Chapter 13 - A Serialized Story

Part Forty

2005-09-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Fix in a Fix:

Things had been going so damned smoothly. Shortly before the protest, Fix had stationed himself near one of the service corridors behind the Broad St station. Arrow, his contact had given him schematics of the station's electrical system. All he had to do was trip a few circuit breakers when the protest started, knocking out the electricity to the security doors. It would take several minutes for the Transit Authority to get those doors down manually, and that would make a crucial difference for the protesters.

The electrical system was old, dating back to the 1940's, it had been designed before paranoia became the rule of the day. Fix had expected titanium steel locks and electronic keys, he had even brought a spray can of liquid nitrogen in order to shatter them, but the breaker cabinet only had a small padlock, which he could break easily with his bolt cutters.

Broad Street was a hub station, with corridors connecting it as far north as Fulton Street. Some of these corridors were for public use, but there were maintenance corridors as well, and they connected to the Wall and Water Street stations as well. All the power systems were channeled through here, so when Fix tripped the breakers, it should effect all of the downtown stations at once.

The easiest access to the service corridors was through a door at the far south end of the Broad Street platform. It was kept locked of course, but Arrow had supplied Fix with a key, these sorts of keys weren't hard to come by, since the TA didn't change their locks very often (if ever).

The plan had been flawless, which in itself should have been a sign that something was wrong. He leaned against the station wall, his black knapsack hanging over one shoulder, as southbound M train had pulled in loaded with protesters. Fix slipped into the service corridor and tripped the breakers, the only sounds he could hear was the dull roar of the crowds, so he couldn't tell if he had been successful or not.

He couldn't go back out to the platform because the Motorman on the train would very likely get a look at him as he emerged. Instead, Fix went down a maintenance corridor that led right out to the tracks. He didn't have to worry about the train pulling out, the protesters would have pulled the emergency cords when it pulled into the station, and it took at least ten minutes for the conductor to reset them.

He stepped out on to the tracks, and began crossing over to the northbound side where he would be able to sneak back up on the platform unseen. The northbound train had arrived while he was flipping the breakers, and chaos had now ensued on both sides of the station.

As Fix crossed the seldom used express tracks, that telltale warm gust of putrid subway air hit him, a sure sign that another train was coming. He looked down the tracks and sure enough, there was a train coming up the express track. It had only one light set in the center, which meant it wasn't a passenger train, but an old work train, probably performing track maintenance.

It was odd to see such a train during rush hour, Fix's father had been a transit dispatcher for many years, so Fix knew a bit about how the system worked. Work trains were almost always run at night, so that they didn't interfere with the rush hour flow. It was possible that there was some area of track that required immediate attention, but that didn't seem right. Fix wondered if this might be some weird Hoser trick, like filling the train with agents or riot cops to take the protesters by surprise, the timing was just too damned perfect.

He shrank against the wall, about ten feet south of the platform. He was glad that no homeless people (or mole people as the subway denizens were called) were staying here, they were known to guard their territories zealously.

The train moved excruciatingly slow, as work trains always do, it carried only one car behind it, most work trains had at least four. The cars were old passenger cars which had been gutted, so that there was room to pile in garbage, replacement tracks, tools and whatever else TA workers might require. It was too dark to see what might be in the car, the lights weren't on and the windows might be either painted or boarded over. Fix didn't want to risk being spotted, so he just sat tight. The train smelled though, it might be a garbage collector, although truth be told it smelled more like urine than anything else and that made even less sense. The subway weren't perfect, but they did have modern toilets.

The train continued past the the Broad Street platform and came to a stop further up on the tracks. Fix knew he should just let it go, but something kept nagging at him. Cursing under his breath, he stepped out onto the north express track again and cautiously walked up the tracks after it..

Fix glanced at the shiny steel passenger trains as he went, the motorman from the southbound train wasn't looking in his direction, and neither of the trains' conductors had come out to inspect the tracks before resetting the brakes. They were probably waiting for orders from the Transit police. He crossed over to the southbound express track, so that he wouldn't be as easily spotted by the northbound motorman, and continued past the perimeter of the station into stuffy darkness.

The sounds of the protesters had died down as most of them made their way to the street, and Fix knew that he had blown his chance for an easy escape route. Then he froze, as the sounds of workers up ahead of him reached his ears.

Words were being exchanged, briefly and in clipped terms. The language wasn't English or Spanish, that much Fix was sure of, but the echoes of the tracks distorted the sounds, and they were speaking in very brief, clipped tones.

Even as Fix's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he couldn't see anything ahead except the faint outline of the work train, and the occasional shaft of a flashlight beam moving around. There was a weird rumbling sound coming from all around, which he realized must be the rally above. All those people (and cops) moving about were creating a slight seismic disturbance in the ground around him, a notion that he found pretty cool to experience.

He crept up a little closer, moving over to the local tracks so that he would get a better side view of the work train. The workers were in the second car now, and the outside passenger doors had been opened. He could make out the men, all dressed in navy blue transit worker uniforms, speaking to each other in tense tones. There were four of them, two of whom were arguing. The language wasn't one that Fix was familiar with, although the men might have been Greek or Turkish from the looks of them. He thought that he caught a word or two of Russian, and wondered if they were from Uzbekistan or one of the dozen countries that used to be Turkmenistan.

The shorter of the two arguing seemed to be the boss. He was insisting that the other man do something, even grabbing him and pulling him towards the middle of the car, where everything was blackened out. It seemed that the second man relented, as everything got very quiet. About thirty seconds later, all four men filed out of the car and down to the tracks. Then they sprinted north (fortunately away from Fix) and disappeared into the darkness.

Fix's heart began pounding, Transit workers didn't normally just abandon a train. He had a horrible suspicion of what was going on. Common sense was telling him to get the hell out of there, but he fought down his fear and crossed the tracks, walking slowly around the front of the train. He looked up, making sure that he didn't miss anyone left behind, but if his hunch was right, there would be no one.

The urine/ammonia smell was overpowering now and his eyes were starting to water. He reached the second car where the passenger doors had been left open. He slid on his gloves, so that he wouldn't leave any fingerprints behind, and gingerly, he lifted himself up onto the floor of the car and slid his legs in. He then stood up very carefully, and turned on his flashlight.

He inhaled sharply, as his suspicions were confirmed. Most of the car was packed tightly with black plastic garbage bags, and each bag was undoubtedly filled with an ammonia nitrate fertilizer, that's what was causing the awful smell. Positioned against them, was an old fashioned suitcase laying flat, with a small electronic box mounted on top that contained a control pad, and probably a pipe bomb on a timer within.

The control pad was a simple LCD screen with a ten digit keypad underneath. Fix recognized it as a cheap do it yourself home security unit. Usually they were mounted to doors, and you activated and deactivated them with a numeric code. In this case, once activated, the bomb couldn't be moved, unless the correct deactivation code was entered first. There was no handy countdown clock like in the movies, so the whole damned thing could blow in 10 seconds or 10 days. Fix broke out in a sweat, what if the damned thing was radio controlled? Then again, that wasn't likely down here, there was way too much interference.

He knew enough though, to know that he wasn't going to do any good here. He would get topside and try to warn everyone. He guessed that he was directly under Wall and Broad street now, and when this thing went off, it was likely to collapse the entire street above, killing hundreds, if not thousands of protesters. He stepped to the edge of the car, and was about to jump down when he realized that there was no way he could leave this.

Whoever these guys were, they wanted to hit the protest, which meant that this bomb was set to go off soon. He could go back to the train station, but by the time he convinced the cops he was serious, it would be over and he would be the prime suspect. He could try to warn everyone upstairs, but by now it would be pandemonium with the cops everywhere, just getting through the crowds would probably take too long.

What the hell could he do? If he could just get the suitcase away from the packed fertilizer, it would be a lot less dangerous, although a pipe bomb alone was still a potent device.

He paused, his heart was pounding in his ears and sweat was pouring down his body, could he just move the train? No, that was no different than moving the suitcase. The motion detector actually maintained a completed circuit, if something shifted the little weight inside, it would momentarily interrupt the circuit, and if these guys knew what they were doing, instantly set off the bomb.

Fix had no doubt there was a timer in there as well, although there was no handy clock face to tell him how much time was left. Not much, he figured, but enough for those fake TA workers to get their asses safely away. If they ever found Fix's body, the media would paint him as a suicide bomber.

Was he really willing to die for this? The last time he had asked himself that question, he was an 18 year old being drafted into the army. Naive and full of patriotic idealism, he thought he was, imagining how noble it would be to die bringing people freedom.

Eleven years later, he knew a lot more about the reality of the world, and going down in history as the Mad Bomber of Wall Street, was far from the noble death he had imagined - but if he could save lives, it would be worth it.

He opened his knapsack, taking stock of the tools he had brought with him. A plan began to form in his mind, a plan that would either work, or blow him instantly to kingdom come.

He took out some wire and tied it to a vice grip. Then he tightened the vice grips, guessing the width of the suitcase handle. Next, he took out the liquid nitrogen spray. One shot, right on the motion sensor would either freeze it in place, or kaboom. Fix found it almost impossible to will his fingers to press the spray nozzle.

It worked! At least the blast of frigid gas didn't cause the bomb to explode in his face. The terrifying lack of explosion momentarily paralyzed him, but he recovered and gently clamped his vice grips to the suitcase. Letting out the line, he stepped quickly down from the train car and began to gently slide the bomb forward. He only had about fifteen feet of wire, which wouldn't be enough if the bomb blew, but so far the fates were being very kind.

The suitcase reached the end of the car and Fix paused, he fully expected it to blow when it fell out, but he hoped that would be far enough away to keep the fertilizer from igniting. He positioned himself behind a steel support pillar and tugged.

There was a sound like breaking glass as the suitcase hit the ground and he realized that the frozen motion detector had just been smashed. There was no instant explosion, so he tugged the line again, the bomb was still in tow. His breath was ragged, he never expected to get this far, he decided to be suicidally brave and get this thing as far away from the train car as possible.

He stepped out from behind the pillar, t and started dragging the bomb forward along the side of the tracks. It only got a few more feet when it snagged and the wire snapped.

"SHIT!" He froze, unsure what to do, he barely had time to step behind a pillar when the bomb finally exploded. Despite his slight shelter, the force threw Fix backward and he saw twisted metal in the flash. Not far enough, he thought as he lost consciousness, certain he was dead.

He found himself standing in his grandmother's kitchen. She was at the stove, stirring what smelled like pea soup. He had spent every weekend here when he was a kid, and his grandmother's house was always the most warm and comfortable place he had ever known.

"You must be hungry dear." She said.

"Uh, yeah Grandma, I guess I am." He sat down at the kitchen table, a table he hadn't seen in over fifteen years, and one he hadn't eaten on in almost twenty.

His grandmother ladled out a bowl of soup, and sliced him some homemade pumpernickel bread.

"Thanks, Grandma. This looks great." He said.

"Take your time dear, you've had a busy day."

"Yeah, I have, there was this bomb and... am I dead?" He paused after taking his first mouthful of soup. His grandmother had always made amazing pea soup. Despite his concern for his state of being, he found that he was ravenous.

"No dear, you're just resting, but you'll need to wake up soon."

"How exactly?"

"Finish your soup." She said, making a little hand gesture that said not to worry.

He continued eating, as he scraped the bottom of the bowl, he became aware of a strange sound in his ears.

His grandmother came over and tousled his hair. "You get back now, and just know that I'm very proud of you."

Fix woke up coughing, there was something hot and salty in his mouth, and he realized that his lip was bleeding. Both of his arms hurt like hell, and might be full of shrapnel from the blast. He opened his eyes, there was smoke everywhere, and a scattering of small fires, but the deadly train car remained intact, the bomb had been moved to about halfway up the Motorman's car, and the side of that car was in a shambles.

He tried to smile as he got to his feet, but his left ankle gave out, when he tried to stand. His hands were numb, but they looked intact, so he tried to feel his ankle with them. It was swollen, he could tell that much, but he wasn't sure if it was broken. He had to get out of there though, or he might die from smoke inhalation.

He realized that he was on the southbound express track, and he realized how extremely lucky he was that the blast had thrown him clear of the third rail. Sitting up, he pushed himself backwards with his hands, trying to slide along the bumpy tracks. it was slow going, but he was making progress. He knew that he would probably get busted for this and spend the better part of his life in jail, but he didn't care either, at least everyone was safe, at least Dawn was safe.

Dawn, he had been trying not to think about her lately, he cared for her more than he had for any other person in his life except one, and that one was gone. He had met Dawn after he had been discharged from the army, and began working for peace. Like him, Dawn had been recently disillusioned as well, and the two of them teamed up to have some fun with the Board of Education's computer system.

It was a stupid thing really, the sort of prank that should have gotten Fix fined or maybe some community service. The Hosers came down on him though, whether it was because of his being ex-army (and refusing an Intelligence post) or because they wanted Dawn, he was never sure, it didn't matter though, he would die before giving Dawn up.

He was glad that Dawn had someone in her life now, and Fix had to admit that Sam seemed like a decent enough guy. He tried not to feel jealous over it, and on one level he wasn't, since he had never been sexually attracted to a woman in his life, but he missed her constant friendship and the amount of time they used to spend with each other.
Fix spit out some blood and reassesed his physical condition. His hands were vibrating now, so some sort of feeling was returning to them. The air was a little better here, although it was too dark to actually see anything. He felt a little dizzy and wondered if he had a concussion, there were voices in the distance, voices that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hey buddy, you've got to get up and get out of here." The voice was Donny's, the only man Fix had ever really loved.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Fix griped.

"You will be too buddy, unless you get your ass up. The Hoser's will be down here any minute." Donny said.

"Let'm arrest me, at least I'll get a doctor." Fix tried to turn and see Donny, but his neck or back was too stiff.

"Arrest? Dead men tell no tales buddy, we've got to get you out of here." Donny grabbed Fix from under his arms and pulled him to his feet. He positioned himself so that Fix could lean on him as he walked.

Fix looked over at Donny for the first time in years. He looked as innocent as ever with his freckled face and red hair. It was to Fix's delight and their superiors chagrin that the two of them enjoyed practical jokes so much. Their unit had nicknamed them Hawkeye and Trapper (and occasionally BJ when most of the unit caught on to how close they really were). Being with Donny had made the insanity of war bearable, until a sniper put a bullet in his head.

"Where have you been anyway?" Fix said, trying to make sense of things.

"Stalking you mostly." Donny answered, "and visiting my Mom, both of you really need to move on you know."

"I thought you and your mom weren't..." Donny's mom had shut him out when she learned of his being gay.

"Yeah, but you know what they say, death heals all wounds. Now she misses me, and I try to comfort her when I can. Careful now, big steps, we're going down a staircase."

"Why don't you go into the light or something?" Fix asked.

"Who says I didn't? I just came back to hang around here and mess up your TV reception." Donny said. He led Fix through a door and down a very dank, dark, corridor.

"Where are we anyway?" Fix asked.

"Under downtown Manhattan, west of Nassau St., probably near Broadway by now."

"But, what is this place?"

"It's an old sanitation conduit, it used to provide access to the sewer system, until 9/11 blew half of it up, now it's just a forgotten connection to Sanctuary."

"You're taking me to a church?"

"Something like that."

As they moved, Fix was slowly becoming aware of his aches and pains. His ankle was by far the worst, throbbing every time he put any pressure on it. His arms and the backs of his legs hurt in a dozen different places. He suspected that his arms had first degree burns as well. "I think I need to rest." He said.

"Hang on, we're just about there." They stopped before a door that was outlined brightly by the light behind it. Donny opened it and Fix was stunned to see what looked like a black tie gala.

There were tables laden with food and drink stretching back as far as he could see. The ceiling had at least a dozen ornate chandelier hanging down, and a breathtaking ice sculpture of a hawk or an eagle in the middle of the room. The men were all dressed in tuxedos, complete with top hat and tails, while the women were all in elaborate Victorian gowns. Several of them waltzed to the sounds of a live orchestra which Fix could barely see in the distance.

The brightness caused him to shield his eyes, and he was about to tell Donny that he couldn't possibly take him in there, when a different set of sounds came to his head.

"He's coming around." It was a woman's voice.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He opened his eyes long enough to see fluorescent lights overhead and a strange woman's face, but the brightness stung so he closed them again.

"Easy there, you have a concussion, you've been unconscious for several hours." The woman's voice was smooth and professional.

"Is this a hospital?" His throat was still raw, which was weird because it felt fine when he was talking to Donny. "Where's Donny?"

"Who? I'm afraid we only found you on the tracks."

"Donny helped me come here, he let me lean on him because of my ankle."

"You're in shock." The woman said, "and probably delirious. You were carried here by a man named Henry, you've been unconscious since the bomb went off."

"Are you cops?"

"No, you're far from the police. Henry took a big chance bringing you here, but he watched you try to remove the bomb and he didn't want the Hosers to get you."

"Why can't I keep my eyes open?"

"Your pupils are dialated, that happens sometimes. They should start to adjust in a minute or two. How are you feeling otherwise?"

Fix considered the question. He knew he must be laying down, but he really couldn't tell, he mostly felt numb all over. "I'm not sure, numb I guess, dizzy or something, like I don't know which way is up."

He felt his hand being lifted, and then squeezed.

"Can you feel this?"

"Yeah."

"Can you squeeze it back?"

It took some effort, but he was able to feel his hand grip hers.

"Good, now let's try it with your feet."

"What about my ankle?"

"Does your ankle hurt?" She asked, "I don't see any signs of injury from here."

"It was swollen before. I couldn't walk on it."

"I'm going to put some pressure on your ankle, tell me if it hurts."

Fix could feel it, but it was like she was squeezing someone else's body and he was watching. "Doesn't hurt." He answered.

"Can you try moving your foot?"

It was getting easier now to do this, he tentatively moved his foot, and realized that there was no pain in his ankle. He tried opening his eyes again, the lights were still pretty bright, but he was managing.

"The woman working on him was in her forties, with curly dark hair and a friendly face that reminded Fix a little of Mickey Mouse. Her eyes were deep-set, with noticeable crow's feet and puffiness underneath. She looked like she hadn't slept well in a long time.

She was wearing a checkered flannel shirt, and a gold chain with a cross on it. Remembering what she said about this being a sanctuary, he wondered if he was in a church.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Yes. My name is Monique. You could say I do volunteer work here."

"And where is here exactly?" Fix turned his head, although it hurt like hell to do so. He was on a hospital gurney, and there were a few more empty ones around him. Beyond that were stacks of boxes, creating a makeshift room around him. Looking out the room's entrance he could see rows of sleeping bags lying on the floor.

"It's called Sanctuary, after the place in the movie 'Logan's Run.' This was originally a corporate bomb shelter, which ironically was forgotten about and buried after 9/11. Some of the homeless found their way here and built a community, they've kept it a secret from the authorities for over eleven years now."

"How did I get here again?"

"You were brought in by Henry, he's one of Santcuary's oldest members. Would you like to meet him?"

"Uh, sure." Fix said.

She stepped out of the makeshift room and came back in a moment later with a thin, wiry black man with gray hair and beard. The man wore a white button down shirt and a blue denim jacket, he didn't look wealthy but he looked far from homeless.

Henry offered his hand, which Fix took weakly. "It's not every day I get to shake the hand of a genuine hero. I'm Henry Mack"

"Stanley Skolnick, but everyone calls me Fix. I think I owe you my life." Fix said.

"And vice versa. If you hadn't tried to move that bomb, I would have - and I'm sure I wouldn't have been as successful as you."

"How did you know about it?"

"Same as you, I was watching. I went down to the tracks when the protest started, I couldn't take all that noise. While I was there I saw the work train pull up, and those four Arab bastards jump out and run away."

"They weren't Arabs." Fix said, "they weren't speaking Arabic anyway, I know enough of it to tell."

"Who the hell were they then?" Henry asked.

"I'm not sure, but they must have had high connections to get that work train on the tracks. The TA monitors everything pretty closely."

Henry just chuckled. "Yeah, they're supposed to, but I know some guys who live in a lost D train up in Midtown. They take it out for joy rides once in a while and never get caught."

Fix managed a weak smile, his father had told him tales of ghost trains riding the tracks at night, but nobody had ever caught one. How and where can you hide an entire train, even in a place as big as New York City?

"How long was I out anyway?" Fix asked.

"It's been about four hours." Henry said.

"Damn. How did the protest go?"

Henry sighed. "I guess that depends on your perspective. The Mayor has declared martial law in the city. The protest turned into a full scale riot, and downtown is pretty beat up. The cops tried to knock the crowd out with their those ultra low frequency weapons, but they all malfunctioned."

"All of them?" Fix found that hard to believe.

"Every single one, they just stopped working after a few seconds, so nobody was knocked out by them. It's a good thing too, because some of the windows in the office buildings were shattered by the force of the sound waves, and they may have ended up showering glass on thousands of helpless people. Anyway, the cops tried to make arrests, but people started resisting, and things got ugly real fast - then the bombs started going off and everyone got scared."

"There was more than one?"

"Yup. Somebody tried to blow up one of the office buildings, it was strictly an amateur job, but it injured a bunch of people and only added to the panic. A bunch of people made it to the Staten Island Ferry, and last I heard they were trying to reach Canada."

"Come on, now you're just messing with me."

"No, I'm serious. I haven't been topside in a while, and we don't allow radios or TV in here, so I don't know what's happening at the moment."

"How soon can I leave here?" Fix asked.

"That's more for the Doctor to say, but not until the martial law is lifted at least." Henry said. "The last thing we need is the stormtroopers showing up here, declaring us the lost branch of Al Qaida."

"Hey, Doc, our patient here has some medical questions."

Monique walked back into the room. "Jodi and Pepe are still not back." She said to Henry, "do you want people to go look for them or just to sit tight."

"Nobody's going out." Henry said, "thanks to that bomb we've got Hosers crawling all over the underground. We'll be damned lucky if they don't find this place on their own, the last thing we need is to lead them right to it. Excuse me, Mr. Fix, I've got some matters to attend to."

"Just Fix, please."

"Well Fix," Monique said, "how are you feeling now?"

"A little better, but my throat is still really raw, and my arms and legs hurt a little."

"You're sore throat is from the smoke inhalation, and your arms and legs got some minor burns in the blast. Fortunately, you were able to shield your face and torso, and I didn't see any signs that you took any shrapnel. You need to be here overnight, because of the concussion, but once Henry says it's ok, we'll arrange for you to leave. Is there anyone who can pick you up?"

"Yeah, I have some friends who will come and get me, they're probably worried about me right now."

Monique made a little face, "there's no way to communicate from in here, but the next time I go to the surface, I could make some calls for you."

"That would be great." He gave her Stubs and Dawn's numbers.

"Was that really true about the Ferry?"

Monique smiled again, "strangely enough it is. Before I came down here, I heard that they had called out the Coast Guard to intercept and board it."

Fix sighed, "oh well, that's it for them then."

Part Thirty Nine

2005-09-04T19:27:00.000-07:00

The Pirate Ship Revenge

Eve got to her feet as the ACDENS helicopters stopped projecting.
She felt dizzy and short of breath, but not as bad as she would have
thought. She looked at Kenny, the guy she came with. His wild brown
hair and beard gave him a Charles Manson look, and Eve wasn't so
sure that was far from the truth.

"HAH!" He said jumping to his feet, now it's time for PAYBACK!" He
ran north through the crowd of protesters all still getting back to
their feet. Eve didn't say a word, she had regretted hooking up with
him almost from the start, and was glad to see him go.

There were no familiar faces around her, but that didn't mean much.
Eve was quick to make friends wherever she went. She brushed her
long blonde hair out of her face and got her bearings. The
combination of pulsing rotors and the ACDENS assault had given her a
splitting headache. The air around her was humid and thick with the
warmth of the other protestors. A little space to breathe would be
nice she thought, heading south and away from the main police lines.

Many others seemed to have the same idea, an older woman with
graying hair and a backpack wearing a tie dyed t-shirt offered Eve
some water.

"Thanks." Eve said, taking a deep drink. "Where are you heading?"

"The Ferry. I'm hoping that it's running," she said, "I live on
Staten Island."

"I didn't think of the Ferry," Eve said. "but we might be walking
right into the cops."

"That's true for just about everywhere. I'm Ally by the way."

"I'm Eve."

"It's great to see young people getting involved again." Ally said,
"I was protesting Vietnam when I was 16, and against nukes and for
woman's rights after that, but I could never get my own kids
interested. I was just their embarrassing hippie mom."

"Maybe it skips a generation." Eve said lightly. Eve had been an
army brat, both of her parents were soldiers, until her father had
died of lung cancer, and her mother retired several years back.

"Oh, I think the draft had a lot to do with it." Ally said. "Once
that was back in effect, people started waking up. Kids started to
realize that they were mortal, way earlier than they should have
to."

Eve smiled at that, as she looked around she realized a steady
stream of protestors was moving with them. There were police
bullhorns and sounds of chaos behind them, but as they found their
way onto Water and Whitehall street, everything seemed almost
tranquil.

They entered the ferry terminal, just as one of the big boats had
finished unloading. Eve chuckled as a handful of smartly dressed
people rushed through to get to their jobs. Good luck, she thought,
wondering if they just hadn't turned on the news that afternoon.

"Looks like we got here just on time." Ally said, glancing
backwards.

Eve looked behind her and realized that now a wave of protestors was
making for the Ferry terminal in a all out run. "We better hurry."
She said.

They got on board, and Eve even bought a cup of coffee from the
little kiosk inside the Ferry, just as droves of people started
arriving. Covering her coffee, she guided Ally to the front end of
the Ferry, grabbing them seats where they weren't as likely to get
trampled.

Seats started filling up fast, a tall, thin, nervous looking fellow
sat next to Ally. He sounded asthmatic, wheezing to catch his
breath.

"You poor dear, would you like some water." Ally said.

He took it egearly and gulped some down.

"What's going on?" Eve asked him, "why is everyone running?"

"There were gunshots." He said, "someone said a protestor started
shooting at the cops, other people said it was the cops firing
rubber bullets. Either way, I didn't want to stay and find out.
Everyone started running this way, so I just went along."

"Oh dear." Ally said, "I was in Seattle went things went bad many
years ago. At least we're away from it." She took the water bottle
back and pulled out a box of crackers for everyone. "So what's your
name?"

"Walter, Walter Barnes."

"The radio is saying that someone's taken hostages at 180 Broad St,"
Another protestor said, "I arrived late, so I never got that close
to things."

"I was right near there when the ACDENS hit." Eve said. "I thought
they would last longer, but once they turned them off, I figured it
was time to go. I saw some people rushing into the buildings."

The Ferry was now packed with people, and Eve wondered if they would
even allow it to launch.

"We may have walked right into a trap." She said to Ally.

"Maybe so, but at least we're comfortable." Ally said.

The Ferry's motor hummed to life however, and despite the crowds,
the crew managed to close the boarding gates. For a moment it looked
as if everything was normal. Then the first PA announcement came
over:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Ferry Operator. I have been
advised at this time by the NYPD and the Department of Homeland
Security to hold my position. I apologize for the delay and we hope
to be under way as soon as possible."

The simultaneous groans of several hundred people were almost
comical to hear. The Ferry's engines were cut, and a sense of
hopeless gloom settled over the passengers.

Tyrone Parker made his way to the upper cabin of the Ferry. Four
years ago he had been a Ferry operator on the graveyard shift four
nights a week. That was before his past came back to haunt him, and
the Hosers labeled him a 'security risk' causing him to lose his
job, his pension, and any hope of getting a decent job again. He
spent his days now as a dishwasher in Delveccio's the uber chic
restaurant at the edge of the new Freedom Center, sometimes for
extra money, he went through Battery Park on the way home collecting
recyclables.

When Tyrone was stationed in the Free Republic of Iran, he had
become friendly with a local girl there. U.S. forces had just
liberated the country, and many of the moral restrictions had been
lifted, at least until the population could supposedly decide for
itself what sort of laws it wanted.

Her name was Irina, and she wanted to go to college and study. She
spoke a little english, and had been very friendly towards the
American soldiers. They called her a camp follower, but Tyrone knew
that she would be so much more if she got the chance.

He taught her how to read and write english, and they spent all
their free time together. Many of the locals shunned her, because
Tyrone was both American and black. Tyrone wanted to bring her back
to the U.S. but he found himself getting transferred instead.

"Are you nuts?" His C.O. had sad: "She's a tramp, you don't bring
these girls home to mama! Just buy her some candy and say goodbye,
I'm transferring you stateside."

And Tyrone found himself going home, only for the first time since
he had gotten there, he didn't want to leave. He continued to write
Irina letters, her responses took some time, but she wrote back in
English. She told him that she was pregnant with the first letter
she sent.

Tyrone tried to arrange for her to come to the U.S., to have the
baby here, but all of his requests for visas were denied. One smart
mouthed Officer had said: "We're doing you a favor, odds are that
it's not your kid anyway."

Time passed and the baby was born. He was a boy, and Irina named him
Tyrone after his father, flouting the Muslem names that would have
been more socially acceptable. The country was holding it's first
round of elections though, and it looked as if the people were
really embracing Western culture. She sent him photos, and the baby
was the spitting image of Tyrone. He sent her as much money as he
could every month, but gave up trying to get her a visa. He figured
that he would have to return to Iran once he was discharged and
marry her then. As a civilian he would have a better chance of
bringing her into the country.

It wasn't the military that interrupted his plans though, it was the
Fundamentalist movement in Iran. They swept the second round of
elections and restored many of the oppressive theocratic policies
that had ruled the culture for so many years. Among some of the more
personally troubling laws put in place were that women could not
marry foreigners and that having children out of wedlock was now a
crime punishable by death. Irina was now a criminal, as would Tyrone
be if he were to set foot there again.

Despite the return of draconian rule, Neil Bush smiled on the
televison and said that the new president was a 'good and fair' man
who simply represented his people's traditional values. Tyrone began
to explore other means of getting his woman and child the hell out
of there. He was out of the army now, and in the training program to
be a Ferry operator. His pay was better, but he was far from being a
rich man.

He contacted Amnesty International, where he was met with sympathy,
but little help. They advised him to stop sending Irina money, or
make any direct contact, lest she become a target of the new regime.
One person there did get him in touch with a group who promised to
smuggle Irina and Tyrone Jr. out, the only problem was the
astronomical cost.

It took over a year for Tyrone to save up and borrow enough money to
meet this group's cost. In that time, he had not heard a word from
Irina, and stories coming out of the renamed: Islamic Nation of Iran
were not promising. He hoped against hope that she was alright, that
his boy was alive and safe somewhere. He prayed to God for help
nightly, pleading for some sign that they were alive, but all he
ever got was silence.

The man who took his money was friendly enough.He was working as a
translator for one of the big corporations, but had actually been a
languages Professor in the short lived Free Republic of Iran. Tyrone
paid him in cash, and the man said that it would take weeks or even
months for them to find Irina and get her out. That was assuming
that she was alive and not imprisoned.

More than a month passed, and the man was in touch with him again.
He said that Irina and Tyrone were alive and living in an outlying
province. However, they had exhausted the money Tyrone had gave them
and he would need more.

Tyrone raged, and demanded to at least get a letter or some other
proof that they really had found Irina. The man apologized,
explaining that his group had to be extrememly covert in it's
actions, and that they couldn't even contact Irina directly. In the
end, Tyrone gave him more money, unwilling to let go of the even the
slightest hope. He began giving monthly payments to the man, who
swore that the money was being used to help secure a means of
getting Irina and Tyrone Jr. out.

Meanwhle, the news in Iran was not good. Insurgents from rival
religious factions had taken up arms when they lost the elections.
Only the U.S. presence was keeping the country in any sort of order
and that order was fading fast. Tyrone was losing all hope of seeing
Irina again, when two Homeland Security Agents had knocked on his
door.

Over the next 6 hours he had learned that the group he was supplying
money to was in fact a terrorist organization, and had nothing to do
with helping people. His contact had been arrested and put in jail,
and while Tyrone wasn't formally charged, he was now considered a
'person of risk' and could not be allowed to hold any positions
where he might be a threat.

And that was when, as far as he was concerned, his life ended.
Nothing mattered anymore. He declared bankruptcy, but the new laws
made him liable for over 80% of his debts, payable over the next 50
years if necessary. The more he earned, the more they would take,
not that he could earn much as a security risk anyway.

And now he would be going to jail, not because he was a protestor,
which he wasn't, but because he was here and that's all it took
these days. He had only boarded the Ferry in order to scout for
cans, he had never bothered himself with the anti-war movement.

He was only heading up to the control room in order to convince the
Operator to open the gates and let everyone back off the ferry. He
was hoping it would be someone he knew from the old days, but
doubted it. Nobody seemed to know him when things had gone bad.

When he got made his way up there, a group of brightly dressed
protestors were already banging on the door and pleading with him to
let everyone off.

"Excuse me folks" Tyrone said in a loud voice, "but I believe I can
get us into the Control Cabin." On his keyring was a thin, flat
screwdriver, the kind of thing you could buy for a couple of
dollars. It was also known as "the emergency key" by his fellow
Ferry operators.

The group was mostly a yonng bunch, late teens to early twenties.
They all looked fresh faced and innocent, Tyrone wondered if he ever
really had looked that way himself. They eyed him with suspicion as
they made way for him. He jammed the screwdriver into the slot, it
went in about 3/4ths of the way. "Damn. Has somebody got a shoe or
something I can hammer with?"

A girl handed him a slim high heeled shoe, and he chuckled for the
first time in ages. "That's a beautful shoe, but I'm afraid I'll
break the heel off." He handed it back to her.

A young man wrestled his foot out of a heavy hiking boot and handed

it over. "Now that's more like it." Tyrone said and gave the
screwdriver two solid whacks. Returning the boot to it's owner, he
twisted the screwdriver hard and the lock clicked open.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY! I AM UNDER ATTACK!" the Ferry Operator yelled as
Tyrone and several protestors came through the door.

"Shut up!" Tyrone said, pushing him out of the way. "People just
want to leave!"

"Too late." Said the young man with the hiking boots." He was on his
cell phone. "Cops are pulling up to the terminal."

"Then we're leaving." Tyrone said, activating the PA system. "Ladies
and Gentlemen, this is your Ferry Operator, and we have been given
the all clear, thank you for your paitence." He started the engines
and unlocked the docking clamps.

"Dude. Do you know what your doing?" An 18 looking kid with ratty
hair and a long nose asked.

"Yup. I used to do this for a living." Tyrone said, and picking up
the microphone: "Next stop will be Canada folks!"

Cheers erupted all over the Ferry, Eve and Ally looked at each other
in alarm: "They can't sail this thing all the way to Canada, can
they?"

"Not a chance." said Walter. "On a full tank this boat can only make
it about 300 miles or so. Maybe we can defect to Conneticutt."

