---Solitude---

With the Earth safe, Michael collects his thoughts and examines Kaaren's body up close before his reunion with his wife and daughter. Meanwhile NASA tries to figure out the strange set of anomalies that lead to their salvation, while the government tightens down on the truth. Beginning of the regular season of Angel.

Angel S:1E:4 “Solitude”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kiitylover
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Episode 4 “Solitude”

---Mission Control Johnson Space Center, Houston TX---

“Okay, everyone, quiet down, let’s get started,” Roth said, bringing his team to attention as the Secretary of Defense and several high ranking military leaders entered the room and took seats around a large conference table. Dr. Roth made a few quick exchanges with Flight Director Thompson and then proceeded.

“Listen up, this debrief of Operation THOR is to determine the cause of the events that occurred starting at 23:15 UT October 17th and concluded today at 05:51 hours. First, determine why the nuclear devices were ineffective. According to calculations, the devices should have been effective with 30% error bars in place to compensate for mass differentials. Two, ascertain the level of damage done to the Deliverance and how it managed to enter into stable orbit in its current state. Three, calculate the approximate time of death of Commander Owen based on maximum EVA time allowed by a fully charged EMU Four, determine the cause of the Icarus' sudden change of trajectory that led it away from a collision course with the planet. Finally, determine all scenarios within reason as to how the Deliverance was able to re-enter the atmosphere and land safely at the shuttle landing site without a crew piloting her,”

Roth looked at the Secretary of Defense for approval of his opening speech before proceeding. Behind closed doors he had met with them and gone over the itinerary of the debrief of Operation THOR.

“The goal of this investigation is twofold. One, to explain a series of inexplicable events that led to the Icarus passing harmlessly away from the planet. Two, to explain those events in a way that we can convincingly share with the public while giving credit to the US and Soviet Union. A lot of money was spent on this project, the the public will want to know exactly what happened. We need answers, and appealing to miracles, coded messages and sightings of angels will not be part of the official press release.” Several hands shot up. Without taking questions, Dr. Roth continued, “Look, I know what you are all going to say, believe me, I am still trying to figure out what it was that some of us saw and heard, but let me make myself very clear, whatever you think you saw out there or heard over the radio, it gets left in this room. We are all scientists and engineers, we think rationally and do not appeal to the supernatural. There is a perfectly rational scientific explanation for the events that just took place and we are not leaving this room until we find them. Do I make myself clear?”

The room responded in agreement that they were committed to the task on hand, although Roth deep down believed what his eyes saw. She was high in the sky above them and he couldn’t make out any details, but if angels did exist, what he saw a few hours ago was empirical enough proof in his mind that the Earth encountered a miracle. However, it was clear that his career was riding on the results of this investigation and if they couldn’t find a rational solution to take to the press, he would be finished.

---Big Bear, CA---

My arrival at my cabin in the mountains of Big Bear was uneventful. The cabin, built by my father back in the late 50’s, remains secluded, off the beaten path. Not many people venture this far, so it provided me with a place of seclusion while I spent some time adjusting to my new life. My closest neighbors were about a quarter of a mile away; it was a perfect place for solitude where I could stop and collect my thoughts about the events of the past few days that changed the world I live in. The cabin, built by my father’s hands, was a small source of extra income as Liz and I would rent out the property during the different seasons. Any neighbor passing by seeing a strange woman on the property would not be alarmed and think of me as just another renter on a skiing holiday.

It was my deepest hope that I might find Liz and Ashley taking refuge up in the mountains in the safety of the bomb shelter under the cabin, but the place was empty. Before I left I gave them instructions to come here in case of any emergency. I had the place modified and fully stocked to survive two years. My family was likely in the government’s contingency plan should we fail. The plan called for a vast network of massive underground tunnels that could house as many people as possible until the dust cleared and restoration programs could begin rebuilding cities and ecosystems, eventually restoring life onto the face of the Earth. Those that would survive would face great difficulties as we rebuilt the world’s civilizations. Since I was part of the team, Liz and Ashley were automatically included to be taken to the shelters in the event I should fail. The last week was nerve-racking as I had no way of knowing whether they had made it and were safe. Ever since our string of failures, I had become increasingly pessimistic and assumed the worst.

