me take him out of here.

Jason
Are you listening to me, Robert? Have you not heard what I have been saying to you? You are not leaving. He is not leaving. You are going to see this through or so help me you will join him.
(cold silence)
Is that understood?

(Bobby nods his head yes and begins taking a step towards the door, Jason blocks his way)

Jason
You say anything out there that alludes to what is about to transpire, make a gesture that gives it away, do anything that could tip him off… Anything… And we’ll kill you too.

Bobby
You wouldn’t…

Jason
No one knows where you are, Robert; no one but Joseph, myself, and a man who will be dead before the night ends.

(cold-ass moment of silence)

Jason
Listen, I suppose you don’t have to be directly involved. You don’t have to touch the knife, you don’t have to hold him down… You can just stand aside and observe.

Bobby
I don’t want this to happen anymore, Jason.

Jason
As I’ve said, it’s too late for that. This is going to happen with or without your consent.

Bobby
I don’t want to see it either. What if I just leave? I won’t say anything; I’ll just leave.

Jason
Robert, if you walk out that door I swear I will kill you. If I don’t kill you, Joseph will. It doesn’t matter who does it but one thing is certain; you’ll be lying in that tub right next to your cold dead friend.

Bobby
You’re a monster.

Jason
If you like…

Bobby
You’re vile, horrible, evil… You-

Jason
Evil and good… Those are terms that apply to people who subscribe to morals.

(Bobby moves for the door but Jason blocks his path)

Bobby
Get the hell out of my way.

Jason
So long as we have an understanding?

Bobby
Yeah. We do, you fucking bastard. We have an understanding.

Jason
Good. Speak not a word of this.
(steps aside)
Lead the way, friend.

(Jason follows Bobby out of the bathroom and back into the room; lights back on in the main room.)

Mikey
Everything alright?

Jason
Everything’s fine, just fine. Isn’t it, Robert?
(Claps hand on Bobby’s back)

Bobby
(barely above a whisper)
Yeah.

(Bobby returns to wherever he had been sitting previously)

Mikey
I’m sorry about what happened to your sister, dude.

Bobby
Yeah.

Jason
You know, we were just talking in the bathroom; and what this party needs is some entertainment.

Mikey
Man, that’s what I’ve been saying since I got here.

Jason
Luckily we have just the thing. Joseph, if you would be so kind?

Joe
Yeah, sure…
(goes into duffel bag and pulls out a roll of sheet-plastic)

Mikey
What are you going to do with that?

Jason
All will be revealed soon enough, Michael.

(Joe rolls the plastic out on the floor, Bobby averts his gaze)

Jason
Stand up, if you would please.

(Mikey stands on the plastic, a puzzled look on his face. Jason stands before him and Joe steps up behind him)

Mikey
Now what?

Jason
Behold.

(Jason draws a knife, it shines in the light; Joe clamps a hand over Mikey’s mouth. Mikey bites down, drawing a line of blood from the mouth/hand area and Joe grunts a little in pain but keeps his hand in place. Jason plunges the blade into Mikey’s gut, pulls it out and sinks it in a second time. After a brief struggle, Mikey slides weakly to the ground on his knees and is coaxed gently to lye on his side by Joe… Mikey’s eyes seek Bobby, who stares in horror at the scene before him.)

Mikey
(weakly)
Bobby… Bobby do something…

(Bobby just stares at him, backing slowly away; his face white with horror)

Jason
Go quiet now, Michael. May your death be more peaceful than your life.

Mikey
Why are you…?

(Mikey goes slowly to the ground, grunting and groaning and breathing heavy. He tries to speak a few times but nothing comes from his mouth but blood. He is soon dead. There is a long silence as everything sinks in…)

Jason
Alright, let’s get him to the tub. Robert, you’ll grab one end and help out.

Bobby
No, I don’t want… (shakes his head0

Jason
I wasn’t requesting. Get your wits about you, I’d hate to have to drop two men in a night.

(Joe and Bobby roll Mikey’s body up in the plastic sheet and take him across the room to the bathroom; they set the body down in the tub and exit the bathroom. Bobby crosses the room and collapses to a sitting position against the wall, head buried in his knees)

Dim Lights.

End Act 1






Act 2

Lights back on, we are still in the hotel room. Only Jason and Bobby are present. Bobby is pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, Jason sits comfortably in the desk chair, watching him with detached interest. The duffle bags are gone but the cooler is still in the room. There is a knock at the door. Bobby jumps.

Jason
That’s likely Joseph.

(Bobby looks through peephole and steps back.)

Bobby
Oh fuck.

Jason
Who is it?

Bobby
It’s the slut sisters.

Jason
The who?

Bobby
It’s the fucking slut sisters.

Jason
Whoever they are take care of them.

Bobby
Okay…
(reaches for door handle, Jason stops him)

Jason
Act natural. You’re a part of this, Robert. Now even more than before, if anyone finds out, you’re just as guilty as we are. Remember that.

(Bobby looks shaken by these words, he reaches for the door and opens it, two young ladies stand outside the door; we cannot yet see them on stage)

Bobby
Hello.

Karen
Bobby!
(steps in and wraps her arms around Bobby’s neck in a quick hug.)
I didn’t know you were going to be here!

Bobby
What are you two doing here?

Lisa
Good to see you too.

Karen
Is that any way to greet old friends?

Lisa
Mikey invited us, he said there was a party.
(rolls eyes)
Sounds like a real bash.

Bobby
A party?

Lisa
Just let us in, don’t be an asshole.

(Bobby looks back at Jason, who is emphatically motioning that the girls cannot be let in; but instead Bobby steps aside to allow Lisa and Karen entrance, Jason shakes his head at the stupidity of Bobby’s reaction.)

Jason
My God, man; what are you thinking?

Bobby
What?

(Karen and Lisa look a bit puzzled but say nothing)

Jason
Nothing. It’s pointless to debate it now, please introduce me to our guests.

Bobby
Uh… Karen, Lisa… This is Jason.

(Karen waves back, Lisa just smiles a little)

Jason
A pleasure.

Bobby
(looking awkward as fuck)
So, uh… What brings you two by?

Lisa
We covered that at the door, remember?