As the Ferry left the dock, a police bullhorn was blaring for them
to return. The Ferry's proper operator abandoned the control room
and had locked himself in one of the public bathrooms. From his cell
phone he was telling the police that he had been taken hostage.

Back in the Control Cabin, people were crowded so close, Tyrone was
having trouble working. "Folks, I need some elbow room here or we'll
end up hitting something."

"Sorry Matey, it's just that I've never been a real Pirate before."
The ratty haired kid joked.

"Yeah, I guess we are pirates." Tyrone said. "So what should we name
this fine vessel?"

"The Pirate Ship Revenge!" Shouted the girl with the high heels.

"Beautiful!" Tyrone picked up the microphone again. "Ladies and
Gentlemen, this is... Captain Bligh, master of the newly christened
Pirate Ship Revenge! We are sailing out into open waters and woe be
to any enemy ships that cross our path!"

Around the Ferry, people were singing bits and pieces of Sea
Shanties, not to mention the Gilligan's Island theme. A handful of
people had brought booze aboard with them, and bottles were being
passed liberally.

Tyrone felt giddy as the Ferry headed out into open waters, he knew
they didn't stand a chance. Either the police or Coast Guard woud
board them or they would just force them to dock somewhere. For the
moment though, he was free and that was enough.

Part Thirty Eight

2005-08-22T13:01:00.000-07:00

"You have one minute remaining." The voice of the police officer came over the bullhorn. In the distance, the deep thrumming of helicopters could be heard approaching.

Terry Hope stepped up to the microphone again. "The cops just ordered the News copters cleared. We believe they're bringing in copters with Acdens on them. There is no way to leave the area, I recommend that everyone just lay down and not resist."

This brought a series of laughs and jeers from the crowd. The helicopters were visible now, and descending between the tall buildings. The beat of their rotors in such a confined space was disturbing enough.

Dawn consulted quickly with her bandmates and leapt down from the stage and made her way over to Sam and Mark.
"Let's try to work our way back to the car." She said.

"Are you nuts?" Mark shouted, "we're completely surrounded." The helicopters were almost deafening now, there were at least 6 of them that Sam could see. The crowd began to get panicky, milling about in every direction, people were looking for ways to take shelter.

There was a crashing sound, but Sam couldn't make out what was going on. He could tell the police were using the megaphones again, but the sound of the helicopters was drowning them out.

There was some movement further south down Broad St., and Sam, Dawn and Mark found themselves moving with flow.

Suddenly, a force like an explosion knocked everyone to the ground. There was no audible sound, but a feeling like you were being torn apart from within. Sam held tightly onto Dawn. Despite the discomfort, he realized, this felt slightly familiar. These weapons were forcing him slightly out of his body!

Sam let go, and moved out completely, his physical form went limp and Dawn yelled his name, holding him tightly. Sam rose quickly up to the great machines. On this level, the ultra low frequency waves simply passed through him. It was an odd sensation, but not an nucomfortable one.

He reached into the projector mounted on the underside of the helicopter. With a little work, it was quickly shorted out. There were two projectors on each copter, and Sam began zipping from one to the other knocking them out.

The cops were just out of range, waiting to sweep in and start making mass arrests. They held something akin to strait jackets rather then handcuffs, but as Sam knocked out the Acdens projectors (he had to remember to ask Dawn what that stood for) people began recovering and scrambling to their feet.

Sam flew back, seeing that Dawn had moved him. "Oh great, I've lost my body." He smirked. People were back on their feet now, most of them were moving southward. Floating above the crowd, Sam could see that the south end of Broad Street was open, but the cops had all exits beyond that cut off, so there was no escape in that direction.

He felt a tug, and realized his body was calling him back. The world became a blur and he realized that he was being sucked into a building whose glass doors had been smashed.

A rent-a-cop was trying to intimidate Dawn, ordering her out of the building, despite the fact that a steady stream of protestors was pouring into the lobby and milling about. Sam opened his eyes and looked around, he saw that Mark was still with them. "Are we in 100 Broad?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Mark said.

"Are you ok?" Dawn asked.

"Perfect, sorry for the scare. Follow me." He pulled himself to his feet and the guard pointed them towards the broken glass doors through which people were still pushing in.

"This way." Sam indicated an almost hidden door near the main desk. "It's the messenger enterance, it will take us out through the basement of the building."

"You can't go that way." The guard, a thin man of about 30, stamped his foot. "Get out of my building."

"ICE Messenger service." Sam yelled and escorted Mark and Dawn to the basement stairs. The hallway below was deserted and it felt nice to have some elbow room.

"You're not the only one with secret exits." Sam told Dawn lightly.

"They've got Wall Street cut off from every end, but this will get us out to Pearl. From there we can make a dash to Water St. and the car."

"Excellent." Dawn said.

"Do you really think we can get away?" Mark asked. "Maybe we should lay low here for a while."

"With Captain Hotfoot upstairs? Not a chance." Sam said.

They exited onto Pearl St., other protestors had found their way there as well. This worried Sam at first, but he realized that with more people around, the cops would be less likely to single them out. One of the Acden helicopters flew over, gaining altitude as it flew. The pilots must have figured out that they're weapons were no longer working, and were heading back to their base.

Looking back towards Broad St., it sounded like things were getting ugly with the cops. Sam saw a handful of people emerging from McGinty's Tavern.

"Wow, I'm amazed McGinty's is still in business." Sam said.

"Does anyone know if the Pearl Street station is open?" The man was in his twenties with a shaved head. He was traveling with five other people. Sam briefly thought that the man looked more suited to Dawn than he did.

"I doubt it." Dawn said, "they've had lots of time to shut down all the exits."

"What about the people in all these office buildings? They have to be let out somehow?"

"I'm guessing they're going to sit tight, until the excitement's over." Sam said.

They reached the corner of Water St. and Pearl. There were walls of cops in each direction about a block away, but there were none between Sam, Dawn, and Mark and the car.

"Amazing." Mark said.

"We're not out of here yet, they still might stop the car." Sam said.

They crossed the street and Dawn popped her wig out of the trunk for good measure.

"You drive Sam, you still have that old timer look going." Dawn said.

"Actually, my license is expired, so you should probably drive."

"Good thought."

"Don't get on Water St., go under the FDR and we'll pray that the entrance ramps aren't blocked." Sam said.

Dawn pulled out, and drove north under the highway. There were no police to be seen, Dawn got on the FDR which had a moderate amount of traffic moving. "I guess the Battery Tunnel is still open." She said.

They got onto the Brooklyn Bridge and made their way back to Brooklyn. "Let's stop at the Red Eye and see what's going on." Dawn said.

"Hey Mark, where do you live anyway?" Sam asked.

"Queens." He said softly.

"Don't worry, we'll get you home." Dawn said.

Sam's cell phone began ringing. He picked it up, knowing immediately that it was his Mom.

"Sam, are you alright?"

"Fine Mom, why?" He winked at Dawn.

"You're not in Manhattan are you? There's a riot downtown."

"No Mom, I'm in Brooklyn. I'm with Dawn, we're going to drive our friend Mark home and then go out for some dinner."

"Ok." He could hear the relief in her voice. "I just worried that you might have gotten caught. You know you're still weak Sam."

"I know Mom. I'll see you later."

"At least you didn't have to lie to her." Dawn said. They were cruising through downtown Brooklyn now.

"Mark, would you rather go home now, or you can come hang out with us at the Red Eye for a while." Dawn said.

"Yeah, that sounds alright. I've never been to the Red Eye." Mark said.

Dawn parked the car and they walked into the Red Eye, it was only about 6:00, so there were no crowds yet. As they went through the doorway, the RFID sensor went off.

"Busted!" Stubs yelled.

"Oh Crap, I think it's my cell phone." Sam said. "Your Dad told me to get a new one."

"Oh yeah, you'll definitely want to get rid of that thing." Dawn said.

"I'm surprised you guys aren't downtown." Stubs said.

"We just came from there. By the way, this is Mark, we met him at the rally. Mark this is Stubs, the bartender is Dave and the guy watching the TV there is Shotzie."

"Hey." Mark said rather meekly.

"Whatcha drinking Mark?" Dawn said.

"Uh, just a selzter right now. I'm a little dehydrated."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Dave, let me get a seltzer, a coke and a two cranberry juices."

"Drinking for two Dawnie?" Stubs asked.

"Nah, it's for you, bonehead. So what's the story downtown?"

Shotzie turned around: "Well according to Fox News, an armed terrorist group used the rally as a cover to seize several office buildings and take hostages."

"Any real accounts?" Dawn asked.

"Nope. You guys are the first escapees to arrive." Shotzie said, "why don't you tell us what's happening."

Dawn and Sam relayed their story, although Sam left out why the Acden copters failed.

"Oh yeah, what the heck does Acden mean anyway?" Sam asked.

"That's ACDENS actually." Stubs said, "it stands for Active Denial System. The army started using it about 10 years ago, and the cops picked it up a little while after that. They even have portable ones, but they're the size of a bazooka."

"It's horrible." Sam said, "I'm glad Dawn got me into a building."

"Yeah, I've felt'em too." Shotzie said, "they used'm on us at a Veteran's Day protest a few years back. Once again they cut our retirement fund. Dumbass W made the mistake of saying that there were too many surviving veterans to pay for."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he made some brilliant remarks even before my coma."

"Coma?" Mark asked.

Sam briefly explained his past to Mark.

"Dawn. Would you write it up for the Infranet?" Dave asked. "I can get it on the wall for everyone later."

"Of course." Dawn said with a familiar air. She took out her PDA and a foldout keyboard and began typing.

"Wow, dude you're like a Walk In." Mark said.

"What's a Walk In?" Sam asked.

"They're souls that take over willing bodies when the owner of the body is too ill to carry on by themselves."

"Hmm, well I think that I'm still me." Sam said.

"Some people don't realize they've changed until years later." Mark said.

"Hm, well I doubt it." Sam said.

A phone rang behind the bar, Dave picked it up saying: "Red Eye! Yeah, what's up George where are you? The Ferry? Oh SHIT!"

"They hijacked the Staten Island Ferry!" Dave shouted. Everyone just stared, they didn't know whether this was a cause for celebration or not."

"Yeah, uh huh, yeah she's here. Hold on." Dave looked up at Dawn. "Dawn is your dad available? The whole lot of them are likely to be charged as terrorists when they reach harbor."

"I'm not sure." Dawn said, "last I knew he was in Ohio."

"Hey! Somethnings going on in San Francisco as well." Shotzie said. A quick camera shot showed the Golden Gate Bridge being blocked by people chained together across the lanes. "They're saying that it wasn't as big or violent as the 'terrorism' in New York City though."

Dave hung up the phone shaking his head. "I don't believe it. Apparently, the whole crowd started moving south as the cops moved in on them. George said that the Acdens were only on for a few seconds, so people weren't weakened enough to arrest. I'll bet someone loses their job over that little mistake."

"What about the Ferry?" Stubs asked.

"Yeah, well like I said everyone started heading south, and at that moment the Ferry was coming in. Apparently nobody thought to stop the ferry runs when the protestors rurned up. So several hundred people swarmed onto the ferry way ahead of the cops. And then it took off. George doesn't know who's controlling it or even where it's going, but the protestors have rechristened it: "The Pirate Ship Revenge!

"Inconceivable!" Stubs shouted with glee.

Sam looked a bit confused.

"It's from the 'The Princess Bride'" Mark explained, "it's a movie from the 80's."

"Oh yeah. I think I saw it once." Sam said.

"Here's the news!" Shotzie said, turning up the volume.

"The same terrorists who used the cover of an anti-war rally to seize several Manhattan office buildings and hold their occupants hostage, have now seized one of the Staten Island Ferries in a desparate attempt to escape." A helicopter showed a Ferry packed wall to wall with people, many of them waving up at the helicopter.

"As you can see, the Ferry passengers are crying out for help. It's believed that the terrorists have taken the Ferry operator hostage and will shoot him if the police come too close. It should be noted here that docking a ferry is a very complicated manuever, and these terrorists are likely to injure dozens, if not hundreds of the passengers wherever they attempt to dock."

"Notice they're not zooming in." Dave said, "George told me it's one huge party going on there."

Dawn got off the phone. "My dad's still in Ohio, but his secretary is calling some ACLU lawyers to make sure they know about it."

"He was also really glad to know that you and I got out safely." Dawn said to Sam.

The TV screen changed scenes and they showed cops trying to control thousands of protestors. Police barricades had been flattened everywhere. The sheer numbers of people had overwhelmed the cops forcing them into taking more defensive postures. The cameras focused on one area where the protest had turned violent. The cops were firing tear gas cannisters into the crowd. As the protestors scattered, the uniformed figures of two fallen policemen could be seen.

"Damn! It's never good for us when things get that bad." Dawn said.
"What can they possibly do with that many?" Sam asked.

"Most of them will just be let go." Dawn said. "But anyone with a record or if their a 'person of interest' for any reason, they'll be held for at least a day, and possibly charged if they can pin something on them."

Dawn went back to typing up her account.

"So, where is Fix tonight?" Sam asked Stubs.

"He's probably at the protest." Stubs said, "he's usually working some tech angle behind the scenes."

"I hope he's alright." Sam said.

"He'll be fine. I swear he knows how to turn invisible."

"Hey, their updating the ferry." Shotzie said.

"We're high above the hijacked Staten Island Ferry, we can't get any closer due to the danger of being fired upon by the hijackers." The ferry was a small slow moving yellow blurb, being flanked by several ships on either side.

"There seems to be some debate between the police and the Coast Guard as to who is in charge of this unique situation. The police are currently surrounding the ferry, guiding it towards it's proper Staten Island harbor. The Coast Guard on the other hand has mobilized their anti-terrorist fleet, possibly with the intent to board the ferry and rescue the hostages." The screen shifted to another helicopter image of a what looked like a Destroyer, being flanked by several other Coast Guard vessels.

"Geez, has the Coast Guard always been so well armed?" Sam asked.

"It's the new National Guard for rich kids." Mark said. "Since National Guardsmen can get sent into war now, the elite have their kids do their years in the Coast Guard, protecting our shores from giant squid and man eating dolphins."

"Ah, so capturing a terrorist controlled Ferry would make some good PR." Sam said.

"Yup. When a cruise ship was actually hijacked a few years back, the Navy somehow turned up before the Coast Guard could get themselves activated." Mark added.

"What a world." Sam said, finishing his Coke. "Anyone else want another drink?" Sam went up to the bar and watched as Dave was adjusting a radio. A faint voice was coming through the fuzzy static.

"Damn!" Dave said, they're just a little too far away.

"What is that?" Sam asked.

"Pirate radio." Dave said. "They move around all the time to keep from getting caught. We could get some real reports from downtown from these guys." He sighed and gave up, "what can I get ya?"

Author's note: I'm currently taking some strong antibiotics which are making it hard for me to focus. This will probably cause a delay in the next installment, and for that I apologize. Even though the installments have been fewer and far between lately, it's not because I have lost interest in the story, but instead I've had lots of other projects going on and I've had trouble managing my time.

Part Thirty Seven

2005-08-06T00:10:00.000-07:00

They visited Misty the next day, Sam and Dawn went up to the hospital. Dodge, Stubs and Baker were already there when they arrived. Dawn had picked up some flowers for Misty, "I hope she wasn't expecting black roses." She remarked.

"Hi Guys!" Misty said with uncharacteristic zeal. "I understand that we both gave them quite a scare." She said to Sam.

"Yeah, that we did." Sam said, "if Dawn had hair, it would be white by now." That brought a chuckle from the rest of the crowd.

"You look good Misty," Dawn said, "how are you feeling?"

"Different. Energized. I wish I could go home but they're holding me for a couple of days for observation."

Dodge was seated on the right side of her bed, holding her hand. "That's alright, I'll try to keep you from being too bored."

"So Sam, what happened to you?" Baker asked.

"I'm not sure, but it might have been low blood sugar or the heat." Sam lied, "I just collapsed on the steps to Misty's apartment. The next thing I knew, Dawn was waking me in the back of her car."

Misty had a wry smile, but she turned to Dodge and asked him for some water so no one would notice.

"So Dawn, are you guys playing tonight?" Stubs asked.

"No, they called Sab's number up, no doubt because he was around me. He's gone underground."

Stubs whistled, "you lose more band members that way."

"Yeah, it sucks." Dawn said.

"You don't play any instruments do you Sam?" Stubs asked.

"Not even the kazoo." Sam said, "I've got no musical talent in my blood."

"I guess it's back to me reading Vogon poetry again." Stubs said.

Sam heard footsteps coming up behind him and turned to see a doctor walking into the room.

"Good morning, I'm Dr. Hoag, I'm the staff psychologist. I'll need some time alone with Misty to ask her a few questions."

Everyone said their goodbyes, and filed out of the room. Baker said he had to get to work, while Stubs and Dodge headed for the cafeteria.

"I've got to go into the city, I'm recruiting a new bass player." Dawn said, "did you want to come Sam? I never asked you if you had plans today."

"No, I'd love to come." Sam said.

Once they were out of the hospital and in Dawn's car she said: "Actually, I got a message that something is planned for tonight, I'm going to meet Johnny to get more info."

"Should I get some bail money now?"

"Nah, wait and see if they catch me first. You're welcome to join me of course, but I'll understand if you don't."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I sat by and watched my girlfriend get clubbed and tasered."

"Tasered? The cops hardly use them anymore. Too many deaths, they have Acdens now. They produce low frequency waves that make you feel like you want to die. I was surprised that they didn't use them in Ohio last week, but I guess not every police force has them."

"Sounds like fun." Sam said.

They stopped at a light, and Dawn turned to look Sam in the eye. "Look Sam, I appreciate your support, but you are still recovering from your coma. I don't want you getting hurt on my account."

"I know, but I don't feel good about leaving you out there alone either. What's the protest about anyway?"

"I don't know yet. We don't share anything that can be monitored."

Traffic over the Brooklyn bridge was almost at a standstill. Flashing yellow construction signs had reduced the flow of traffic to just one lane.

"Well this is fun." Sam said.

"What's the matter, don't you like spending quality time with me?" Dawn joked.

"Of course I do Honey Kitten!" Sam said in his most cheerful voice.

"It's a good thing I know you're kidding," Dawn said, "I don't really do the pet name thing."

"Thank God. While we're on the subject, no referring to each other as 'my old man' or 'old lady' either."

"Deal!"

Once they were over the bridge, traffic moved fairly well. Dawn drove up the east side and parked in a garage on Lafayette St.

"There are probably parking spaces around." Sam said.

"Not for us. As a person of interest, any car I drive is subject to search if I park it on the street. These parking garages could even refuse us service, but most of them don't."

The attendent was friendly and polite, they exchanged the keys for a small magnetic card and walked out onto Lafayette.

"This area used to look a lot more grungy." Sam said, as they passed a two story glass mall with a Starbucks in the front. The sidewalks and street were almost clean enough to eat off of, and the crowds walking around were reminiscent of the upper east side.

"Pretty much all of Manhattan looks like this now." Dawn said. "Soho, the Village are just names now, and areas like Harlem have been renamed to 'Guliani's dream' to make them sound more marketable."

"I see we still have Officially Famously Original Rays One of a Kind Unique Pizza." Sam laughed.

"Yeah, there's about 30 of them now, and they all suck." Dawn said.

They walked over to 8th street and went down into the subway, which was an impressive mini-mall on it's own. There was even a large glass chandalier hanging from the ceiling. There was a Barnes & Noble, Starbucks, and Golden Moon Chinese Restaurant on one side, and a giant Music Underground on the other. The floors were brightly tiled and well polished, and soft music was playing overhead.

"Geez, if I knew you were taking me someplace this nice, I would have worn a tux." Sam said.

"Don't worry, you can rent a jacket and tie from the token booth." Dawn said. They brought their cards and went through the turnstyle.

Down below, the subway looked a lot more like it usually did. Sam could hear the strains of a guitar, presumably from Johnny. They stood and listened as he played "All Along the Watchtower," laughing and tossing his head towards a portly man in a pale blue shirt reading a newspaper on a nearby bench.

"Hey Dawnie!"

"Hey Johnny. This is Sam." They shook hands briefly.

"So what's up?" Dawn asked. "Doing anything tonight?"

"Nah, I got to be up early. The band's got a gig in Lexington of all places, we're going to be driving all day."

"Wow, that sucks." Dawn said as she handed him her PDA

"Yeah, but the money's good. We get half the door fee, so that's 10 bucks a head. The cheapest beer is 3 dollars though, so we'll be lucky to break even."

"You guys are going to have to play the Red Eye again soon," Dawn said, "I lost another band member."

"Yeah, I know, Daniela was going to be our drummer but she disappeared as well. We got some kid right now, he's just out of high school, but he's pretty good."

The train came in and Dawn said, "well that's our ride, take care."

They got on the train and Dawn quickly kissed Sam and then leaned into his ear. "We're still not alone." She whispered. Sam thought back to his out of body experience and didn't doubt her for a minute.
They got off at 23rd street, which Sam noted looked exactly the way he remembered train stations, and it smelled like it too.

"Do you like Chinese food?" Dawn asked.

"Sure."

"Great, I know a place that's only a couple of blocks from here."

They crossed Broadway and walked west on 23rd street. "Sorry about the runaround," Dawn said, "it's how we stay ahead of things."

"So what's next?" Sam said.

"Lunch. I meant that part, we have to kill some time and then head down to 3rd street and 10th avenue. We'll go back for the car before that."

"Good, I'm starving."

They went to a small place on 7th Avenue, it was tucked in between a Gap and an Old Navy. The entire restaurant was barely 20 feet wide, and had only a single row of tables running down the length of the restaurant.

Sam ordered Beef Chow Fun, and Dawn ordered Beef and Broccoli. They sat and waited patiently for their meal, Dawn's back was to the enterance.

"Has anyone followed us in yet?"

"No." Sam said, looking up at the enterance.

"Did our chit chat sound real earlier? I always feel self conscious doing that."

"Yeah, you sounded fine. What's on the PDA?"

She waved her hand. "Nothing. That's just some phony files to fool the Hosers. The real info was the 10 bucks, that's 10th Avenue, and 3 dollars is 3rd street. Breaking even, means 3:00, halfway between 12 and 6."

"Damn! That was really good."

"There's some other clues too. Like Johnny always bites his lip when he's about to give the real info and plays with his guitar pick when he's bluffing for the feds."

"But what if you don't know Johnny and you want to join."

"It's a word of mouth system." Dawn said. "We operate in cells, so that no one can ever reveal all the other members. I know a lot of faces from the protests, but we don't even try to learn each other's names. The less we know the better."

" I got three passports, a couple of visas,
You dont even know my real name" Sam sang softly.

Dawn laughed "We do that song or at least we did when the band was together."

"Cool." Sam said, "I hope you guys get another bass player soon."

"If not, I'll do an acoustic night some time. It doesn't draw as many crowds, but I enjoy it."

"Someone's coming in." Sam said. A smartly dressed Asian woman came in and ordered some food.

"Better play it safe." Dawn said. There food arrived, which gave them a convienent pause."

"You're right, this food is awesome." Sam said, shoveling in large forkfulls of wide noodles.

"Hey! I have an idea for later, but we'll have to go clothes shopping first." Dawn said.

"Ok, just don't blow out my credit card, those sirens were a little embarassing last time."

Dawn aimed a small kick at Sam's shin under the table. They finished their meal and headed out to the street. It was too crowded to tell if any agents were following them, but Dawn was unconcerned for the moment.

They walked down to 14th street and into the Walmart there. "We've got to age you up a little." Dawn said.

"Um, why exactly?" Sam asked.

"Try these on." Dawn handed him a pair of cheap reading glasses. "Nah, they don't do it. You're eyes look young though, so we may have to try sunglasses."

"You know, that's the first time anyone has said that any part of me looks young since I woke up." Sam said.

"You're looking a lot younger lately." Dawn said, "you've gained back some weight over the last couple of weeks and it makes you look much younger."

"Thanks." Sam was elated to hear that, he hadn't really noticed any changes himself. He was still at least ten pounds lighter than he had been before the accident, and he wasn't very heavy to begin with.

"Here." She said, pulling a plaid shirt off of a rack. "This is good. A dress shirt would be better, but there's no way to get the wrinkles out." She also picked out a belt and pants for him.

"I don't have to pull the pants up to my armpits do I?"

"Would you, for me?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Only if you'll wear that Little Bo Peep Costume."

"I told you, I'm willing to wear the costume, but I'll be damned if I'm doing anything with a live sheep in the room!"

A couple of people overheard her and Sam actually blushed.

Once they were out on the street, Dawn pulled him in close. "How would you like to be a getaway driver?"

"Hmm, this isn't some plan to keep me out of harm's way is it?"

"No, serously! You'll be in the car somewhere nearby, and when the cops come, I'll jump in, possibly with some friends. It's just as risky as protesting because we're likely to be chased, but we'll have a better chance of getting away."

"And if you get busted? Am I supposed to just sit there in your Mom's car?"

"Listen to me." Dawn said in hushed tones. "There's nothing you or any of us can do once the cops move in. If you fight back in any way, you'll go down hard. If I get arrested, call my Dad, use the panic button if you don't get him right away."

"These are big operations Sam, there will be other drivers like you around and people with cameras all around the edges. Every one of them is just as much a part as the people on the frontlines."

"Ok, I'm still not crazy about this though."

"Just think, you won't have to deal with your Mom or your brother complaining about you."

"Good point."

They made their way back to the car garage, and Sam realized that his feet were getting tired. They had walked around a good chunk of lower Manhattan already. The car cost them 35.00 for it's short stay in sheltered comfort, Sam just shook his head as they drove westward towards 10th Avenue.

"Where am I supposed to change my clothes?" Sam asked.

"Keep your pants on pal. I know a place we won't even be noticed."

She drove down to a small building on West 4th. The sign on the awning said: NYU Performance Center 2-A. "We'll have to take turns," she said, "otherwise the cops might grab the car."

She got out and went in the main entrance. Sam sat in the car watching students come in and out of the center. A few were in costume, but most were just in jeans and shirts.

A few minutes later, Sam watched as a tall woman with dark curly hair came out of the building. She wore a red blazer with a gold shirt underneath, and matching red pumps. Sam did a double take when she smiled and he realized it was Dawn returning.

"Before you say anything, remember that you're going to change too." She slid into the car and started applying make up in the vanity mirror.

"Where do I go exactly?" Sam asked.

"Oh, take a quick left when you go in and head backstage. You'll see a sign for the changing rooms. They've got them marked for men and women. If anyone asks, you're an extra in a student's movie project. Oh, and when you come out, get in the driver's side Big Daddy." She blew him a kiss.

"That was kind of disturbing." Sam said. He went in the enterance and turned left. The room was dark and it took his eyes several seconds to adjust. The lighting was better backstage and he walked into the Men's dressing room just as a hairy young man in a kilt came out.

"Wow, what are you in?"

"Braveheart the Musical. My friend wrote it." He said with a smile.

"Now that I'd like to see."

There were a few more kilted students in the dressing room, but it wasn't very crowded. Sam switched out his clothes fairly quickly and realized that they should have gotten some more traditional shoes to replace his sneakers.

"If a cop should ask about them, just tell him your doctor reccomended them because you have a spur in your heel." Dawn said when he rejoined her.

"Damn. You've really got this all figured out don't you?"

It was Dawn turn to sing:
"We dress like students, we dress like housewives,
Or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle, so many times now,
I dont know what I look like!"

Then Sam joined in as they hit the chorus:

"This aint no party, this aint no disco,
This aint no fooling around
This aint no mudd club, or c. b. g. b.,
I aint got time for that now"*

"I guess this is our song." Sam said as they finished.

"Aw, that's sweet." Dawn reached over and squeezed his hand.

They cruised down to 10th Avenue and Dawn kept an eye out for her new contact. There was a guy handing out religious tracts and Dawn hoped it was him.

"Don't convert to any new religions without me." Sam said as he pulled over about a block away..

"Swing around and meet me on 4th in about 5 minutes." She said. Sam wondered how necessary all this cloak and dagger really was as she walked towards the stranger.

As Sam reached the traffic light, a homeless man came up to wash his windshield. His cloth looked pretty dirty, but Sam let him wipe anyway. He handed the man a five dollar bill.

"Thank you sir. You know, I was a Wall street broker once, then one April 30th the bottom fell out."

"Tough break." Sam said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks man. I appreciate it." The man moved off to clean another windshield.

Sam drove around the corner and moved slowly to give Dawn a few minutes.

Dawn almost tripped in the stupid heels she was wearing. It had been years since she regularly wore dress shoes, and she never wore heels this high. She passed the man handing out the tracts and he offered her one. She looked at him casually and asked: "Do you have anything from Book of John?"

"Here's a timely piece from the Book of Revelations." The man said. "You can never be too prepared, the Rapture is due any moment."

"I was hoping we'd have a couple of hours at least." Dawn said, watching for tells. This man was a stranger to her, but she took the tract trusting that there would be something coded inside.

"We all hope for more time." The man said, "and most will still be hoping when time runs out."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dawn walked away tucking the tract into her jacket pocket. She wished that she hadn't told Sam to meet her on 4th street, the walking was killing her.

"Yo, yo mama swing some this way!" A man called out from a doorway.

Dawn fought down her urge to ram one of her shoes down his throat and walk on. She hoped Sam wouldn't take too long to find her. As she turned on to 4th St. she saw a guy that she recognized from earlier rallies. He was reading a tract.

"Book of Revelations?" Dawn asked.

"I got the Book of Job." He said, looking at her carefully. He had long hair and wire framed glasses. He looked like a John Lennon wannabe.

That meant multiple locations again, Dawn thought, she glanced up the block and saw Sam turn the corner.

As the car made it's way down the block, the second guy said. "This doesn't make any sense?"

Usually, no one risked communicating like this, but Dawn felt that this guy was safe.

"You're Mark, aren't you?" Dawn said.

"Yeah. Who are you anyway?"

"Dawn. Don't let the wig fool you."

Mark squinted a little, but couldn't recognize her.

"Don't they usually give us one set of numbers?" He asked.

She pulled out her tract and noticed what he was talking about. There were several sets of Bible passages marked, and none seemed to indicate a street or address.

Sam pulled up and Dawn waved. "Why don't you come with us?" She said to Mark.

"Uh, sure." Mark got into the back seat.

Dawn introduced Sam, and they moved off into traffic. "Just go uptown for now Sam, we haven't figured this out yet. I'm getting these stupid shoes off. I'll end up falling on my ass in them."

"Maybe he thought we were Hosers." Mark said, I've never seen this guy before."

"Me neither." Dawn said, "maybe they grabbed the real guy and he was a plant."

"So where should we go?" Mark asked. "We could just cruise around until we bump into a rally."

Sam glanced at the clock, it was 4:10, suddenly he had an inspiration. "I know where it is."

"What? Where?" Dawn asked.

"Wall Street." Sam said, turning down a side street so he could head back downtown.

"Impossible." Mark said. "Wall street is sealed off, you can't get in or out without official buisness."

"That's true, it's too well guarded there Sam."

"I had a window washer tell me that he used to work on Wall Street, and that he was fired on April 30th, that would be 4:30 wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, but how would he know you?" Dawn said.

Mark was looking increasingly nervous in the back of the car. "Dude, that doesn't make sense. You can just let me out here."

"Mark, wait." Dawn pleaded.

"No offense, but I don't really know either of you."

Dawn pulled her wig off: "Does this help?

Mark stared for a moment, and then he recognition set in. "Pink hair, right?"

"Yeah, you got it." Dawn smiled. "I've been hounded a lot lately, so I thought a disguise was a good idea."

"You had me fooled, I would have never guessed."

"So are you staying with us?" Sam asked.

"Uh, sure. I guess, but I still think you're wrong about Wall Street. Besides, everyone goes home at 4:00, what would be the point?"

"Believe me, only the brokers go home. I was a messenger down there one summer. Why don't we check it out?" Sam said, "if I am wrong we can head back uptown and look for traffic jams."

Sam drove down Broadway past City Hall, and then went west down to Water Street. It was 4: 25 on the clock but there was no sign of any protest activity building.

People were moving about, many heading for the subways. Dawn looked around for a familiar car or van, but nothing was visible.

"Sorry Sam, I think this was a bust." Dawn said.

"Wait. Look at the subway station, people are coming back out."

"Oh shit." Dawn said, "it's a volcano."

"Volcano?" Sam said.

"They're bringing the protest up from the trains. Everyone comes in and pulls the emergency brakes, bringing the whole system to a halt." Dawn explained. "The only problem is, the Wall Street stations can be completely closed from above, locking them in. They've only got seconds before the station managers order a shut down."

A blue and white city bus pulled up behind them. Immediately protestors started spilling out into the streets. Dawn looked backward and said: "Oh shit that's Shotzie driving the bus! He hijacked a freaking bus! Sam, pull over somewhere."

Sam whipped the car around so it faced north, and parked it a block below Wall street. "I'm coming with you." Sam said, "this is going to get nuts, so I think the three of us should stick together."

"Uh, thanks." Mark said.

Dawn gave Sam a measured look, and then said "Alright. Where are we anyway?"

"The side of 55 Water street. We have a few escape options from here."

They piled out of the car and Dawn tossed her wig and blazer in the trunk and pulled out her vest which was covered in political buttons. They headed out towards Wall Street. As if by magic, protestors were turning up everywhere. Vans pulled up, and began handing out cardboard signs. Sam read "WALL ST NUKES OHIO" on one and "OHIO'S TRAIL OF TEARS" on another.

"Whatever you do Sam, don't swing a sign at the cops, when they close in, just drop them on the ground." Dawn advised.

Mark grabbed a: "HOW MANY MORE MUST DIE" and Dawn took one that had a US Flag with 49 dollar signs and a gravestone for Ohio on it, Sam picked one with OHIO spelled out with raidation symbols replacing the "O's."

"Holy shit." Mark whispered. As hundreds of protestors were coming up from the Water Street Station. "I guess they didn't get to lock it down after all."

As they got onto the western end of Wall Street, the narrow lane was a chaotic sea of people. A few suits that got trapped in the tsunami of protestors were shouting curses at the crowd, they were ignnored for the most part, and jeered at from a few of the protestors.

The police had clearly not been prepared for this, especially since the market was actually closed. They hastily threw up a line of barricades only a few feet before the intersection of Wall and Broad St., where the New York Stock Exchange was housed.

As Sam, Dawn and Mark made their way with the crowds, they could hear the distinct sounds of chanting and a bullhorn up ahead. Sam scanned the crowd, which was peaceful as far as he could tell. There were some hecklers in the offices above, shouting insults and throwing toilet paper down on the crowd.

"At least it's not used." Sam remarked. Sam realized that he recognized the back of someone's head. "Hey Danny!" He yelled.

Danny Smythe turned around, and looked surprised to see Sam there. "Hey Sam! I knew you had quit ARF, but I had no idea you became an activist."