Knowing the system as well as I did, I knew it would take a few days for the government to verify the planet was indeed safe, and open the doors to the shelters. It would be a while before I knew for sure that my family was safe. Our house outside of Houston, TX was vacant, appearing to have been empty for several days, if not more. I was on edge thinking of worst case scenarios, but I was confident they were safe in the shelter, and in a matter of days, I could give them the good news, that their husband/father was still alive.

The power was on and the water running again throughout the cabin. Fortunately the freezing temperatures inside did little to bother me. It was 25 degrees inside, yet I felt like it was a warm spring day. Something I was not expecting, this alien body can sense temperature changes, but I could no longer feel cold or hot temperatures. Impervious to extreme temperature variations, there were no pain receptors to send signals to my brain that my body was either burning or freezing. It was a strange sensation, one that I was skeptical of getting used to. The sun was peeking over the mountains, having flown fast enough to overtake the morning light arriving in California earlier than when I departed the east coast. I sat on the couch and thought I would sleep for a few, until I realized I was so energetic and not anywhere close to being tired. Instead, I sat and stared at the wall until the morning sun finally caught up to me, breaking the darkness, filling the cabin with the morning’s first light.

I sat on the couch looking up at the ceiling, replaying the events of the last couple of days in my mind. Everything was still so surreal as if it were really all a dream. My death had been so certain, yet here I was back in my father’s cabin, staring at our collection of stuffed teddy bears littering our retreat home. A sudden realization hit me, driving me to my feet, and I made my way into the bedroom. In the ship, I had plenty of time to stare at Kaaren and knew quite well what she looked like, but to this moment, I had not seen my new reflection. Slowly as if I were afraid to see the image staring back, I peered around the wall and saw Kaaren’s cute, young face covered in wavy blond hair staring back at me in the bathroom mirror. My left hand and foot appeared as I garnished more courage to see the rest. Inch by inch, more and more of her leg appeared from behind the wall. A line where my body met the edge of the wall kept tracing higher and higher up, my hip coming into view followed shortly by my slightly less narrow shoulder.

“Man Kaaren is curvy as hell.” This was the feature of women I found most attractive. It was a universal symbol of femininity that human males etched into their artwork since Eve first walked the garden. Sadly my wife was lacking in this category and unless she was lying on her side, I couldn’t see much of her curves. Nevertheless, I loved her anyway. I now had my own perfect set of curves I could stare at to my heart’s content.

Finally I was standing directly in front of the mirror, still wearing the form fitting white suit. Every part of my suit, even the narrow space between my breasts, was very snug against my body. I had no idea why Kaaren chose an outfit like this to wear when she turned her body over into my care. I decided to take off the suit and see what I looked like underneath. There was a belt hugging my slender waist; it took me a moment to figure out how to unhook it. I laid it on the sink, eager to get this suit off and into something a little more practical. Scanning up and down the strange material, I looked for a way to get out of the alien garment. There was a very high neck line, with a little “V” shape where the collar came together around my neck, but no zipper. I reached behind for a rear zipper and found none, only finding what felt like a hoodie. 'Shit,' I thought, 'good thing I didn’t have to pee right now.' Searching all over, the suit was indeed one piece and I was without a clue as to how to take it off. Grabbing the neckline, I tugged, hoping it would stretch, but my efforts again failed. “There has to be a way to take it off,” I said aloud in frustration.

About to give up for a while, I noticed a couple round-shaped objects on either side of the collar where the V-shaped opening was. I touched one of them and immediately it felt as if the suit was expanding. It became slightly baggy and started to sag on my body. The weight of my breasts were no longer supported and they drooped slightly, but still appeared firm. An opening started to appear as if an invisible zipper ran down from the neck to my belly, allowing a sizable opening in which I could finally take off the suit. Instead of my average-built male chest, Kaaren’s plump cleavage appeared for the first time as the opening got bigger. I saw the silky smooth tan-colored skin of my new body for the first time. My breasts were indeed firm and a perfect shape. Kaaren’s body was very well toned, sporting a very firm, yet sexy set of abs. With great curiosity, my hands rubbed my belly just above where the opening stopped. As the top of the suit finished expanding, the alien fabric slipped down past my shoulders and hovered around my elbows. Yanking on the cuffs of my sleeves I freed my arms from the suit pulling it down below my hips. As I bent over to guide it down past my thighs, my blond hair fell in front of me, blocking my view. With the exception of a few teenage years when I grew my hair long, I have always had a short buzz cut that Liz hated. Well into my late 30’s, I still had a full head of hair, yet I kept it short not fully enjoying what many men lose at such a young age.