Bobby
Yeah, but…

Karen
Mikey said there would be a party.

(Jason gestures to the room around them.)

Jason
And so there is. Please, have a seat.

(The Slut Sisters sit at the edge of the bed, Bobby moves to the far end of the room with his back to the wall)

Lisa
Somehow I expected more people.

Jason
No one is as surprised by the turn out as I.

Karen
Where is Mikey anyway?

Jason
He’s around here somewhere… (looks around)

Bobby
(almost too quick)
No he isn’t.

Jason
That’s right, he went to the store.

Karen
What for?

Jason
Papers… You know how those stoners are….

Karen
Oh.

(brief awkward silence)

Karen
How long has he been gone?

Jason
I don’t know. It’s been a while now.

Lisa
Is this everyone who’s going to be here?

Bobby
Pretty much.

Lisa
Wow. Some party.

Jason
More of a night among friends than a party, I would say.

Karen
So... What have you guys been doing then?

Jason
Drinking.

Karen
That’s it?

Jason
Almost exclusively.

Bobby
You wanna turn the TV on or something?

Lisa
No, thanks though. Is there more beer?

Jason
Of course. Robert, if you would be so kind.

Karen
We can probably think of other ways to pass the time.
(exchanges a sultry glance with Lisa)

(The door swings open, Joe walks in; the hand which was bitten is wrapped in a bloody bandage, in his other hand is a handsaw. The Slut Sisters exchange worried glances. Joe is making sure the door is closed properly and has not yet realized the ladies are present)

Joe
This ought to get through the-

Jason
Joseph, so good of you to return. I don’t believe you’ve met our guests…

(Joe turns around quickly and takes the scene in.)

Joe
Oh, sorry… I didn’t realize there would be anyone else up here.

Jason
Manners, Joseph. This is Karen and Lisa; friends that Michael invited and Robert was kind enough to let in.

Joe
Oh… Hello.

Karen
Hi.

Lisa
What’s with the saw?

Joe
This?
(holds the saw up momentarily)

Karen
Is there another one that we should know about?

Joe
I was just-

Lisa
Just what? Just going to cut us up into little pieces?

Joe
What?! No.

Lisa
Please. This party; three guys and two girls… It’s a rape and murder waiting to happen.

Joe
That’s just silly.

Lisa
Says the man with the hacksaw to the women trapped in the hotel room.

Joe
No one is trapping you.

Karen
Don’t mind Lisa, her humor is a bit dark.

Jason
Is that the saw you cut yourself on, Joseph?

Joe
(looks down at the saw)
Uh… Yeah, it is actually.

Jason
He just returned from his car to grab the saw for us, he was telling us how he‘d cut his hand and mentioned that he had the device in his trunk. Naturally we wanted to see it.

Joe
Yeah, well here it is.
(hands saw to Jason)

Jason
I’ll be damned. Just goes to show you, you should never saw drunk.

Lisa
What were you sawing?

Joe
A tree… It fell down in my back yard a few nights ago.

Lisa
And you chose a hacksaw?

Karen
It’s still bleeding?

Joe
What? Yeah, it is.

Jason
It just happened last night. Jesus, how much have you had to drink man?

Joe
I, uh... I lost count.

(brief period of awkward silence)

Lisa
Why didn’t you just use a chainsaw?

Joe
You don’t get guns like these using motorized saws.
(rolls up sleeve to expose large bicep, flexes… Karen giggles a bit)

Karen
Can I touch?

(Joe moves sits on bed beside Karen and she reaches out and squeezes Joe’s bicep)

Karen
That’s really hard, feel it Lis.

(Lisa reaches over to feel Joe’s arm)

Lisa
Wow.

Jason
I’m sure there’s a joke on promiscuity in there somewhere.

Karen
I just love a man who takes care of his body.

Joe
I think we’ll get along just fine then.

Karen
So what’s your sign?

Joe
Three way.

(giggles)

Karen
No, come on. Really. I’m a Gemini

Joe
Sagittarius.

Karen
Really? That’s interesting, I had you pegged for a Pisces.

Joe
How could you possibly have me pegged for something when we just met.

Lisa
She tries to guess pretty much everyone we meet.

Karen
I’m usually pretty good at it too.

Lisa
Please, you never get it right.

Karen
That’s not true and you know it. Johnny-

Lisa
Johnny is the only one you’ve ever got right and you’ve been reveling in the glory of that moment for years.

Karen
Well in any case, it’s good that you’re a Sag’; I get along well with Sagittarius men.

Joe
What a coincidence, I get along well with beautiful women.

Jason
(to Bobby)
You see how his personality just flourishes around ladies?

Bobby
(despondent)
Yeah.

(Joe and Karen continue their flirtatious conversation, they speak in low tones while the others speak on, their voices projecting more than the other two)

Lisa
I don’t mean to be a pest, but do you at least have some music you could put on?

Jason
My dear, if I knew we were expected to entertain so many people I surely would have brought along a radio. But unless the alarm clock came equipped with a radio, I’m afraid we’re out of luck.

Lisa
Well we can rule out dancing then.

Jason
Yes, I suppose we can.

(Knock Knock Knock at the door. All eyes go to the door, Jason buries his face in his palm for a few moments. The knock sounds again.)

Lisa
Isn’t someone going to get that?

Jason
Yes, how rude of me.

(crosses room to door and opens it to reveal a couple, Dave and Yvette; standing outside, Dave carries a six pack of some random craft brew)

Jason
Can I help you?

Dave
Yeah, hi… Mikey told us to drop by?

Jason
Of course he did; why wouldn’t he have?

Karen
Hi guys!

Dave
Karen and Lisa are here.

(Dave and Yvette enter)

Jason
No really, please come in.

Yvette
(to Dave)
You didn’t say they were going to be here.

Dave
I didn’t know. I got here at the same time you did?

Yvette
I knew we shouldn’t have come here. You and your loser friends-

Dave
Would you just chill the fuck out? We’re here. Let’s make the best of it.

Yvette
I’ll try.

Dave
Good. Thanks. I appreciate the effort.

Yvette
(with a bratty smile)
You’d better.

Dave
Hey look, Bobby’s here!

Yvette
Bobby? Is that really you?