"Neither did I!" Sam said, "it just kind of happened."

Mark was talking to someone who had a portable television with them. "We've got the Stock Exchange blocked on all sides!" He said, "there are even protestors blocking the New Street entrance!"

Sam looked over at the small television screen, which showed an ariel view of the area. Protestors had parked buses, trucks and vans along the Water street border, blocking easy access from the police. Cops were coming down from uptown, a solid wall of cop cars was forming a perimeter along John Street, allowing people to leave, but no one to come in. There was at least one bus of protestors which didn't make it to the rally and were being turned around by the cops.

Dawn squeezed Sam's hand. "Things are about to get scary." She said, and sure enough, the mass of people pressing against the barricades were pushing through. Police were ordering them back, but there were maybe 20 officers trying to hold back thousands of protestors.

The barricades all went down at once, and the police fell back, forming a tight at the main entrance to the Stock Exchange itself. The crowds cheered as protestors from each side of Wall street mixed together and began chanting: NO JUSTICE NO PEACE! NO JUSTICE NO PEACE!

Dawn, Sam and Mark all moved into the intersection of Wall and Broad Streets. The police guarding the Stock Exchange looked frightened as they held their line. One officer constantly updated his commander somewhere on the status of the situation.

They had managed to bring in a flatbed tow truck from the east end of the street. Sam was afraid they were going to ram the Exchange with it, but instead they parked it dead center, and were using it as a speaking platform.

A man with a megaphone was leading the crowd into a new chant: BUSH LIED, OHIO DIED! This brought waves of excitement from the crowds.

"That's Terry Hope." Mark shouted above the roar of the crowds.

"Oh crap. Here come the cops." Mark said, pointing north up Nassau St. A tank like truck was crawling slowly towards the crowds, along with the bobbing helmets of dozens of police in riot gear.

There was some excitement behind them was well. People began running and pushing Sam and Dawn forward. "What's going on?" Sam asked.

"Some idiot is throwing staplers and other crap out the office windows." A man said. "There was a roar of anger from the crowd and Sam heard glass breaking in the background. He was about to grab Dawn and tell her they should go, but she was gone. Mark was still by him, and he pointed Sam towards the flatbed tow truck.

Dawn was there with two other people Sam didn't know. They were rapidly assembling some sound equipment, while the man with the megaphone continued to rally the crowd. He was facing northward towards the oncoming police and probably didn't know about the chaos erupting behind Sam.

Sam tapped Mark on the arm, "let's get in closer."

Mark looked nervous, but followed Sam's lead towards Dawn. Dawn saw them and gave a little wave as they made their way forward.

There was a squeal of feedback from the sound system and then Dawn tapped the mike. "Testing" She said. Her voice sounded somewhat muffled, but after a couple of adjustments she was loud and clear.

She turned the microphone over to Terry.

"HELLO NEW YORK!" He shouted, causing more feedback, but bringing a roar from the crowd. "I want to thank all you beautiful, caring people for coming out today!"

"I see the members of New York City's Finest have brought up the Big Guns." He paused as the crowd erupted in booing. "Let's keep ourselves peaceful, so that they have no justification to use it. We have cameras watching every corner of this rally, so they can't get away with anything!" This brought more cheers.

"I have been told that the Police are holding their places on William Street as well as on Broadway and out on Water. I will say now, that as a people, we promise to stay here only until 6:30 and then we will disperse peacefully! We are hear to demand justice for the poor people of Ohio, who have been duped into suffering at the hands of our war mongering El Presidente!"

The crowd erupted in cheers again, and Terry Hope waited a few moments to get quiet again. "We stand in solidarity with our brothers and sisters, and we mourn them the losses of their property, their health, and even their LIVES!" The crowd erupted again, chanting "O-HI-O!" over and over again.

"We're priveleged to have a few local musicians with us." Terry continued. "At least those that haven't been drafted!" This brought laughs from the crowd.

"Some of you may know Dawn Weinstien from the band Proud to Be Left Behind. A smattering of cheers went up through the crowd. We also have Leah McCleod, the Irish folk singer. This also brought a small amount of cheers. And on percussion, which is a set of bongos a couple of upside down cans because we couldn't bring a drumset, is Ariala Johnson.

"Now these three ladies have never even met, never mind played together, so let's give them a big hand!"

Dawn picked up a guitar and began tuning it a bit. She strummed a few chords as Leah stepped up to the microphone.

"Good Evening." She said with a thick Irish brogue. "I thought we'd start off with an easy classic: 'We Shall Not Be Moved.'"**

Dawn nodded and began playing, Ariala joined in, keeping a smooth rhythm. Leah had an operatic, mysterious voice, which wouldn't normally seem suited for simple protest songs, but she brought a sincerity to the lyrics that just seemed to capture the crowd.

Dawn joined her on the refrain, their voices complimented each other beautifully, the crowd actually fell into a hushed silence.

"Please, sing along with us." Leah said, which brought some laughter from the crowd. Slowly, people joined in, bringing a muddied chorus of voices which somehow maintained it's own harmony.

"I'm going to let my friend Dawn here do the next song." Leah said as they finished.

Dawn cleared her throat, and spoke: "I'd like to do an old Pretenders song, you might have heard it before, it's called 'My City Was Gone'"***

Sam guessed that Leah didn't know the lyrics, since she stayed quiet through the entire number. The music had been an excellent idea, turning a potential mob into a concert audience, at least for the moment. Even the excitement from the office buildings on Wall St. had calmed down, hopefully without anymore injuries. Sam thought.

As the song finished, Leah leaned over to consult her two bandmates, and Ariala began pounding out a familiar beat.

"When The Moon is in the Seventh House, and Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets, and lo-ove will steer the stars...****

Sam had to admit, the two women sounded amazing together, and the crowd was enraptured by their sound. At least until the police brought out their own bullhorns breaking the silence.

"This is the New York City Police Department. This is an illegal gathering and you are ordered to disperse immediately. Failure to comply will result in your arrests."

Terry Hope stepped back in and retorted: "We are within our legal rights as long as the gathering doesn't last more than two hours. We will disperse voluntarily at 6:30pm, but not before.

The crowd grew restless again, and Sam wished he could get Dawn the hell out of there.

The Police officer continued: "You have two minutes to begin dispersing, then we will begin making arrests."

"They waited until they had enough reinforcements to move on us." Mark said. "This might turn into Ohio."

Dawn smiled down at Sam, and then said something to Leah and Ariala. Leah just laughed, and Dawn took the microphone:

"That's great it start's with an earthquake and Lenny Bruce is not afraid..." This brought cheers from the crowd who all gladly joined in with the chorus:

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine!"*****

They continued singing as the wall of police began moving forward to meet the crowd.

---------------------------------------------
*Life During Wartime © The Talking Heads
**We Shall Not Be Moved © Peter, Paul and Mary
*** My City Was Gone © The Pretenders
**** Age Of Aquarius © Gerome Ragni
****It's The End Of The World As We Know It © REM

Part Thirty Six

2005-07-16T23:16:00.000-07:00

Dawn watched as Sam crossed the street and entered Misty's building. She didn't put much stock in this psychic stuff, but her gut was telling her that something was seriously wrong here.

Almost immediately after Sam went through the door, the driver of the delivery truck got out, dressed in the standard brown uniform of his company and opened the back door of the truck. He retrieved a medium sized box and started walking towards Misty's door.

"No fucking way." Dawn said, getting out of the car to follow, from the the corner of her eye she saw a figure rushing across the street at the same time, she paid him no mind though, keeping her eyes on the the delivery man. He rang the bell and made his way inside. As Dawn reached the rear of the van, the door opened again and another brown uniformed man pointed a pistol at her.

"Freeze!"

Dawn froze, momentarily but before she could decide what to do she saw a figure wearing a Hawain shirt leap into the truck and peel out, dumping the second man out the back. Dawn launched a vicious kick at his head, knocking him out as he fell. She scooped up the pistol and ran to Misty's door.

The door was locked, Dawn slammed her fist against it in frustration. She tried the bell, maybe she could warn Sam, the buzzer went off and she pushed the door open, gun out (although she had never fired one in her life).

The delivery man was on the stairs, he was dumping Sam's body to the floor and reaching into his jacket.

"STOP!" Dawn shouted, squeezing the trigger. The bullet went high burying itself into the wall three feet above his head. The recoil forced her arms up and her hands were trembling with the force of the blast and the excitement of the situation.

The delivery man threw himself to the floor and heaved Sam's body on top of himself, turning him into a shield. Dawn watched helplessly, she probably couldn't have shot him anyway.

"Now drop the gun or your grampa here gets it." The man was almost casual in his speech. He was possibly the most non-descript man Dawn had ever seen. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and mild, almost bland facial features.

"Uh huh, and then you shoot both of us anyway."

He aimed the pistol directly at Dawn, he was just about to say something when a voice came over his walkie talkie.

"Hey Hoser!"

The man wormed his free hand down, Sam's inert form slid a little but Dawn couldn't risk shooting him.

"Who is this?" The man said, never taking his eyes off of Dawn.

"I'm the guy with a gun to your buddy's head. If you don't me to fire, you better get your ass out here now!"

The delivery man stared at Dawn, sizing up the situation. "I'm not moving while you've got that gun pointed at me."

Dawn stared, her mind was frantic. "You get rid of your gun and I'll get rid of mine."

"That's sounds real nice, but there's not much space down there, you could grab the gun as soon as I'm moving."

Dawn glanced around, the man was right. There was only about fifteen feet of empty hallway at the foot of the stairs, and a gun on the floor could be reached by either of them.

"Fine, I'll come up there. We can throw both guns to the top of the landing. Even if I ran after it, you should make it out the door first."

The agent shifted his weight and stood, holding Sam under the arms and using his limp form as a shield. Dawn stared close, she could see Sam's chest move, so she knew he was still alive.

"What did you do to him?"

The man smiled. "Me? Nothing, he was collapsed on the stairs when I came in."

The walkie talkie came on again. "Hey Hoser, you're taking too long."

The agent had the walkie talkie in his left hand, the one supporting Sam, he pushed the button and shouted into it.

"I got your bald friend here pointing a gun at my face."

"Let me talk to her."

Dawn had carefully walked up the stairs, measuring the man's intentions with every step. Her arms were tired from carrying the pistol, but she wouldn't let herself show any sign of weakness.

"The mike's on, say hello to your buddy."

"Hey! Whose name is on the Men's room wall?" Dawn asked, anxious to know if this was someone from the Red Eye."

"None, there's a picture of WC Fields on the wall." The voice said.

Dawn allowed herself a smile as she reached the landing where the Agent was.

"How do I know you'll release my partner?" The Agent said

"All I want is my friend's out alive." The voice said.

"Are we doing this?" Dawn said.

The man sighed, "on three. One, two, three."

Everything seemed to happen at once, Dawn through the gun and wheeled as the Agent shoved Sam into her and tried to aim his gun. Dawn was expecting this however and with silent apologies to Sam she sidestepped his limp form and blocked the Agent's gun hand while delivering a powerful upper-cut to his chin. His head cracked sharply against the wall and he slumped into unconsciousness.

Dawn checked Sam first, he was alive, but she couldn't rouse him. She grabbed the walkie talkie which was on the stairs. "Hey, I need help in here."

"Be right there." the voice came back. Both of them knew not to use their names in case they were being recorded.

A few seconds later the bell rang and the buzzer went off by itself again. The door opened and Dodge stepped through.

"I knew that was you!" Dawn said. "Sam's unconscious, so's the agent. I haven't been upstairs yet."

"I better check Misty." Dodge ran up the steps in his awkward way. Despite his physical handicap, he was actually pretty agile, manuevering between the forms on the stairs very quickly.

He entered Misty's apartment and Dawn heard him shout "No! Oh God, Misty No!" He came out carrying her body. "She's hardly breathing, it looks like she's tried to suicide again!"

Dawn cleared a path for Dodge on the stairs. "Are you sure they didn't do it?" She kicked the Agent with her foot.

"I don't know, I don't care. We need to get her to a hospital."

"Sam too. We can put them in my car."

"What about them?" Dodge said.

"Leave'm let's get out of here." Dawn pulled up Sam and noticed that there was a syringe lying on the floor.

"Oh God Dodge, look!" Dawn snatched it up, it was still in a protective case and full of a clear liquid.

"There were pills by Misty's bed, and wine, just like she did before." Dodge said. "Maybe that was for Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, he wouldn't be the first person to turn up dead of a drug overdose. Maybe you're right, maybe they did this to Misty." His words were strained now, as they both made their way down the steps with bodies.

As Dawn reached the bottom of the stairs, she thought she felt Sam stirring a little. "Hang in there Sam," she said, "you too Misty."

They attracted a bit of attention as they made their way across the street to Dawn's car. Dawn opened the locks by remote and used her foot to pull the passenger side door open. She plopped Sam in managing not to hit his head on the way in. Sam let out sort of a moan, which almost sounded like a word.

"Dodge, can you drive?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dawn opened the front passenger side door and helped Dodge get Misty into the seat. She handed Dodge the keys. "I think Sam's coming around."

She got in the back with Sam, and adjusted his weight to make him more comfortable.

Dodge took off, not wasting any time. He knew the area better than Dawn did and zipped through traffic like a maniac.

Sam moaned again, Dawn could swear he was trying to speak: "Wake up Sam, wake up, Wake Up!" She was trying to be as encouraging as possible, she patted his cheek with her hand, hoping that it would help bring him around.

He coughed momentarily, and then his eyes fluttered.

"Dawn?"

"Thank God! What happened to you?"

"Long story, it was a psychic attack. It happened once before. Is Misty ok?"

"She's been drugged, we're getting her to the hospital." Dodge said.

Sam looked around, in his groggy state, his vision was seeing those strange halos around everything. He made out an extra form in between Dodge and Misty.

"Oh good. Gaby's helping her."

He managed to sit up, and Dawn looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean the ghost of your... of Gaby is here now?"

"Yeah." Sam said, "my vision shifts sometimes and I can see auras or something. There's colors everywhere, as if even the air were alive, but it's more concentrated around people and other living things."

Dawn wanted to point out that Gaby wasn't alive, but she didn't want to be tactless. She just let the matter lie as they zipped into the hospital.

Dodge parked in front of the entrance, running around to get Misty from the other side. "I'll take her in, you two park." He said, taking Misty's limp form in his arms.

Dawn got out and moved to the driver's side. Sam decided to sit tight for the moment.

"How are you feeling?" Dawn asked as she pulled the car out of the Emergency lane.

"Achy and bruised. I was fighting for my life earlier, and I think my muscles thought it was real."

"I have news for you Sam, you were fighting for your life out here too." She quickly filled Sam in on the details as she found a parking spot.

"My hero." He said, giving Dawn a proper kiss. They reached the hospital entrance before Sam could explain what he had experienced.

They found Dodge in the Waiting Room.

"The doctor thinks we got her in time." He said.

The waiting room was crowded with people coming and going. Sam felt a little self conscious about telling them what happened, but he decided to give them a barebones version.

"Misty wouldn't do that." Dodge said flatly.

"I'm not saying it was really her, but the whole OD thing is a little too weird."

"Not really, from what Dawn found, they were going to give you an OD as well. It sounds like the whole thing was scripted."

"I know why the agents are after me." Sam said, "but I don't know why they dragged Misty into it, unless they were just being opportunists."

"Misty has a history of suicide attempts." Dodge said, "that part where she told you about the light, that's true. She's said that to me before; but, I know Misty and she would never try to trick anyone into going with her. If they had succeeded, it would have looked like a double suicide up there."

"By the way," Sam said offering his hand. "Thanks for helping save my life."

"That goes for me too." Dawn said, reaching over to hug Dodge.

"De nada." Dodge said with a blush. "To be honest, I was worried that Misty might try a suicide attempt. She knew that Sam was having out of body experiences, and she may have been hoping that he would lead her up into the light again. That's why I didn't want you to see her. She's psychic as all hell, but she's also unstable."

Sam glanced up to see a familiar figure signaling him to come over.

"I'll be right back."

Rose was standing over by a wall of pay phones. Sam had to remind himself not to try and hug her.

"Have you been watching Misty?" Sam asked.

"In a manner of speaking, she tried very hard to leave."

"So, it was a suicide attempt?"

"Yes, brought on by a vision, a false vision of you and Dawn making fun of her. I think she was a victim of the same sort of attack you were, only she's much easier to manipulate emotionally."

"How is she doing now?"

"She's back in her body and resting. She was booted out of heaven the same way you were. It's not her time yet either. But there's more, we got to speak with her extensively. You know how time flows differently when your non-physical. Sam, she's been getting these attacks since before she met you. She's got the gift of visions, like Pam, but someone's also been feeding her garbage, playing with her mind."

"How did you guys figure this out?" Sam asked.

"She realized it herself, when she touched the light and tried to enter, she was able to see her errors with new clarity. You can tell your friend that I think she'll be much better now."

"Thanks Rose. I owe you a hug when I can."

Sam walked back to the chairs where Dawn and Dodge were sitting.

"That was Rose wasn't it?" Dawn said. "I remember her from the subway."

"Yeah, it was." Sam glanced at Dodge, but there seemed no point in keeping any secrets from him. "She isn't here physically, but she's been looking in on Misty and she said that she's going to be fine."

Relief swept over Dodge's face. "Thank God! You know, this is my third time here with her like this, but it never gets easier."

"Rose also thinks she'll be healthier now." Sam said encouragingly. "I guess you should try to look surprised when the doctor comes over."

It took another half an hour before the doctor finally found his way over to Dodge. The doctor couldn't say anything until Dodge produced a copy of Misty's Health Care Proxy which gave Dodge the ability to make decisions for her. "Misty is going to be fine. We succesfully pumped some of the drugs out of her system. We'd like to keep her in ICU overnight though for observation."

"Can I see her?"

"She's still unconscious, and it is past visiting hours, but I'll let just you in for a few minutes."

"Thank you doctor."

The rooms in ICU all had wide paned windows giving the nurses an easy view of the patients inside. The floor was buzzing with activity as the doctor led Dodge through. He left Dodge alone for a moment, and Dodge almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Rose standing next to the bed.

"I didn't mean to scare you dear. I just wanted to let you know that we'll be watching her too. She'll be ok."

"Thanks." Dodge said, and as suddenly as she had appeared, Rose was gone.

He took Misty's hand and held it for several minutes, tears of relief ran from his eyes.

Just as the doctor was coming back in, he felt Misty's fingers grip him back. He kissed her hand and promised her that he would be back in the morning.

Part Thirty Five

2005-07-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

Sam went for a bike ride after Robbie left, burning off some of the tension from the fight. When he got home, he heard his cell phone ringing from the bedroom. He missed the first call, but it started ringing again almost immediately.

Sam picked up the phone: "Hello?"

"Stay away from Misty." The voice said.

"Dodge, is that you?" Sam said.

"Yeah, Sam it's me. Listen, Misty's got problems and you're not helping her."

"Look, Dodge I'm not interested in Misty like that, I'm already seeing someone."

"Yeah, I know your seeing Dawn, but you and Misty have been talking. I can't say any more Sam but for her own sake you've got to stay away from her."

"Yeah, well I know you like her, but really I'm not trying to take her from you."

"That's not what I mean, man. You know what, forget it, just don't call me when the shit hits the fan." He hung up the phone.

"Yeah, no problem." Sam said to the empty receiver. He had almost forgotten about meeting Misty, their conversation seemed like ages ago.

Sam called Dawn, he thought it was only fair that she knew in advance about him seeing Misty, especially in her apartment.

"Hello."

"Hi Dawn."

"Hi Sam, I was just going to call you."

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"Nothing really, I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Well, I've had a visit from my brother this morning, he chewed me out and threated to send me away to foreign prisons."

"Nice."

"And I just had a call from Dodge warning me to stay away from Misty."

"Misty?" Dawn's voice changed tone.

"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet her later to talk about some stuff. Things that I didn't want to talk about on the phone."

"Oh."

"Look, I'll cancel the plans if it bothers you, I'm not interested in her or anything."

"No, it's ok." Her voice clearly indicated that it was not.

"Dawn, I would appreciate it if you're honest with me. You know, you could come with me tonight."

"Uh, no. Misty doesn't really like me very much, and to be honest I'm not too crazy about her. I don't want to sound like a jealous girlfriend, but she's kind of nuts Sam."

"Can I see you this afternoon?" Sam asked. "I want to tell you about some things but not on the phone."

"Yeah, ok. I've got my Mom's car, I'll come over there."

"Cool." Sam said. "See you soon."

Sam got off the phone and practically ran to the shower. He wanted to at least be clean when Dawn got there. He finished and dressed with 15 minutes to spare before she knocked on the door.

The first thing he noticed was that she had shaved the rest of her head, she was now completely bald.

"Wow! Check you out!" Sam said.

She grinned, "yeah, my hair was pretty damaged from all the dyes and spraying, I'm going to let it grow in a little, but don't get your hopes up for a traditional hairstyle."

"Wouldn't even think of it." Sam said kissing her.

"So, are we safe talking here?" Dawn asked.

"Crap, I forgot about that. Maybe we should go for a walk."

"Don't sweat it, I brought my Dad's jammer, it uses ultra frequency pulses to overload microphones. I just have to get it out of the trunk." She went out the door and came back with a plastic bag.

They plugged it in, and Sam could hear a slight sound coming from it. It was barely noticable, yet he felt his scalp and neck getting tense in reaction to it.

"Geez, that thing is kind of annoying."

"Yeah, it doesn't bother me too much, but a lot of people can't stand them."

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Am I going to need one?" She asked smiling.

"I think a soda at least, but this is going to get really weird." Sam said, "I think I can prove it to you though, I mean that it's real and that I'm not nuts."

"I promise Sam, I won't think you're nuts."

So Sam got them each a glass of soda and brought out a bag of potato chips. He sat next to her on the couch and began telling her everything that had happened to him since his awakening. He left out a few of the more defense related subjects in case her jammer wasn't working, but he did tell her about Gaby and the rest of Chapter 13. He finished by telling her about the first time he had really seen her, and his following her into the city.

"I'm stunned Sam, I really am, but how does Misty fit into all this?"

"She's been having dreams in which she has seen me with my friends. She asked me about it the other day, and I didn't want to lie because she's got this knack to sense lying."

"Yeah, she does have that." Dawn said. "I can see why you didn't want her talking about it on the phone. I have to say though, it's a little freaky to think you were following me and I didn't even know you were there."

"I swear, it's not like I was stalking you or anything." Sam said.

"It's ok, it's just a little weird. I gotta tell you though, I've got kind of a secret life too."

"Oh?" Sam said.

"Yeah, it's nothing now, but a couple of years ago I got into some trouble with Fix." Dawn looked down towards the floor.

"Oh?" Sam said.

"Yeah. Back when I was still in the public school system, I gave Fix passwords to the computers in the schools where I worked. He didn't do anything terrible, he just changed the sex of all the students to read 'female' so they wouldn't get drafted."

Sam chuckled, "that's pretty good."

"Yeah, the Hosers didn't think so though. They gave Fix a year in jail because he wouldn't give me up as his source. I never got charged, but they suspected me of course."

"That was good of him, were you guys ever..."

"No- actually I liked him, but he's not, well let's just say he wasn't interested."

"I appreciate you telling me." Sam said, "I just hope you don't find my double life too weird."

"It seems a little unreal." Dawn said, "I've never really been into this psychic stuff, so it's kind of hard to really believe."

"Actually, I wasn't either. I mean, I was curious about it but I never expected to be experiencing this kind of stuff. I've gotten used to it, sort of."

"So, can I tell everyone that my boyfriend is a superhero?" Dawn teased

"Of course not, remember my secret identity! Hey, can we turn that thing off now, it's really making me tense."

"Oh sure." Dawn unplugged the unit, "and that's the recipe for my Mom's ultra secret Chicken Kiev!" She said loudly across the room.

"Hmm," Sam said with amusement. "I just realized, I haven't eaten, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

"Add mushrooms on it and I'm all yours." Dawn said. "Hey, have you seen the news this morning?"

"No, I never got the chance to turn it on."

Dawn looked around for the remote control, flipping on the TV. There was only weather on at the moment though.

"Those workers in Ohio are abandoning their homes. They're just packing up and moving, they say it's better than dying of cancer."

"Wow." Sam said, after calling in the pizza.

As the news came back to the top stories, there were pictures of a highway crammed with cars.

"This has been the scene around the cities of Graton, Moss River and Blake's Falls Ohio this morning. Authorities, fearing another riot like yesterdays had rolled in National Guardsmen to protect the US Gannon Corporation weapon manufacturing facilities in the Graton area."

The scene changed to show National Guardsmen standing at alert alongside personel carriers, but no other signs of life at the Novacorps plant.

The reporter's voice continued in the background. "Instead, residents I've spoken to have decided that fighting is a lost cause and that their homes have been permanently contaminated. There is no one coordinating the evacuation, but despite the crowded highways the movement has been orderly. One person I spoke to said that he was heading to Kentucky to work in one of the many clothing factories that have blossomed in that area."

"The management of the Novacorp plant has offered Amnesty to all but the organizers of yesterdays assault, promising that almost everyone could have their jobs back and even be paid for yesterday. However, only a handful of employees actually showed up this morning, I'm told that even some managers quit, having been too upset by yesterday's events."

The scene shifted back to the newsroom: "Alicia Sawyers had promised to reintroduce her bill calling for a government investigation of the harmful effects of Depleted Uranium, and promises that if she is elected, she will reinstate the environmental "superfund" to clean up the Graton area and properly compensate the residents for the loss of their homes."

"Now that's what I call a tax and spend liberal, eh Diane?" The newscasters chuckled.

"Do you think she has any chance of getting elected?" Sam asked.

Dawn just scoffed, "not while the majority of state's are using Diebold! Don't get me wrong, I think she's a great candidate, but there's a reason that the more senior players won't run in these elections. There hasn't even been a major Democrat running yet, I think their all scared after what happened to John Edwards."

Sam searched his memories, but his activities in the non-physical had focused around disasters and emergencies, not politics. "What happened to Edwards?"

"He had some kind of nervous breakdown. Halfway into the campaign he started imagining that people were trying to kill him. He became totally paranoid and his campaign was ruined. People suspected that he had been poisoned with LSD or something similar, but no one was able to prove it. After that, the Democratic party just seemed to fade."

The pizza came, and Sam was gratified to see that it looked fine. "I guess Nunzio's doesn't discriminate." He said.

As they ate, Dawn said "so what time are you supposed to meet Misty?"

"After my Tai Chi class, around 7:30 or so."

"I'm supposed to be rehearsing, but I could drive you there if you like."

"Uh, sure, but I don't want to interrupt your day."

"It's alright," Dawn paused. "I'd be lying if said that I wasn't a little worried about what she has in mind."

"Yeah, well I won't let anything happen, I promise."

They snuggled on the couch, watching TV, there was nothing on but they really weren't paying attention anyway. Sam gently stroked her arm as she shifted on top of him.

"This is nice." Dawn said kissing his neck.

"Mm, hmm." Sam said, running his nails lightly down her back.

After a what seemed an eternity, Dawn shifted up a bit. "My mouth is actually tired."

"Mine too." Sam said.

"Thanks." She said, resting her head on his chest.

"For what?"

"Not pushing things. I really like it like this."

"Me too." Sam said. "I'm not in a rush."

Eventually, Sam had to get ready for his Tai Chi class. They drove over together, the afternoon sun was unusally hot, it must have been at least 90 outside.

"I don't think Alex will mind if you sit in." Sam said.

They entered the building which was blissfully air conditioned. Sam introduced Dawn to Alex, who offered to let her participate if she wanted.

Dawn adapted fairly well to the moves, Sam found himself envying her grace, he still felt stiff and awkward as he went through the routine.

"You did great!" Sam said.

"Thanks, I took a semester of modern dance in college, I learned how to mimic moves fairly well. My legs feel like rubber though, moving slowly like that is really tough"

"So it's not just me?" Sam said. "My legs feel like they want to fall off, even though I always feel really energized afterwards."

"I've got the perfect cure for tired muscles," she said parking the car in front of a Ben & Jerrys.

"Excellent." Sam said.

Fifteen minutes and two scoops of Phish Food later, they were back on the road towards Misty's apartment. She lived fairly close to the Red Eye, in an apartment over a 24 hour Newsstand. There was a delivery truck taking up the parking spaces in front of the store so Dawn parked across the street. The sun was setting in the distance and shining directly on to the shaded windows of Misty's apartment.

"I'll try not to be too long." Sam said, kissing Dawn as he got out.

The street was crowded with people and cars. The neighborhood was poor, but alive with activity, the stores were all open and the atmosphere was pleasant as the day's heat started to fade.

There was graffiti on the door to Misty's apartment, most noticably a pentagram drawn in black marker, Sam wondered if Misty had added that feature herself.

He rang her bell and was buzzed in without being asked. He entered the hall which was unbearably hot and stuffy. He felt a little dizzy as he walked up the steps probably due to the heat. He knocked on her door but there was no answer. He knocked again and this time heard a distant "come in" from the other side.

He turned the knob and opened the door. The apartment was dark except for the light of two candles burning in the kitchen area. There was a small round table that looks like it may have come from a restaurant. It was covered with a red vinyl tablecloth, and Misty was sitting facing Sam with two glasses and a bottle of wine between them.

"Hi Sam, come in and have a drink."

The apartment seemed unusualy dark, Sam sat at the kitchen table and said, "um Misty I'm not sure what you have in mind..."

"Just some conversation Sam, I like to create a little atmosphere though. Why don't you tell me about your friends?"

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Sam said, we might do better taking a walk."

"Don't worry, your perfectly safe here." She looked at him with her big brown eyes, which were reflecting the light of the candles in her pupils.

"Well, you know I was in a coma for ten years right?" Sam sipped his glass of wine slowly.

"Yes."

"During that time, I was out of my body most of the time, and I spent a lot of time with my girlfriend Gabrielle."

"Tell me about Gabrielle." Misty took a sip from her glass.

"Gabrielle was in the accident with me... she didn't make it."

"So she is a ghost now?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam took another sip of wine and he realized that Misty was wearing what looked like lingerie under her mesh shawl. He found himself getting uncomfortable again.

Misty shifted her shawl as if to cover herself a little better, she said in her half whisper: "Not all your friends have passed on though, some are alive, like you?"

"Yeah." Sam said, "some of them are alive."

"The old woman, she's alive isn't she?"

"Uh, why do you want to know anyway?"

There was a long silence, and Misty took a large sip of wine.

"I miss it Sam."

"Miss what?"

"Being in the light, I want to go back."

"Misty I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll come with me. We can go together." She rose up from her chair and sidled along the table. Sam could see that underneath the shawl all she was wearing was a black teddy.

Sam took another sip of wine and stood up before she could get any closer. "Misty, I don't like where this conversation is going." He tried to put the wine glass down as he stepped away from her, but it wobbled and crashed to the floor.

"It's too late Sam, I spiked the wine."

"What!" Sam realized that his body was reeling, he sweared that it was the room itself that was spinning around him.

Misty picked up a shard of the broken wine glass and sliced it lengthwise down her wrist. "Come, join me Sam."

Sam grabbed her and tried to stop the bleeding. There was a dish towel hanging on the oven door, Sam grabbed it and wrapped it around her arm.

"I knew you cared!" Misty cried. "Oh Sam, it will be wonderful together! You've been there you know how wonderful it is! I need you to help me make it this time!"

Sam remembered that Dawn was waiting across the street, he pulled Misty with him and tried the door, but the knob spun uselessly. Misty laughed, almost a cackle. Sam shoved her away and ran over to the window.

He pulled up the shade to reveal the darkened street below, he looked for Dawn's car, but he couldn't be sure... He glanced backward and saw that Misty was advancing on him with a rather sinister looking knife.

"Wait a minute, this isn't real." He said, dodging Misty's attack.

"Oh it's very real Sam, there was enough Demerol in your glass to knock out an elephant. You'll be unconscious very soon."

Sam felt a wave of dizziness again, like the one he felt when he first entered the building. Misty leapt at him as the world seemed to lose visual cohesion.

He closed his eyes and swung, his fist hit struck Misty sending her back towards the window.

With my eyes closed, I'm not really dizzy. He realized, and opened them briefly to see that the room itself seemed to be rocking, the effect was very disquieting, like being in an IMAX theater.

"Wake up!" He said.

"WAKE UP!"

Misty began moving towards him again, he grabbed the coffee table and flung it at her with incredible force.

"Nice try, but this dream is OVER!" Sam said "Wake up, wake up WAKE UP!"

Part Thirty Four

2005-07-05T21:04:00.000-07:00

When Sam got home that night he was surprised to find that Martha wasn't all that upset. All she said was that she was glad he was alright and she went back to bed.

Sam was too wired to sleep. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels but there was nothing on. He went up to his room and tried laying down, but he just lay there wide awake. He felt weirdly anxious, he couldn't put his finger on it until he saw Gaby's picture on his dresser.

He had cheated on Gaby! Or had he? The nature of their relationship had changed over the last ten years. They still loved each other, but there had been no romantic aspects, nothing more than polite kissing ever since the accident. Still, Sam felt terrible, he had completely forgotten Gaby in the afternoon's excitement, and if he saw her tonight...

Well, he knew why he was awake at least, not that it was helping him any. He tried turning on the radio but music was only adding to his inner turmoil. He switched to AM and scanned through the stations.

"Satan pretends to be a humanitarian!" Thundered a preacher's voice... "...sometimes it's not enough to turn the other cheek..." "...the current financial bubble is either days or weeks away from bursting, the Dow should not be at 20,000 points..." "...we're here with retired Colonel Donald Thames who is talking about psychic warfare in the US." Sam paused on that one.

"Colonel Thames was the director of Operation Soft Touch in the 80's and 90's until it was canceled in 1991 by the first Bush administration. Operation Soft Touch was a highly classified group of Remote Viewers who were used to see locations where we had little or no access to information. Most of you know that Colonel Thames is a frequent guest on "Planet X," offering us remote viewing predictions from his now private company of remote viewers. He has in my opinion, demonstrated an uncanny success rate. Tell me Colonel, what percentage of your predictions have come true.

"My critics say that I have about a 65% accuracy rating, but by my own estimates it's more like 95% with a handful of events that have not yet come to pass."

"When you say not yet come to pass, you mean you believe these events will still happen?"

"Yes. The most difficult aspect of remote viewing is fixing an exact time on the event. It's very rare that you see a newspaper or something else with a date on it which gives you a set timeline. There are several events I have forseen, most notably an asteroid or comet impacting the Pacific ocean and causing damage on a planetary scale."

"But tonight" the host said, " you are here to tell us about a new development in psychic warfare in the United States."

"That's right Marlin. It's come to my attention that when Operation Soft Touch was canceled, a new unit was already being formed. Apparently, this unit was even more top secret than my own, and the 'powers that be' were concerned that my unit would sense their operation."