I stood up and saw a stunning image of the most beautiful example of the female form ever to be seen. With the exception of my long blond head of hair draping around my shoulders, covering my breasts several inches above the nipples, there wasn’t a single hair on my body. None on my legs, none around my nether regions and none on my armpits. I felt no indication that Kaaren had even shaved there. It was as smooth as the rest of my body. Reaching down I slid the attached boots off of my feet and completely removed the suit. It was still filthy from my crash landing and would require a washing. I had rather a disdain for the suit and likely will never put it on again, so I tossed it over the chair behind me. Turning back to examine my figure, I realized my hair was about as filthy as my suit and needed cleaning.

Knowing full well the time it would take for the hot water to hit the shower head, I turned the faucet on, and returned to examine my naked body as the hot water took it’s long journey from the heater to the shower head. Kaaren’s body was an absolute work of perfection and quite tall too. Hovering just below the regulation limit of 5’8”, I knew the position of the shower head well in relation to my old height. When I turned the water on, my eyes were no longer staring up at the hot stream hitting my face, rather now I was staring down at the top of the shower head. I estimated to now be about six feet or more without heels. A bit taller than your average American male. Staring into the mirror my eyes locked onto every straight male’s obsession ingrained into his being since an infant. They were stellar looking and perfectly round, drooping only slightly. I reached up to touch the nipples and give them a squeeze, when suddenly a high-pitched alarm sounded, stabbing my eardrums with a ferocious pain. Scared half out of my wits, as if Kaaren was watching me attempt to fondle her body, I covered my ears, looking for the source of the signal she was sending, warning me to keep away from her private areas. In the mirror I saw a red light coming from the ceiling. The steam emitting from the shower had blocked the smoke detector's light beam and tripped the fire alarm, causing the awful noise that was overloading my acute hearing. Relieved it wasn’t some alien defense mechanism defending her body from curious hands, I made my way to the smoke alarm to silence it, amazed at my newfound ability to reach the detector without a step stool.

After so many months wiping myself clean with a washcloth and special soap designed to be left on the body, I had dreamt of a nice long hot shower. My months of waiting finally came to an end, leaving me rather disappointed. The hot steamy shower I looked forward to felt lukewarm against my skin. Based on the amount of steam, I knew the water was hot, but my body couldn't register the extreme temperatures. After a few minutes of trying to increase the water temperature, I gave up and started my typical routine, my shower routine for my old self that is. I spent my first 30 seconds letting the water hit my back while I my years of instinct attempted to shave Kaaren's silky smooth cheeks before realizing her beautiful face was completely void of any hair for my razor to remove. 'Finally something about this body I could get used to,' I thought a minute to soon as I would find out next. The time I saved shaving, was now used up washing my hair. I rinsed the dirt and grime from my golden locks of hair, taking as much as five minutes to thoroughly shampoo, then rinse, washing every last bit of white foam down the drain. Still frightened that somehow Kaaren was watching me from 30 light years away, I chose to forgo any further exploration and lightly washed the rest of my body.

Once dried off I walked to the closet where we kept our vacation clothes when we took our winter skiing trips. None of my clothes were going to fit me other than some t-shirts. My jeans would look baggy and would be too short, looking ridiculous on this figure. Cringing at the idea of wearing any of Liz’s clothes, I took a look at her side of the closet anyway. The good news was there was a lack of dresses and other types of female clothing I had no intention of wearing even if it were socially acceptable for me to do so. Since this was our winter getaway, it was usually cold and the girls always wore pants or skiing gear.

I took all of her clothes out of the closet and laid them on the bed. Out of the shadow and into the light, the colors did radiate in a vibrance that stimulated my visual cortex. These eyes were incredible, able to see the colors and details of nature as only eagles could. Since my journey began, I had little exposure to the full visible spectrum of light. Now on the bed before me, these colors were alive like I had never seen. The pinks were on fire, and the blues were alive. Liz loved all the girlie colors that permeated current fashion. The hot pinks, bright yellows, oranges, and light blues that reeked of the deplorable 80’s trend in women’s clothing all existed in her closet. It still shocked the hell out of me how our holiday getaway had enough clothes to clothe the entire female population of a small country, not taking into account her wardrobe in Texas.