Bobby
Yeah. Hey guys.

Dave
I haven’t seen you in years.

Yvette
We’ve missed you. You were one of Dave’s only worthwhile friends.

Bobby
Yeah, it’s been a while.

Dave
(to Jason)
Hey, can I put my beers in the cooler?

Jason
Please do. Mi hielo es su hielo.

Dave
(to Yvette)
You want a beer, babe?

Yvette
Yeah.

Dave
Here.
(hands Yvette a beer, walks remainder of sixer over to the cooler, sets the beers inside pulling one out for himself. He gets out a bottle opener and pries the cap off, returns to Yvette’s side and does the same for her.)

Jason
And now; I do believe introductions are in order. Clearly you already know Rober, Karen, and Lisa; my name is Jason, and the big guy over there is Jason.

Dave
I’m Dave.

Yvette
I’m Yvette. Pleased to meet you.

Jason
I’d imagine so.

Joe
You two are a couple?

Dave
Yes.

Jason
You’re a man of many words.

Dave
Yeah.

Yvette
I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend invite me to a party that he wasn’t even at.

Dave
He’s a dumbass, Yvette. What do you want me to tell you?

Joe
At least Bobby’s here though, right? You two seem fond of him.

Dave
Yeah… So what have you been up to, Bobby?

Bobby
Oh, not much really.

Jason
Robert is so modest.

Karen
Bobby’s modest?! Ha! That’s a laugh. Lisa and him got kicked out of the movie theatre for having sex in the aisle.

Joe
That true, Bobbo?

Bobby
(dazed)
What?

Lisa
(stands and walks slowly towards Bobby)
Don’t play coy now, the secret’s out. You were an animal back then.

Bobby
I don’t know what you’re-

Lisa
Oh you most certainly do.
(gets all close to him, moving seductively)
You remember, don’t you. All the crazy, wild sex we had back then?

Joe
What movie was it?

Lisa
It was a James Bond flick.

Joe
Nice.

Lisa
(to Bobby)
I started going down on you in the chair, but the arm rests kept getting in the way…
(kisses Bobbys neck, he moves his neck away to avoid more kisses)
The rows weren’t far enough apart for me to get in front of you, so you picked me up and took me in the aisle way…
(goes to kiss his neck again, he moves away again)

Bobby
Stop it.

Lisa
I love it when you play hard to get… There were so many people watching us…
(lifts a leg up as though half-straddling him as he stands with his back to the wall, kisses gently at his neck)

Bobby
Fucking stop it, Lisa!

(Bobby shoves Lisa off of him, she stumbles backwards a few steps to land on the bed)

Lisa
You’re a real dick sometimes, you know that?

Bobby
Just leave me alone.

Lisa
Asshole.

(long period awkward silence)

Yvette
So where is Mikey anyway?

Karen
He ran to the store for some papers.

Yvette
Ah. Fucking stoner.

Karen
I know, right?

Dave
How long ago did he leave?

Karen
He was gone when we got here.

Jason
He’s been gone for at least an hour.

Dave
Shouldn’t he be back by now?

Joe
Ah hell, who knows with that guy.

Jason
I’m beginning to suspect that he’s never coming back.

Dave
(finishes his beer)
Hey, grab me another beer out of the cooler, would you?

(Jason reaches into the cooler and gets a beer, hands it to Dave)

Jason
For you.

Dave
Thanks.
(Cracks it open, starts drinking)

Karen
So Joe, what do you do for a living?

Joe
Whatever pays, I’m not picky.

Karen
Are you working now?

Joe
Yeah. I do landscaping.

Karen
Interesting.

Joe
(smirks and laughs a bit)
No it’s not.

Karen
Well I find you very interesting.

Joe
Do you now?

Jason
Did Robert tell you the nickname they have for these two ladies?

Joe
No, what’s their nickname?

Karen
Oh, not that. Bobby, you didn’t tell them about that awful name did you?

Bobby
I, uh… I may have mentioned it.

Karen
Why would you do that?

Bobby
Well… It is your nickname.

Lisa
We don’t deserve a tag like that. It was made up by some jealous bitches who don’t like us and I don’t like hearing it used.

Karen
Me either.

Lisa
People are so fucking mean sometimes. The things they’ll say about people. It’s terrible.

Jason
I apologize, ladies; I didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject.

Joe
So what is it?

Karen
Please don’t say it.

Jason
My lips are sealed.

(brief silence)

Yvette
They’re called the slut sisters.

Karen
(icily)
Thanks, Yvette.

Yvette
Don’t thank me, you two earned that name.

Lisa
What the hell is your problem with us?

Yvette
You remember Steve Conner? I was dating him when you double teamed him.

Lisa
How were we supposed to know that? He didn’t say anything about having a girlfriend!

Yvette
Well he did and it wasn’t a secret either. Everyone knew.

Lisa
Apparently not.

Yvette
Mine wasn’t the only relationship you two destroyed.

Joe
Do you two still get into that whole double-teaming thing?

(momentary silence… A little bit of laughter from a few of the guests, Karen playfully slaps Joe’s arm)

Lisa
Yvette, I’m sorry. We didn’t know that you and Steve were together.

Yvette
Fuck off.

Jason
Ladies, there is no better way to resolve a conflict than with a topless pillow fight.

Dave
Who gives a fuck anyway? That was high school.

Yvette
It doesn’t matter. They ruined it for me. He was the first guy I ever…

Dave
And now you’re with me; clearly an upgrade.

Yvette
Clearly. But it doesn’t change anything.

Karen
(rolls eyes)
I need to use the restroom.
(Stands up and begins walking towards the restroom)

Bobby
(stepping forward in fright)
No!!!

(Karen stops, all eyes fall upon him, Dave stares at him a bit longer than the rest)

Jason
He’s right, of course. I’m afraid you can’t use the restroom.

Karen
Why not?

Jason
Because we haven’t got one.

Karen
Oh come on.
(takes a few steps towards the restroom again, stops when Joe begins speaking.)

Joe
Nah, he’s not shitting you. There’s nothing in there. They’re working on the bathroom, we got the room real cheap because of it. If we have pee or anything we have to use the bathroom in the lobby.