"And, is that what has happened?" Marlin asked.

Colonel Thames chuckled, "yes that is exactly what happened. My own private group has been trying to perceive upcoming terrorist activity, and we've come across several layers of activity. There are multiple groups operating within the continental United States, most of them are domestic, but there are at least two Chinese groups and this new US Military group we discovered."

Sam was glued to this conversation, apparently Chapter 13 might not be as invisible as they thought.

"Now, how exactly did you discover the existence of all of these groups?" Marlin asked, "do you see them operating when you're remote viewing or is there something other means of perceiving them."

"What clued us in," Colonel Thames answered, "was when we perceiving shadowy, ghost like forms interacting around major events."

"Such as..."

"The Washington Monument destruction was the first event, one that you have noted on your show, my group did not forsee. It's my belief that this event was manipulated by one psychic group, while still another worked to evacuate the Monument."

"I'm going to have to stop you here as we are on the top of the hour, so we'll have to pick this up after the news." Marlin said.

As the news came on, Sam thought back to the destruction of the Washington Monument. Pamela had picked up on the plane hitting the monument only minutes before it happened. Rose had appeared on the top floor, warning people that they had to evacuate, when a guard tried to arrest her and passed right through her, he began clearing out the tower. He never reported what really happened but only stated that there was an erratic woman in the observation deck, and ordered the tower emptied.

There was nothing they could do to stop the plane, Peter said that the pilot was hallucinating in some way and that he couldn't be reached. Sam still felt an odd sort of disconnection to these pre-waking memories as if he were an observer rather than a participant.

He had almost drifted off to sleep when the news finished and the show returned.

"Welcome back to Planet X. I am your host Marlin Graves and we are speaking with Colonel Donald Thames about psychic terrorist groups operating here in the U.S. as well as a new, ultra secret spy group, which I presume was the group which you say evacuated the Washington Monument."

"Actually, no. It's a little more complex than that." Colonel Thames said. "The domestic group, and we're only assuming they are domestic by their appearance and speech, but we freely accept that this could be a ruse. Anyway, the domestic, non-military group appears 4 minutes before the plane crash, and begins evacuating the Monument."

"And they did this how exactly?"

"You've probably heard the stories of the crazy woman who said there was a bomb in the Monument, and the Security guard who ordered the Observation Deck cleared only minutes before the blast."

"Yes, both the guard presumably the woman were killed in the crash, but the woman's body was never recovered." Marlin said.

"That's because she wasn't physically there. She was able to project a three dimensional image of herself, a gift which is very rare, I've only seen it once in all my years of psychic research."

"I'm sorry Colonel, but that is a little hard to swallow. How do you know that this person was not really there?" Marlin asked.

"I've had three remote viewers confirm that this woman was non-physical. It became obvious when the guard tried to restrain her and his arms passed right through her."

"Right through her! Well, I guess that would confirm it for you." Marlin's tone was a little incredulous. "Now, you said that this was the domestic group, where was this new military group during this time?"

"I don't know." Colonel Thames said, "but I'm convinced that an individual psychicly attacked the pilot of the plane, causing him to hallucinate and lose control of the craft."

"Whoa! That's an awful lot to swallow. I've heard the FAA tapes of the pilots final message, he was yelling 'Justice for Allah!' in Arabic." Marlin said, his normally calm demeanor seemed to be fading.

"Those tapes were forgeries, the man flying that plane was Caucasian." Colonel Thames said.

"Umm, your treading into the conspiracy theorists territory now. I know that some researchers have claimed that the pilot who took off from Pennsylvania was a white man named Steven Cox, but all the documents filed in the airport and the registered owner of the plane was one Harold Abdul Hussan, an American citizen of Arabic descent and a man who frequently made contributions to terrorist front charities in the Mid East."

"Those claims are correct Marlin, there never was a Harold Abdul Hussan. His identity was entirely concocted. This is the reason why I suspect the party responsible for his death was the U.S. government group. I believe that this new group of psychics are not just remote viewers, but are actual operatives using their abilities to fufill one of the Alphabet agencies agendas."

"Colonel, I'm sorry to say that there is no way I am going to buy into this. There is far too much here for any reasonable person to swallow..."

Sam drifted off to sleep at this point and quickly found himself sitting next to Gaby on the bed. The fact that they were passing through part of Sam's leg should have bothered him, but didn't.

"Heavy stuff." Gaby said.

"Yeah, this guy must be somewhat legit, because he saw Rose in the Washington Monument, but what really grabbed me was his description of the pilot, it sounds like what happened to me."

"Could be," Gaby said, "but it's not really a surprise that the forces in the government were behind your attack. If they've identified you as the 'anti christ' they're likely to come after you again."

"Hey." Sam said, "I've got something to tell you."

"Yeah, you met someone. I know." Gaby said.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It's alright Sam, I know we've never really said anything after the accident, but after I died, I knew that part of our relationship was over. I still love you, but it's not romantic love, I'm not sure if I can be passionate in this state, to be honest it just doesn't seem important to me right now."

"I don't know what to say." Sam said, "I feel like you're breaking up with me."

Gaby smiled. "It's a conversation we should have had a long time ago, but I figured you'd know by the way our behavior changed."

"So, you're ok with this?" Sam said.

"Yeah, I'm happy for you Sam. I wouldn't want you to be alone all your life."

"But you're still here." Sam said, "I see you almost every night."

"But not every day. It's better to think of us as just friends Sam, really."

They hugged for a minute and then Gaby said, "we have to meet the others, Pam had a vision concerning the plague, it breaks out in California."

They rose up from Sam's room and following Gaby's lead they flew across country to the Pacific coast in less than a second. They landed in a small city that Sam could only describe as ugly. There was a thick combination of fog and haze obscuring the Moon, from the ground the nearly full Moon looked blood red.

Pamela was already there, along with Peter and Pandora, but that was all, apparently Zeba and Rose had not yet arrived.

"Welcome to Santa Carlita, the murder capitol of California." Pamela said, "this is the county hospital and from what I can tell, Ground Zero for the mystery illness."

"What exactly can we do?" Sam said.

"To be honest, I don't know." Pam said, "I think we should just observe the place as much as possible, hopefully we'll see something weird before it all starts."

Zeba came in, and they spread out moving through the various floors of the hospital. There was lots of activity, apparently Santa Carlita had a large gang problem, there were several young men in the ER with bullet wounds and a small army of police watching over both them and the hospital entrances.

It took less than an hour to move through all the floors of the hospital, but there was nothing obviously wrong in the place. Sam wasn't sure what they expected to find. Sam felt his body pulling him backward and the group decided to call it quits for the night.

He got up and went to the bathroom, then went back to bed. It was about 5 am, so he dropped back into bed and slept. He heard his Mom getting up for work, but made no effort to get up himself. He slept soundlessly for the next 4 hours.

Sam woke up later on when he heard the front door opening. He through on some sweat pants and walked to the stairs, he met Robbie about halfway down the stairway. The look on Robbie's face said that he was not here just to say hello.

"Hi Robbie." Sam said.

"Are you out of your fucking mind Sam? Did you get brain damage when you were in that coma?"

"Possibly." Sam smirked.

"If it wasn't for me, you'd be rotting in a federal prison right now, and not one of the nice ones. You've been hanging around with terrorists Sam, FUCKING TERRORISTS!"

"My friends are not-"

"THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS!" You idiot! That guy they call Fix is a computer hacker! He's got a record Sam, a RECORD! He's done two years for breaking U.S. security codes."

"In this day and age I'm surprised that everyone doesn't have one."

"You're an idiot." Robbie paused to cough, his lungs and throat sounded terrible. "I'm not protecting you anymore Sam. If you get picked up again, you're on your own. So don't blame me if you find yourself living in a military prison in the Phillipines or Nicaragua. We have them in lots of places where nobody asks any questions."

"The fact that you know this, and go along with it, is more disappointing to me than you can imagine." Sam said softly.

"You really don't get it do you? We had 40 years of nambi pambi peace loving, tree hugging America. That ended on 9/11, and as if that wasn't enough you're own hippy kind was attacked on July 4th, and yet you people still stand there with idiotic smiles on their faces, painting Peace signs and undermining the moral fiber of this country!"

"I think you should go Robbie."

Robbie turned around and went back down the stairs. "You know Sam, they're not above taking family members. You want something to happen to Ma?"

"You can't intimidate me with this crap Robbie. There are still some laws in this land."

"Laws." Robbie sneered, "when laws get in the way of justice, it's time to throw them out the window."

"Will you listen to yourself? What the hell have you become?"

"A patriot Sam. I'm a patriot, and I know what it takes to defend my country." He walked out of the house slamming the door behind him.

Part Thirty Three

2005-06-23T23:15:00.000-07:00

The limo driver was standing by the side of the car and opened the passenger door for Sam and Dawn as they came outside. The man was at least 6 foot 4 inches and 300 lbs, with dark hair and a stoic expression.

"Good afternoon Sir, Madam."

"Cut it out Ricky." Dawn said, "this is Sam, he's another VIP."

Ricky cracked a smile. "Sorry Dawn, whenever new customers are around I'm supposed to do things by the book."

They got in the car which was a high end limo. The seats were butter soft, there was a mini bar, television and a mini-computer as well.

"I'm a VIP?" Sam asked as Dawn pulled the door closed.

"It's a code, it means the Hosers are watching. If necessary, Ricky will try to lose them for us, this service caters to stars, politicians, and anyone else who likes their privacy. They guarantee that there are no listening devices in their cars and their GPS trackers are privately scrambled."

Sam took one of their cards out of a small dispenser, "I suppose I might be needing them in the future."

"Do you still want to come to my house?" Dawn asked, "I'll understand if you're too tired from everything."

"No, I'm fine really. Actually," he said looking into her eyes and stroking her hand, "I'm feeling pretty good." They snuggled against each other and rode in silence the rest of the way.

Dawn's family lived in a condo on the 9th floor of a 12 story building. There was a doorman to greet them on the way in and there was thick carpeting in the hallway. They held hands as they got onto the elevator which was playing a Muzac version of "Stairway to Heaven."

They reached Dawn's floor and went left to 9D. Dawn unlocked the door and they were greeted by 15 pounds of wiggling fluff.

"Hi Animal!" Dawn picked him up and Animal started furiously licking her face. "This is Sam, Sam this is Animal."

Animal was a black and white Shih-Tzu with a ton of fluffy hair. Dawn put him on the floor and he danced circles around Sam, sniffing his feet and wagging his tail. Sam pet him a few times, but Animal was a little shy, running back from his hand and then bounding forward at his feet.

"Dawn?" It was a woman's voice coming from one of the other rooms.

"Hi Mom, I brought company."

A few seconds later a woman wearing an oversized t shirt and jeans came into the room. "I wish you had called first Dawn, I'm a wreck. Hi I'm Gail, Dawn's mother."

Sam could see the resemblance, particularly in their eyes. Gail was a little smaller than Dawn, with short blonde hair and a big smile.

"Sam Quinn."

"Oh, so your Sam, I've heard a lot about you the last few days."

"All good I hope."

"Of course, can I get you something to drink?"

"Actually," Dawn said, "after the afternoon we've had I think we should break open a pint."

"You better tell me, oh my God you've got a mark on the side of your face!" Gail said.

"I know Mom, it's a long story." Dawn said.

They went into the kitchen and Sam was a little surprised to see that Dawn meant a pint of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (at least they hadn't changed in the last 10 years). The three of them split two pints, combining New York Super Fudge Chunk with Mint Cookies. They related their afternoon's adventures, Dawn's mother looked a bit nervous. Animal was under the table squirming around between everyone's feet.

"I wish you'd let me buy you a car Dawn. I don't like you riding the subways."

"Please Mom, cars are such a hassle in the city. I couldn't even afford to pay the parking fees around here, never mind the insurance and gas."

"I guess I'll have to go through the whole license process again." Sam said, "mine has been expired for about eight years now."

"Well for the next week or so, you two had better stay out of the subways, Dawn I can rent you a car." Gail said.

"Time for a hair change as well." Dawn said, "maybe if I dye it neon yellow..."

"I'm sure they'll never recognize you." Sam said. "I'll go lime green myself."

"I can do that you know, I have some lime green in the bathroom." Dawn teased.

"You'd give my poor mother a heart attack." Sam said, "she's still getting used to me being awake again."

"It must have been so hard on her." Gail said, "I've had patients die over the years, but I've never had go comatose, the waiting must be awful."

"Mom's a gynaecologist." Dawn explained.

They finished their ice cream and moved into the living room. Sam noticed some pictures of Dawn on a shelf of the entertainment center.

"Wow, look at you." He said, "this must be your high school graduation."

"Yeah, I was quite the conservative little student." Dawn said. "Straight A's, perfect attendence, etc..."

"Is this one your college graduation? Your hair is darker, but much less pink then it is now." Sam said. Aside from the hair, Dawn's face looked no different from the year that photo had been taken.

"Mm, hmm. Even in college I was still the model student."

"So when..." Sam was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"When did I turn into the anarchist punk poster child you see before you?" She stuck her tongue out at Sam. "Believe it or not it was during graduate school."

"Wow. With your Dad in the ACLU, I would have thought you were a radical from the time you got out of diapers."

"Well, I was always outspoken. I was editor of the school paper in college, and always stood up for what was right, but I used to believe that in order to be taken seriously I had to look and act a certain way."

"And then?" Sam asked.

"And then I joined the 'real world' outside of school." She said. "I had a degree in psychology, and I was working towards my doctorate, and I got a job with the school system evaluating the so-called troubled children."

She looked down towards the floor as she remembered. "I had these grand illusions that if I could listen to these kids and help them sort out their feelings, they would all become perfect little students like I was."

"What happened?"

"I never even got the chance. The system wasn't interested in helping these kids, it was interested in selling drugs. I was given a half an hour with a kid, I'd write a diagnosis and then the District Psychiatrist would write a prescription based on my report. After three months I was supposed to re-evaluate the student's progress, if there was no improvement, they upped the dosage."

"As soon as some kid was bored in class they were looking to diagnose him as ADD so that he could be slapped on Pronex or whatever the latest 'attention enhancer' is."

"I began to fight back, I filed protests all the way up to the AMA and wrote articles about my experiences. I quickly discovered that I was far from the only person who was fighting the system, and I also found out that there were consequences."

"What kind of consequences?" Sam asked.

"It started with a couple of informal chats with my own guidance counselors. The sort of 'you're too young to make these sorts of judgements' speeches, designed to gently push me back into the fold. When that didn't work, I was fired from the program and given failing marks in all my grades. It was the first time I had failed anything in my life, and I was devastated by it."

Dawn smiled a nervous smile, she was clearly embarassed by what she was saying. "It was a real eye opener. I realized how much of my own self esteem had been dependent on the approval of others. I used to scorn the girls who wrapped their whole identities around their boyfriends, never realizing that I was doing the same exact thing with my own authority figures."

"Wow."

"So I dropped out to find myself, and began playing with different looks. I had learned guitar as a kid, and I took it up again. I started writing songs, I discovered this whole creative side that I had never really let out before. In some ways, I feel like I'm still finding out who I am, but I could never go back to that perfect little girl that I was."

"I think you kept the best parts of her." Sam said, "you just took away her blinders." He sat on the couch next to her, holding her hand.

"Thanks." She, leaned over and kissed him. A moment later Animal took a flying leap onto both of their laps, determined not to be left out. Whle they were petting him, Sam's phone rang.

"Hello." Sam said.

"Sam," it was Martha, "there are police here, they have a warrant for your arrest."

"Cops have a warrant for me." He said to Dawn.

"It was self defense Mom, I'll take care of it."

At the same time there was a knock on the door, followed by a voice saying: "This is the police, we have a warrant!" Gail opened the door, and was met by two cops, a man and a woman pressing their way in.

"How do you feel about jail house romances?" Sam joked.

Dawn gave him one last kiss before the cops could separate them.

"I've got Dad on the phone Dawn."

"Thanks Mom."

"Officer, Sam Quinn is physically disabled." Gail said.

The officer, a woman with close cropped dark hair and thick eyebrows just rolled her eyes and said. "Yes Ma'am, I hear you."

Sam and Dawn were handcuffed, although not too roughly. Neither of them offered any resistance as the two police officers led them out to the elevators.

"What's the charge?" Sam asked.

"Assault on a minor." The woman answered.

"Does it matter that they actually assaulted us?" Sam asked.

"You can make your statement and file counter charges at the precinct sir."

"Okay."

Dawn was just looking at the floor of the elevator. "I'm so sorry I got you into this." She said.

"Hey, if I never met you, I'd still be getting the third degree from Dean and his buddy."

The trip down to the precinct was uncomfortable, although Dawn managed to lean against Sam as they rode. Once in the precinct they were separated into two rooms and allowed to give their statements.

Sam waited for about half an hour before a short, sweaty, bald man came in. He reeked of cigarettes and his teeth were yellowed by nicotine.

"Mr. Quinn, I am Lt. Morgan, I'll be investigating your case. I've got statements here from four boys who claim that you and Dawn Weinstien assaulted them earlier today. They claim that it was Miss Weinstien who started by kicking Salvatore Matliano in the genitals."

"That only happened after one of them tried to push Dawn on the tracks." Sam said.

"Yes, I've read your account, however, your friend Dawn has claimed that it was you who made the first move by shoulder butting one of the boys and inciting them."

"Oh please, Dawn didn't say that." Sam said.

"Mr. Quinn, if you want to change your statement, we might be able to lessen the charges against you."

Sam looked directly into Lt. Morgan's eyes: "I'm not saying another word until my lawyer is here."

"Suit yourself." The man got up and left the room. A moment later two uniformed officers came in.

"What now?" Sam asked.

"Central booking." One of the officers said and then jail until your arraignment."

Sam looked around for Dawn but he couldn't see her as he was being led out, he was out the door and on the steps to the police station when they were intercepted by another man in a suit.

"Officer, bring that prisoner back inside please."

The new man was African-American. He stood about six feet tall and had a deep booming voice. He had an intimidating presence and Sam wondered if this was another Hoser agent.

The officers led Sam back inside and the new man ordered them to put him back in the Interrogation Room. Even through the rooms insulated walls, Sam could here the booming voice of the newer man arguing with another.

Finally the new man, came into the room. Sam could see the anger in the man's face, but his voice was full of a resigned calm.

"Mr. Quinn, my name is James Trevor, I am the District Attorney for the city of Brooklyn. We have eyewitness testimonies which corroberate yours and Ms. Weinstien's stories, I have a couple of questions for you and then you will be free to go."

"Oh, sure." Sam wondered if Dawn's father had already come to their rescue.

"The man who interrogated you earlier, how did he identify himself?"

"You mean Lt. Morgan?"

"Yes sir."

"He said that he was Lt. Morgan and that he was investigating my case."

"That was all?"

"Yes sir."

"At any point, did he mention that he was a Federal agent, and not a NYC police officer?"

"No sir."

"Thank you Mr. Quinn. You are free to go."

"Um," Sam indicated his cuffed hands.

"Oh, sorry, an officer will get those off you promptly."

He held the door open for Sam, and once outside he was freed. Dawn was waiting for him. They hugged and walked out into the evening air.

"My mom's coming to pick us up." Dawn said.

"That's good, I should probably go home though, my Mom will be freaking out. Two arrests in two days will be much to much for her."

"So did Lt. Morgan try to turn you against me?" Sam asked.

"Huh, no after they took my statement I was alone the whole time. What did they say to you?

"He told me that you said I started it." Sam said, "then he offerred to lessen my sentence if I would change my statement."

"Those bastards."

"I guess you're a hotter target than I am." Sam said. "You would look cute in a prison jumpsuit."

Dawn smiled, "actually I wore one for a halloween costume last year."

"Thanks." She said hugging him.

"For what?"

"Not believing them."

"Never in a million years." Sam said.

Part Thirty Two

2005-06-14T23:53:00.000-07:00

Sam left the building and realized that he was starving. He almost forgot Dawn and pressed the doorbell for the apartment above the store. It buzzed instantly and Sam made his way up a flight of old stairs. The hallway had a musty smelll to it, as if the air doesn't move through here often enough. Many of the stairs were slightly sunken, as if they were tired from all the use they've seen over the years.

The apartment door opened at the top of the stairs and Dawn was waiting for him. "Thanks for coming up." Dawn said. "This is my home away from home."

The apartment was more of a work space, with card tables and folding chairs set up everywhere. There were banners and signs, and dozens of bumper stickers and buttons around. It looked like Dawn's vest had exploded, filling the room with colored slogans, Sam thought.

"That strike was pretty scary huh?" She said. "The group I was organizing here took off, they were afraid it would happen to them."

"Yeah, I can understand their worry." Sam said. "Do you want to get some lunch, I'm starving."

"Sure, let me just tell Dad." She picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Rachel, tell Dad that I'm going to lunch with Sam, I'll probably head home after that."

"I feel like a kid sometimes, but Dad's got good reason to keep tabs on me."

"How old are you anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam said.

"I'll tell you if you tell me." She smiled.

"Thirty." Sam said.

"No shit? No offense I mean, but I thought you were at least forty."

"I know, it's not a big deal." Sam said. "The worst thing was when some salesgirl thought that I was married to my mother."

Dawn laughed, "I'm sorry Sam, but that is pretty funny."

"I know, it is, but it can be depressing too. I feel like I've aged 50 years during that coma. But hey, you still haven't told me your age."

"Twenty six." She said, "people tell me I have a young face. It's even worse when I let my hair down."

"So you don't always have it like that." Sam asked.

"I change it a lot, I'll probably pick a new color next week. Sometimes I shave it off completely. How about you, ever think of dying your hair bright pink?"

"I can't say that I have, although a couple of people have advised me to dye it brown."

Dawn gave that idea a rasberry. "If you're going to dye it, pick something lively at least."

"Yeah, to be honest I don't think I could stand the maintenance of it. So where's a good place to eat around here?" Sam saked.

"Actually, there's only one place that will serve me, and it's a Vegatarian restaurant." Dawn said.

"Oh, are you a vegetarian?"

"No, but they're the only place that doesn't discriminate around here, they make good burritos and vegie lasanga."

"Cool." Sam said.

They walked around the corner and Sam found it hard to keep up with Dawn's pace. He was embarrassed and struggled to look casual as he walked faster. The restaurant was aptly named "From Avacado to Zuchinni" and actually had animated vegetables on the sign.

The man behind the counter gave Dawn a big hello as she came in, Dawn returned the greeting and introduced Sam to Marcus, the owner. Dawn ordered a three bean burrito, and Sam followed suit. The burritos were huge, and covered in an orangy sauce like Sam had never tasted before.

"Wow, these are great, what's in that sauce?" Sam asked.

"Marcus won't say," Dawn answered, "I know there's tomatoes, peppers and squash, but he's got some secret stuff in there as well."

"I just realized, this is the first burrito I've had in over a decade." Sam said.

"Wow, well you picked a good one. So how long have you been awake now?"

"It's been a couple of weeks, an amazing couple of weeks really."

Another pair of customers entered the restaurant, they were either well dressed business men or Federal agents. Sam glanced at them and felt a little uneasy. Dawn caught his gaze and glanced over her shoulder.

"One for each of us I guess," she said with a shrug.

"I have to admit, it puts a damper on our conversation." Sam said.

"Yeah, try not to let it bug you. A few years ago, me and my friends would deliberately make up stuff for them, but it got us pulled in for questioning a few times so we had to stop. These days, we can actually be charged with 'interfering with a Federal investigation' for doing that."

"How the hell have all these laws gotten passed?" Sam asked.

"People don't pay attention, a lot of them still don't. My Dad has pointed out that historically, there have been many worse regimes than the one we're in right now, that have lasted for generations."

"He told me that he felt things were changing, that people were waking up."

"Yeah, I think he's right. There have been a lot of protests, particularly in the so called Red Belt. A lot of good ol' boys are dying due to environmental destruction. They're killing their support base and they don't really care."

"What can we really do though, if the elections are fixed?"

"I know, my Dad loves to quote Stalin: 'It's not who votes that matters, it's who count the votes,' or something like that."

They finished their lunch and left the restaurant, the two suits followed almost right behind them.

"Subtle." Sam said in a loud voice, which made Dawn smirk.

"Wanna have a little fun?" Dawn asked.

"Sure."

"Double back on the count of three, 1, 2, 3!"

They both whirled around and walked quickly through the milling crowds on the sidewalk, passing right by the annoyed looking agents.

"In here." Dawn pulled Sam into a pet store.

"There's a back exit here, we'll take it and enter the bar in the basement of the office building across the street." They cruised through the pet store, and out the back entrance onto the street.

"By now they're calling for backup." Dawn said, they'll have someone new on us in a minute."

They entered the revolving door of the office building, and got a stern look from the building security guard. They headed straight downstairs to the bar and entered, Sam's eyes had difficulty adjusting to the dim lights.

There were a couple of patrons at the bar, Dawn glided by with Sam in tow, they went past the bathrooms to a storeroom in the back. From there they followed a back exit which led into a maintenance corridor for the building.

"From here we have our choice of four exits." Dawn said, "I never asked you what your plans were for the rest of the day?"

"I don't have any really." Sam said.

"You want to hang out at my house?"

"Sure."

"Cool, come this way." Dawn led them out a service exit which was only about 20 feet from a subway entrance. "I think we lost 'em."

They went down to the subway platform, and though they didn't have and Homeland Security officers following them, they ran into a group of high school students instead.

"Check out this freak!" One boy said. They were as all American crew-cut as you can get. There were four of them in the group and they were wearing Varsity Jackets.

"I'd swear we walked into the 1950's" Sam said softly to Dawn.

"Hey Baby, is all you're hair pink?" This followed a string of guffaws from his friends.

Dawn shot them a finger as they walked on, Sam glared at them momentarily, silently cursing his physical condition. The boys all made "ooo" noises and one of them said: "Sal man, you can't just take that!"

"Hey Bitch!" Sal called out. He looked about sixteen and was bursting with testosterone and wounded pride.

"WHAT!" Dawn wheeled about with a fire that would stop most men in their tracks.

"Don't think I won't slap you in front of your Daddy, bitch!" Sal said closing the distance between them. Sal's buddies were right behind him, trying to look equally menacing.

An older woman got up from the bench and tried to intercept the boys.
"Don't you boys have to be somewhere?"

Sam realized that it was Rose, and was glad for her intercession, the boys just breezed by her though as if she wasn't there.

"Sam, get clear." Dawn said.

"I'm not going anywhere." Sam said.

Sal and Dawn stood almost eye to eye. He hocked up some spit and launched it at her, Dawn sidestepped it and one of the other boys tried to push Dawn towards the tracks. Dawn was ready though and used the boy's arm as a lever to support herself and kicking him in the balls.

Sam moved in towards Sal, but one of the other boys grabbed his arm and said: "Easy Pops, we don't want to hurt you."

Sam struggled against the younger man's grip, but there wasn't much he could do. Dawn was now going head to head with Sal. She obviously knew kickboxing or Tai Kwan Do judging by the way she moved.

Sal swung at Dawn, but she blocked his blows easily, and delivered a hard shot to the side of his head. She also kept his buddy at bay by swinging a wild kick in his direction.

Sam realized that the kid holding him had relaxed his grip a bit, Sam pulled himself down hard and slammed the kid into the side of a trash can. He headbutted the kid in the jaw and felt him go limp.

Dawn had retreated a bit trying to fend off both attackers. Sam didn't say a word he snuck up behind the nearest one and kicked him behind the knee, causing him to fall on his rear. Dawn took advantage of the moment to launch a quick attack on Sal, taking a glancing blow in the process but knocking Sal off of his feet and pushing him on top of his buddy.

"Come on Sam, we better go." Dawn grabbed his arm and they began running up the steps to the street above. Sam followed, adrenaline racing through him, they reached the street and slowed to a quick walk.

"Damn! We need another safe place, we'll try to get back to my father's."

They hurried down a couple of narrow streets and turned a corner, Sam realized that they were back on the block of her father's office. She unlocked the upstairs apartment door and they hurried inside. They got upstairs, and she locked the door behind them. She picked up the phone and called Rachel.

"Rachel, it's me. Sam and I were attacked by some high school kids in the subway, keep an eye out for cops, we're going to stay up here... Yes, I'm fine, Sam is too, we're just a little winded."

Dawn hung up the phone and said to Sam: "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, actually I'm still feeling kind of hyper, is this a typical day for you?"

She blushed and Sam felt instantly bad for asking it.

"I'm only kidding Dawn really. I guess it was my turn to put my foot in my mouth."

"It's alright, to be honest stuff like that does happen once in a while."

"You're one hell of a fighter."

"Thanks, you did pretty well yourself."

"I'm nothing like I should be... like I used to be."

"Hey, don't sweat it." Dawn said, "you'll get better. Your body was able to move pretty well when it needed to."

"I guess so." Sam said, looking down towards the floor.

Dawn walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Sam, really."

Sam looked up into her blue eyes. "Don't worry about it, it's the most fun I've had in ages."

He didn't know if he moved towards her first or she towards him, but suddenly they were kissing. Their passion, combined with the excitement of their flight was electric. Time seemed to stop for that brief moment, but was then interrupted by the phone ringing.

They broke their embrace, smiling at each other, Dawn picked up the phone. "Hello. Yeah Dad, I'm fine, really. Sam is too. Some high school kids. Ok, we'll take a car." She hung up the phone.

"Dad's getting us a limo to go home in. It's the only service that doesn't cater to the Hosers. It should be here in about 15 minutes."

"Cool." Sam said, uncertain what to say about the kiss. He touched her forearm lightly, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Um," Dawn said, blushing again. She took his hand in hers and held it. "This is going to sound really weird, but I don't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. Everyone always expects me to be this wild girl but..."

"Well, it's been ten years for me." Sam said. "but I'm still getting over the death of my girlfriend... it's kind of complicated. I really like you though, I really admire your courage. Let's just take things slowly, ok?"

"Yeah, that'd be great really." Dawn said. "I like you too." She leaned into him and they kissed softly. They stayed that way until they heard the distant beeping of the limo horn an eternity later.

Part Thirty One

2005-06-07T11:57:00.000-07:00

Authors Note: I apologize for the delay in installments lately, this has mainly been due to other events in my life taking precedent for the moment. Over the next week or so I hope to be getting back to a pattern of posting every other day again.

Sam woke up the next morning some time after Martha had left for work. He flipped on the TV to watch the news.

"The fires, which are still burning out of control show no sign of stopping. So far, there are seven confirmed fatalities, including. Dr. Henry Rivers, a microbiologist from the University of Illinois, Thomas Evans, a Homeland Security employee and five persons who have not yet been identified. The lists of injuries is in the hundreds, mostly from smoke inhalation, but several people are being treated for severe burns as well."

Impressive as it was, the devastation looked far more sanitized on television than it did in person. At ground zero, the scene looked like armeggedon. The television crews routinely showed 5 or 6 scenes over and over, including the dramatic refinery explosion.

The phone rang and Sam picked it up, it was Misty.

"Hey Sam."

"Hi Misty, how are you?"

"Tired. I dreamed that you died in that fire last night."

"The refinery fire?" Sam asked, he was trying to play dumb.

"I saw you there with a bunch of other people, you went into someone's house and it exploded while you were carrying someone out."

Sam's heart was racing, Misty had actually seen Chapter 13, although she must have interpreted part of it wrong. Perhaps she confused Sam with a fire fighter or something.

"That's pretty freaky." Sam said.

There was an uncomfortable pause on the other side of the line. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Misty said.

Sam remembered her knack for knowing when he was lying. "Not over the phone, I've got to meet with Dawn's father this afternoon, but I'm free after that."

"I've got to work tonight." Misty said, "maybe we can get together tomorrow."

"Sure." Sam said, "I have a Tai Chi class at six, but after that I'm free."

"Cool, not at the Red Eye though, some place private." Misty said.

"Ok, but I don't really know..."

"We can just hang out at my place."

"Sure." Sam said, a little apprehensive about where this might be going. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."

He hung up the phone and wondered if Misty was looking for him to be a boyfriend or not. She was an attractive girl, although all the black clothing and makeup was a bit much for anyone to take.

Sam got ready to meet Joshua Weinstien and realized how good it felt to have some sort of purpose again. Maybe I'll enroll in school again, he thought as he headed out the door.

He decided to take the bus and train again, he left himself plenty of time so that he could get some lunch downtown as well. He reached the bus stop and luckily, there was a bus coming down the street. To Sam's ire it passed as if it didn't see him. Some things haven't changed, he thought.

The next bus took about 15 minutes to come by, it definitely saw Sam, slowed down, but then accelerated again leaving a very irate Sam on the curb.

"What the hell?" Sam said. He gave up and walked back to the house, as he walked he dialed the number for car service.

"Bay Car Service"

"Yes, I need a car for 1122 72nd street."

"Yeah, uh, hold on a sec... sorry, we got no cars free right now, call back in an hour."

"Your kidding."

"No sir, we're very short drivers, call back in an hour." The man hung up the phone.

Sam looked around the house but there was no Yellow Pages to be found. He went upstairs and googled "taxis."

He called the first one he found, which had no problems with staffing. They had a car out to Sam's house in 20 minutes.

Sam got in and gave the driver the address, the driver was listening to a talk radio station:

"My friends listen to this latest bit of idiocy by the terminal and intolerable Senator from New York Hilary Clinton. Mrs. Clinton had the gall today to introduce once again the so-called Voter Accountability Act which would require paper receipts of votes for both the individual voting as well as in toto for the voting terminal itself."

"In a statement on the floor of Congress, Mrs. Clinton said that there hasn't been a 'free and fair election in the United States in over a decade.' Hmm, conviently enough, that's how long it's been since the Democrats have been able to produce a winning candidate. I have news for you lady, it ain't the machines that are at fault."

"What I really want to know, my friends is where are the environmentalists to protest this proposed waste of paper? Seriously folks, can you imagine how much wasted paper this would produce? If a Republican suggested such a proposal the Environ-Mental Cases would raise H E double hockey sticks."

"And speaking of the Wackos, Alicia Sawyers, the 38 year old Congresswoman from California and the token Green Party member of Congress, has announced that she will run for President in 2016. The Green Party now claims to have more registered members that the Democratic Party, although they only hold a handful of offices around the country, mostly at the local level. Sawyers, whom we all remember as The Scarlet Witch, or the woman who gets it on with a Robot, in the 2007 movie: 'The Avengers.'"

"No doubt she's counting on her celebrity status to get her votes. Well let me tell you Mizzzz. Sawyer, it wasn't star power that got Ronald Reagan the presidency, it was his honor and integrity as a great American. The good people of this country will never vote for a half-wit, basket weaving, mouthpiece for the geriatric Woodstock generation!"

"Mizz Sawyers has not specified her campaign platform yet, but she has stated that bringing home American troops will be her top priority."

Sam made a mental note to look up Alicia Sawyers when he got home.