Liz’s jeans were no use. I could tell by looking at them, that they wouldn’t fit around my wide hips and would be too short.. There was nothing to wear. I was about to give up when I found a bag from Fedco. Inside were several pairs of stretchy pants with the tags still on them. Shuffling through the bag of pink, blue, and purple spandex pants, I found a couple pairs of black lycra tights that Liz was supposed to have returned three years ago as they were all mis-marked with the wrong size. I remember how baggy the pink pair looked on her petite frame. 'Someone at that store must have known I was coming,' I thought, pulling up a pair that fit nice and snug. This would give me something comfortable to wear until I could find a pair of alien-sized jeans.

Whatever the female equivalent of free balling was, that was my plan. The thought of wearing anyone’s used underwear grossed me out. Same thing with support, I didn’t want to attempt putting on a bra just yet. Something about it would finalize my situation in my mind. The lacy mess of fabric, wires and little hooks looked pointless as these puppies didn’t look like they needed support, doing just fine defying gravity on their own. A smug male smirk appeared on my face as I relished in that thought until I caught my expression in the mirror and remembered just whose body it was I was smirking at. Of the piles of clothes there was one sweater in the closet that I could wear comfortably. For Valentine’s day I bought Liz a series of red clothes, one of which was a sweater, along with a satin gown and matching robe. Red being my favorite color, I thought I she would like it too. Turns out my choice of gifts didn’t get me very far that night. Accused of not knowing her, I spent the night on the couch pissed off that she would ruin a romantic getaway over my choice of gifts. Now 5 years later, untouched by moths, it would be suitable should I go out in public. For lounging around, I grabbed one of my NASA T-Shirts and used that to cover me for the time being. Complimenting myself for avoiding all the stereotypical female colors plaguing Liz’s wardrobe, I plopped down on the bed to rest for a few.

---Recovery---

“Well Doctor, your test results are looking favorable. You will need some rest for a few days and then we can get you started on physical therapy. Your bone density is about 72%, but that is to be expected after so many months of zero gravity. Typically you lose about 2-2 ½ percent bone mass per month in micro gravity.” Megan looked over her own charts verifying all the nurse was telling her. She made a few notations and asked the nurse to check with the Doctor about changing a few treatments. “I have someone outside waiting to see you just as soon as I draw another batch of blood,” Megan waited eagerly for the nurse to finish, hoping to see her fiancé Brad walk through the door. Her excitement crumbled as a stranger in a suit walked through the door with the expression that made it clear to anyone laying eyes on him that he was all business.

“Dr. McCormack, I’m Agent Strother, NSA. I am here to go over a few things with you,” Verifying the door was sealed and no one was listening, he proceeded, “Operation THOR has been officially sealed and the details of the operation are considered classified.”

Megan as one who was working for a civilian agency on a humanitarian mission whose success affected the whole planet, started to protest, but was quickly cut short.

“As of this point, discussion with anyone outside regarding the details of the mission is punishable by up to 25 years in federal prison. Each one of you will undergo an official debrief where you will be given authorized statements you will be allowed to share with the public. Do you understand what I have just told you and acknowledge the penalties should you divulge top secret information?” Not having much choice in the matter, she nodded in agreement as Strother handed her a small stack of paperwork for her to sign. The moment her signature was gathered, he left without saying a word, leaving her alone in her hospital bed. She stared at the wall for several minutes before drifting back into a sound sleep.

---Cabin---

My father Robert Owen built this cabin in the 1950’s by the work of his own hands. After a leaving a career in the Marine Corps in 1954, he started working with a friend of his in construction and quickly became successful as a union boss. He was a tough hard core American and didn’t take crap from anyone. He had made quite a lot of money and made it to the top where all the deals with corporations and city planners were made. In 1976, after close to 20 years of working he was ready to retire with a nice fat pension to live on when he suddenly got sick and passed away after two painful months in the hospital. Liz and I had only been married for two years, and I had just begun my career with NASA the year before that. My father and I were extremely close, especially after my mother left us when I was 15. He was all I had, and his death nearly stole all my dreams and aspirations.

Sleep eluding me, I got up and walked back to the living room. I pulled the bookcase aside to reveal a door leading to the bomb shelter my dad had built under the foundation. I remember as a thirteen year old kid spending thirteen days down there in fear the Soviets would launch their missiles from Cuba. Little did I know, there were people in the Soviet Union living in the same fear that we would wipe them off the map. How stupid were we? It took an act of nature threatening the whole world to force us to grow up. As bad as the 20th Century’s conflicts were, without them, mankind wouldn’t have had the technological advancement to stop the asteroid. On the flip side to that argument, however, all the technological wonders we had, in the end, failed.