Karen
You’re kidding me.

Joe
Wish I was. If we knew you girls were coming out we would have paid full price and gotten a regular room.

Jason
But for three times the cost.

Lisa
Why in the hell would you even get a room in this condition?

Joe
We have beds, access to the pool, gym, sauna; and free breakfast in the morning. We didn’t come here for the toilet.

Jason
(walking towards Karen)
I’d be glad to show you to the lobby facilities.

Karen
That would be nice, thank you.

Jason
But of course.

Lisa
(getting to her feet)
I gotta go too.

Jason
Very well, right this way please.

(Jason leads them to the door and holds it open for them, Lisa and Karen walk out and Jason is about to follow them when Yvette stands up)

Yvette
Wait, I’m coming too.

Jason
The more the merrier, I suppose.

(Yvette walks out the door, Jason follows)

Joe
Maybe the girls can work out whatever’s between them down there through the mysterious magic of the ladies room.

Dave
Yeah, hopefully.

Joe
(shakes head)
Man, I will never understand chicks and bathrooms.

Dave
I can’t believe Mikey is taking so long.

Joe
Me either.

Dave
He usually just runs to a corner store and comes back when he’s out of papers… And there’s a store right down the block.

Joe
Yeah, well maybe Jason’s right. Maybe he isn’t coming back.

Dave
I don’t know; something isn’t right about this.

Joe

You don’t think he’s smoking without us do you?

Dave
Maybe.

Bobby
Maybe he’s not ever coming back.

Dave
(Staring inquisitively at Bobby)
Why wouldn’t he?

Bobby
I don’t know…

Dave
There’s a party here.

Joe
Not much of one, though.

Dave
I suppose not.

Joe
I just hope nothing bad happened to him.

Dave
That’s for sure.

(silence)

Dave
So what kind of work are they doing to the bathroom?

Joe
I don’t really know, they said they gutted the place.

Dave
They said that?

Joe
Yeah.

Dave
So you haven’t actually checked it out for yourself?

Joe
I, uh… No. Haven’t really felt the need.

Dave
Well let’s take a look.
(starts to walk towards the bathroom)

Joe
Nah, I don’t think there’s any need for that.
(Dave stops, Joe gets up and walks towards him)

Dave
Why not?

Joe
(Stands between Dave and the bathroom, Bobby moves to stand behind Dave, completely unnoticed by any but Joe)
The hotel staff asked us not to.

Dave
How are they going to know? Come on let’s check it out.

Joe
No.

Dave
Come on, stop being an ass. Let’s take a look at it.

Joe
I said no

Dave
What’s your deal anyway?

Joe
Nothing, man. I just don’t want to go into the bathroom. We got a huge discount on the room and all they asked in return was that we not go into the bathroom, so we’re not going into the bathroom.

Dave
Is that so?

Joe
That’s so.

Dave
Well I want to see it. What’s the harm in seeing it?

Joe
I don’t want to see it. Bobby, do you want to see it?

Bobby
No.
(Dave jumps a little to hear Bobby from so close behind him. He turns around to see Bobby standing just inches away. Dave goes back and forth between the two)

Dave
What the hell is going on here?

Joe
Three men in a hotel room waiting for the girls to return.

Dave
That’s not what I mean and you damn well know it. Something isn’t right here, I had the feeling the moment I walked in the door. Something just isn’t right. Why can’t we go into the bathroom, can’t even look at the bathroom? Why are you both so adamant about no one going in there?

Joe
We already covered that.

Dave
They’re not even going to know. There are no cameras here.

Joe
I don’t have to explain myself to you.

Dave
What about it, Bobby? What’s going on here? Why are you two… you three acting so fucking strange?

Bobby
Nothing is going on.

Dave
Where’s Mikey? Why isn’t he back yet?

Joe
You’re guess is as good as mine, Dave.

Dave
I have a feeling your guess would be better than mine.

Joe
I’m not even sure I know what you mean.

Dave
Yes you do. You know exactly what I mean. Where’s Mikey?

Bobby
The store.

Dave
(Faces Bobby)
Bullshit. He’d be back by now.

Bobby
Maybe he got lost.

Joe
Maybe he decided not to come back.

Dave
Mikey never decides to not come back to a party, especially if he told other people to come.

Joe
Then maybe he’s lost like Bobby said.

Dave
Lost less than a block away? I find that hard to believe.

Joe
Maybe they didn’t have what he needed there. Damn, dude; how are we supposed to know where he went?

Dave
I don’t like I’m being lied to and right now I’m drowning in a sea of deceit.

Joe
Where do you think Mikey is then?

Dave
(turning briefly to face Joe)
I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t know.
(shakes his head)
I don’t want to say what I’m thinking.

Joe
Why not? Just say it.

Dave
(Facing Bobby again, eyeing him)
I don’t think Mikey ever left.

Bobby
(nervous)
Oh he left. I mean, he’s not here is he?

Dave
I think maybe he is.

Bobby
Well he’s not.

Dave
Yes he is, Bobby. I can see it in your eyes.

Bobby
(looking away)
I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Dave
Of course you don’t.

Joe
(grabbing a nearby heavy blunt object)
I don’t like what you’re implying, Dave.

Dave
(gaze not leaving Bobby)
Let me see the bathroom.

Joe
(holding object behind back, gesturing towards the bathroom)
It’s locked, asshole. But if you’re so adamant about it go see for yourself.

Dave
Thank you.

(Dave steps past Joe towards the bathroom, no sooner than he takes a step does Joe hit him in the back of the head with the heavy blunt object he grabbed moments ago. Dave falls like a brick stack, face first to the ground.)

Bobby
Shit!

Joe
Come on; let’s get him in the tub with the other one.

Bobby
What the fuck?!

Joe
We need to get him out of here before Jason returns with the girls.

Bobby
What the hell is wrong with you, Joe?!

Joe
What choice did I have? You know where he was going, you know what he would have seen. Trust me, he wasn’t going to clap us on the backs and congratulate us. Now come on, let’s get him into the tub.

Bobby
I don’t want anything to do with this.

Joe
It’s a little late for that, wouldn’t you say?