The radio continued to drone on as the taxi made it's way through traffic and finally arrived at it's destination. Sam paid the driver and got out. Joshua Weinstien's office was on a storefront filled with ACLU signs and peace slogans.

Sam tried the door, but it was locked. He tried the doorbell, and a female voice over the intercom asked who it was.

"Sam Quinn." The door buzzed and Sam came inside.

The office was pleasant enough, it was carpeted and the secretary's desk faced the door. The woman, who was silver haired and looked like she might be in her seventies greeted Sam as he came inside.

"Hello Mr. Quinn, I'm Rachel. Sorry about the door, our signs often attract a certain crowd, so we have to be careful."

"I'm surprised you have a front window." Sam said.

"Oh, that used to get broken all the time, Joshua finally had to invest in special security glass. Have a seat, he'll be with you in a few minutes."

Sam sat down in a squarish office chair, and glanced at the magazines on the wall. He didn't have to wait long, Joshua popped his head out the door and invited him in.

"Good to see you again Sam, how are you today?"

"Pretty good, thanks."

"I've got something to show you." Joshua said, he turned his laptop around so that Sam could see the screen.

"This is supposedly a privately owned website, but in reality it's a dumping ground for Homeland Security. This morning your name and picture came up on it."

The site was a list of people's photos along with names and addresses, and Sam could see that his photograph from the Red Eye had been posted along with his name and address, the site banner read: 'New Pinkies on the Block.'

"What is this exactly?" Sam asked.

"You've been pink listed." Joshua explained, "the site is supposedly privately owned but it's really a Homeland Security front. You might find yourself harrassed by strangers, and local business might refuse to serve you."

"Can you do anything about this?" Sam asked.

"Not much," Joshua sighed. "I can get your image taken down, but by now it's being mirrored on 50 other sites like this around the country. It's a typical harassment tactic for these guys. Don't worry, your in good company.

He pulled up a file and showed his own image, and then Dawn's, Stubs, and Fix. "Anyone who hangs out at the Red Eye usually ends up here sooner or later." Joshua said.

"What I do want to do is put some legal heat on Agent Weltz. I've never dealt with this guy personally, but my sources say that he's an animal. Establishing a paper trail of his actions is imperative, I also want you to call me any time he has had contact with you. It will take at least a week before I can get the Order of Protection, assuming the Judge will sign it.

He handed Sam some papers to sign which Sam filled out while only skimming them briefly. The legalese was way too much for Sam to actually read through.

As he was signing, there were some thumping sounds from the floor above, it sounded as if people were stamping their feet in unison.

"Sorry, that's Dawn and some of her friends." Joshua said, "they're preparing for another protest."

"Cool." Sam said, "I give her a lot of credit, it takes guts to do what she does."

"I'm very proud of her." Joshua said, "she really puts herself on the front lines in these situations. I often tease her that half of my practice is devoted to keeping her out of jail."

"So what can I expect from Homeland Security in the long term?" Sam asked.

"Basically, you're going to have to keep your nose as clean as possible. They'll jump on you for the slightest infraction, and trump it up as best they can. They'll try to provoke you into angry responses, don't give in no matter what tricks they pull."

"Gotcha." Sam said.

"And keep a record of any strange events or harassment you may experience, from anyone." Joshua said.

"Like the city buses passing me by this morning?"

"Exactly like that." Joshua said. "Give me the bus line and the times it happened, we won't be able to do too much about it but keeping records is our best defense."

"Man, some days I wish I was back in my coma." Sam joked.

"What a world you woke up into." Joshua said. "But you know, I believe it's getting better. The governments trying to keep a lid on things, but the anger is growing, more and more people are starting to rise up."

"I hope so." Sam said, "I can't say I've seen many signs of it myself."

"Right now Sam, the best thing you can do is confound all methods of passive surveilence that you can."

"Passive surveilance?"

"RFID scanners, security cams, that sort of thing. You've been scanned a hundred times between your house and here."

"Well, my clothes are all over a decade old, so they don't have any chips in them."

"That's a good start. If you need new clothes, there are vintage shops around here that features tag free stuff, including underwear, shoes and wallets."

"Vintage underwear?" Sam asked.

"No," Joshua said laughing, "I meant it's actually new stuff manufactered without tags in them. You might also consider going Jawa."

"Now your just messing with me," Sam said, "you're talking abou the little guys from Star Wars, right?"

"Sort of, do you remember their hooded cloaks? There are places manufactering oversized cloaks and sweatshirts which you can use to hide your identity from passive scanners. They actually have an aluminum alloy mesh in them which reflects high frequency waves."

"Uh, no thanks, that seems a bit too tin-foil hat for my tastes." Sam said.

"I understand, but keep in mind that as of yesterday, you are living in tin foil hat territory. Homeland Security acts first and worries about the legality of it later. The courts will frequently support them if they convince the judge that someone was in some way a threat to society. They have become the American KGB, and their power is steadily growing."

"But I'm not doing anything illegal." Sam said.

"You're bucking the system. You're a non-conformist, in their eyes that makes you a threat. Their first goal is to intimidate you back into the system, that's what happened last night. This may continue, you mentioned your brother is an agent, he might try to influence you next. Otherwise, they will follow you, ostracize you, and arrest you at the slightest infraction of the law."

"What else can I do in my own defense?" Sam asked.

"I've got one more thing for you." Joshua handed him a small plastic device with a single button on it.

"This is a 'Panic Button' that I've programmed with your name. Right now, it's inert and there are no passive microphones or anything else that Homeland Security can take advantage of. When you press that button, it sends a one time message to my cell phone number and marks where you are with GPS, after that it goes dead again unless you reset the switch by hand like this. He opened up the front of the device and pressed down on a small button which released the spring for the larger outer button.

"Use this, any time you think you're about to be arrested. Don't worry about false alarms. I'll find out soon enough if you're all right. Do you have a regular cell phone?"

"Yeah." Sam took it out and handed it to him. "I got the most basic model, without any GPS or anything."

Joshua typed the model number into his computer. "It still has GPS, the company installs it in all their phones as a favor to Homeland Security. Get yourself a stealth phone from Crane, he handed Sam a business card. They're expensive, but they're top of the line for insuring your privacy."

They were interupted by two short rings on Joshua's desk phone.

"Hi Dawn." Joshua said, "oh sure. Hey, Sam's down here if you want to say hello." He handed Sam the phone.

"Hey Sam, how are you feeling today?"

"Paranoid and overwhelmed at the moment." Sam said lightly.

"Good that means you're paying attention."

"Oh my God!" Joshua said, he turned his monitor around so that Sam could see the screen as well, they were watching a newsfeed of what looked like a riot.

"What is this?" Sam asked.

"Strike at an Ohio weapons plant," Dawn said in his ear. "When you're done down there, come upstairs, pass me back to my Dad."

"Yeah."

Sam watched the scene unfolding on the screen before him, protestors carrying signs, and banners had formed a tight line before an oncoming army of police officers in riot gear. The police had something that looked like a tank mounted with a sattelite dish instead of a gun. Their was no obvious noise from the device, but strikers began dropping their signs and clutching their chests and heads.

The strikers regrouped, attacking the police from all sides at once. Sam briefly saw one sign that read: "Ohio Cancer Up, Births Down" other's had radiation symbols on them. Despite their sophisticated weaponry, the cops were being overwhelmed and strikers were swarming up the tank and tearing at it's odd looking weapon.

Joshua got off the phone and turned up the sound.

"What you are watching is a live feed from the General Armory Weapons plant in Graton Ohio. This is an illegal strike by workers at the plant who claim that the depleted uranium used in creating some of the weapons here, is causing health problems for the employees and the surrounding area."

The next anchor's voice came on to say: "Of course, the government has investigated these claims, and after a two year study they found that the only legitmate cases of uranium exposure were done by employees who failed to follow proper safety guidelines, thus waiving their rights to sue."

"It looks like I'll be going to Ohio for a few days at least." Joshua said, try to keep your head down ok?"

The screen filled with clouds of tear gas, and the sounds of gunfire were heard in the distance.

"What you are hearing is rubber bullets being sprayed into the crowd as a warning." The anchor calmly explained.

From the reaction of the strikers though, the bullets were far from harmless. Many of them looked like they were knocked out by the impact.

A second wave of troops came in, these weren't cops but National Guardsmen, they began rounding up the strikers who were too busy choking and retching from the effects of the tear gas to fight back any more. The scene cut back to the anchor room and Joshua turned it off.

"This is bad." Joshua said, "these poor guys never stood a chance."

"What precisely made that strike illegal?" Sam said, "they didn't look violent until the police got there."

"Congress passed War Necessities Act a few years ago, which changed the status of any military supplier to the same as a cop or fire fighter during times of war, so it's technically illegal for them to go on strike at all."

"Geez, does it ever end?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, it does. But it takes gutsy people like those strikers, and like you. People who draw a line and say that's it, you can't push me any further. As sad as this tragedy is Sam, it is a sign that the Bush Empire is weakening, people are fighting back now."

"But they never stood a chance," Sam said, "the cops and the guardsmen knocked them down like bowling pins."

"They'll never win the battle in those sorts of confrontations, actually it might be worse if they did. Public sympathy will go towards the striker's now, and more investigations of DU poisoning will result. The government will keep trying to bury this, but more and more this stuff is coming to the surface. It's truly sad that it had to come to this, but sometimes it's the only way."

The phone rang again, it was Rachel asking him if he wanted to take a call. "Sam, I've got to take this call, as I expected the ACLU is mobilizing to defend these strikers." He put out his hand, "you stay in touch with me, document any small incidents with Rachel even stuff like the buses not stopping. Any direct harassment, call me directly or push that panic button."

"Okay." Sam said, "thanks for all your help."

Part Thirty

2005-05-25T15:15:00.000-07:00

Sam spent the next three days recovering his strength. The combination of Tai Chi, bike riding and hanging out until 3am had drained his resources to the point where everything he did took effort. The stress of worrying about psychic attacks while he slept wasn't helping him either.

The members of Chapter 13 researched theories as to how Sam might have been attacked. "The problem," said Pam, "is that there's so much junk to wade through in the realm of psychic experiences, that it's hard to find anything of substance."

Sam installed the anti-viral software on his computer, he was amazed to discover 150 viruses and worms, and thousands of spyware programs which had installed themselves on his system. The new software included an up-to-date firewall, that would hopefully keep new infections out (not to mention Robbie).

Sam also looked at the files that he had collected on Saturday night. He had phone numbers for Shotzie, Stubs, Dawn and Misty, as well as Baker and Dodge. Misty had also installed about a dozen poems, all of which were dark and morbid, except for glorifying the afterlife.

There were also files on the current state of U.S. civil rights, and what to do (and not do) if you are arrested. There was also a toll free number for the ACLU, which promised to help find an inexpensive lawyer even if they weren't interested in the case.

There were also some crudely drawn cartoons, many featuring the President in various sexual acts, some of which were physically impossible. Someone had also installed a version of the old arcade game "Berserk" which Sam got a kick out of and played way too much during the three day period.

Sam took car service to Tai Chi class and arranged in advance for a car to take him home. Alex greeted him at the door and introduced him to the class.

"Everyone, this is Sam, he'll be joining our little group. Sam this is Carl, Jane, Tyrone, Vicky, Penny and Stuart."

"Hi" Sam said, trying to casually survey the group. Each of them appeared to have some sort of physical difficulty although exactly what was hard to say. Most of them looked a lot older than Sam (although Sam's white hair made him fit in just fine.)

"So, what're ya in for?" Jane asked. She was a lady in her 60's, very slim and angular. She had a sharp nose and wiry gray hair.

"Um, recovering from a coma." Sam said.

"Well, that's a new one. I've got rhumatoid arthritis myself, Carl here has Parkinson's, Tyrone and Vicky are gettin' over strokes, poor Stuart's got some unknown war symptoms, and Penny's his wife, she's just along for moral support."

"Actually we're all auditioning for a remake of 'Night of the Living Dead' cracked Stuart. He was in his 40's and slightly heavyset. There was nothing outwardly wrong with his appearance, except for a very pale complexion.

"That's enough Stuart, you know how I feel about negativity in here." Alex said. "Why don't we all get started."

The class was actually fairly practiced in the moves, although each person had their challenges, and there were sections which nobody seemed to do correctly. Sam still felt stiff and awkward, but he certainly wasn't the only one feeling that way. By the end of the hour, everyone looked ready to either sit or fall down.

Everyone said their goodnights and Sam got into the car that was waiting for him. Sam gave the driver the address and sank into the seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

The car pulled into traffic and made it's way down 72nd street. At 6th avenue, a police car pulled up behind the car and flashed it's lights. The driver cursed under his breath and pulled over.

The officer approached the car and tapped on the back window. "Are you Samuel Quinn?" He asked.

"Yes I am." Sam said.

"Sir, I'll need you to step out of the car. I have orders to bring you back to the precinct."

"Am I under arrest." Sam asked.

"No sir, but the Deptarment of Homeland Security considers you a 'person of interest' and I am required to bring you in, by force if necessary."

"That's alright." Sam said. He handed the driver a five dollar bill. "This is for your trouble." He got out of the car and walked to the police car. "Can I make a phone call?"

"Yes sir." The cop was a fairly young man, about 25 years old. Sam realized that he was one of the few men in his twenties that he had seen since he woke up.

Sam took out his phone and punched his Mom's number.

"Hello." Martha said.

"Mom, it's me. I'm being called into Homeland Security for an interview."

"WHAT! Oh Sam! I'll call Robbie and find out what's going on."

"No Mom, wait. I need you to call a girl named Dawn, her number is in my PDA. Her father is a lawyer, I think she'll be able to help me."

"Your PDA? I don't even know how to use that thing?" Martha's voice was almost panicky

"Are you home Mom?"

"No, I'm with Mindy at her house."

Sam sighed. "Well go home as soon as you can, and call me back when you have my PDA, I'll give you instructions on how to use it."

"Sam, I want you to stay on the phone."

"I can't Mom, we're pulling up to the 62nd Precinct right now." Sam said. "I'll call you back as soon as I can."

The officer parked and got out of the car, he opened the door for Sam. Sam walked up the stairs and the officer followed him, once inside there was a man in suits waiting by one of the desks.

"Samuel Quinn. My name is Agent Simmons, Dept of Homeland Security." The man said. He bore a striking resemblence to Agent Smith from the movie: The Matrix. "Thank you for coming down tonight, please follow me."

Sam wanted to say something smart, but he held his tongue. There was something odd here, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Agent Simmons led him into an interrogation room and opened the door.

"Someone will be with you shortly." He said.

"Can't you tell me what this is all about?" Sam asked.

"No sir, another agent is handling this matter." Agent Simmons closed the door.

The room looked like it hadn't been painted in twenty years. There were several mismatched wooden chairs which looked like they were bought at an old garage sale. The table in the middle of the room was a cheap pressboard conference table, with chips and major scratches. Sam could see that someone had scratched a word or initials in it, and another person had used sandpaper to erase it.

Sam was surprised to see that there was no two way mirror, but there were three cameras mounted in the room which undoubtedly served the same function.

Sam sat down and tried to use his cellphone, but there was something blocking the signal. He hoped his mother would come through with some sort of legal aid for him.

The wait was getting kind of long, so long that Sam began playing with the idea of taking nap and going out of body. Then he realized that the members of Chapter 13 were probably watching, since they had been following him around for the last few days. This gave him a certain measure of comfort and he tried casually looking around the room to see if he could somehow spot Gaby or Rose looking in on him.

I have to figure out how to do that trick with my vision at will. He thought, careful not to mutter anything out loud.

Finally, the outside door opened, and who should walk in but Dean, carrying a briefcase.

"Sammy, whatcha been up to lately?" Dean asked, slamming the door behind him.

"Hello Dean." Sam did his best to sound bemused rather than nervous. "I've been getting my body back in shape, getting my life in order, how about you?"

"You been doing more than that Sammy, you been hanging around with some bad people." Dean opened his briefcase which had pictures of Sam talking to Dawn on Ocean Parkway, as well as him sitting at the table in the Red Eye with Stubs, Fix and Shotzie.

"Now Sammy, you were always a smart guy, but you've been out of circulation for a while, so I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt." Dean's voice had a slightly booming quality in the room, as if he were speaking through a tuba. "You might think these people are your friends, but they're really recruiters. They sucker guys like you into performing illegal activities, while they keep their hands clean. Have you heard of Chapter 13?"

"As I understand it, there is no Chapter 13." Sam said.

Dean laughed a little and scowled, "yeah that's what they say isn't it? They exist Sammy, and they're the sneakiest terrorist organization we've ever seen." Dean pulled out a picture of an Arab man, he reminded Sam of Saddam Hussein, but aside from that he looked completely unfamiliar.

"Ever seen this guy?" Dean asked.

"No."

"It's ok Sammy, he's been in the news. You like watching the news don't you?"

"Yes."

"What the news doesn't say is that this man, Mohammed Hussein, a nephew of Saddam, and now the ruler of Pakistan, is the real brains behind Chapter 13 in America. All that crap you're hearing about your civil rights being violated, it's all anti-US propaganda being controlled by this man. He's trying to bring this country down from the inside."

"You tell me this, after dragging me in here against my will? Do you understand what irony means Dean?"

"The courts say we can interview anyone for up to three hours, and then you're free to go." Dean said, "you have to understand Sammy that your country is at war, and war requres sacrfices on everyone's part. In your case, I'm offering you something special here."

"What is that exactly?"

"Some of these individuals you met on Saturday are involved in deeper shit then you realize. Some of them are murderers, I don't think you're the kind of guy who hangs out with murderers, am I right?"

"Yeah." Sam watched Dean's face as he spoke, there was a practiced feeling to this whole pitch, as if he had rehearsed it many times before.

"Good, that's real good Sammy, I think you could be a real help to us. What we're looking to do, is to bring these murderers to justice, to get something on them so that we can arrest them. Like Al Capone, you heard of him right?"

"The gangster from the 30's?"

"Exactly. Now Al was a real SOB, a mob kingpin, a murderer, drug dealer, you name it, but do you know what they finally arrested him for?"

"No." Sam lied. He knew where this was going, but he decided to let Dean play it out and believe he was in control.

"Income tax evasion, they got this murdering criminal off the streets by busting him for not paying his taxes, do you follow me?"

"Not really, no."

"What I'm asking, no what your country is asking you to do Sammy, is just to report to us if one of your new buddies admits to commiting any crimes. It doesn't have to be murder, but if we can bust them on something minor, we'll take a murderer off the streets. If you do this for us, we'll help you with employment when you're ready for it. You're going to need a good job eventually, right?"

"Sorry Dean, I'm not interested." Sam stood up as if to leave.

"SIT DOWN SAMMY!" Dean moved to block the door. "You're here for at least another hour and a half, and I'm going to use that time to tell you what happens if you don't cooperate."

Sam stood his ground. "I'm not interested in hearing it Dean, so why don't you stop wasting both our time and just open that door."

Dean's brow furrowed, his look was pure anger as he shoved the pressboard conference table across the room and grabbed Sam's collar.

"You don't get it, do you smart guy. I'm giving you a chance here for a normal life. I'm only doing this for your brother, otherwise I'd bust your ass right now, do - you - understand?" He hissed the last part, getting right in Sam's face.

Sam felt like a rag doll under the larger man's grip, he knew damned well that Dean held all the cards here, but he also didn't care. He was formulating something to say when the door opened and Agent Simmons stepped in.

"Dean, I need to interrupt you for a moment." Agent Simmons said calmly.

Dean's muscles froze. He reluctantly released Sam and followed Agent Simmons out the door. Sam remained standing, his heart was beating a mile a minute but he didn't want to give Dean any sign of weakness.

A minute later, Agent Simmons opened the door, and said to Sam: "Mr. Quinn, you're free to go, sorry for any inconvienence."

Sam stepped outside and was immediately greeted by a tall, good looking man in a gray suit.

"Mr. Quinn, I am Joshua Weinstien, Dawn's father, your mother called me and retained me on your behalf."

"Oh, thanks, I'm glad my Mom was able to call you."

"Come, we'll talk more outside, can I give you a life home?" Joshua said. He had thinning light brown hair, and light blue eyes, he was at least in his forties, but he moved and sounded like a much younger man."

As they got outside, Joshua said: "No offense, but after talking to your mother on the phone, I had assumed you were a much younger man."

"Actually, I'm thirty." Sam said, "but I was in a coma for ten years and my mother has always been over protective."

"Oh, my apologies, it was the hair color that threw me."

Once they got into car Joshua said: "I got to the police station about 15 minutes before you were released, as soon as Agent Weltz assualted you, I was able to call an end to that interview."

"Thanks, things were getting a little scary in there." Sam said.

"You handled yourself marvelously, you couldn't have done any better if I had prepared you for such a meeting. Tell me, do you know that agent personally?"

"Yes, we grew up in the same neighborhood, and he and my brother are in the same ARF chapter."

Joshua made a little face, "I know all about those chapters, I take it you're not a member?"

"No, although they often came to the hospital and prayed for me while I was unconscious, I think it hurt some feelings since I've woken up and not wanted to participate."

"You're probably not aware of this, but the court's dictate that anyone who is in a physically challenged position can't be interviewed for more than one hour by Homeland Security. Since Agent Weltz obviously knew of your condition, I can file charges against him for holding you as well as for assaulting you."

Sam sighed, "I'd really rather forget the whole thing."

"I understand how you feel, but believe me, these guys are not going to quit. As you're probably aware by now, they follow Dawn pretty much everywhere, and hope she'll jay walk or something similar just so they can arrest her."

"Yeah, that figures." Sam said.

"What I can do is this: I'll file an Order of Protection against Agent Weltz for his treatment of you. If I can get the judge to sign it, which is about a 50/50 chance, he'll be taken off of your case. Even if he's not, we can use this incident as evidence of personal harrasment in any future cases."

"I see." Sam said, "and if you do nothing it all just gets swept under the rug?"

"Exactly, and the Agents will believe that they've intimidated you into silence. I know what I'm talking about Sam, I've been doing this for a long time. Every one of the local agents knows who I am, and curses my name on a regular basis."

Sam's phone started ringing. "Hello?" He said.

"Oh Sam, thank God!" It was Martha's voice. "Are you free? Was Mr. Weinstien able to help?"

"Yeah Mom, I'm with him now. Thanks for calling him."

"I was so worried, tell me what happened."

"I'll be home in a couple of minutes, and I'll tell you everythng." Sam said.

"You should probably come down to my office tomorrow." Joshua said, "I'll need you to sign some papers." He handed Sam a business card.

"Thank you so much." Sam said, "if you hadn't been there I don't know what would have happened."

"Oh I do." Joshua said, "Agent Weltz would have claimed that you tried to leave and that he was forced to restrain you. Then they would have threatened you with charges of "assualting a federal officer" and tried to get you to cooperate with them that way. They would hold you in prison until your arraignment, hoping that you would crack under the pressure."

"Sounds pleasant." Sam said.

"It works all too often." Joshua said. "Most people are scared to death of having a criminal record haunting them for the rest of their lives."

"I guess I'm not surprised," Sam said, "but it's all so damned twisted."

"We're fighting tyranny." Joshua said, "it's a dangerous business, and likely to get more dangerous as time goes on."

They reached Sam's block and Sam guided Joshua to his house. "Well thanks again for getting me out." Sam said, offering his hand.

"Your welcome. I specialize in these types of cases, it's what I live for." Joshua said. "Come down any time after lunch tomorrow and we'll work out some strategies."

Sam was greeted by a hug from his mother: "I've been so worried!" She said.

"I know Mom, it was pretty scary."

"Your friend Dawn sounds nice, she wants you to call her. Another man named Stubby called too."

"Oh, Stubs." Sam said. "Ok, thanks."

Sam recounted his experience, first to Martha, and then he called Dawn and Stubs as well. Apparently, Dawn had passed the word to the whole Red Eye crowd, since calls from Eve, Misty and Shotzie came in and Sam's voice was getting dry from all the talking.

When he was on the phone with Misty, he suddenly heard Gaby's voice say: "Sam, we need you now!" Sam apologized to Misty and told her he would call her tomorrow.

Sam was a little confused on what he should do, it was after 11, so he guessed that lying down as if he were going to bed would be the best plan. He turned off his cell phone so that no one would interupt.

He closed his eyes, and found himself slipping out of body very quickly. Gaby was standing in the room, waiting for him.

"That was faster than I expected." Sam said, looking at himself.

"I helped you." Gaby said. "it's easy when I can connect with you." She took Sam's hand and the world shifted around them, they were on what appeared to be a fairly quiet suburban street. Pamela and Rose were there as well.

"Hi Sam." Rose said, "I'm glad to see you escaped imprisonment."

"Thanks," Sam said, "what's going on, where are we?"

"Hartford Illinois" Pam said, "and if my vision is correct, there's about to be one hell of a fire here."

"What's that smell?" Zeba asked.

"Gasoline. It's been leaking from a nearby refinery and it's underground pipes for decades." Pam said. "The EPA thought they had sealed the fumes two years ago with a form of smart plastic that was pumped in as a liquid and then bonded to form a protective layer, but it's stretched like a balloon and it's about to pop."

"What do we do?" Sam asked, "can we prevent it from popping?"

"No." Pam said, "the best we can do is wake everyone up. Sam, we need you to pull alarms, and jump on cars, anything that makes noise."

"Rose, you'll have to appear and warn people. Everyone else, scout for signs of fire."

Sam felt a little silly at first, but he started with the nearest car, setting off it's alarm. It didn't help much, the man who owned it turned it off via remote control from his upstairs bedroom.

Sam went into the house, hoping to find an alarm system, but there was none. There were smoke alarms though, and a Carbon Monoxide detector mounted on the wall. With a little playing he set off the carbon monoxide detector and that got the family up.

"What the hell is going on tonight!" A man's voice said from the master bedroom, Sam flew out the wall and into the next house, doing the same thing there.

Sam made it through six houses, setting off the Carbon Monoxide detectors, this seemed to be working well because neighbors were leaving their houses and starting to talk to each other.

"The fumes are really strong tonight, maybe we should just leave." One man said.

"I thought the EPA fixed this," said another, "I bought this house last year because they said this problem was solved."

"Sam, this way, Gaby's found something." Zeba said. They flew to the next block of houses, and into a garage where a sweaty, grimy man in what was once a sleevless white t shirt, but now covered in car grease had an engine out on a workblock and was trying to start it. The man was short and stocky, and had the name Gus tattooed on his shoulder, he had a fresh can of beer on a nearby workbench, and several crushed ones on the garage floor around him.

"STOP!" Rose said, "you're going to cause an explosion!"

Gus jumped out of his skin at Rose's sudden appearance.

"Look lady, I don't know how you got in here, but I know what I'm doing. Now get out of my house!" Gus advanced on her and Rose disappeared. "What the..." was all he said before Sam left the area.

Sam took the opportunity to set off the man's carbon monoxide detector, it seemed every house had been equipped with the same model over the years as a precaution, the was making Sam's job easier as he now had the knack of making them go off.

"Son of a bitch!"

Sam went quickly through all the surrounding neighbors, setting off theirs as well. Then he heard a smoke alarm start shrieking on it's own from another house. He saw Gaby nearby and said: "Get Rose in here!"

He flew into the basement to see that flames had actually erupted from small cracks in the basement floor. The basement smoke alarm was screaming and Sam could hear the movements of family up ahead.

"Ok, everyone out of the house." A strong maternal voice said. "I'm calling the fire department now, nobody touch the basement door."

Sam drifted through as the mother led three children out of the house, aged between five and ten. He marveled at the calm and practiced manner this mother handled the situation.

Once again, neighbors were gathering in the streets, and commenting on how strong the fumes were tonight. Sirens could be heard in the distance as the fire trucks were dispatched.

Another basement alarm went off, only the occupant of this house wasn't so lucky. He had taken an extinguisher and opened the basement door creating a backdraft, because of the concentration of fumes in the outside air, his whole house erupted in flames and he was killed almost instantly.

This sad conflageration was followed only moments later by an explosion from Gus' garage. Apparently, he had gone back to what he was doing after Sam and Rose had left.

He was blown out of the garage by the blast and landed burning on the ground. Neighbors came with blankets in hand, rolling the man and smothering the flames. Gaby went over to offer whatever help she could.

Houses began evacuating en masse now, someone noticed that the sewers had caught fire and people began to evacuate in earnest. Sam was amazed at how disciplined most of these residents were, clearly many of them had been through this before, or at least drilled for it.

More and more fire trucks rolled in, as well as helicopters and airplanes normally used for forest fires. There was no stopping the fires though. The firemen were forced back when a pipeline exploded, sending a non-stop get of flame hundreds of feet into the night.

"How long will this burn?" Sam asked Pamela.

"Weeks," she said. "some time after dawn, one of the refineries will go, but we saved everyone we could. You did good work tonight Sam."

"Thanks, but we all did." Sam said. "If you didn't have these visions, we'd never get here on time."

They watched through the night, as the whole section of town went up in flames. They flew through the houses, making sure all of them were empty. Sam felt bad for a family of forgotten hamsters, but noticed later on that a fireman had actually carried the tank out to safety.

They watched as the refinery went. Fortunately, the place had been evacuated hours before so nobody was hurt, but the ensuing explosion was visible for over a hundred miles.

"There go the gasoline prices again." Pamela said.

Part Twenty Nine

2005-05-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

Once again Sam found himself falling into a quick dreamless sleep, his physical body was exhausted by the events of the day, and his mind was a bit stressed from all he had experienced.

He woke up about 5am with the uncomfortable realization that his left arm was completely asleep. With some difficulty, he rolled off of it and sat up. He massaged it with his right hand, it felt cold and dead at first and Sam felt a small stab of fear in his heart; but he quickly relaxed as he felt the blood start moving again through his veins. A pins and needles sensation began traveling down his arm and there was a dull ache around his elbow. Then with a rush, he could feel the blood moving throughout his arm. He flexed it a few times until it felt normal again.

Sam laid back down on his back, his eyes watched the glow of the dawn as the sun slowly rose. He drifted back to sleep and found himself standing on a dock. It was dark here, black waves rolled with great force against the dock supports. The only light was cast by flashes of lightning over the water. Sam guessed that the storm would hit in a matter of minutes.

He looked behind him, the dock led to a boathouse, which was completely shut down. There was nothing else to be seen along the shoreline, but there was a road which led away into the woods, Sam began walking, feeling the cool wet wood agains his bare feet and drops of rain start to fall against his back.

I shouldn't be getting wet, he thought, but clearly his t-shirt was absorbing the raindrops, and his bare feet felt solid against the wooden dock, the air was chilly and he was starting to shiver as he walked in the darkness.

It didn't make sense that he was here physically, but as he made his way off the dock, he stubbed his toe rather painfully on a raised board. This confirmed to Sam that his physical status. He stood by the boathouse under the eaves of the roof, the rain was starting to pour now and he didn't relish walking around cold and wet.

He tried the boathouse door, but it was locked. He seriously considered breaking in, top half of the door had four small panes of glass, so all Sam would need was a rock. He looked around, but there was nothing to see in the dark. Lightning was flashing more intently now and Sam was getting blasted by gales of blowing rain. He wished he was wearing some shoes (or some pants for that matter) he felt weirdly exposed wearing only his underwear and a t shirt.

On impulse, and without any better ideas he called out Gaby's name. His voice was drowned out by the force of the storm and there was no response except for a nearby crack of thunder.

"Fuck this." Sam said and punched his hand through the glass. He felt a shard scrape along his thumb and wrist, blood began spouting like a fountain. "SHIT!" Sam exclaimed, he took off his sopping t shirt and wrapped it around his hand. "I should have done that first." He griped, feeling a little afraid as the blood stained his shirt red.

He knocked out the rest of the glass opened the door of the boathouse. He stepped inside and felt around for a light switch, he found one, but either it didn't work or the power was out.

He felt glass under his feet and stepped carefully, it was great to have some shelter, the storm was really raging outside, and the roar of the ocean was almost deafening. His wrist was still bleeding, he felt his way around and found a bit of rope, he wrapped it around his arm and pulled one end with his right hand, and the other with his teeth. The pressure seemed to cut off the flow of blood and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

Above him, the rain and wind were whipping against the boathouse. Sam could see that there was a sailboat stored in here, and that there was a garage door on the front entrance of the building. Lightning cracked with such force that Sam felt it in his chest, moments later a telephone pole came crashing down through the roof of the boathouse crushing half of the roof and part of the boat.

"SHIT!" Sam said, moving himself away from the downed pole. The malestrom was now coming inside, and lightning continued to blast the area. He was against the garage door now, and he felt cold water wash against his feet. It was too dark to see, but he guessed that the ocean waves were starting to reach the boathouse, Sam's shelter was quickly becoming a death trap.

Lightning flashed again and he got a good look at his injured left arm. The white t shirt he had wrapped around it was covered in blood, and he realized that his arm had never fully stopped bleeding.

There was a crash of water against the garage door, it didn't break, but more water seeped in underneath and Sam knew it was only a matter of time. The question of how exactly he had gotten here was still eating at Sam, the last thing he remembered was lying down again in his room... his room where he had still been wearing the blue shirt he had worn to the Red Eye.

"This isn't real!" Sam shouted, to no one in particular. He moved away from the garage door and the crashing ocean. He let go of the rope around his arm, feeling the flow of blood move unheeded again.

"THIS ISN'T REAL!" He shouted again, "I want to wake up NOW!"

The ocean crashed through the garage door, knocking out the lowest panels. Water flowed through, and Sam felt the water wash over his feet, it was cold and there was pieces of wood and other matter striking against Sam's leg.

"This isn't real." He repeated, "I'm in my bed, I'm in my bed." Lightning struck the roof of the boathouse, causing it to explode and burst into flames. Sam was momentarily blinded by the falling debris around him, and the dust in the air caused him to choke, but he held the thoughts firmly in his head.

Amid the chaos of the room, he saw a hand reaching right through the wall. It seemed to glow with a light of it's own, and Sam recognized it immediately. "Gaby!" He cried taking it with his good hand, suddenly he felt himself being pulled out of this scenario.

"Oh Sam, thank God!" Gaby said, hugging him. The rest of Chapter 13 was there in his bedroom, a brief glance showed Sam that his body was still lying in bed.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked.

"You were attacked." Gaby said, "we've never seen anything like it before. You looked comatose to us, which is pretty bizarre. Sedna could see what was going on, but we couldn't reach you."

"I saw your hand though, "Sam said. "You pulled me out."

"You pulled yourself out Sam, I've been here by your body, and somehow you allowed yourself to see me." Gaby said.

"I realized that my shirt was the wrong color." Sam said, "I often sleep in a white t shirt, but last night I just flopped with the shirt I had been wearing." He indicated his body lying in bed. "It didn't make sense to me that I was there in the first place, but the different shirt convinced me that I was dreaming."