I flipped on the light switch and approached the concrete block in the floor with the large steel door. Liz was given instructions to come here if something happened and she couldn't seek safety with Ash. I had a few of my dad’s friends make some modifications to the bunker and fully stock it while I was training for our mission. Opening the heavy door was a breeze. I positioned myself on the steep set of stairs and began my descent. Pulling on the chain in the middle of the room, a light filled the center of the bunker. It was a spacious shelter with several rooms to give privacy during extended stays. Being cooped up with 6 other astronauts for 12 months was a challenge. We had only the lavatory and the space lab module should we need a few minutes to ourselves. My father knew what he was doing when he built the shelter and provided enough space for occupants to spread out. In the corner was a picture of my family long ago. My father, mother and I. I kept the family photo here in the shelter as a reminder of those thirteen days we spent down here in 1962. It was the last time my small family spent some quality time together before my mother left us. Sometimes I wish, when I come down into the depths of the shelter, I would see them together again and we could be reunited.

I grabbed the frame of the photograph and took it off the wall and set it down. A large safe permanently secured into the concrete stood staring at me. I reached up to work the combination and and dialed the combination ingrained into my memory. The safe popped open. I scanned the contents. Our family photo archive and other important documents were on the first shelf. In the second shelf was what I was looking for. A bag next to my Colt 1911 and several boxes of .45 ammo. The right to bear arms suddenly seemed irrelevant to me, having no further need of a weapon to protect myself. I withdrew the bag and opened it up. There were about five stacks of hundred dollar bills, quite a comfortable sum of money left over from my father’s estate that I decided to put away in case of an emergency. In this body, it was safe to assume I would have difficulty accessing the rest of the money Liz and I chose to save until I retired as an astronaut.

I took five hundred dollars and put the rest back and locked the safe. Returning upstairs, I sealed up the bunker and moved the bookcase back to its proper position. After about 5 minutes deciding what to wear, I was dressed and ready to go out. I settled on the tights I had on along with the red sweater over a NASA T-shirt I had. My Black Alpha Jacket was hanging in the closet next to Liz’s light blue down jacket she wore skiing. The black on orange jacket would still look good on this hot bod and I could feel normal as if it was still the original me going out. I completed my wardrobe with a pair of Liz’s boots with soft fur lining in them. They were a little tight, but I would manage as they were practical for walking on ice and didn’t add any further height.

With the cabin secured and locked up, I looked around. It was still midmorning and there was a low hanging fog that convinced me to stay grounded. Instead, I went for my first morning run in a long time, traveling down the mountain toward the town about 5 miles away. I started off in a slow jog, getting used to being on my feet, while gradually picking up pace. After about a mile, I increased my speed into a fast sprint holding at that pace in between cabins.

The sounds and sights of the town were stimulating. Everything was operating as normal despite the fact the world almost came to an end. The all too familiar smell of Mal’s diner hit me, overwhelming my acute sense of smell. Suddenly I felt like I wanted to eat, although I really didn’t feel too hungry. “Did I even need to eat, could I eat?” I wondered. Surely I would need to sustain my organic body. My last meal was three days ago, and could have gagged a maggot. The smell of greasy eggs and bacon took control and guided me through the front door.

Timidly as if I were walking into yet another new classroom after my dad was re-stationed for the umpteenth time, I ducked my head in and peeked around. The place was half full. Not wanting to be seen in such a crowded place, I turned to walk out when I heard a voice yell out to me. “Ain’t no other place in town, sugar, where you are going to get a better meal,” I turned to see Marla, the large black heavy-set wife of Mal waving me inside. “That a girl, come lets get you a table,”

“Thank you Marla, how are you this morning?” I asked as if Liz, Ashley and I had walking in for our traditional first meal of our stay. She sat me down, and looked at me.

“Surely I would remember a pretty face like that, have we met before?” I paused a moment and then pointed at her chest. “Name tag, I read your name off your name tag,”

“Well color me blind, of course. How can I forget. Gotta know the name of the person to complain to the boss about,” she said, chuckling, as she pointed her thumb towards the kitchen. “And what is your name sweet thing?”

I stopped just as quickly as I started. “Mi, Mi, My name is...Karen,” yes, good recovery I praised myself. I couldn’t think of anything else that quickly, I just altered Kaaren’s name to something a little more normal.