(Joe grabs Dave’s feet and drags him towards the bathroom, opens the door and takes him in the rest of the way. As he enters the bathroom the lights go out in the main room and go on in the bathroom. Joe drags the body to the tub and lifts him up to set him on top of the other corpse; as he lifts Dave up a cell phone drops from Dave’s pocket, unnoticed by Joe.)

Joe
Best not to take chances.

(pulls a pocket knife out of his… pocket, and sits Dave’s body up with one arm, takes the other and slits open Dave’s throat. Joe lets the body fall back into the tub.)

(dim bathroom light)

End Act 2

Act 3

The stage is dark save for the bathroom. Bobby is in there, alone save for the corpses in the tub; he is washing his face in the sink. Unnoticed by him, a cell phone sits between the toilet and the tub.

Bobby
What have I gotten myself into?

(A voice calls weakly from the tub)

Dave
Bobby…

Bobby
You’re not real. I can’t hear you.

Dave
Bobby…

Bobby
Shut up Dave, you can’t talk. You’re dead.

(Dave rises slowly to his feet from the tub, steps out of it. Bobby stares in horror.)

Dave
How could you let this happen to me?

(Mikey rises slowly from the tub as well)

Mikey
You brought me here, Bobby. Lured me to my death.

Bobby
I know, I’m sorry Mikey, I…

Mikey
We were friends.

Bobby
(Shakes head)
You’re not real either. You’re dead. Both of you are dead. This is not happening. None of this is real.

Mikey
Let me assure you, this is very real. You saw it happen; watched as the big one held a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams, watched as the sly one plunge his knife into my gut.

Dave
You killed us.

(they move slowly towards him)

Bobby
Get back in the tub, dammit. Get back in the fucking tub! You’re not supposed to be moving!

Dave
Yet here we are.

Mikey
I’m sorry, are we making you uncomfortable?

(they are almost upon him now)

Dave
Do you have any idea how uncomfortable we are? We’re dead.

Mikey
This is your fault, you know?

Dave
Join us, won’t you?

Mikey
Come join us.

Dave
Join us.

Bobby
Leave me alone.

Mikey
Come with us.

Dave
Join us.

Bobby
Go away.

(they tower over him as he squats down.)

Dave
Come with us.

Mikey
Come with us.

Bobby
Go away!

(they reach out for him)

Mikey
Avenge us.

Bobby
Noooooo!!!!

(Lights out)

(A blood curdling scream comes from Bobby, the lights come on in the hotel room; Joe jerks to his feet and starts moving toward the bathroom. When he opens the bathroom door the lights in the bathroom come on to reveal Bobby crouched down against a wall, knees to his chest, face buried in his lap with his hands covering his ears… No dead people standing over him; just Bobby freaking out.)

Joe
What’s wrong?

(No answer, Bobby sits motionless.)

Joe
Get up.
(nudges Bobby with his shoe, Bobby looks up)
Come on, you’re freaking out in here. Jason and the girls will be back any second now, we need to get out of the bathroom.

(nodding almost absently, Bobby gets slowly to his feet and follows Joe out of the bathroom, as they transition back into the main room the lights go on out there and go off in the bathroom.)

Joe
Go sit down or something.

(Bobby complies, walks off sullenly to sit on the edge of the bed.)

Joe
You need to calm your ass down.

Bobby
How can I be calm with what just happened?

Joe
It was a matter of survival, Bobby-o. It was unfortunate, but necessary.

Bobby
How was that necessary?

Joe
He was about to find out. If there’s a witness there’s a crime, if there’s a crime we do time. I don’t want that to happen, do you?

Bobby
Maybe we should do some time for this.

Joe
Stop talking like an idiot.

Bobby
You don’t think there should be a punishment for what we did tonight?

Joe
I thought I told you to stop talking like an idiot.

Bobby
We did something terrible tonight.

Joe
We killed a drug dealer. We made the world a better place. Dave died so that we could continue to make the world a better place. Doing what we do isn’t easy. No one said it would be. But murder is sometimes necessary to help clear up some of societies blemishes.

Bobby
I don’t know if I can do this anymore.

Joe
Do what? Everything is already done. And in a few hours we’ll get rid of the bodies and it will be like nothing ever happened.

Bobby
Except that something did happen.

Joe
Damn it, Bob; if I have to tell you one more time to stop with the stupid talk I’m going to throw you in the tub with the other corpses.

Bobby
I-

Joe
Listen, when Jason and the girls get back don’t talk or nothing. Let me do all the talking. If they ask you something just give a quick short five words or less kind of answer. Follow my lead. Don’t say nothing.

Bobby
Okay.

Joe
Do you think you can manage that?

(the door opens, Jason steps in and holds the door open)

Joe
Can you do that?

Bob
Yeah, I can do that.

(Karen enters first, followed by Lisa, and lastly is Yvette. Karen and Lisa make their way back onto the mattress, Lisa stopping at the cooler for a beer on the way. Karen sits towards the back of the bed, Lisa sits beside Joe)

Joe
Welcome back.

Lisa
Hey, you.

Joe
Hey yourself

Jason
I tell you it’s amazing what happens to women in the restroom. They enter mortal enemies and walk out the best of friends.

Joe
They’ve made peace, then?

Lisa
Yeah, we’re cool.

Yvette
Where’s Dave?

Joe
I don’t know. He said he had to do something and he left.

Yvette
Why would he-? What did he say he had to do?

Joe
He didn’t. He just kind of got up and went.

Yvette
He didn’t say where he was going?

Joe
Nope… I didn’t ask him either. Didn’t figure it was my business.

Yvette
Did he say if he was coming back for me or not?

Joe
Actually he said to see if you could get a ride with the slu- er.. With Karen and Lisa.
(Lisa playfully slaps him on the arm)

Yvette
I hate it when he does shit like this to me.

Joe
He seemed kind of weird. (shrugs) I don’t really know him though. What do you think, Bobby?

Bobby
Yeah… Real weird.

Yvette
Why didn’t he at least wait for me?

Joe
I don’t know. He said he’d call you tomorrow and explain everything.

Yvette
What a jerk.

Jason
Don’t be too hard on him, Yvette. It must have been something important.

Yvette
What could be so important that he’d abandon me?