"It sounds like it was a projected dream." Peter said, "like the kind I can do, but I can't force people to see things. If the person isn't open to the experience, it just doesn't happen."

"Is there any way to find out who caused it?" Sam asked.

"Not that we know of." Gaby said, "we tried to get some sort of connection to the source while you were out, but we came up empty, not even Sedna could help."

"One thing's for sure Sam, somebody knows you exist, and that is not good." Pamela said. "I was hoping that the 'powers that be' wouldn't spot you for some time. If they've identified you as the Prophet's anti-Christ then they'll be out to kill you on all levels."

"If that were the case," Zeba said, "I think they would have tried physically killing him first. Why use some sort of psychic trap when a bullet is so much more efficient."

"That's a comforting thought." Sam said.

"Sorry Sam, I'm just trying to be practical." Zeba said.

"What about the location?" Sam said. "I was hiding in a boathouse while this storm was tearing it apart, the place looked very real but I had never seen it before."

"Your attacker may have used something out of his own memories." Peter said. "When I work, I form a bridge with someone, I usually tap into their memories to create something, but occasionally I'll project something of my own into the dream for stability. I'll often do this with nightmares, I'll reconstruct a room or a store from some place I considered happy and it becomes a safe place for the person to go for a while."

Sam turned to Pamela. "Didn't you say to me that people with bad intent couldn't operate on this level?"

"That's part of the mystery Sam," Pamela said "you weren't on this level. If it was, any one of us could have made contact with you. You were in a level that none of us even knew existed. You were actually further away, for lack of a better term, than if you were in the physical."

"I don't think we're going to solve this mystery this morning," Zeba said indicating the sunlight streaming in through the windows. "Let's call it a night, and come back to this tomorrow."

"I think the three of us should take turns keeping an eye on Sam," Gaby said, indicating Peter and Pandora. "We might get a clue as to who did this."

"No offense guys, but I really don't need a babysitter." Sam said.

"Too bad." Gaby said, "there's not much you can do about it." She kissed Sam on the cheek and everyone disappeared, Sam found himself feeling both his physical body on the bed, and his non-physical body at the same time. Gradually he felt his attention shifting into the physical, it was an odd feeling, as if his focus was the sand in an hourglass, shifting from one half to the other.

He opened his physical eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was 9:00am and he could here his mother moving around downstairs. Sam headed for the shower; despite his exhaustion he was in no mood to sleep any more.

Part Twenty Eight

2005-05-15T13:16:00.000-07:00

Sam just watched as Misty got up and walked towards the glowing EXIT sign at the far end of the bar. He felt extremely awkward getting up as well, Stubs just looked sidelong at him and Fix smirked.

The crowds were thinner towards the back, Sam followed Misty's lithe form as she manuvered her way between people coming and going from the rest rooms. At first he had thought she was wearing a skirt, as he followed her he realized that she was wearing black pants covered by an oversized shirt. Over the shirt she had a netted shawl which gave her a very flowing look when she walked.

Misty held the door for Sam as they stepped into the cool night air. Sam was actually grateful to be outside and away from the music.

"That's better. I get a little overwhelmed by the crowds." She said.

"What's this all about?" Sam asked. They were standing in an alley on the side of the building, there was a dumpster behind Misty, and there were noises coming from inside it.

Misty took out her PDA. "Much to the chagrin of our associates, I have a wireless connection. This is you, isn't it?" She handed Sam the PDA.

Sam looked at the screen, it was a newspaper article from the Bensonhurst Courier: "Local Man Awakens After Decade Long Coma" It didn't mention his name, but it was clearly about Sam.

"Wow, I'm surprised my Mom didn't find this."

"The article says that you were declared dead."

"Yeah, I was gone for 7 minutes." Sam said.

"Wow." Misty looked down at the ground. "I was gone once too... I almost drowned when I was a kid. I was on the other side, I was so happy then - I really want to go back."

Sam was taken aback, he didn't know what to expect from this girl, but this wasn't it. "I remember it too. I don't think there's any words to describe being there; I didn't want to come back either."

"So why did you? Why do you stay?" Misty asked. Sam could see tears ruining her mascara.

"I've got, well I believe that we come back for a reason." Sam didn't feel comfortable sharing his non-physical experiences with anyone.

"Yeah. I used to believe that as well; but life is so pointless most of the time. Have you had any visions?"

"Visions? No, nothing like that."

"I have. Visions of death, I'm walking through the streets and there are dead people everywhere, it's like Stephen King's 'The Stand.'"

"Geez." Sam said, "is there anything you can do to prevent it?"

"I doubt it. All I ever see is the death, I don't know how it happens and even if I did, what then?"

"Good point." Sam said, "but I've got to think that there's a reason your having these visions."

"Yeah, too many horror movies." Misty said smiling weakly.

As if on cue, the noises inside the dumpster suddenly got very loud. It sounded almost as if someone were fighting to get out. Misty jumped away from it and Sam stepped forward. He was going to lift the top when his vision shifted and he could see the colorful outlines of two small figures inside.

"I think it's a couple of cats." Sam said. Just then, one of the cats howled and banged against the top of the dumpster. Sam lifted the lid up so that they would be able to climb out.

At the same time, the back door opened and several people stepped outside to smoke cigarettes.

"We should probably go back in," Misty said. "Baker is my ride, I don't want him to think I left."

"Yeah, sure." Sam said.

"Hey, thanks for listening." Misty reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Any time." Sam said. They walked back inside the bar, there was no music playing but Sam could here Dawn's voice speaking into the microphone.

"I want to thank everyone who came out last week, especially those of us who got arrested." There was a small amount of applause and cheering from the crowd.

"We're planning another one soon, remember the right to assemble is in the First Amendment. If you don't stand up for your rights, you might as well not have them." The band started up softly as she spoke and they broke out into a new song.

Sam and Misty returned to the table, Dodge looked a little sullen and Stubs said something, but Sam couldn't hear it over the music. Sam picked up his glass and tapped it, getting drink orders from most of the table.

He went up to the bar and ordered those he could remember. "Do you know what Dodge and Misty are drinking?" He asked Dave the bartender.

"Oh yeah, here ya go." Dave said. Dave was incredibly thin, he was bald on top with a long ratty pony tail behind him. Sam could see a faded military tattoo on his arm showing just below the arm of his t-shirt.

"By the way, I'm Sam."

"I'm Dave. I own this place."

"Cool, I think it takes guts to run a place like this right now."

"Yeah well, I gave eight years of my life supposedly fighting for freedom, while the country I was fighting for went down the toilet." Dave said.

"I hear ya." Sam said. He took the tray of drinks and carried it over to the table. Misty gave him a little smile as he gave her her drink.

The band finished and the crowd began to break up a bit. Dawn came over to join the crowd at the table.

"Hey Sam, are you going to join us on the front lines?" Dawn asked.

Sam hesitated, "I don't think I'm up to being arrested just yet. Maybe in a few weeks."

"I can see that."

"So where did you two meet anyway?" Stubs asked.

"I saw Dawn getting arrested on TV last week, and I bumped into her when I was bike riding the other day." Sam said.

Misty shot Sam a little look, but she didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I feel like a celebrity." Dawn said.

"I got a question," Sam said. "If you invite everyone to these protests, how come the cops don't find out about them in advance?"

"Oh we have a tight screening process." Dawn said. "Everyone goes to the same address, but that's only to be given directions to the protest. Anyone we don't trust gets sent to a decoy area."

"The news said there were five protests that night." Sam said.

"Yeah, that was sweet, our numbers are really growing lately." Dawn said. "Actually, I led the decoy rally, along with a few other more colorful people. When people saw us, they believed that they were at the real rally, we had the Hoser's totally fooled."

"You stopped traffic though." Sam said.

"Yeah, but for like 5 seconds, the other rallies lasted 15 to 20 minutes. It was worth getting arrested in order for the others to succeed."

"So does everyone here participate?" Sam asked.

"Nah," Dawn said, "at least not in the protests. Fix does though, so does Baker and Dave. They brought a lot of veterans into the movement as well; there are a lot of little groups like us all over the city."

"Cool." Sam said. "Is there any other ways to get involved that are less confrontational?"

"Hell yeah." Dawn said. "There's a lot of behind the scenes organizing to do, phoning people, making signs and banners. All kinds of stuff."

"I could help with that stuff." Sam said.

"Excellent. Did you bring a PDA?"

Sam put it on the table and Dawn lined it up with hers and started beaming over files.

"Sam, remember to install that protection disk before you hot sync." Stubs said, "otherwise all these files are going straight to the Hosers."

"They probably get them anyway." Fix said, "there's always spies in these places."

"Yeah well, we shouldn't make it easy for them." Stubs said.

The rest of the band started loading up their equipment, and Dawn went over to join them.

Baker and Eve had their arms around each other, and came over to tell Misty and Dodge that they were going.

"I should probably get going as well." Sam said.

"We'll be seeing you around I'm sure." Stubs said, offering his hand.

"Yeah, I'll be back." Sam said.

"That's what Arnold said, before he was impeached for sexual harassment." Fix joked.

"Oh yeah, I forgot he was the Governor of California. People thought he would run for President in 2008."

"He would have," Fix said, "but Daddy Bush likes his empire, so they set Arnold up."

"One week ago, I would've thought that was just paranoia." Sam said.

"Don't get him started," Stubs said. "He's convinced that they've got Nixon's head in a jar and he's secretly running the country."

"Cartoons don't lie." Fix said.

"Have a good night." Sam said. As he left the bar, he saw Dawn and the rest of the band loading their equipment into an old Chevy Van.

"Goodnight guys, you were really good tonight."

"Hey Sam, where do you live anyway?" Dawn asked.

"72nd and 11th." Sam said.

"How are you getting home?"

"By train and bus."

"At this hour, in this neighborhood? Come ride with us, Toke lives on 5th avenue, so he's right in your neighborhood. You don't mind, do you Toke?"

"No, it's cool." Toke said.

"Thanks." Sam said. He hung out as they finished loading the equipment into the van. Sab and the Daniela had their own car, so they said their good nights and went on their way.

Toke and Dawn got into the front of the van, and Sam sat on the back bench, next to Dawn's guitar case. He was directly behind Dawn, and found himself staring at the back of her head. There was something about a bald (or mostly bald) girl that he found really unnerving. He had gotten used to looking in her eyes when he spoke to her, but from this angle, he couldn't help but focus on her head.

"So do you guys have any albums yet?" Sam asked.

"Albums?" Toke said, "nobody bothers to make them anymore. Everyone just puts out singles and sells them on the internet."

"What about the record companies?" Sam said.

"The big companies wised up a few years back, and learned to put singles out for sale very quickly. This makes them some flash cash before everyone starts passing around copies. They don't care about talent though, just whatever piece of fluff they can force on the public. They make more money through the concerts and the merchandising anyway."

"Like Teenie Marie?" Sam joked.

"Don't even get me started, I can't even have her on my TV screen." Dawn said.

"So how does a real band make it big?" Sam asked.

"Most don't." Toke said, "those who do end up selling out along the way. Personally, I don't ever want to work a place that holds more than 200 people, after that the scene just gets ugly."

"The internet makes it weird though," Dawn said. "We can put our songs up for sale, but displaying the lyrics qualifies as Sedition. Fortunately, the courts ruled a few years back that songs are protected free speech, otherwise we could be arrested for performing them."

"Yeah, but we have a fan site in Australia that displays our lyrics, so more people overseas know us than they do here in the states." Toke said.

"What's the deal with that anyway?" Sam asked. "How come I can only go to sites with .us on them?"

"Oh, you missed the whole Internet Insurrection." Toke said, "it started in 2006 when control of all intenet routing was turned over to the United Nations. U.S. companies were pissed off of course, but nobody expected that the Bush would use it as the leverage to pull the US out of the UN."

"Right after that, came the digital Berlin wall." The US had to list all of it's own domains with .us, so that no country could have .gov all to itself. The US then blocked all routing traffic that didn't originate from within the US, they claimed it was because the of foreign viruses hurting the economy. The Chinese have done the same; but as far as I know, the rest of the world is still connected."

"So there's no way to connect with the rest of the world?" Sam asked.

"Oh yeah," Dawn said, "but it's expensive. You have to set up an International access account with WOL, and there's no broadband, just dial up."

"What's WOL?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, World On Line, they're the international half of AOL now."

"We're here Dawn." Toke said as the van pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"Sam could you pass me my guitar?." Dawn asked.

Sam slid the guitar case forward and Dawn guided it between the front seats.

"Thanks, have a good night." She said.

"Why don't you move up to the front Sam?" Toke said.

"Sure." As Sam got out, he could see Dawn entering the front door of her building. His vision shifted again, and he could see a second figure just inside the doorway. He paused, afraid that she might be in danger, but then he saw the uniform of a security guard and relaxed.

"So, I take it Sam is your real name?" Toke asked.

"Yeah, I assume that Toke is a nickname?"

"It's not what you think," Toke said. "My parent's named me Tokyo, they're fourth generation Americans and are trying to feel more connected with their roots. Kids were calling me Toke since I was five, long before I knew what the word meant."

"So, what really brought you out tonight?" Toke asked.

"I don't know, curiosity I suppose. Sam said.

"Are you sure it wasn't Dawn?"

"Uh, no, not like that, besides I thought you two..."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Toke said. "Me and Dawn are strictly friends. Actually, she helped me come to terms with being gay, so we're very close, but not romantically. I think she likes you though."

"Come on, we barely know each other." Sam said.

"Yeah, but I know Dawn pretty well, and I can tell when she likes someone, and believe me that doesn't happen very often."

"Well, I can't say I'm interested in anyone right now. The world has been moving pretty fast since I woke up, I don't really feel ready to be involved in a relationship right now."

"Well you've got to take care of yourself," Toke said. "but if opportunity knocks, you'd be a fool not to answer."

"That's true I suppose." Sam said.

They turned onto 72nd street and Toke slowed down. "Which house is yours?"

"It's about half-way down the block, the one on the right with the porchlight on."

"Uh oh, looks like someone waited up for you."

"Yeah, I probably worried my mother." Sam felt a little embarrassed.

"You don't have to tell me about mothers" Toke said, "if I didn't move out, mine would still be giving me curfews."

Sam laughed a little. "Yeah, I hope mine doesn't ground me. Thanks a lot for the ride."

"No problem," Toke said.

Sam came into the house, hoping his mother would remember that he was thirty years old now.

"Thank God you're home Sam! I was going to have Robbie go out and look for you soon. You could have at least taken your cell phone."

"Sorry Mom, I'll take it next time." Sam said.

"You know Sam, I'm only worried because of your health. What if you collapsed somewhere?"

"I'm ok Mom, I really don't think that will happen."

"Maybe not, but I still worry."

"Yeah, I know. I'll call next time."

Part Twenty Seven

2005-05-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

Sam got up and had the leftover pizza from the night before. Martha had the TV on in the living room which Sam could hear from the kitchen.

"Tonight on the 10:00 news, An elementary school in Atlanta is quaranteened for Avian flu, while two more schools here in New York City are closed due to lack of funds."

Sam wondered if the Avian flu was the disease the 'powers that be' were planning on making a plague with. Probably not since flu vaccines didn't even work back in 2005.

Martha was watching some sort of tear jerker movie so Sam decided to go out and enjoy the evening air. Sam went upstairs and surfed a bit on his computer, but he wasn't finding much of interest.

He remembered the place Dawn had mentioned, the Redeye. He had forgotten to get batteries for his old PDA, so he went downstairs to find some.

"Mom, do we have any triple A batteries?"

"I don't think so Sam."

"I'm going down to the store then." Sam went out into the evening air, it was dusk outside and the streetlamps were just coming on. The air was warm and humid, it would probably rain either tonight or tomorrow.

There was an all night Mini Mart on the corner, as Sam neared it there were three teenage boys hanging out around the side of the building. They were passing a bottle between them, and hid it as Sam drew near.

"Dude, it's your grandfather." One of the boys said.

"No. It's just some guy." The other answered. All three boys were wearing white jeans and t shirts with black leather jackets. They all had crew cuts and Sam could barely tell them apart.

"Evening Sir." One of them said, hiding the booze under his jacket.

"Evening boys." Sam said in his most elderly sounding voice. "Fine night for a walk, isn't it?"

"Uh yeah." One boy said, the other two just nodded.

"Just watch how much you drink," Sam said, "I'm only 30 years old."

They all started laughing and Sam continued into the store, he had hoped to show one of them his old driver's license, but the opportunity didn't present itself.

He looked around the Mini Mart, noticing some of the newer novelties for sale. Sunglasses with tiny cameras mounted seemed to be the latest fad, along with animated bracelets featuring dancing cartoon characters. The batteries cost Sam 9.00, which seemed an insane amount of money. Sam made a silent promise to get new rechargables to avoid these costs again. After leaving the store, he realized that the boys had moved on.

He noticed one weird event as he walked home, several streetlights actually flickered and went out as he walked beneath them. Maybe there was a power problem in the area or something, he thought dismissing it.

At home, Sam put the batteries in his PDA and went through the Hot Sync process to get his old programs and settings back. He was afraid that his Mom would protest his going out so soon after his release from the hospital, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Luckily, Martha had fallen asleep on the couch, so Sam scribbled a quick note and left, locking the door behind him.

He walked to the corner and called car service, but since it was Saturday, the wait for a car was almost an hour. Sam decided to opt for the bus and train instead. He walked over to the bus stop and was fortunate enough to have a bus pull up almost instantly.

The bus was quiet and reasonably comfortable. Sam looked around, there were mostly older people on the bus, two of whom were clearly veterans, one man was wearing an army jacket and was clearly scarred on one side of his face. The other man was in a wheelchair and had no legs. They were talking in low tones to each other in the back.

Sam got off at 4th avenue and briefly considered going home. He felt weird and out of place, especially with crowds of people coming and going on the avenue. He shook off his angst and headed down into the subway. He bought a two fare metrocard and waited for the train to come.

There were several homeless people on the benches, and the platform smelled of urine. The station was silent, Sam was the only person actually waiting for a train. He wasn't as fortunate this time around, the train took twenty long minutes to arrive.

The trip downtown was pretty unremarkable, Sam almost fell asleep but he was afraid of missing his stop. He got off at Smith and walked up the stairs to the street.

The Red Eye was across the street. It had a neon circle that looked like a target instead of an eye. It was only after he walked into the place that he realized it was meant to be an infrared eye.

Sam stepped through the doors and noted that there were plastic security partitions by the doors just like the kind department stores use. He was surprised that there was no music playing as he came in, this was without a doubt the weirdest club he had ever seen.

"Narc alert!" Someone shouted as Sam's eyes adjusted to the low lights of the room. There was a wall to his right which read: "All files on this wall have been screened by the ACLU as legal files, and are regularly checked by the Dept of Homeland Security.

A scruffy looking man with brown hair that stuck out at crazy angles limped up to Sam. "You a cop?"

"No." Sam said, "I just wanted to see what this place was about."

"It's about freedom." The man said, his voice was edgy, as if he were hoping for a fight, "freedom from Big Brother."

"Then I guess I'm in the right place." Sam said.

"That ten dollar haircut marks you as a cop or a Hoser."

"I'm neither." Sam said, "would you believe me if I said that I was in a coma for the last ten years?"

The scruffy man looked him over for a second. "Not really. I'll bet you brought a PDA with you."

"Yeah, a friend told me to."

"Oh, whose your friend?"

"Her name's Dawn."

"Dawnie knows you? She's not here now, but I'll give you a chance till she comes in."

"Thanks." Sam said. "I'm Sam."

"I'm Shotzie." The man said extending his hand. As Sam shook it, he noticed the man had some sort of scarred lesions on his arm.

"Don't mind the scars." Shotzie said, "they're from DU shrapnel."

"DU?"

"Depleted uranium." His tone suggested that knowledge should be fairly obvious. Were you really in a coma?"

Sam smiled and said. "Yeah, I was." Shotzie ushed him in.

"How long have you been awake?"

"About a week now."

"Damn! What a shock you must've woken up to."

"You can say that."

"Let me see your PDA."

Sam passed it to him, and Shotzie took out one of his own. They sat at a table and Shotzie lined up their infra red beams.

"Shit, you got an eel in here already."

"An eel?"

"It's a Hoser worm, they automatically download everything to Hoser central. As long as you're not under investigation, it's still legal for you to remove them. Did you hot sync to an unprotected computer?"

"Well, I have ten year old protection, plus my brother is a Homeland Security agent and he gave me a monitor and printer."

"Uh huh. Why am I not surprised. I'm giving you a program to protect your PDA, but you'll need one for your computer too. I'll see if someone has a disk, come on I'll introduce you around."

Now that Sam's eyes were fully adjusted, he realized that this had to be the most "unhip" place he had ever seen. The ages of the patrons ranged from about twenty to sixty, with styles from classic looking nerds to a guy who looked like he walked off the set of "Lord of the Rings" and a handful of men who were clearly veterans. There were several girls around as well, although the men outnumbered them two to one. The girls were dressed more casually, although one was totally goth with black lipstick, and layers of black flowing clothes.

The walls of the place were covered posters for various rallies, petitions to sign and featured prominiently on one section under a glass frame: The U.S. Constitution. Next to it was a xeroxed copy, with several lines blacked out and the words "UPDATED" scrawled across the top. On the far side of the bar, just to the left of the File Wall, was a small podium, presumably for a band.

Shotzie led him over to a skinny guy with thick glasses and a white button down shirt who looked about thirty. He had been talking with a short heavyset man who was unshaven and at least in his forties. "Hey Fix, Stubs, this is Sam he's a friend of Dawn's."

"Hey." Fix said.

"Dawnie huh? If you're lying she'll break your teeth." Stubs said. "Unless you bastards locked her up again."

"Cut it out Stubs, I think he's alright." Shotzie said. "He needs some computer protection, do either of you have an extra disk?"

Fix reached down into a soft briefcase and removed a cd case. He glanced up at Sam and froze for a second, looking at his face for the first time.

"Whoa! You must be a day before retirement officer."

"I'm not a cop, really."

"Whatever. You'll see that this disk is perfectly legal to use, unless you are currently the subject of a government investigation as per the findings of the 9th Circuit Court U.S vs Morales."

"Come on you two, give him a break." Shotzie said, "I think he's alright."

"Thanks." Sam said, taking the cd case from Fix.

"Nice clothes," said Stubs, "wheredja get your underwear?"

"Excuse me?" Sam said.

Stubs got up and pulled a baseball cap off the wall, he walked over and waved it between the partitions, a high pitched beep filled the room. "It's a scanner." Stubs said, "now you can get clothes easily enough, but there's only a few places to buy underwear these days."

"Would you believe my underwear is ten years old?" Sam asked.

Fix just started chuckling, Stubs gave him a 'how stupid do you think I am' look.

"Seriously." Sam said. "I was in a coma for ten years, these are the clothes I had ten years ago."

"That's pretty weak." Stubs said.

Sam pulled out his wallet and passed his Driver's license to Stubs. "Look at the birthdate."

Stubs looked, and snorted at first, but then looked again closer. "Oh shit, I think this is real." He passed it to Fix for confirmation.

Fix studied the license closely. "It's the right design and all, but dude you don't look much like this guy."

"It's him." Stubs said. "Look at the eyes."

"Could be his father for all we know." Fix said.

"Whatever." Sam said, taking back the license. "I'll just get a drink and go."

"No, hang out," Stubs said. "it's cool." He offerred Sam a seat.

"I'll get us a round of drinks." Shotzie said. "What's your poison Sam?"

"Just a Coke, I can't tolerate much alcohol yet."

"Vodka and Lime" Fix said.

"Cranberry juice on ice," said Stubs. "I like to keep my wits about me."

"Half wits you mean." Fix said.

"Bite me."

"So fellows, who's the tall pale stranger." The girl had come up behind Sam, she was about 5 foot 8 inches with short blonde hair. She wore a plain gray sweatshirt and faded jeans, she had a solid build bordering on chubby.

"This is Sam." Shotzie said, coming back over with the drinks. "Sam, this is Eve."

"Hi," Sam said looking backward.

"Nice scar," Eve said tracing a small line on the back of his head. "Cut yourself shaving?"

"Car accident." Sam said. He never realized there was a visible scar on the back of his head until now.

"Got any tattoos?" Eve asked.

"No, sorry."

"Damn. Nobody gets tattoos anymore."

"That's cause they have nano-riffs in the ink." Stubs said. "It's like asking Big Brother to brand you."

"Oh come on, that's a lot of crap." Eve said. "I just had my butterfly re-inked and it didn't set off the scanners." She turned around a pulled down the neck of her sweatshirt, showing a small butterfly tattoo.

"Nice," said Sam, who wasn't really a tattoo fan.

Just then the scanners went off making Eve jump and everyone laugh. It was actually Dawn coming in with a guitar case. "Sorry! The handle on my old case broke, so I had to buy a new one."

She put the guitar case down on the podium and started out the door again.

"Hey Dawnie, I thought you guys had no bass player." Stubs said.

"We got a new guy, he's real good." Dawn said. "I'll introduce you as soon as we get the gear unloaded. Hey, it's Sam right? Glad you could make it."

Sam turned around to face Dawn, who was wearing an oversized "Radio Free New York" T shirt.

"Thanks. The jury is still out though on whether or not I'm a narc."

"Yeah," she said smiling, "these guys don't trust anybody. Don't let it bother you."

She turned to go back out the door and stopped and backed up as a very petite form came in carrying part of a drum set. Two larger guys followed her, each carrying more equipment. The RFID scanner started going crazy with every piece of equipment passing through it, until finally the bartender turned it off.

"Thank you Dave." Stubs said. "Well, I guess we're not getting any more work done tonight." He said to Fix.

"Yeah well, it's not like we've gotten anywhere."

"What are you guys working on?" Sam asked.

"The Holy Grail." Fix said, "a new communicatons system that isn't controlled by Big Brother."

"Is that possible?" Sam asked.

"In the long run, no." Stubs said. "But in the short run, yes. If we can invent a mass communications system that is not currently covered by any laws, then legally the government will have no control over it. Of course, for it to be any use for us, it has to be encrypted or secured somehow."

"That's pretty heavy stuff." Sam said, "have you actually come up with anything."

"Theories mostly," Stubs said. "Although there's a guy in California who has found a way to project data on smart plastics with magnetic resonance imprints, but there's no means of broadcasting it more than a few feet."

"How come?" Sam asked.

"Ever been through an MRI?" Shotze asked. "They screw you up real bad, I get them every few months on account of the shrapnel in my system, and I'm always sick as a dog afterwards. I think those guys," He indicated three people sitting at another table, "have the right idea. They're trying to develop telepathy as a means of communication."

"Wow." Sam said, "that's pretty amazing."

"Hey Dodge, come join us over here." Shotzie said.

Fix looked a little annoyed, but he didn't say anything.

Dodge was a chubby man in his twenties. He was about 5 foot 6, with curly blonde hair, an upturned nose and reddish cheeks. He was wearing a silk shirt that looked like it came from the disco era, and beige dokkers. He walked with a noticeable limp, and his left arm was oddly bent as he came over to the table.

"Sam's new here, you want to tell him about your experiments."

"Nice to meet you," Dodge said, his voice was clear but his words were slightly slurred. "I don't mean to be rude, but my friend picked up a weird vibe from you, she's afraid you'll contaminate the group energy."

Sam glanced over to the table where Dodge had been sitting, the Goth girl was sitting their along with a long haired and beared guy that resembled Jesus.

"Oh come on man, has everyone around here gone completely paranoid." Shotzie said. "Give the guy a break will ya?"

"That's all right," Sam said, "I'm starting to get used to it."

"Come on, Misty and Baker, get over here." Shotzie said.

The two figures got up from their chairs, Misty in particular seemed very reluctant to come over.

"Come on girl, he ain't gonna bite." Shotzie said.

Baker came up first and offered his hand. "I'm John Baker, most people just call me Baker."

Sam shook his hand, which had a powerful grip. Baker was easily in his forties, with deepset eyes and a prominent nose, even through all that hair.

"This is Misty," Dodge offerred, since Misty was intent on hanging back from the table.

"Hi." Sam said with a smile, trying to ease the girl's worries.

"So Sam, are you interested in psychic phemomena?" Dodge asked.

"I'm a little curious." Sam said.

"He's lying." Misty said.

"I'm holding back." Sam said sharply, "that's not the same thing."

Shotzie started laughing, as did Fix and Stubs "see I told you he was alright." Shotzie said. Apparently Sam had touched on some 'in joke' accidently.

"That deserves a round of drinks." Stubs said heading over to the bar.

The band had finally finished setting up their equipment, and Dawn came over with two people in tow. A third band member, an Asian guy with blue hair went directly to the bar and started talking to Eve, they obviously knew each other.

"Hey guys, this is Sabatino, our new bass player." Dawn said. Sabatino was about 6 foot 3, with shoulder length hair and a beard. He was a stocky guy who looked pretty intimidating until he smiled and just said "Hey."

"And this is his girlfriend Daniela, she might be Johnny's new drummer now that Bobo's been drafted."

"Nice to meet you." Shotzie said. "I'm Shotzie, and this is Sam, Fix, Dodge, Misty, Baker and this guy is Stubs.

"Remember that because we'll test you on it later." Stubs said as he handed everyone fresh drinks. "I'd offer you something, but Dave gives the band free drinks in lieu of paying them."

The band started warming up and more people began funneling into the bar now. The RFID scanner was back on again, and every time it went off the crowd would yell "busted!" at the offender.

Sam watched the people filing in, it was mostly a young crowd. There was no dominant fashion style except that RFID chips were to be avoided at all costs. Hair colors and styles were all across the board as well. Although, he noted, there were only a handful of guys with crewcuts.

Sam braced himself, expecting the frantic chords of a punk band, but like everything else he was seeing, the genres of music were blending here as well.

"Good evening peoples," said Dawn, "for those of us who don't know you, we are 'Proud to be Left Behind' and this is Sanity's Fire:

We move through stones of a bygone day
Lost in a gunpower haze
The call is inticing to some at first
Until that burst, until that pain

(The tempo suddenly shot into overdrive)

Did you think we wouldn't see
Did you think we wouldn't know
How many really died
How the rich never go

Do you think we can't count
the loss of finger and of toes
Do you think we can't hear
Do you think they don't show

We are saying ENOUGH
This is Sanity's Fire
We are saying ENOUGH
To your Madman's desires

DU Deaths
Pocket Nukes
Rich affiliations

Forced to serve
Forced to Die
THIS IS NOT A CHRISTIAN NATION

We are saying ENOUGH
This is Sanity's Fire
We are Saying ENOUGH
To apocalyptic desires

(The tempo slows down again)

The Rapture is taking you into its grasp
Not your Christ from the past
Just Sanity rising at last.

The band jumped back into the chorus and Sam found himself getting into the music. Dawn had an amazing voice, it had a haunting quality that reminded him a little of Faith Evans.

As bodies began crowding in more and more, Sam found himself being pushed against the table.

"This is what I call the unhappy hour." Stubs said, "unless someone cute gets knocked against me."

Sam nodded, barely able to hear against the din of the music. The energy of the room was a little overwhelming, but he felt it would be rude to leave so early.

From across the table, Dodge asked Sam for his PDA, Sam passed it over and Dodge beamed in a file, then he passed it to Misty who beamed something into it as well. She passed it back to Sam, and he looked at the little display. Several document files had been beamed in, the last one said: Read Now, so Sam tapped it with his stylus:

"I know who you are. Meet me out the back door."

Part Twenty Six

2005-05-05T23:04:00.000-07:00

Sam and his mother headed out to the mall to deposit Sam's check and get new cell phones. Malls hadn't changed very much over the last ten years. They were still crowded with teenagers and still bright and noisy to the point where Sam felt a little overwhelmed as he looked around.

They started at a bank called Starpoint Savings, which Sam noted had branches in all 50 states. As they waited for a representitive, Sam glanced at the various interest rates. The Prime rate was at a whopping 11%, although savings accounts under ten thousand dollars were only getting 2% interest.

"I should have taken out more money." Sam noted. "They're going to nickel and dime me to death with their fees."

"Well, it's up to you Sam, but if you make the account joint with me then they'll wave the fees."

"Oh, sure Mom. I'm pretty sure you won't run off with my money." Sam joked.

"Next." It was a man's voice, he had tightly curled hair and a moustache. His gray suit was perfectly pressed, and his white shirt and red tie made him the perfect image of a bank employee. The name plate on his desk read Francis Kopeke.

"Hi folks, how can I help you today." Francis asked.

"I need to open an account." Sam said.

They went through the procedures and forms, and to Sam's surprise fingerprints which Francis explained was a federal regulation since 2009 and the passage of Patriot Act III. Francis also explained that should Sam be arrested, all his accounts would be frozen until cleared by the authorites. Sam briefly considered just hiding his money in his mattress, but relented and went along with the process.

By the time it was all finished, Sam felt more like a criminal than a customer. The bottom line was that money in the bank was no longer yours if you were arrested for any reason. Sam made a mental note to keep a healthy amount of cash with him at all times.

As annoying as the bank was, it was the cell phone store that really ruined Sam's day. They entered a store called Cell O Phone and were pounced on by an overly friendly girl named Lisa. "Hi folks, how may I help you today?"

"We both need to get cell phones." Martha said.

"Of course. Do you and your husband already have a plan?" Lisa asked.

"Actually, I'm her son." Sam said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Lisa said, her cheeks flushed red with embarrasment.

"I have a plan, but my son doesn't," Martha said.

"I see. Well let me review the types of plans we have available and what will fit your budget. Our plans range from as low as 50.00 a month for our most basic service, to 200.00 a month for a high bandwith connection for video conferencing."

"I don't think I'll be needing that." Sam said. "I really just want a basic phone, voice only."

Lisa demonstrated several phones, all of which could now play any sort of sound file as a ringtone. Sam went as cheap as possible, avoiding the GPS tracking and of course the "panic button" feature. Overall, the whoe thing still cost him 300.00 to get started, plus his mother had to cosign the account because Sam no longer had any credit rating.

"Gee Mom, will you buy me some candy and take me to the pony rides now?" Sam said as they left.

"Why Sam, that's no way for my husband to talk." Martha answered.

"Oh yeah. I guess I can forgive the girl for that one, but it really stung."

"You know Sam, you should just be happy to be alive."

"I know Mom, and I am, really. It's just difficult sometimes."

"SAM! Move your MOM!" It was Gaby's voice in his head.

Sam grabbed his mother's arm and swung her around and into a nearby bench. Just as he did, a male form wearing a black leather jacket and jeans shot by.

"Sam what!" Martha said.

Sam plopped down next to her. "I'm not sure Mom, let's just rest here a second."

Security guards came running up behind, and still more came in through the front door to intercept the man. They blocked the doors and drew guns on him.

"Since when do Rent a Cops carry guns?" Sam asked.