“Awe honey, got a bit of a stutter?” I thought I was screwed, then she continued..,”My nephew took a whole five minutes to get a sentence out. My sister finally got that poor boy some help and now it only takes about two minutes,” She started laughing without a care in the world. Fortunately I have known her for years. She and her husband came to California from Alabama in 1967 and opened the diner. It was a culinary haven for locals and popular in the skiing season when tired skiers came in search of great comfort food.

Marla left to grab my first real coffee in a year. I couldn’t wait. As much as I liked her, I was getting tired of being called sugar, sweet thing, honey, etc. It was her way of being friendly, but I was not used to being addressed as a chick even if it was some kind of term of endearment between women. Mal appeared through the door and I could see him sneaking a peek at me. Knowing Marla, she likely went back there and warned him to be on his best behavior. Mal, taking a break from the morning rush, went to the TV and turned it on. As the tube warmed up, the fuzzy image began to take shape. The news was on covering the events that transpired during the night. NASA’s PR Officer was being interviewed by a crowd of reporters demanding to know the details of the success of Operation THOR. Edwin lied through his teeth, knowing full well that no one had a clue. Saving face, and taking credit, he made up some story that most Americans would take at face value as truth. Of course the conspiracy theorists were likely taking a much needed rest from the moon landings and coming up with new stories how our government is keeping the truth from us. This time around, the skeptics I knew had every right to be skeptical.

Marla arrived with plates of food in one hand, and my coffee in the other. With great skill, she placed the coffee on the table in front of me. I thanked he and held the cup to my nose inhaling the pleasant aroma.

“Tell you what darlin', I’ll let you make love to Joe there for a few minutes and I’ll be back to get your order,” Damn she was funny. I sipped it slowly savoring every molecule. My mind was so preoccupied enjoying my hot beverage, that it took a second to register the sound of glass shattering. I looked up to see plates of food crashing to the floor around Marla’s feet. I quickly got up to help her as she fell to her knees. Due to her age and constant diet of Mal’s cooking, I feared she was having a heart attack and rushed to her side. Instead of clutching her chest, I noticed she was crying heavily, her eyes fixated in one place. The place was silent except for the TV. I turned my head, tracing Marla’s gaze to come face to face with the television. There on the tube, I saw a picture of myself.

“Once again, NASA has confirmed that Commander Michael Owen, Mission Specialist Anthony Pendleton, and Igor Yeltsov of the Soviet Union were among the casualties during during Operation THOR. Details as to how these heroes died have not yet been released to the public, but we will be here to let you know as the news breaks. All we can say is they gave their lives to save all of humanity. May the people of planet Earth never forget the sacrifice they made. This is Holly Green reporting from NASA’s Johnson Space Center, Houston Texas, back to you,” The news cut to the anchor who announced that the President will be holding a press conference at 2:30 Eastern Time.

Tears started welling up inside me. Partially due to seeing my crew’s faces on the TV, the other due to a sensitivity towards seeing others in grief. Trying to hide my own tears, I embraced Marla, kneeling down in the scattered contents of several people’s breakfasts.

“I’m so sorry,” I said in the most comforting tone I could muster. Mal came around to help me get his wife up off the floor and sit her down. A bus boy came over to start cleaning up the mess

“Thank you,” Mal said as he stood back up. “Damn shame to hear that news,”

I played ignorant and asked. “I take it you knew him?”

“Michael? Him and his family are locals part of the year. We have known him since he was a kid. Has a cabin way out yonder. Can’t imagine how proud of him we are. Imagine how excited this community got when one of our own was selected to lead the team to save our asses. We owe that man our lives,”

“Well he sounds like he was a great guy, I am sorry for your loss,” This time I succeeded in sounding sincere. 'I’m right here Mal,' I thought as I started welling up inside, 'Your boy will be back some day.'

“To Michael!” The Restaurant started shouting my name. Several locals, veterans of various armed forces whom I knew, were standing at attention saluting the TV in my honor. On this day, October 19th, 1986, I was officially dead in the eyes of the world. I snuck out the back door, and without a care in the world as to whether I was seen or not, hit the sky as fast as I could, passing through the clouds accelerating. I started screaming at the top of my lungs until the vacuum of space once again took my voice.