Joe
Who knows? Maybe it was life threatening?

Karen
Don’t worry about getting home honey, we’ll get you there.

Yvette
Thanks… But dammit this pisses me off. We were fighting on the way over. Maybe it was something I said?

Joe
Could be, he seemed kind of mad too.

Yvette
Or maybe he’s just an asshole. I don’t know why I’m still dating him.

Karen
It’s probably best not to judge. We don’t know what happened, it might have been something really serious.

Yvette
Someone better be dead or dying if he wants me to forgive him for this one.

(Jason and Joe exchange looks, Bobby looks momentarily away from them)

Karen
I hope everything is alright.

Yvette
Oh God, I just want to leave now.

Lisa
We’ll go soon enough.

Karen
Do we have to?

Lisa
You can stay if you want, but I’m not coming back for you.

(Karen looks at Joe briefly)

Joe
You should probably go with them.

Karen
(shoulders slump a bit)
Alright, but I just opened this beer.
(drinks some more of her beer)

Jason
Fire Michael leaves and fails to return, and now David has abandoned us as well? Some party this is turning out to be.

Joe
Yeah, we’ve been ditched alright.

Jason
Is our company so terribly unpleasant?

Lisa
It’s practically lethal.

(Jason lets out a loud laugh)

Joe
That bad?

Karen
Just really boring is all.

Joe
Ouch.

Jason
Your bluntness offends me, Karen.

Karen
Sorry, but it’s true. You don’t have anything to entertain your guests. Nothing at all. No music, no movies, no games. All you have is a hotel bedroom and a cooler full of beer.

Joe
I thought the cooler full of beer was a nice touch, personally.

Karen
You don’t have a working bathroom for shits sake.

Jason
Hey, I just took you to the bathroom.

Karen
Yeah, but how many floors down is it? Sorry guys, but this is one bullshit excuse for a party.

Jason
That hurts.

Joe
Like a blunt object to the back of the head it does.

Karen
We’re probably going to take off pretty soon here. Yvette doesn’t seem to be in much of a partying mood anymore anyway.

Yvette
He’s such an asshole sometimes.

Bobby
You never should have come in the first place.

Lisa
Thanks, Bobby. You’re too kind.

Bobby
Yeah, well…

Lisa
I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I really liked the old you more.

Bobby
Me too.

Yvette
Can we go please?

Karen
Oh alright. Let me just chug down the rest of this beer.
(begins chugging, Lisa stands up while Karen kicks back the last of her beer)

Karen
Well, it’s been fun.
(burps)

Joe
That’s so hot.

Karen
(laughing)
Anyway, I hope we meet again. Preferably at a party that you guys didn’t do the planning on.

Jason
Well thank you for coming out.

Karen
Thanks for having us.

Jason
I feel I must apologize for Michael’s premature departure.

Karen
Why should you? It’s not like it’s your fault he disappeared.

Jason
Be that as it may, I can’t help but feel guilty.

Karen
Yes well, good night. Girls?

(Yvette and Lisa move with her towards the door)

Jason
Goodbye.

Joe
Bye

Lisa
It was nice meeting you.

Jason
The pleasure was entirely ours.

(Yvette and the slut sisters exit via door. Jason and Joe breathe a huge sigh of relief)

(There is a knock at the door. Joe opens the door, Lisa stands outside, takes a step in)

Karen
Here’s my number. (hands Joe a slip of paper) Give me a call sometimes.

Joe
I’ll do that.

(Karen leans in and kisses Joe on the cheek and then turns around and walks back out the door. Joe closes the door and looks down at the paper for a while, turning to face the others)

Joe
That’s a shame, I could have fucked that one.

Jason
Just a minor drawback for the greater good of mankind.

Joe
I guess… still though, I get the impression I would have liked sticking it to her. I’d have given it to her from behind, I think… (shakes head) She’s got a great looking ass. And then, when she least expected it, I’d slip it into her pooper.

Jason
Ever the romantic, Joseph.

Bobby
I think I’m going to be sick.
(rushes across the room to the bathroom, lights stay off within but we can hear him vomiting.)

Joe
Listen Jason, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Why the fuck did you two let those girls in here in the first place?

Jason
Oh I didn’t. That was the doing of our dear friend Robert.

Joe
Well it was a damn stupid move.

Jason
I can’t agree with you more… I’m afraid he isn’t taking any of this well.

Joe
Not well at all. Certainly not the way he was letting on about it.

Jason
I know. He seemed so much more into it before we actually did it.

Joe
Shit, doing it is the best part.

Jason
I think he had aspirations of vengeance and had a sudden change of heart when he found out he was wrong about the thing with Michael and his sister.

Joe
Poor guy.

Jason
Indeed.

(pause)

Joe
You don’t think he’s a squealer, do you?

Jason
Joseph, my friend; I have no intention of finding out.

Joe
We’re going to need another duffel bag then.

(Bobby returns from the bathroom, he is wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand/sleeve/whatever)

Bobby
Oh God, what have we done?

Jason
Exactly what we set out to do.

Joe
One less scumbag out there… We’re making the world a better place, one life at a time.

Bobby
And Dave? Poor Dave.

Jason
Yes, poor David indeed. What exactly happened to him anyway?

Joe
He’s in the tub with Mikey.

Jason
I see… And how did that come about?

Joe
He was getting nosey, started asking a bunch of questions. He knew something was up, I’m sure of it. It was the only course of action, really.

Jason
What tipped him off do you suppose?

Joe
Bobby’s fucking erratic behavior would be my guess.

Jason
Now that is disappointing. You know Robert, I really thought you were a good fit for us.

Bobby
Well I’m not.

Jason
Yes, that’s quite apparent. Though you certainly lead Joseph and myself to believe otherwise at several times prior to this evening. In fact, even after we got into this room you assured us both that you wanted to be involved, that you wanted to be a part of things, and that you would be able to handle it.

Bobby
I was wrong.

Joe
Listen, you two talk this out. I’m going get to work on those bodies.
(grabs saw and leaves the hotel room for the bathroom, lights stay dark or at least dim in the bathroom while Joe can be heard starting to saw at something)

Jason
That’s two, Robert. Two significant mistakes you made tonight, both utterly foolish and completely avoidable.