"FREEZE!" One of the guards yelled. "Drop the knife NOW!"

Sam could see the guy now, he looked like a teenager. He dropped the knife on the ground and then did something Sam had only seen in the movies. As the knife hit the ground, the young man crouched down a little and sprang up like a rocket, kicking one of the guards, knocking his gun loose with one foot, and actually stepping on the man's shoulder with other.

The young man used the guard as a springboard and actually launched himself through one of the glass doors, creating a shower of glass. He hit the ground sprawling, and to Sam's surprise actually got up and ran off.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked out loud.

"He's on ICE." A passing man said. "It makes them immune to pain."

"Ice? I never heard of it."

"It's genetically modified cocaine. They created it to make a better anasethetic, but it got loose and now it's the newest drug craze. It was easier in our day, " said the man who was clearly in his sixties. "All we did was pot and nobody got hurt."

"Yeah." Sam agreed smiling.

"Well, it looks like the excitement's over, you have a good day."

"You too." Sam said. "Are you ok Mom?"

"Sam, how did you know he was coming?" Martha asked.

"I heard the noise behind me." Sam lied.

"How come I didn't hear it?"

"I don't know Mom, I just did."

"Alright, but I hope you'll tell me if there's something important going on."

"Not while Big Brother might hear us." Sam said smiling.

Martha just shot him a look of caution, and they continued on their way home.

When they got home, Sam laid down for a nap. He had a headache from all the flourescent lights in the mall. He wasn't surprised to hear that incredibly loud rushing sound in his ears. In moments, he was out of his body and floating around the room.

"Hm, no Gaby?" Sam mused. He floated out the window and headed towards Manhattan. He flew over the new Freedom Towers, a perfectly ironic name since traffic wasn't allowed within a block of it, and tourists had to make appointments ahead of time in order to see the inside of the place.

Drifting a little further north, he was a little sad to see that Chinatown no longer existed. Canal street was lined with condos and chain restaurants, all of the lower East side had become a soulless corporate nightmare.

"Hey! Want some company?" It was Gaby drifting up behind him.

"Oh sure." Sam said. "Thanks for the head's up earlier, were you helping that kid."

"No, I was working with you actually." Gaby said, "you just weren't paying attention."

"Oh. But that poor kid."

"Didn't want my help or anyone elses. A lot of people are like that, especially addicts."

"Oh." Sam said.

"Believe me Sam, it's really hard knowing that you can't help everyone. Even at this level, life can be frustrating as hell."

"Sorry." Sam said. "Even though I can remember the last ten years, part of me still feels really new to all this."

"It's ok. You should head home though, you don't want your Mom to freak from you sleeping to long."

"Yeah, you're right." They hugged briefly, and Sam felt himself being pulled back to his body, it was almost like being sucked down a drain.

Part Twenty Five

2005-04-30T00:03:00.000-07:00

Having made his commitment Sam walked through the computer consoles forcing himself to damage the equipment. He must have actually momentarily contacted a power source because a huge shock went through his body, and the console he was passing through shorted out with a puff of ozone.

With the shock came a flood of images, every event of the last ten years was suddenly there in Sam's mind. He had been extremely active with the members of Chapter 13: Everything from distracting border guards while draft dodgers fled into Canada to activating a faulty sprinkler system while Rose helped lead children out of a burning school.

Sam felt whole now, sure of himself and his place in both the physical and non-physical worlds. He also learned about the main opposition to the efforts of Chapter 13, a man named Jerimiah Wood who was more commonly known as the Prophet.

"He's a religious fundamentalist with a gift for precognition." Pamela explained. "He's very old now, but he's been the power behind the throne so to speak for the last 40 years or so." As Pamela spoke, Peter created an image of the man.

"He's very well guarded, he has a mansion in Virginia and more layers of security than Camp David. He's not allowed to leave, nor does he wish to. He believes feverently in one goal: To bring about the end times and the return of Jesus Christ."

"You're kidding me?" Sam said.

"I wish I were. He is a gifted psychic, and he has seen you, Sam. He has labeled you as the anti-Christ. If anyone ever associates you with his visions, your physical self could be in a lot of trouble." Pam said

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You might consider dying your hair."

"I'll think about it." Sam said.

"Sam, I don't know whether or not the return of Jesus is possible, but I do know that these guys are actively trying to bring about the opening of the Seven Seals in Revelations.

"I'm afraid that I'm not up on Revelations." Sam said.

"To be honest," Pam said, "I wasn't either, the Bible isn't really my thing; but I've read this gibberish to get a better understanding of what these psychos are up to. Right now, they're working on creating a mass epidemic to activate the pestilence portion of the prophecy. I'm trying to get a location on them but it's difficult. There's more killer bugs stored around this country than I even want to think about."

"What about Sedna?"

"She tells us what she can, but even channeled sources aren't infallible. Chances are, they're more concerned with making themselves immune more than anything else; otherwise they would be just as much at risk as the rest of us."

"Good point." Sam said.

"But it makes it harder to find." Pam said, "I can tune in on certain things, like the location of a person or a place, if I know what I'm looking for; but I don't know which disease they intend on releasing or which one they are creating themselves an immunity for, so I'm stuck."

"Have you seen this disease released?"

"I've seen a jumble of images, none of them are definite enough yet. The symptoms are varied and none of us here are doctors."

Sam started to feel uncomfortable, he realized that his body was pulling him back. "I have to go," he said, "something's waking me up."

Pam said something, but she was already fading from Sam's sight. There was that weird roaring sound and he gasped a bit, as he awoke.

"Sam!" It was Martha's voice, she sounded impatient.

"Yeah Mom, what is it?"

"It's about time, I was starting to worry. It's almost 10:30 you know."

"Oh, sorry. I think I tried to do too much yesterday, I was just exhausted."

"Well you take it easy today then."

Sure Mom." Sam wasn't joking about being exhausted, as he got out of bed, every muscle in his body felt achy. He didn't mind though, he remembered everything that he had experienced the night before, and he felt like his life had purpose again.

Part Twenty Four

2005-04-27T00:02:00.000-07:00

Sam was exhausted that night, Martha had turned on a murder mystery but Sam couldn't follow the plot at all. He decided to call it a night.

Sleep came almost instantly, the first half of the night went by in an instant, but he woke up around two to use the bathroom.
As Sam stumbled back into bed, he mumbled the word "remember" a few times as he fell back asleep.

Incredibly blinding white light hit him again. Sam should have been blinded, but somehow he could still see. Gaby was moving a little bit further ahead of him.

"Gaby wait! Where are we?"

Gaby didn't even pause, she continued into the light, and then turned back to face Sam.

"This is where we must part, my love." Gaby said, "but only for a time." She no longer even looked like herself, her body was radiating waves of colors.

"I'm coming with you." Sam said, "nothing is going to keep me away."

"You can't Sam. It's not your time." Gaby said. "You're still needed on Earth."

Sam pushed his way into the light. For the briefest moment, he was one with it, he suddenly knew everything. He knew who he was, here in the present, a thousand lives in the past, and uncountable more in his future. He felt such an incredible sense of belonging, the feeling went beyond anything he'd ever felt as love. He also knew with absolute certainty, that he didn't belong here.

"Hello Sam." It was a man's voice, one that Sam had almost forgotten.

"Dad?"

Michael Quinn stood before his son looking exactly as Sam remembered him. Sam through his arms around him and realized that he was once again in the body of a seven year old boy.

"Dad, I miss you." He began crying.

"I miss you too son." Michael Quinn put his arms around his son. "But I need you to do something important for me."

"I'm not going back, " Sam said, "I want to stay here with you and Gaby."

"I'm sorry son." Michael Quinn lifted Sam's form and Gaby walked along beside him.

"You can't make me leave." Sam said. Seeing Gaby again returned him to his adult form.

"Yes we can." The two of them grabbed Sam by each arm and hurled him out of the light. As soon as Sam was clear, he felt himself being pulled uncontrolably down into darkness.

There were voices, hundreds of them, some near, some far. If Sam focused, he could follow any one conversation, there were doctors around him, they were setting his broken leg. There were people talking in the hallways, and there was his mother, crying uncontrolably on a chair in the waiting area.

Time passed. Sam could wander the hallways, even visit his home. He often found himself wandering around his bedroom. He was in the house when his brother's draft notice came.

"You shouldn't have to go Robbie, you should be able to get a hardship dismissal because of Sam."

"I want to go Mom, it's my duty." Robbie said.

Sam tried to comfort his mother, to speak to her, but she was completely lost in her own pain.

It took a few months, but Gaby finally rejoined him. She worked with his physical body at least once a day, and they spent the rest of their time with each other.

Gaby was a trained healer now, and was instantly drawn to where ever she was needed. It was Gaby who first met Rose, being drawn to her during a tricky bout with pnuemonia. Parkinson's disease had left Rose's body almost immobile, but her years in physical isolation had made it possible for her to master being out of her body.

"You two are sweet kids." Rose said, "I wonder if you would be interested in meeting some friends of mine."

"Uh, sure." Sam said. "Friends like us you mean?"

"Yes. We're sort of a club, there's a great deal of darkness in the world right now, we're bringing some light to the darkest places."

"What sort of light?"

"Meet my friends, you'll see." Rose said.

Sam and Gaby stood together with the rest of Chapter 13 among scenes of chaos. Cars were burning in the streets of LA, random violence was everywhere. Store fronts were smashed and looting was rampant.

"This is the vision I saw last night," Pamela said, "the riots begin several hours after a 7.5 earthquake damages the region and knocks out power in the city. Emergency crews are still trying to save lives in the more heavily damaged areas, so there are no authorites to stop the rioting. That's enough Peter."

The scene around them vanished. They found themselves standing in a living room.

"I'd offer everyone a drink if I could." Pamela said, taking a seat on the couch."

"What can we possibly do about this?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," said Pam, "but there must be something."

"The earthquake is not natural nor is the rioting." Pandora said, her voice was unusually deep. "It was caused by the great array, it can be stopped there."

"Great array?" Gaby asked, almost everyone had blank looks.

"It's called HAARP." Zeba said, "I'm pretty sure I've felt it's effects in the past. It gives me blinding headaches. I always go on vacation somewhere far away when I feel it; I've heard rumors that it could do this kind of thing but..."

"The powers that be are raising the stakes to tighten their grip." Pandora said, still speaking in the deep voice. "They spread chaos to force order."

"Can we see this harp thing? Sam asked.

"Let's go." Rose said.

They joined hands and flew at blinding speeds to a huge snow covered field. Row after row of antennae were arranged like some bizarre metal orchard.

"This is almost as bad as the city, what could we possibly do here?" Sam asked.

"Follow me," said Zeba, "we'll go after the control room."

To their surprise they were repelled by some sort of force when they tried to enter.

"What the hell?" Zeba said. "It's like they were expecting us."

"The prophet may have saw us coming, but how could they block us from entering?" Pamela asked.

"Who exactly is the prophet?" Sam asked.

"Later. Pandora, is Sedna still with you?"

"Yes."

"How can they keep astral bodies from passing through a physical wall?" Pamela asked.

"High powered magnets layered in specific patterns can have this effect." Pandora/Sedna said. "Sam will be able to enter."

"Me? How?"

"You can breach the barrier and destroy some of the magnets, thus ruining the pattern." Pandora/Sedna said.

"Ok." Sam stepped up to the concrete wall of the building. He touched it, and could feel the intense resistance blocking him from moving through it.

"Push hard Sam, this is one of your talents." Pandora/Sedna said.

Sam pushed, but the barrier was solid. He tried ramming it with his shoulder, but bounced back. He was relieved to realize that there was no physical pain involved. Feeling a little invincible, he punched the wall full force, the kind of punch that would have broken his knuckles in the real world. To his amazement his hand passed through the wall and dislodged one of the magnets.

He had felt the magnet move from the force of his hand! It was as if he were momentarily physical, yet he hadn't effected the rest of the wall in any noticeable way.

Sam punched a few more times, and even broke one of the magnets, which were actually quite thin and brittle. When he cleared an area about a foot in diameter, Pandora/Sedna said: "That's enough."

They flowed in, through the hole. Physically, it was far too small for them to enter, especially as a group, but the rules at this level were very different.

There were several soldiers standing on the other side of the wall. "I think you've got rats in their Colonel." The man said. The group passed through his partner, who suddenly shuddered.

"What's wrong with you man?" the Colonel asked.

"Just a chill sir. It's nothing."

"It could be the damned commies. Get me some EMF detectors up here!" the Colonel ordered. "We've been breached!"

"Oh Shit! What do we do?" Sam said.

"Pay them no mind," Zeba said, "they can't touch us."

"Sam must make his choice now." Pandora/Sedna said.

"What choice?" asked Sam.

"You must decide now, whether you want to join us."

"But, this is a memory." Sam said, "we did all this already."

"Yes and no." Pandora/Sedna said. "Time is not linear at this level, you must make your choice. If you choose not to join us, we will find other means of accomplishing our goals, and you will go on as if we never met."

"What about Gabrielle?" Sam asked.

"Gabrielle will still be with you, but she will not share anything she experiences with us."

"Do we stop the earthquakes?" Sam asked.

"Not entirely, but their effects are much less, and there is no mass rioting. The overall plan is negated." Pandora/Sedna said.

Sam looked at their faces. They all looked a little pale in the glow of the fluorescent lights overhead. Around them, a variety of military men and scientists were using some sort of handheld detectors to try and find them. They were scrambling back and forth occasionally walking through one of the group, but never actually focusing on one of them.

Sam realized that he trusted these people, their intentions and their goals. They had a deep bond of trust among each other and a deep sense of compassion for the world around them. He knew this was the most significant decision that he had ever made in his life, but it was also one of the easiest.

"I'll join." Sam said.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Celebrate New Years Eve in Alaska this year. Scientists will use the HAARP array to manufacter man made auroras in a spectacular show for the American people. The Alaska Hilton has constructed an enclosed dome, from which the spectacular show can be enjoyed in warmth and comfort.

Part Twenty Three

2005-04-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

The Tai Chi classes were above a storefront on 5th avenue. Sam was a little surprised by how casual it all felt. There was no bowing or karate outfits to wear, just a bunch of people in casual clothes.

"You must be Sam, I'm Alex." Alex was about 5 ft 7, and very slim. His head was completely bald on top, and brown with flecks of gray on the sides. He had a moustache and beard which were flecked with gray as well. He seemed to almost flow rather than walk, and he had a strong sense of serenity about him.

"Hi." Sam said, shaking his hand. He could tell that Alex had a better grip than he did, but Alex didn't exert any unnecassary pressure.

"Come on in, you'll need to take off your sneakers. It's better to work out in socks or flat slippers. You can sit on the bench over there as I demonstrate the form for you."

"There are several forms of Tai Chi, I'll be demonstrating the Yang long form." Alex said. He turned his back to Sam and stood with his heels together, and his feet sticking out at 45 degree angles. He then stepped sideways, and began raising both his arms upwards directly in front of his body.

"Tai Chi moves every muscle in the body, and it's excellent for building muscle tone, stamina, increasing your circulation and boosting your immune system." As he spoke, he moved slowly through a variety of poses that didn't look too complicated to Sam.

"There is of course the spiritual side to Tai Chi as well, and the flow of Chi energy through the body, but you don't have to learn about that unless you're really interested. Just learning the form and practicing it daily will be very beneficial to your health."

Alex began to step backwards in an almost comical fashion, and then bent low, almost touching the floor with his hands and stepping up into a blocking motion. "I realize that some of this looks complicated, but we take the entire form one movement at a time, and in Tai Chi you never push yourself. You should always feel relaxed and comfortable in your movements, your body will naturally become more flexible and limber as it's ready."

"That's good." Sam said, "I'm pretty sure that some of those moves are too hard for me right now."

"This is a flexible system." Alex said as he continued moving through the form. "Obviously, if your body can't handle something, you don't have to do it. In our Wedensday class we have several people who do not have full mobility due to various medical conditions. The important thing to remember is that your body knows what it can do, you never have to try and force it."

Alex finished, in the same place where he started, he came over to Sam and said. "Let me start you with a few of the basic moves, and see how you do."

"Charles, would you mind joining us for a round?" He called into the other room.

Charles looked a bit younger than Alex, possibly because he had a full head of blonde hair. Both men had very boyish faces Sam realized, and his own bony visage probably made him look like the oldest man in the room.

"Hi." Charles said, "I'm also an instructor here."

"Nice to meet you." Sam said.

"Charles is going to help observe you, while we do the form. He'll be doing the form behind you, so that you can easily see either of us, and so that we can both observe you."

The moves seemed simple enough to Sam, although he felt awkward and clumsy when he attempted them. He almost fell over a couple of times when he was required to stand on one foot. Alex had them pause in several places, where he gave instructions on how much weight should be placed on his forward leg, and how Sam's arms should be positioned. These pauses were hard on Sam's leg muscles, he began to sweat just from the effort of standing in these uncomfortable postions.

There were quite a few steps that required putting 100% of your weight on one foot, and stepping the other foot down before transferring the weight over. Sam was finding this very difficult, and Alex gently indicated that he was overstepping, trying to do too much too fast. Sam almost felt like he was taking baby steps, and in a way he supposed that he was.

"You did very well Sam, I think that these classes will be very beneficial for you." Alex said.

"I'm feeling muscles that I didn't even know I had." Sam said. His legs were actually trembling from his efforts.

"Walking around a bit will help ease the muscles. As long as you're not getting cramps, you're doing ok. If your muscles cramp up then you've done too much."

"So, will we see you on Wedensday?"

"Yeah, definitely." Sam started filling out the enrollment forms, and noticed that there was an ARF logo on the desk.

"You guys are an ARF chapter?"

"Oh yes. We hold several free meditations daily, which are open to the general public. That qualifies us for ARF status, much to the chagrin of some of the more fundamental chapters." Alex said, smiling.

"That's great, my brother's big into ARF and the meetings are usually on Wedensday nights; now I'll have an easy out."

"Perfect." Alex said.

"Can I use your phone to call a car service?"

"By all means."

Sam called for a car, and his legs began trembling again as he was making the call. On the trip home, he realized that he was starving again, he couldn't wait to get something to eat.

"Hello?" He called as he went into the house.

"Hi Sam, how was your class?" Martha called from the kitchen.

"Tiring, but good. I'm scheduled for Wedensday and Friday nights."

"Wedensday? Robbie's not going to like that."

"Yeah well, Robbie's going to have to deal with it. Besides the Center is an official ARF chapter, so there's nothing he can say about it."

"Sam, you know..."

"Yeah, I do know Ma, and frankly I don't give a rat's ass. First of all, we're talking about my recovery, which is more important than anything else right now. Second of all, I'll be damned if I'm going to live my life in fear of what Robbie or anyone else thinks."

"I know Sam, but..."

"No buts Mom, I lost ten years of my life, I'm going to live the rest of it the way I want."

Martha sighed. "I knew this would happen, you're a lot like your father in that way."

"I would think that would be a good thing." Sam said.

"It is. I'm just a little scared."

"Yeah Ma, I know. I'll try to take it easy."

The doorbell rang, and Martha went to go answer it. "That's the pizza I ordered." She said.

Sam was thrilled to eat three slices that were topped with mushrooms and sausage. Even Martha took notice of his increased appetite.

"All that exercise must be good for you."

"Yeah, I feel like a bottomless pit." Sam said.

"You got a little sun on your face as well."

"Really?" Sam touched his face, it felt a little dry and warm, but it didn't hurt at all.

Just then Martha's cell phone rang: "Hello?"

A man's voice could be heard in the background, he was speaking in a different language. There was so much interference that Martha couldn' make any sense of it.

"Hello? Is somebody there?"

She gave up and turned off the phone, it instantly started emitting a high pitched whine, like feeback through a cheap sound system.

"Ow!" Sam said, covering his ears. "What is that?"

"It's coming from the phone!" Martha said, she buried the phone deep in her purse, which at least muffled the sound.

"Can't you turn it off?" Sam asked.

"I did, it must be broken."

Sam went into her purse and yanked the battery from the phone, it immediately went dead.

"What do you think that was about?" Martha asked.

"I don't know, who was on the phone when you called?"

"I think it was a wrong number, there was a man speaking in another language, possibly Russian."

"Do you have caller ID?" Sam asked.

"Yes, but it said 'blocked,' I thought it might be Robbie, sometimes his lines are listed as blocked."

Sam tried placing the battery back in the phone. It seemed to be working normally again. "I guess you need a new one Mom, we can both get them tomorrow. Oh yeah, my check came today, I'll need some way to deposit it."

"We'll have to get the bank to transfer your accounts back into your name, everything was switched over to me when I became your legal guardian."

"Wow, it's like being a kid again without any of the fun." Sam said.

Sam wrapped up the remaining pizza, while Martha took care of the dishes. He headed into the living room and flipped on the TV.

The image on the screen was of the Alaskan wilderness, there was a damaged oil rig listing heavily to one side and the land was blackened for as far as the eye could see.

"It was supposed to be the salvation of the American people; the Alaskan drilling project began in 2009 but a comedy of errors stopped production cold and created the worst environmental disaster in American history."

"Workers using heavy explosives in a rush to establish a string of wells accidently ignited the two existing wells as well as hundreds of acres of the surrounding wilderness. The Alaskan wilderness had been unusually dry due to an extended drought which some attribute to global warming. The raging forest fire was virtually unstoppable, as there were virtually no firefighters to manage the blaze."

"It took a fortunate early winter storm to blanket the area with snow and put out the forest fire. By then it had burned an area six times the size of Rhode Island, and no amount of snow would be enough to cap the oil well fires."

"The wells were finally capped the following Spring, and it looked as if workers would be able to get oil production back on track. Clean up efforts began, but some of the damage was irreversible. Toxins from the burning oil and smoke had gotten into the the surrounding streams, killing untold numbers of fish. Other wildlife had either perished in the forest fires or fled to safer territory, leaving only ash and the lifeless skeletons of trees behind."

The phone rang, and Sam looked up but his mother grabbed it first.

"Oh hello, Robbie. Oh, yes it did, Sam had to pull the battery out to stop it. Oh really, yes it was the voice of a man, he was speaking another language and I could hardly hear him. I see. Ok dear, thanks for calling."

"That was Robbie. He said that there's a cell phone virus going around. It actually came from overseas, and it's damaging phones all over the country."

"Really." Sam said, "how did it work?"

"I don't know, but Robbie said it's better not to use it until they can fix it."

Sam flipped the channel over to CNN, but they were doing the sports news. He glanced at the time, it was nearly 9:00, he switched back to the Discovery Channel.

"It was the 7.9 magnitude earthquake that really finished the project however. A previously unknown faultline opened directly beneath the drill site, causing the oil rig to collapse into the crevice. And what was worse for the oil companies, was that the vast amounts of oil seemed to have dried up. The wells were useless, and the Alaskan Energy Corp. went broke, leaving a legacy of environmental destruction behind them."

"Scientests differ on what actually happened to the oil. Many claim that it was never there to begin with, that there never was more than a few million barrels of oil under Alaska, and that those barrels were lost in the fires. A former Geologist from Alaskan Energy though claims that the earthquake caused the oil to drain further into the Earth, and that a bigger operation might succeed in tapping it."

It was 8:59 so Sam switched back to CNN again:

"Hello everyone I'm River Travels, tonight's top story, Senator John Zebidiah Taylor has announced his candidacy for President in 2016. Taylor, who has been the Senator from Georgia for the last ten years, and is married to Jenna Bush has been the expected favorite by the Republican party for some time."

"A cell phone virus damaged or destroyed thousands of phones tonight. The virus effects only phones made by Halipax Technologies, and causes a feedback loop by activating the mouthpiece while the phone is in "off" mode. We now go to Michelle Rafferty at the HSA Headquarters in Washington."

The scene shifted to an attractive red haired woman standing outside of Homeland Security Headquarters: "If you're like me, then you received a call tonight which had a man speaking Russian in the background. The call was actually a recording and carried with it an attached computer virus which targeted the operating system of Halipax Cellular phones. This virus caused an audible feedback loop which would continue either until the battery was removed or ran out of power. Several minutes ago, Captain Joesph Brannigan released this statement:"

The screen changed once again to a white haired man in a business suit. He had a deeply throaty voice and had to clear his throat several times as he spoke. "Good evening. At approximately 7:00 tonight, a computer virus which was designed to attack the operating systems of Halipax cellular phones was released from multiple international sources into the United States."

"Like most viruses, it spreads itself by accessing the phone numbers stored in phones it infects. This virus can access the numbers of non-Halipax phones as well, so all cell phone users are asked to be on guard tonight and not accept any calls from blocked sources. "

"What the virus does is activate a passive microphone, which is only meant to be activated when a phone's "panic button" feature is activated. The panic button is meant to keep an open line to emergency authorites in case the user is incapacitated. These buttons have been instrumental in saving lives for people who were in distress."

The scene cut back to River Travels at the anchor desk. "Michelle, we just received a recording of the actual message that people are receiving." They played the recording over the air and the camera panned out to another man seated at the desk. He was an older man, obviously not a reporter, he was bald with a heavily jowled face.

"I'm here with Professor Lex Tuscan, a Linguistics expert from Pennsylvania State University. Welcome Professor, can you tell us what language this is?"

"Thank you River, yes this despite the background noise, it's quite clear that the man is speaking Russian."

"And can you interpret what he is saying?"

"Oh yes, he is stating: "They are listening to you, the gardener's are listening to you."

"I see, and who are the gardeners exactly?"

"I have no idea River." The Professor said smiling.

"Hey Mom, where's that phone?" Sam asked.

"It's in my bag, in the kitchen."

"Maybe we should pull the batteries out again, just to be safe." Sam said.

"That's a good idea Sam, that virus can't effect your computer can it?"

"I don't think so." Sam got the unspoken message, Martha suspected that there was more than just one hidden microphone in the house.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You never know when an emergency will strike. With a Halipax Phone by your side you can summon emergency help with the push of a button. GPS tracking will guide the authorities to your location, even if your unconscious or unable to speak. The phone also remains open for the duration of the emergency, even if the case is closed. In the event of a crime, police can use these recordings as evidence against the perpetrator.

Halipax Phones: Your best friend on the Road.

Part Twenty Two

2005-04-22T17:04:00.000-07:00

Much to his disappointment, Sam slept soundly the rest of the night. He awoke in the morning feeling refreshed, but still unaware of this other life he apparently had over the last ten years.

He was starving this morning. He made himself a breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. As he ate, Sam realized that he was actually eating as much as a normal human being again."Woo Hoo! More bacon!" He said triumphantly.

With nothing better to do, Sam decided to take his bike out again. He rode down 77th street until he crossed Bay Parkway. From there he found himself on Avenue P and eventually onto Ocean Parkway. He decided to ride along the bike path there. He worked his way down the avenues, zipping around the occasional pedestrian walking along the path.

He was nearing the end of the bike path when he saw a bright pink
mohawk walking towards him.

"Hey! They let you out!" Sam exclaimed, before he remembered that
she had no idea who he was.

"Do I know you?" Dawn asked, with her leather jacket and punk image,
she was all attitude.

"Uh, no, sorry. I saw you on TV last week." Sam said.

"Wow really? My first fan!" She said smiling.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm Sam."

"Dawn." She offered her hand, and had a grip that was more powerful
than Sam's. "Nice bike. Ever join Critical Mass?"

"Uh, no." Sam said, "actually I just started riding again. I was in
the hospital for a long time and I need to build up my muscles
again."

"Oh, sorry to hear that." Dawn said.

"It's alright, at least I'm recovering." Sam said "So how long did
they hold you?"

"Oh that," Dawn said, "they only had me a few hours. My parents are
lawyers, my Dad works for the ACLU, so he got us out pretty quick."

"Really? My Dad did some work for them as well, but that was back in
the 70's or 80's."

"Yeah, well a lot of people are afraid to be associated with them
these days." Dawn said.

"Oh, it's not like that, he died back in 83." Sam said.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry."

"It's ok, I know what you mean though. I met one of my Dad's old
friends yesterday and he said that my Dad would not be happy to be
around right now."

"Yeah. So, are you an ocelot?" She asked, indicating his bike and
clothes with her finger.

"A what?" Sam didn't think she meant the large cat.

"Old Clothes Eccentric Loves Old Technology," she said, you look like all your clothes are pre RFID. Like this jacket I'm wearing, it's from the 80's, all my stuff's from before 2000."

"I guess I am, but not intentionally." Sam said. "I was actually in
a coma for ten years, so all my clothes are pretty old, and this
bike was actually my father's."

"Oh shit. I keep putting my foot in it, don't I?" Dawn said.

"Don't worry about it, so what's the big deal about RFID tags?"

"Pretty much everything these days has an RFID chip in it, and there are scanners everywhere: stores, the subway, you name it. If you get arrested, the cops can use the chips on your clothes to prove where you've been."

"Wow, I am so far behind the times." Sam said.

"If you're interested, you should come down to the Red Eye some night, it's on 4th and Smith, and bring an old PDA if you have one. One without any wireless service."

"Oh, yeah I do actually. I have an old Handspring."

"Excellent. If you're not into this stuff, you can at least make
some bucks selling your old clothes."

"I think I'll hang onto them, never know when I want to start a life
of crime." Sam joked. "It would really bug my brother, he's a
Homeland Security Agent."

"Let me guess, he's also a veteran."

"Yeah."

"And he's heavily involved in ARF?"

"Yeah, he is." Sam said.

"It's weird, so many of them are. There's a lot of conspiracy stuff about it. Everything from mind control to secret societies, they do tend to be more paranoid then the real cops, and of course they have a lot more power."

A ringtone started going off in Dawn's pocket, she pulled out a
small cell phone. "Hey. Oh yeah, I'm ok I've just been talking to
someone."

She looked at Sam: "I better go, my Mom worries that the Hoser's
will arrest me again."

"No problem," said Sam. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too." Dawn said, she started walking towards one of the
apartment buildings and Sam started riding towards home.

The Red Eye, Sam thought as he rode home. It sounded a little radical for him, and 4th and Smith were not the best part of town by any means, still it was great to know of some place that was ARF free.

When Sam got home, he was thrilled to see that his 3000.00 check had arrived. He decided to wait until tomorrow to try and deposit it anywhere. It was already after 3:00 and he needed to get ready for Tai Chi.

He made himself a quick PB&J and went upstairs to take a shower. His legs were a little stiff, and he wondered if going riding before Tai Chi had been a good idea.

After the shower, Sam laid down for a few minutes. He found himself struggling to move, as if he was swimming through molasses. He suddenly broke free and a huge light blinded him.

"WHOA!" He awoke, breathing hard. "What the hell was that?" He glanced at the clock, only a few minutes had passed. His heart was racing, so he got and got ready to go to Tai Chi class.

Part Twenty One

2005-04-19T23:19:00.000-07:00

When Martha got home that night, Sam told her about his biking adventure, and meeting Vinny.

"Sam, if you're going to go out like that, I'd like you to get a
cell phone. I'm afraid something might happen to you."

"Sure Mom, I'll get one as soon as my check comes in. Oh yeah, I
also have an appointment at the Tai Chi place tomorrow at six."

"Ok dear, just take car service and not the bike, I don't want you
to push yourself to hard."

"Do you still have Dad's old writings?"

"Of course, they're packed away in boxes upstairs. You can look at
them if you like."

"Yeah, I think I'd like that, I don't really know much about him."

"You're a lot like him. He was a very fair man, he never took
anything to extremes, but he was very passionate about fighting for
people's rights. She lowered her voice a bit: "That's why I worry
about you around Robbie."

"I know Mom."

Sam spent that night flipping through his father's old newspaper columns. He had fought against unfair foreclosures by a bank which seemed to specialize in giving high interest mortgages to people who couldn't possibly afford them.

He had also advocated for the rights of seniors in a local Nursing Home, which had a long record of abuse. In his most recent columns though, he had been focusing on the slashing of many domestic programs, and the government's sharp increase in military spending. All of this was back in the early 80's, Sam could see why Vinny had said that his father wouldn't like the way things were right now.

Glancing at the back of one of his father's books: "Keep Your Shirt: Your Rights While Declaring Bankruptcy" Sam was surprised to learn that his father was also a lawyer, and worked for the ACLU from time to time.

Sam also stumbled across a newspaper story describing his father's
death:

Political columnist and writer Michael Quinn was found dead today in Red Rock, Wyoming. Quinn apparently lost control of his car on a patch of black ice and spun off the road and into a creek. Authorities don't believe that alcohol was involved in the accident and said that there would be no further investigation. Quinn leaves behind a wife and two children.

There was nothing to indicate what his father was actually doing in
Wyoming though, Sam had always been told that his father was doing
research, but what sort of research would have led him there?

Sam decided that he had read enough for one night, and packed his father's stuff away. He did feel closer to his father now, getting a feel for the man he was and the things that mattered to him.

Sleep came quickly that night, Sam had forgotten all about Rose's
suggestion for him to remember. He found himself out of his body
again, floating high above Brooklyn.

"Hi Sam." Gaby flew up next to him, "can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course." Sam said "Let's go somewhere quiet."

The scene changed around them, and they were sitting in their usual
booth at the Bay Diner.

"I'm sorry I had to be short with you earlier," Gaby said, "you just
showed up at a really bad time."

"Yeah, I gathered. So what was all that anyway? There were a lot
more people like you there than I met earlier."

"Oh, that wasn't Chapter 13, not really. That was my own stuff, I was working with Rose in the Convalescent Home, when the bomb went off. She decided to come along with me."

"So, you have a career in the after life?" Sam was genuinely
confused.

"Do you remember what my major in college was?" Gaby asked.

"You were a nursing student."

"Right. Now I'm a healer. I help wherever I can."

"But that little girl?" Sam asked.

"She was already dead, so was her Mom, I just helped them move on.
That's not really what I do, but since I was right there."

"I thought anyone who had... passed on, couldn't interact with the
physical world?"

"Strictly speaking, no I can't. For example I can't put a bandage or even pressure on somebody's open wound." She explained, "but I can provide them with energy to sustain or even heal themselves, if that's what they want to do."

"What they want to do?"

"A person has to want to get better, or all the energy in the world
won't help."

"How do you know that you're really having an effect, and it's not
just chance as to whether or not they recover."

Gaby grinned at him, "and what do you think has been behind your miraculous recovery? You want to get better, and I've been giving you energy for the last ten years."

"Oh, wow. Uh, thanks." Sam suddenly felt very small.

"Don't mention it. So have you decided whether or not all of this is
real yet?"

Sam blushed again. "I guess not, it all feels very real when I'm
here, but when I wake up..."

"You can tell yourself it was just a dream and go on with your
normal life, I know." Gaby said.

"Yeah, whatever normal is these days."

"Sam, nobody can tell you what to do, but if you want help
remembering, you can ask Peter. He's very good with memories."

"What if I remember everything, but still don't want to join?" Sam
asked

"It's your choice. But let me ask you, how did you feel about
stopping that bomb earlier?"