---Two Weeks Later---

The crowd became silent as the ceremony commenced. Hundreds were gathered on this unusually cold snowy November morning. I stood at the rear of the crowd consisting of friends and loved ones while avoiding the group of reporters and the general public. The pallbearers took guard near the row of three coffins as the priest began speaking. It's a strange feeling attending your own funeral. Of the three, one of the coffins was for sure empty. For all they knew, I was ejected into space, drifting forever to the outer edges of the galaxy. All they had to bury was a fancy coffin with a name engraved on it. A tear ran down my face as the priest spoke the traditional mantra during funerals. I had lost several friends over the years in training accidents; I almost found myself lip-syncing to the priest’s prayer.

Much of my sadness was not for the loss of my crew, but the fact my own wife and daughter had not shown up for the ceremony. It had been a two weeks and I had been unable to determine their whereabouts. Liz was not at the shelters; in fact, she was never admitted. The house was empty and she had not been to the cabin. My ability to interact with people was limited as I was now a stranger amongst friends, alone in the world. The last two weeks were agonizingly slow and painfully lonely. Unable to sleep to pass the time and unmotivated to do anything, I found myself in anguish, entertaining my worst fears. If she was alright, I would have find her by now, but she and Ashley were nowhere to be seen. Panic was setting in as my worst fears were becoming reality. Something was terribly wrong, surely if they were all right, they would have attended my own funeral.

As the priest finished the first half of the ceremony, the President took the podium, the First Lady standing to his left, while the rest of my crew stood to his right. It was my first time seeing them since I hastily left my ship just over two weeks ago. Still looking frail from the long-term effects space trips have on the human body, they nevertheless looked lively, happy to be home. I stared at my friends, barely paying attention to the speech given by the Commander-in-Chief.

“...Never forget the courage it took for the crew of the Deliverance, who risked their lives traveling so far from home, to deliver the whole world from a heartless menace that knew not race or gender, religion, or culture. One that kills without mercy and threatened the lives of every man, woman and child on the planet. The crew, aided by the thousands of people on the ground, rushed to meet this adversary and successfully sent the asteroid back into deep space where if came from. The Seven were aware of the dangers, but overcame them and did their jobs brilliantly. We mourn the loss of three heroes who laid down their lives so that the world can continue to live: Michael Owen, Lt. Douglas Pendleton, and Igor Yeltsov of the Soviet Union
For the families of the three, we cannot bear, as you do, the full impact of this tragedy. But we feel the loss, and we're thinking about you so very much. Your loved ones were daring and brave, and they had that special grace, that special spirit, the hunger to explore the universe and discover its truths, while protecting humanity with their very lives. They wished to serve, and they did. They served us all,”
The President concluded his speech that would take its place in the US history books and be quoted hundreds of years from now in the classrooms of tomorrow. Several others spoke at the ceremony; the last was Dwayne Turner, commander of “B” team and my replacement should something happen to me after our years of training for this critical mission. We got along well enough, but he was arrogant and didn’t like the fact I was chosen over him. Looking back, I almost wish he would have been picked over me. Instead it would be me standing there delivering a speech at his funeral while staring at some hot blond chick across the way like he was doing to me now.

An hour later, after the last person to publicly say their goodbyes, the ceremony finally concluded. It was painful and I felt alone as all these men and women who were part of my life in one way or another were grieving my loss. I wished I could yell out and tell them all, that I was alive and with them. It would be easy to convince Shephard, Mitri, Collins and McCormack. But it would be my curse to live in secret until one day I could return to my body. For now, no one would know their friend is amongst them living as a woman from another star.

A line formed, and we were each given the opportunity to pay our final respects before the caskets were lowered into the ground and sealed forever in a concrete memorial immortalizing those who gave their lives saving the Earth from destruction. The rest of the crew, who knew they did no such thing, would have to carry that burden of being the public hero that I cannot. Like the heroes of Iwo Jima who struggled to live with the fame for heroics that were not theirs, the surviving crew would be destined to live a lie. For me, they were the real heroes the world needed that I could not provide.

My turn came as I arrived at Pendleton’s coffin. I laid a bouquet of flowers on the coffin, pausing a moment to pay my respects. I moved to Yeltsov’s coffin that was likely empty as well as mine, his body to be buried in Russia. His empty casket will make history as being the first Non-US Military foreign national to have a place in Arlington Cemetery.