Bobby
What do you mean two?

Jason
The first was when you invited the sisters slut inside. That lead to the arrival of David and Yvette and your nervousness lead to the death of one of them. When you really start to think about it, you were responsible for the lives of two individuals ending tonight.

Bobby
No, not me. I didn’t touch any of them. I had no part in their deaths.

Jason
No part? None whatsoever? Do you truly believe that? Do you expect anyone to believe that? You invited Michael here. You invited the other unexpected guests inside. And your behavior lead to David asking the wrong questions and eventually to his untimely demise. I fail to see how you can claim that you had no part of what happened in room 205 tonight.

Bobby
Listen, when this is done I don’t want to-

Jason
(takes a few steps closer to Bobby)
Don’t you think it’s a little late in the game to be making requests?

Bobby
I just don’t want-

(There is a knock at the door. Jason and Bobby freeze up for a moment. The knock comes again.)

Jason
Joseph, would you please go see who that is?

(Joe walks out of the bathroom, his shirt spattered a bit with blood. He looks through the peep hole and reports.)

Joe
It’s that guys girlfriend.

Jason
Well talk to her, would you? She probably forgot her purse or something.

Joe
Alright, hold on… I can’t greet her like this.
(removes bloody shirt and wipes his bloody hands clean on it, tosses shirt into bathroom and closes the bathroom door)

Jason
I trust you can keep your composure for the limited amount of time she will be here, Robert?

Bobby
Yeah, sure.

Joe
Here goes…
(reaches for door and opens it. Yvette barges in, Lisa and Karen close behind. Joe stays at the door, holding it open as they enter and closing it behind them.)

Jason
Welcome back, ladies. What did you forget?

Yvette
What the hell is going on here?

Jason
I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.

Yvette
Something strange is going on here and I want to know what it is.

Joe
Is this the lead in for an orgy? Is there about to be an orgy? I love orgies.

Yvette
Dave’s car is in the parking lot. It’s parked in the exact same spot that we pulled into when we got here.

Jason
How very odd.

Joe
Maybe someone picked him up?

Yvette
He would never leave his car behind. He loves that thing more than anything.

Joe
You don’t think he’s cheating on you, do you?

Yvette
I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling you guys do.

Jason
Why would you have that feeling? Yvette, I’ve only just tonight met you and your boyfriend. I don’t have the slightest inclination as to where he may be or what he may be doing.

Yvette
Then explain to me why, the moment I left, something “suddenly came up” and he had to leave… Yet, from all appearances, he hasn’t actually left?

Jason
That is strange.

Yvette
Maybe you could shed some light on this then?

Jason
I’m sorry but I can’t. I was with you down in the lobby whenever David apparently decided to leave.

Yvette
What about the big guy? What do you know, Joe?

Joe
Nothing. I’m sorry but I’ve already told you everything I know. He said he had to go and he went. End of story.

Yvette
And he didn’t say where he was going?

Joe
Nope.

Yvette
Bobby?

Bobby
He didn’t say anything about where he was going.

Joe
He sure looked like he was in a hurry to get there though.

Yvette
This isn’t like him at all.

Joe
I’m really sorry to ask you this again, but are you sure he isn’t seeing someone else?

Yvette
I have no reason to believe he is.

Joe
Really? Come on. Try to look at this from the outside; examine the evidence. You go to a hotel, he disappears while you’re gone, doesn’t take you with him, and his car is still outside. Outside in the parking lot to a hotel. Are you absolutely certain there isn’t someone else? Maybe someone who has a room at this hotel?

Yvette
I… I don’t know.

Karen
Mikey’s car is still out there too.

Joe
It is?

Karen
Yeah.

Jason
This just keeps getting stranger. (pause) You don’t suppose the two of them are, uh… (makes a gesture with his hands that implies sexual intercourse)

Yvette
Shut up. Just shut the hell up. You think you’re so fucking clever. This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.

Jason
I wasn’t aware that anyone was laughing.

(Yvette slaps Jason hard across the face)

Yvette
I want some fucking answers, damn it! And I want them right fucking now!

Jason
You’re out of line.

Yvette
What happened to Dave? What happened to Mikey? Where are they? Why are their cars still outside? What the fuck is going on here?!

Jason
We’ve already told you everything we know.

Yvette
You have answered us with lies!

Jason
I’m going to ask you to leave now.

(long intense stare down, no one is moving)

Lisa
Come on, let’s just go. They don’t know anything.

Jason
Please, listen to her. She’s the only one of you that’s making any sense.

Karen
Doesn’t Dave have a cell phone?

Yvette
Yeah… I don’t know why I didn’t think to call it before.
(pulls a mobile phone out of her purse)

Jason
I don’t think it’s necessary to call him.

Yvette
You’re kidding right?
(pushes a button)

(Everyone freezes. In the dark bathroom a phone lights up, flashing yellow eerily in the darkness of the room; it’s semi-standard ringer taking on a dark tone as it blares ominously in the silence.

All eyes turn in the direction of the bathroom, the door still closed. It rings again. All remain frozen, some in shock, some in fear, and others in confusion. Yvette is the first to move, she reaches for the door as Dave’s phone rings a third time.

Yvette opens the door, lights remain off within; she looks in the direction of the ringing phone, and towards the tub. She screams, her scream a blend of horror and sorrow as she realizes what has happened to her love.)

Yvette
Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!
(the lights come on in the bathroom as Yvette drops to her knees near the edge of the tub, she cradles Dave’s head in her arms, sobbing and screaming at the same time. Karen steps in, looks over in the direction of the tub.)

Karen
Oh shit.

Lisa
What is it?

Karen
Oh God. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Lisa
(her tone full of fear)
What? What is it? What happened?

Jason
We asked you to stay out of the bathroom.
(draws knife)

(Joe grabs Lisa from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She kicks futilely)

Lisa
Let me go!

(Karen backs out of the bathroom, moving slowly and clumsily; very much in a state of shock. As she backs out, Jason raises the blade in his hand over his head and prepares to strike Karen down. Bobby moves quickly, grabbing a lamp from the nightstand and moving up behind Jason. Karen turns around just as the blade starts to come down, she crouches down in fear; Bobby brings the lamp down on the back of Jason’s head before he can stab the girl, the blow knocks Jason to the floor in a crumpled heap.)