"Actually, It was just confusing. I'm not really sure I did anything
at all."

"Why didn't you check the news when you woke up?" Gaby asked.

"I don't know... wait I do know, I put it out of my mind because it
just seems like too much to deal with."

"Like I said, it's your choice. I have to go now, but I'll see you
again soon." She kissed Sam lightly and walked out of the
restaurant.

"Now what?" Sam said as he sat alone in the booth. The scene
dissolved around him and he found himself floating over Brooklyn
again.

"So was that real? Is this? Maybe I should just head home."

He instantly felt almost as if he had been sucked back into his
body. He got up, and turned on the computer. At least he could try
to solve one piece of the puzzle.

He put the words "Bomb Iraq" into Google and hit the News button, as
the list of stories came in he read the first: Bomb explodes in
Baghdad Killing Four, Wounding Seven.

"That could be any day though, however something in one of the
paragraphs caught his eye. "A second bomb nearby failed to go off,
when a defective timer caused the car's battery to short circuit."

"Well that answers that." Sam said, "now I have to deal with this
stuff as being real." He noticed that it was only 1:45am, so he
decided to try and get back to sleep.

"Ok Peter, if you can hear me, I'd like some help in remembering the
last ten years."

Part Twenty

2005-04-17T18:55:00.000-07:00

Getting up from the couch, Sam was a little disappointed to see that
it was barely 12:30. Since his Mom had gone back to work, the days
just seemed to crawl by.

He found himself out in the garage again staring at his father's bicycle. It's silly, he thought. I can just buy a brand new one in a day or so when my check comes in; but since there was nothing better to do, he pulled the dust laden bike out of it's spot where it was leaning against the wall and looked it over.

The tires were flat, and possibly rotted after all this time. Sam
didn't know much about how a bike actually worked, but he knew a can
of oil would be a good place to start.

His father had kept a workbench in the garage as well, and there was a whole section of it which had been dedicated to the bicycle. Neither Sam or Robbie ever really touched the workbench as kids, they knew that it was part of their Dad's memories, and Mom wanted it left alone.

Opening the drawers, Sam found a can of WD-40. A quick spray showed that it still worked. There were boxes of tubes for the bicycle as well, and a variety of tools, some of which Sam didn't recognize. There was no air pump though, Sam checked all the drawers and looked around the room, but it was nowhere to be found.

He decided to oil the bike first, and wheeled it onto an old tarp they had used for messy jobs. Sam chuckled when he touched the top bar of the bicycle, and realized that an air pump was snugly attached to the bicycle frame itself.

It took a few minutes to figure out the pump, but surprisingly the tires held air. Sam turned the bike upside down and sprayed the chain with WD-40. He turned the pedals, and the bike responded with a soft whirring of the rear tire. There were a couple of spots in the chain that were stiff which even the oil couldn't seem to loosen.

"Just like me," Sam said "everything works but your a bit stiff." He righted the bike and wheeled it out of the garage. He wondered for a moment if he was really ready to go bike riding yet, but decided not to worry about it. He tested the brakes, they seemed to be working well, and mounted the bike. The seat was too low, but that was fixed pretty easily.

He put his feet on the pedals and realized that they had some sort of foot clips. They were a metal harness with leather straps around the outside. He thought about removing them, but he really wanted to test ride the bike first. He got off and loosened the straps as much as they would allow. The leather was pretty stiff after so many years of non-use.

Once he wiggled his foot into the clip, he pushed himself down the alleyway and struggled to get his second foot in. He almost fell over as the bike lost momentum, and silently swore that he would remove these blasted things. He finally got his foot secured though, and pushed the pedals forward with a quick burst of speed.

The street he lived on sloped gently downhill, and the bicycle glided as smooth as glass down the street. It hiccoughed a few times while Sam was pedalling, he played with the gears until it settled down again. There was a feeling of flying here that reminded him of being out of body a few days earlier.

He rounded the corner, getting the feel of the bicycle. He let himself relax into it, and turning seemed almost an act of will rather than a physical manuever. He turned again, on to 78th St, which meant he would have to start climbing uphill to get home.

He tried switching gears, but the easier gears were giving him problems, something kept causing them to buck when he pedalled, switching back to a more difficult gear, he put every effort into climbing the gentle slope.

Raising himself up from the seat, he gently rocked the bike with his body as he pedalled his way upward. He quickly realized the value of the toe clips, as he was able to use the full range of his muscles to climb the hill. Before he knew it, he was making the turn back onto his own street and gently gliding to a stop at his house.

A little investigation showed that the bike's pedalling problems were being caused by the frozen spots in the chain. One of the spots had loosened up considerably, so Sam resprayed the other one, hoping it would loosen as well. Despite being a bit winded, he felt great and took the bike out for another spin.

The sights, sounds and even the smells of Brooklyn were wonderful to Sam. It was midday, so traffic was light and he glided with ease through most of the intersections. Without realizing it, he found himself within two blocks of the Bay Ridge Bikes, the store where he had gotten his own bike from as a kid. He decided to stop in (if it was still there) and see if there was something he could do about the chain.

Bay Ridge Bikes had a showroom in the front, and a repair area down the alley in the back. Sam glided to the back, and awkwardly dismounted after his foot got stuck in one of the clips. There was an oldies station playing out of the repair area, and there was a warm smell of rubber and grease in the air.

The repair area had changed very little over the years. There were all sorts of tires hanging from the ceiling, with sizes ranging from thick knobby mountain bikes to those as thin (or thinner) than Sam's. There was a cash register, and a plexiglass shield protecting it, the shield was covered with stickers from every bike manufacturer you could think of.

"Hello?" Sam said.

"Yes sir, may I-" The elderly man stopped in mid-sentence, dropping the socket wrench he had been holding, as he saw Sam standing there. with his bike.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked.

"Michael Quinn? I thought you were dead." The man's face was pale,
he looked reluctant to step any closer.

"Oh, no. I'm his son, Sam."

"Sam? Sam Quinn, I remember you, but it doesn't seem like that long ago. I'm Vinny, your father was a good friend of mine, but it couldn't be that many years, I mean your hair..."

"It's a long story," Sam said, "I was in a bad car accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Vinny said, "how are you feeling now."

"I'm recovering, thanks. Actually my physical therapist recommended that I start bicycle riding, so I got my Dad's old bike out, but I was wondering if I would be better off buying a new one."

"Well, there are some advantages to the newer technologies." Vinny said, "especially the newer chainless systems, but I remember this bike well, it was a fine machine. Let me take a look at her."

Sam passed the bike to Vinny, who suspended it from the ceiling and
began inspecting it.

"There's some frozen spots in the chain." Sam said.

"I see that, let me see if I can't loosen that up for you." Vinny sprayed some sort of lubricant on it and then wrapped an old cloth around the chain.

"You know, I sold your father this bicycle, and built him those rims as well." Vinny spun the front wheel, and tested the spoke tension with his fingers. "Looks like they've held up pretty well too, your Dad put a lot of miles on this bike."

"I can remember him riding when I was a kid."

"He was a great man your father, we used to ride together once in a
while. Did you know that he wanted to run for Congress?"

"No," Sam said, "I'd never heard that."

"He talked about it with me a couple of times, but he was afraid that he might have to comprimise his principles to win. Your father was a very moral man."

"You know, I remember him as a Dad, but I don't really know that
much about him." Sam said.

"You should read his old newspaper columns. He used to write for the Brooklyn Star when it was in business. The library would probably have them on microfiche. Your father really believed in the American Dream, and he hated those who abused it." Vinny turned the radio up and walked over to Sam, saying quietly: "He would be very disappointed in our world today."

Vinny unwrapped the chain, which looked shinier where he had sprayed
it. He flexed the frozen joints, which now moved freely.

"Wow, thanks." Sam said, "what do I owe you?"

"This one's on the house. In memory of your Dad." He said. "Here, you shouldn't be riding without a water bottle either." Vinny handed Sam a "Bay Ridge Bikes" water bottle. "Come by if you need anything."

"Definitely." Sam said. "It was great seeing you again."

Sam rode home, the ride was as smooth as glass. His legs were starting to ache, but it was the good ache of muscles being used. As he reached home, he saw Danny Smythe leaving his house.

"Hey Danny, how are you?"

"Fine." Danny said. "You're certainly looking better. You've
upgraded your wheels I see."

Sam laughed, "yeah, my physical therapist recommended biking. Hey,
you weren't at the last meeting were you?"

Danny smiled slyly, "I had to study for finals. My mommy wrote me a note." He added in a singsong voice; then he suddenly looked nervous: "I gotta be somewhere, so I'll see you later man."

"Yeah, sure." Sam said, wheeling his bicycle back into the garage.

----------------------------------------------------------

Part Nineteen

2005-04-16T21:44:00.000-07:00

Sam slept like a rock that night, possibly due to the two glasses of
wine he had drank. He didn't have a hangover in the morning, but he
found that he was incredibly thirsty.

More than anything else last night, Dean's touch had really bothered
him. There was a malevolence there which Sam could feel, it actually
sent a cold chill down to his heart. He didn't like feeling so
vulnerable either, Sam had felt like a child under the force of
Dean's hand.

Sam looked at the card for Tai Chi classes that Jose had given him. The place was fairly close by, only a few minutes by car but Sam didn't even have a license anymore. He dreaded going through the whole DMV process again.

He hesitated for a moment, he was a little nervous about making this
call but decided to anyway.

"Eastern Yoga and Martial Arts Center, may I help you." It was a
man's voice, very calm and soothing.

"Yes, my physical therapist reccomended that I take Tai Chi
classes."

"Oh yes," said the man, "we have a special class on Wedensday nights for people who are recovering from physical injuries, may I ask what sort of injury you had?"

"Um, well I had been in a coma for ten years, and my muscles had
atrophied."

"I see." There was a brief pause. "I hope you don't mind these questions, but it will help me find the proper place for you. How much mobility do you have?"

"I can walk and move my arms, but there's some stiffness in my legs
when I take full steps, as well as in my back and hips."

"Really, that's pretty remarkable for having been immobile for so
long, can you stand for at least ten minutes at a time."

"Um, yeah I think so." Sam never gave thought to the sort of time
involved.

"Well, then you could definitely attend the Wedensday class. I think you would also benefit from a secondary class as well, are you available on Fridays?"

"My schedule is wide open." Sam said.

"My name's Alex by the way, I will be your instructor. If you could come down tomorrow night at about six, I can demonstrate the basic form, and I'll be able to evaluate your ability."

"That sounds great." Sam said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Great, I'm looking forward to it."

My work for the day is done, thought Sam a bit sadly. He plopped
down on the couch and turned on the TV.

"Today a Federal Court ruled in favor of the Bashinto Seed Corp. in a class action suit brought by people who claim to have been made sick by unknowingly ingesting the genetically engineered pharmaceutical crop: Lexin 14a.

The suit was the first of it's kind, claiming that the accidental spread of the Lexin 14a seeds through cross polination, contaminated the general food supply and caused a variety of allergic reactions among those people who unknowingly ingested it.

Studies have shown that patients taking Lexinate, the drug Lexin 14a
is made into can have a variety of allergic reactions. However, the
judge ruled that even though many of the plaintiffs were able to
show that they had Lexin 14a in their systems, it wasn't a
sufficient enough quantity to cause an allergic reaction."

The screen changed to show one of the lawyers from Bashinto: "This was so obviously a frivolous lawsuit, brought mainly by those who are afraid of technological advancements, and were looking to make a quck buck at Bashinto's expense. This case should settle once and for all the debate over whether or not genetically engineered crops are safe."

Switching back to an attractive blonde Anchor woman: "Lawyers for the plaintiffs do intend on appealing the decision. They point out that Bashinto has lost a similar case in the Mexican courts, where their contaminated corn crop was blamed for the illness and deaths of over 70 people, as well as thousands of livestock across the country."

"In entertainment news, Britney Spears has been named the star atttraction for the upcoming July 4th USO show in Bhagdad. Appearing with Britney will be Teenie Marie, the 15 year old pop sensation, classic rapper Vanilla Ice, the boy band Veterans of Love, and the show's host Lauren Bush.

"You must be in the military in order to see the show, but videos will be made avaliable to the general public with funds going to support the freedom efforts in Iraq and Syria."

"This sucks," Sam said and turned off the TV again. With nothing better to do, he went out into the backyard to feel the sun on his skin. The day was warming up nicely, and it felt so good to be out in the sun.

The backyard was fairly small, there was about 20 feet of cement leading up to the garage. Nobody actually used the garage for their cars anymore. The narrow alleyways made it impractical (and in some cases impossible) to take cars in and out. Backyard garages were more like storage spaces.

Sam unlocked the door and lifted it up. It took all his strength to make it move, but he managed to do it. There was a snowblower and shovels in the front, and an old propane barbecue which their Dad used to use.

Sam's old bike was in here as well, but it was a BMX and made for a kid. Sam had his heart set on a car from the time he was fourteen, bikes were strictly for kids he thought. Robbie's old bike was there as well, and behind that, their father's.

The bike was a light green Bianchi twelve speed, Sam could remember his father riding it when he was very young. His father wore the brightly colored bike jerseys, and the shorts with the cushioning in them. He would often go out for long rides on the weekends, while Sam's Mom would joke "at least he doesn't like golf."

Sam hadn't thought about his father in a long time. His dad had been a reporter and a freelance writer, he wrote a lot of political articles particularly about exposing government waste. He had been a great Dad, although his investigations would take him out on the road for weeks at a time, whenever he was home he would spend all his time with his family.

Dad's death had been a tragic accident. He had been researching something in Wyoming (What the hell ever happened in Wyoming?) and his rental car had skidded off the road in a storm, killing him. Sam had only been 7 at the time, and didn't fully understand that his father wouldn't some day just come walking through the door the way he always did. Looking at his father's bicycle covered in dust and cobwebs suddenly brought tears to his eyes.

"God, I miss you Dad, I don't think I ever realized that before." He walked out of the garage and naturally started thinking about Gaby as well. "I miss you too Gab." He said softly.

He went back in the house and laid down on the couch. "If there's anything to this psychic stuff," he said, "I want to see Gaby."

He lied there for a long time, wanting to fall asleep and wanting to see Gaby again, but being far too awake and aware of it to actually do so. He turned on the TV again, and drifted off fairly quickly after watching five minutes of the Paris Hilton Show.

He was walking though black smoke, the bottom of a car chassis stood before him, it was a smouldering ruin. There were cries of pain all around, and despite the darkness, Sam could see a variety of bright figures moving among the crowds, one of them was Gaby.

She bent over a little girl whose body was burned almost beyond recognition. Gaby touched the child and whispered "let go" immediately the child rose out of her physical shell.

"What happened?" The little girl asked. She wasn't speaking English,
but Sam could understand her anyway.

"There was an explosion." Gaby said, "your mother is waiting for
you."

The little girl looked around frantically for a second and shouted "Mama!" Her mother, who must have died as well, Sam realized, was wandering rather aimlessly a short distance away. As soon as the daughter reached her, they hugged each other and disappeared into a golden light.

"Gab?" Sam asked.

"This isn't a good time Sam, I'm really busy right now." Gaby had moved on to the injured now, golden energy, similar to the light Sam had just seen, was emanating from her hands into the wounds of the injured.

"What is this?" Sam asked.

"Iraq, car bomb, this is what I do now. I'm a healer. We can talk
later."

"Sorry." Sam said, he drifted away from the scene aimlessly and
almost bumped into Rose.

"Sam, there's something you can do here, there's another bomb just a
few blocks away."

"What? What can I do about that?" Sam asked.

"Haven't you started remembering yet? Well come with me, I can show
you."

Rose led him through several buildings to another street. There were night clubs here, with a mixture of American troops and Iraqi citizens enjoying a night out. The street was lined with cars, and people were everywhere.

"The small black car there, just walk through the hood." Rose
instructed.

There was a young couple walking towards the car, Rose stood in front of them and shouted "GO BACK!"

The young woman screamed, and her boyfriend pulled her to his side
and started shouting something.

"You missed it." A man's voice said.

Sam turned around to see a heavy set Middle Eastern man standing next to the car. He had wide eyes and a powerful nose, Sam wondered if he was yet another member of Chapter 13.

"The bomb is still ticking, you didn't stop it."

"I don't know what I'm doing." Sam explained

The man walked through the car hood, and stopped as his middle met the driver's side window.

"Stand right here, hurry there isn't much time."

Sam glanced around for Rose, but she was zipping around the street scaring people, unfortunately, the screams were drawing more attention than ever.

Sam stepped into the car, he could feel his body passing through
it's various components, he stood where the man told him.

"Damn! It isn't working, try the battery!"

"Where?" Sam had no clue where the battery was on this model car. On impulse he moved to the passenger side, where he hoped the battery would be.

"Yes there, very good." The man said.

As Sam stepped into it, he felt the current run through him, it wasn't painful or unpleasant, but he could feel the electricity moving through his body. There was a brief smell of ozone in the air and Sam could see smoke rising from the car.

Someone yelled "BOMB!" in perfect English and people began scattering from the scene. The battery continued to smoke for a few more seconds and then Sam felt it go dead. American troops were cordoning off the area and setting up bomb detecting equipment.

"You stopped it sir, thank you." The man said.

"I don't understand what I did, or why you needed me." Sam said.

"You are not dead." The man said, "I cannot affect physical matter."

Rose had rejoined them now. "Those of us who are living have special gifts Sam. I can't interfere with physical matter the way you can, but I can make myself visible. Tomorrow there will be many storiess of the crazy old woman who appeared to warn everyone." She laughed.

"So I can touch things?"

"You can even move objects, but it takes some concentration, that's a rare gift." Rose said.

"So how come everyone else knows about this but me?" Sam asked, he ws tired of being kept in the dark.

"How did you get here today?" Rose asked.

"I don't know, I just wanted to see Gaby." Sam said.

"Next time you lie down, give yourself the suggestion to remember, keep doing it until it works. You've been avoiding us, and in doing so avoiding your memories as well. If you want to join us now, everything will start coming back."

"Thanks Rose." Sam said, he started thinking about home again and quickly found himself lying on the couch again.

----------------------------------------

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Part Eighteen

2005-04-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

Sam actually managed to get through the next few days pretending to
be a "normal" person. Since he was managing well on his own, Martha
returned to work, leaving Sam by himself for most of the day. He had
no dreams about Gabrielle or of anything else for that matter, life
was taking a normal, if somewhat boring flavor.

Wedensday night came and Sam found himself being dragged to his
second prayer group meeting. Clara lived on the top floor of a three
family house. Sam found the effort of climbing stairs still to be a
challenge, he reminded himself to look into getting a bicycle like
Jose suggested.

"Hi Sam, how are you doing?" Clara said as he reached the top of the
stairs.

"Fine." Sam managed to say between breaths, "I'm just not used to
all
these stairs."

"Oh come in, I'll get you a seat." She took his arm and led him to
an
easy chair. Sam was a little embarrassed by it all, but the tops of
his thighs were burning and he was really glad to be sitting down.

Robbie led the prayer this time, which included a long moment of
silence for some American soldiers who had been shot down in a
transport plane.

Sam closed his eyes, his tired body seemed to relax immediately.

"I miss you." Gaby said, they were sitting on his bed.

The shift made Sam jump, and he found himself back in Clara's
apartment. A quick glance around showed that no one had noticed
anything.

"So Sammy, how's the recovery coming? You ready to play some
softball
yet?"Dean asked after the prayers were over.

"Not quite, but maybe next week."

"Your face has gotten a little color Sam, you're starting to look
like that stud from high school again." Clara said.

"Thanks. I just wish my hair color would come back."

"You know Sam, I know a great hairstylist, she could color your hair
for you." Clara said.

"Yeah, and then you can get your nails done too." Dean cracked.

"You and Mom could go to the beauty shop together." Robert added.

"Stop it you two, a lot of men color their hair." Clara said, "you
know Dean, you're starting to get a little gray there yourself."

Dean looked a little hurt by Clara's statement.

"Thanks anyway Clara, but I don't see myself dying my hair, it's
just
too much maintainence." Sam said.

Clara served wine and cheese, and Sam had his first bit of alcohol
since his awakening. The wine was a fruity Merlot and was quite
good,
he allowed himself two glasses, but stopped after that because he
started to feel a little buzzed.

"You sure you don't want some more Sam?" Clara asked.

"No, I'm fine really."

"You probably shouldn't be drinking at all, Sam." Martha said, "your
body just isn't ready for it yet." This was the first Martha had
said to Sam since they arrived, once again she spent most of the
evening talking to Mindy.

Sam wondered what that was all about and suddenly the nature of the
room changed about him. Everyone looked about the same, except the
room itself was full of some kind of colored static. It seemed to
radiate from everywhere at once, but radiated specifically from the
people in the room.

Looking at Mindy, Sam could see that the colors around her were
different, more murky thant the others. Both Dean and Robbie had
murky spots around their chest and throat areas, but Mindy was murky
all around, yet strangely bright around her chest and middle.

There was something else around Mindy too, a second figure, it was
kind of insubstantial, appearing only as the weird static in the
room
momentarily coalesced. It was a female form, Sam sensed, and it was
touching Mindy's arm at the bicep area.

"Gaby?" Sam exclaimed.

"Sam are you alright?" Martha said.

The room snapped back to normal and Sam realized that he had said
Gaby's name out loud. He flushed with embarrassment which was very
noticeable on his pale face. "I- too much wine I guess. I thought I
saw Gaby in the room for a second."

"It's ok dear, I went through the same thing when your father died.
It's perfectly normal."

"Yeah, I suppose." Sam said. Looking around the room again, Sam
noticed that Dean was staring at him a little strangely.

"I gotta get going." Dean said to Clara, "next week we're at my
house."

"Good night Dean." Clara said.

"You take care Sammy." Dean patted Sam's shoulder with way too much
force.

"Yeah, you too." Sam said.

Part Seventeen

2005-04-12T11:21:00.000-07:00

Morning came slowly, Sam laid awake the whole time. He decided that he must be a little nuts; he was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt for what happened to Gaby and it was causing him to create elaborate fantasies.

If they persisted, he would have to see a doctor, maybe even get some sleeping pills. What about the other day? Was he really out of his body or was that just a dream? If that was real, then the other experiences might be real as well, but if he could prove that it was fake, then he could dismiss the rest of this stuff.

He heard his Mom getting up, and coming down the hallway.

"Good morning Sam."

"Morning."

"Are you alright dear?"

"Yeah, I didn't sleep too well."

"Oh, sorry. You have a physical therapy session at 11 today, but if you're too tired then we can change it."

"No Ma, I'm fine."

She went in to take her shower and Sam went back to thinking about his experiences of the last few days. He had to find a way to prove it or disprove it. Disproving it would be best, then he wouldn't have to deal with the rest of this crazy crap.

If he could find that girl Dawn, wait - she was on TV, so it must be real! Shit! I don't want it to be real. Sam continued this circular train of thought all through breakfast. He finally got his mind off of it by remembering his stock.

"Mom, I need to call the brokerage about my stock." Sam said, "so
I'll be on the phone for a bit."

"Oh sure Sam, I have my cell if I need it."

Sam went up to his room to get his account information. He printed out the new account information and went back downstairs to the phone. "Note to self, I need my own phone." He muttered. He used to have a cell, but that was ten years ago now. He picked up the receiver and punched the numbers. He had to get through several automated sections before he got to a human operator.

"Good morning, my name is Karen how may I help you today?"

"Hi, I have some questions about my account." Sam said.

"Sure, may I have your account number?"

Sam gave her the number as well as his the last four digits of his social security number for verification.

"Thank you Mr. Quinn, now how may I help you today?"

"Well, I have just gotten out of a very long hospital stay, and I'm a little confused about my account. Do I really have 600 shares of Google?"

"Yes sir, I show that 600 shares were transferred from Smith, Shatz, and Mahoney, isn't that amount correct?"

"I'm not sure. You see, I bought 100 shares back in 2004 and I've spent the last ten years in a coma, so I don't know if the stock split or what."

"Oh my God, you poor man!" Karen said. "Well, I don't have records from before the transfer, but I can call up the history of Google. Hold on one second."

"You said that you bought 100 shares in 2004?"

"Yes." Sam said.

"I see that it split 2 for 1 back in 2006, and 1.5 to 1 in 2007. That would give you 300 shares."

"Then the stock changed name to Google International and it's corporate headquarters moved to Canada."

"Is that when it started trading in Euros?"

"Yes, they switched their primary listing to the newly formed EU
Grand Markets."

"After that, the stock suffered a set back for a couple of years, but rebounded in 2009. In 2010 it split 2 for 1 again, which brings you up to 600 shares."

"So it is correct, and the extra cash in the account?"

"Probably from dividends and interest over the years." Karen said.

"Cool. Can I request a check?" Sam asked.

"Certainly sir, would you like to sell your stock or just withdraw
some cash?"

"I'll take some cash for now," Sam said. "Can you convert the Euro's
to US currency?"

"Yes sir, there is a small fee for the conversion. 1 dollar per
hundred converted."

"Oh sure." Sam said.

"How much would you like to withdraw?"

"I'll take 3000.00 for now."

"Excellent, I'll process that right now, would you like it transferred to your bank account or mailed to your house."

"Oh, you better mail it."

"Very good sir, and is there anything else I can help you with
today?"

"No thanks." Sam said. Karen wished hima good day and he hung up the phone.

"Mom, how much do my medical bills come to?"

"Oh Sam, don't worry about that."

"Mom, my Google stock is worth a fortune, over 100 grand!"

"Oh Sam, that's wonderful!" Martha exclaimed. "I can't believe it!"

"Should I sell it then?"

"No dear, at least not all of it. I'm just glad to know it's there if we need it."

"Thanks Mom, but I do want to help out. I had some cash in the account too, I have a check for 3000 coming."

"You keep your money Sam, you deserve to have something for yourself after so many years."

Sam felt a lot better that morning, he was actually cheerful as he went into his physical therapy session. Jose looked as buff and friendly as ever. Sam guessed that his optimism did more for people's recovery than the exercise did.

Jose put Sam through a series of stretches and movements, most of which Sam did with ease. His greatest difficulties involved his lower back and hips, partly due to the pain of being knocked down yesterday.

"Sam, I'm impressed." Jose said. "You're recovering a lot faster than I would have expected."

"Thanks, I guess I just want to get back to normal again."

"You know, " Jose said, "you might do just as well taking some Tai Chi Chuan classes. I have a friend who specializes with people that have limited mobility." He handed Sam a card.

"Isn't that like Karate? I don't think I can handle that."

"No," Jose smiled. "Tai Chi is considered meditation through movement, and it focuses on moving all the muscles in the body. Everything is done very slowly, there are even elderly people doing it."

"Sound's just my speed." Sam joked.

"How is your balance?" Jose asked.

"It feels fine, I just can't move as fast as I'd like to."

"That takes time, but you might try swimming or bicycle riding once you feel up to it. They're both excellent ways to rebuild your stamina."

"Thanks man." Sam said, they shook hands and Sam was on his way down to the cafeteria where his mother was waiting. As he walked down the hallway to the elevators, there was a woman pushing a large food delivery cart. Without even thinking about it he said: "Hi Maggie."

"Hi." She said smiling, but she clearly didn't recognize him.

How do I know her? Sam wondered. He had recognized her like an old friend, but he had never seen her before in his life. As he got on the elevator, there was a technician there named Don, Sam knew that he was married, but recently separated, Sam still didn't know why he knew any of these things.

The cafeteria seemed a cheerful enough place. It had a row of full sized windows which looked out onto a well sculpted garden. The floor inside was carpted, and the tables each had a small vase with flowers on them. Martha was sitting at a table by herself reading a newspaper, there was a cup of coffee by her side.

"How's the food here?" Sam asked.

"Oh, that was quick." Martha said. "The food here is very good, come here I have to introduce you to someone." She led Sam over to the cashier at the register.

Before Martha said a word, Sam already knew that her name was Patty.

"Patty, this is my son Sam. He was in your Skilled Nursing Unit for a very long time."

"Hi Sam, it's so nice to finally meet you. Your Mom and me have been friends for a long time now. " Patty was a very pretty woman who had one of those eternally young faces. She had red hair which was tied back in a braid, and big brown eyes. Her voice was full of energy and compassion. She was, Sam thought, what every hospital worker should be like.

"It's great to meet you." Sam said

"Sam's just getting physical therapy now." Martha said.

"Well good for you." Patty said. "You look great."

"Uh, thanks," Sam said. He wondered if she would have said that if she knew what he looked like before the accident.

They got some lunch at the cafeteria, they had stuffed pork chops and mashed potatoes which Sam found delicious.

"I had a lot of meals here during your stay." Martha said, "the people here are really great."

"I feel like I know them already." Sam said, "I'm actually recognizing some of the staff even though I never saw them before. Maybe I overheard them when I was comatose."

"Well, you know I read a lot of articles about comas, while you were out, and a lot of people have memories of the doctors and nurses talking while they were in the room." Martha said, "I don't think it's so impossible, there were many times I thought you knew I was talking to you."

"Wow Mom, I'm impressed." Sam said. Maybe that is it, he thought,
this psychic stuff might really just be in my imagination.

Part Sixteen

2005-04-10T21:49:00.000-07:00

Sam just stared at Madam Zeba, searching his mind frantically for
something to say.

"Oh stop it Zeba, you'll turn his hair white!" Gaby said.

Sam laughed, and managed to say:"Hi."

"What, no kiss?" Madam Zeba asked, throwing Gaby a wink.

"Have we met?" Sam asked.

"Actually, you've been working with everyone here for the last ten years." Gaby explained, "me too."

"Why don't I remember that?"

"You will in time, it has to do with shifting focus." Gaby said.
"Come on, I'll re-introduce you to everyone."

There were several people of varying ages standing around, the youngest was a small girl of about six, and the oldest was a woman in her forties.

"This is Pandora." Gaby said, indicating the little girl. "Don't be
fooled by her size, she's a lot younger than she looks."

"Um, hi." Sam said, he wasn't sure if Gaby was kidding.

"Hi Sam." Pandora said, giving him a little smile. She had pale skin with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a pink dress that made her look the perfect little girl: "I know you don't remember this, but I am in contact with Sedna, and you have been our friend for many years." Her voice had that chirpy quality that little kids often had, but her attitude and manner were completely adult.

"This is Pamela," Gaby said, "she's a writer in Los Angeles."

"Welcome back to us Sam, we've missed you." Pamela said with a smooth rich voice. She looked about 30, and was a tall African American woman, with closely cropped hair and a slim, attractive build.

"Thanks," Sam said, liking her immediately, "this is all a little
overwhelming."

"Oh relax, you're family." This was the eldest looking woman, she had a matronly look about her with a warm, kind face, with curly light brown hair and wide set blue eyes. "I'm Rose, I'm actually a lot older - 92-" she whispered, "but this is how I like to look."

"How about me, is my hair white here?" Sam asked. It was too short
for him to see.

"It is dear, you decided that you liked it that way." Rose said,
reaching up to ruffle it a little.

"And finally we have Peter," Gaby said, indicating a shadowy looking
figure in the back of the room.

"Peter, come here and join us." Rose said.

Peter was about Sam's height and looked to be in his twenties. He was thin and pale with black hair and dark eyes. "Welcome back Sam." His voice was unusually high and lilting, as if he were speaking in a falsetto.

"Peter's very good with dreams," Gaby said. "He was helping you
relive the accident over the last few days."

"Oh, uh thanks." Sam said. "So, what exactly is this group about anyway? How are you related to the Chapter 13 that blocks traffic and gets blamed for military failures."

"Actually dear, you did that." Rose said. "With a little help from
the rest of us of course."

"I did what exactly?"

"The Naval sonar, I picked up the thought even though you didn't say
it. That's been an ongoing project of ours for some time."

"This is a little too much." Sam said, "can we back things up a
little."

"I know what you're going through Sam, I've been there myself." Madam Zeba said. "Like you, I've been near death, and had to learn dual focus."

"Dual focus?"

"You and I are able to bridge between the physical realm and the dream realm, it gives us the ability to do seemingly impossible things."

"Like when I ducked Anthony's punch." Sam said.

"Exactly." Gaby said, "I was there that day, actually I'm almost
always nearby."

"So what's this have to do with Chapter 13?"

"Chapter 13 isn't actually an organization," Pamela said. "It's an alliance of sorts, anyone who is opposed to oppression can call themselves a member. Because it has no overriding credo to adhere to, we thought it would be fun to use it on this level as well."

"So what exactly do we do here?" Sam asked.

"We're here to encourage and inspire people, and to influence events in a particular direction." Pamela said.

"And sabatoge the military?"

"When necessary, yes. Events of the last fifteen years have pushed this world to the brink of self destruction several times, we, and other groups like us, are here to insure that it doesn't happen."

"So how does the Navy's sonar fit in?"

"It's killing the whales!" Pandora said. "Sedna is not happy about
that."

"Environmental issues are a concern as well," Pamela said. "the earth can rebound from a lot, but we make a differnce where we can. The case of the sonar is twofold, it is killing the whales and dolphins, destroying the part of their brain that performs sensory navigation. But it's also a major part of a first-strike nuclear option, and underwater GPS system for tracking enemy submarines. If the Navy gets this system functioning, they will use it to find and neutralize the Chinese, Russian and Indian submarines in the area. Once that happens, they believe they can win a first strike scenario."

"What about inspiring and encouraging the people in charge?" Sam
asked.

"I have tried many times." Peter said, "as well as Rose and Pandora. We can't force people to listen, and it is easier to tune us out than you might think. There are other voices they listen to."

"Other voices like yours?" Sam asked.

"No." Peter went silent after that, his head moved down to his chin
as if in prayer.

"In order to operate on this level, you have to be working for the benefit of humanity as a whole." Pamela explained. "There is however the so called prophet. He is kept under wraps by the Pentagon, and has been a sculptor of events for the last twenty years. Like me, he can see possible futures, only his vision is highly influenced by his own religious and moral values. He believes, as do those who are protecting him, that he is guiding the world toward's Jesus' return."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this." Sam said. "I'm sorry but this is just too much."

Gaby put her arm around his waist. "Trust me Sam, what we're doing here is right."

"I'm not sure what that is though," Sam said. "Maybe once I can remember, I'll feel differently. Right now, this is all too weird."

Sam felt strangly more uncomfortable as he was speaking. He felt a sudden need to get away, to run. The room started fading, and he heard Gaby saying something, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Aahh!" He woke up sweating. How loud had he yelled? Mom didn't seem to notice, so it couldn't have been very loud. He sat up in bed, catching his breath. Why was that so scary? It was only a dream, or was it? Gaby seemed so real there, as did the others. Madam Zeba? He probably just remembered her from the TV.

It was almost dawn, gray light was filling his bedroom. His mind was racing a mile a minute. He laid back down again and tried to get
some rest.