Joe
Now why in the hell did you have to go and do something like that?
(tosses Lisa from his grasp headfirst into the wall, she hits hard and slides to the ground unconscious. Joe moves forward towards Bobby, kicking Karen out of the way as he goes, similarly bashing her head into the wall and knocking her out.)

Joe
You fucked everything up Bob. Everything! And now this?! We never should have got you involved.

Bobby
I think that’s something we can both agree on.

Joe
It’s over Bobby. Say goodnight.
(He steps in swinging, connects with a hard right hook to Bobby’s jaw, knocking Bobby back a few paces into the room. Joe moves in for more as Bobby recovers and prepares to defend himself. But there is no defending himself, Joe comes in with another punch, this one to Bobby’s stomach; causing Bobby to double over; Joe follows this with an uppercut that nearly takes Bobby off his feet.)

( Yvette steps out of the bathroom with the saw in her hand, she is completely unnoticed by the others. Joe continues to pummel Bobby mercilessly as Yvette approaches from behind. When she is near enough she slashes at Joe’s back with the blade of the saw, Joe cries out and arches his back in pain. Joe turns around to face her as she swings in again with the blade, this time he blocks the attack with his arm (resulting in the saw cutting into his arm), he grunts a little in pain. Bobby goes over to the cooler and pulls a 40oz bottle of malt liquor from it, he moves up behind Joe as Joe reaches for the back of Yvette’s head. Bobby comes down with the bottle, cracking Joe in the back of the head. Joe falls to hands and knees, starts to get back up, when he’s on one knee Bobby strikes him again. He stays down this time.)

(Breathe. A few moments of quiet. No one speaks, no one moves. And then…)

Bobby
Yvette, I’m so sorry.

Yvette
Get the hell away from me, you’re just as bad as these two.

Bobby
I didn’t-

Yvette
Didn’t what?

Bobby
I didn’t kill them. Not Mikey, not Dave. I didn’t lay a hand on either one of them.

Yvette
But you didn’t stop it from happening either.

Bobby
I-

Yvette
You just stood by and allowed it to happen didn’t you?

Bobby
I-

Yvette
Didn’t you?!

(Bobby hangs his head in shame)

Bobby
I’m sorry.

Yvette
You should be. You invited Mikey here to be killed and they killed him and they… They killed Dave. They killed my David. (chokes up for a moment or two, starts to go weak with the gravity of the situation sinking in) They killed my baby. I’ll never see him again…

Bobby
Yvette, I’m so-

Yvette
Don’t! Don’t you say a fucking word you son of a bitch! I don’t know what the hell happened to you over the years and I don’t want to know. But whatever happened it has made you one seriously fucked up individual. You… (chokes up) You let them kill my boyfriend! (sob. Jason starts to get slowly to his feet behind her, she doesn’t notice.)

Bobby
Yvette…

Yvette
Why’d you even do it, Bobby? How could you-? Why did you do it?

Bobby
Because my sister was raped at one of his parties. She was raped and he let it happen. Only… Only it turns out that he tried to stop it and couldn’t. The guys who did it beat him up and kept him away.

Yvette
You’re no better than any of them.

Bobby
I know.

Yvette
What did you do to stop them tonight?

Bobby
I tried to, Yvette; but I couldn’t. They threatened to kill me if I backed out or said anything.

Yvette
Then why are you still alive? (Jason, knife in hand, starts to move towards her) If you couldn’t change their minds, why aren’t you dead from trying?

Bobby
(urgently)
Yvette-

(Jason is behind her now, the knife is rising into the air, nearly poised to strike)

Yvette
I swear to God Bobby, if you say one more word; just one more fucking word, I will saw your fucking heart out and feed it to you.

(Jason starts to bring the blade down but Bobby surges forward and shoves Yvette out of the way, she lands on the bed; the knife comes down and plunges into Bobby’s chest. On the bed, Yvette dials her phone)

Jason
Well that wasn’t who I was aiming for, but you had it coming.

(Karen is slowly stirring, rising to hands and knees, she crawls over to check on Lisa. Bobby drops to his knees, clutching at the blade still buried in his chest. Yvette speaks into her phone.)

Yvette
Yes, room 205. Please hurry.

(Jason’s head whips in her direction.)

Jason
Now that is something I could have done without.
(pulls knife from Bobby’s chest and begins walking over to the bed where Yvette is. Bobby drops to the ground, reaches a hand out and grasps at Jason’s ankle. Jason easily shakes him off and continues walking. Yvette rolls off to the other side of the bed, putting the mattress between herself and Jason. They stare silently at one another for a while Karen gets slowly to her feet, leaning on the wall for support.)

Yvette
You stay the hell away from me.

Jason
Not likely.

Yvette
You just stay away from me you fucking psychopath.

Jason
Name calling really isn’t necessary.

(Karen begins moving toward them, picking up something heavy on the way… the discarded lamp or one of the 40oz’s.)

Yvette
The police are on their way.

Jason
Yes, I caught on to that. I wonder though, how many bodies will they find? And will they arrive in time to save you? Somehow I doubt it.

Yvette
Stay back.

Jason
There’s nowhere for you to run, Yvette. This is the end of the story for you.

(Jason fakes as though he is going to rush at her, she jumps a bit and screams)

Jason
Hahahahahahaha. You’re cute when you’re terrified. I can see what Dave liked in you.

Yvette
Just leave me the fuck alone!

(Karen clobbers him in the back of the head, he stumbles forward a step or two and almost falls but catches himself. Yvette steps forward with the saw and slashes at him, cutting a nasty gash into his throat. Jason falls back with an ugly crimson smile)

Yvette
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

(Karen steps forward and reaches out to Yvette)

Karen
It’s okay, ‘Vette; it’s okay.

Yvette
Oh my God.

Karen
Shh… It’s okay.

(A siren can be heard wailing quietly in the background, growing louder. The lights dim and darken and the flash of red and blue plays across the stage from the opposite side of the door, soon becoming the only light source. Yvette can be heard sobbing as the curtains drop.)

End Act 3