I held up the line, spending extra time before my casket. It seemed strange to leave something on my own coffin knowing I was alive and well. Kaaren robbed me of my opportunity to say goodbye to myself as she ejected me from her ship the moment we concluded our switch. Kaaren didn’t allow me to risk my mission by becoming emotional seeing myself depart for a planet 30 light years away. Or perhaps it was her, that she was afraid of becoming emotional. To make up for that, this was my moment to say goodbye, goodbye until we meet again. I placed my final bouquet on my own empty casket, knowing better than anyone that one day my name will be removed from this memorial. I touched the casket and walked off.

The pace back to the road was slow as there was a long line of people heading up narrow stone path back to their cars. As the path began to widen, some one eager to get past the crowd bumped into me trying to pass. A walking cane fell to the ground and landed next to my feet. While it was not my fault, I felt awful knocking someone's mobile support out of their hands and quickly bent over to pick it up. Its owner, a woman, was already ahead of me retrieving the black cane out of the snow before I had the time to bend my knees.

"I'm so sorry," I said, not really having a need to apologize. I grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet.

"It's ok, that was my bad," she said in an eerily familiar voice as she stood regaining her composure. As the woman turned to face me, I found myself locking eyes with Megan. She had a sad look on her face, as did everyone in Arlington this morning, but she managed to produce a smile,

"Thank you very much. Again I'm really sorry, I just wanted to leave this place,”

I was speechless, standing there staring into the face of one of my friends whom I had shared cramped living conditions with for over a year. Here she was, living and breathing, right before my eyes. Quickly, so as not to draw attention to myself, I spoke up.

"You and me both, but I must say, it was a very nice ceremony, as nice as a funeral can get,” She had a long overcoat on over her formal dress uniform. While NASA was a civilian organization, Astronauts did have simple formal dress blues to wear at ceremonies of importance such as this.

"This area is for family, friends and those involved in the mission. I know most people here, I can't say I have seen you before. Who are you here for?" She asked me.

“I am a friend of Liz...Elizabeth Owen. We are old friends, I came to be with her only I haven’t seen her around. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her would you?” Megan looked puzzled.

“You know, now that you bring that up, you’re right, I did not see her or Ashley.” She turned to her fiancé Brad who was standing just out of my wider than normal peripheral vision and asked, “Did you happen to see Liz, Hun?” Brad shrugged his shoulders and admitted to not seeing her the entire day. “I will ask around, I am curious myself now. I am Dr. Megan McCormack. Liz's husband and I worked together. You got a name?” She held out her hand and I panicked. My tongue became all tied up, who was I? I never expected to talk to anyone. Off to the side I quickly scanned a row of tombstones blurting out the first name I could find.

“Phil....Phyllis Shifley,” ‘Oh man that was terrible, If only I could go back in time and take that back. Who the hell names girls Phyllis these days.’ I was cursing myself for not having just told her my name was Karen when she replied.

“Well pleasure to meet you Phyllis,” Megan said. Relieved to know she didn’t find it too unusual, I replied “The pleasure was all mine,”

“Do you have a number I can reach you at if I find anything about Liz?” Megan asked.

“I will be checking into the Marriott downtown later today. I will be in town for a few days before heading back to California,” I made a mental note to make sure I actually did check in and stay a couple days.

“If I hear anything Phyllis I will call you. I am sure it’s tough on her. I owe Michael my life; we are all going to miss him. You take care and God bless.” Tears welled up in each of our eyes. I bent over slightly and reached out and embraced her.

“Thank you so much for helping me, and most of all for what you did up there. We are forever in your debt,” I turned and walked away wiping tears off my face. As I left I heard Brad whisper in Megan’s ear.

“Damn, that was one tall broad,” followed by the soft thud as I assumed Megan playfully hit him.

To Be Continued....Episode 5 “Anguish”

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---"Angel" Episode 5 Anguish”---
By G.M. Shephard

"Angel" Season One continues as Michael/Karen checks into a hotel in the Nation's Capital and awaits for his friend to call with good news. The anguish he faces, wondering where is family, is is too much for him to bear. That along with stress of his sudden change of life, and the loneliness he feels, prompts him to seek out a means to forget about life for a while. His first experience in the public nightlife living as Karen, he experiences for the first time many issues women have to face at the hands of men and other women.

Angel S:1E:5 “Anguish”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kiitylover

Episode 5 Anguish”

"Here you are ma’am", the clerk said as he handed me my room keys while staring at me the whole time. "You will be on the top floor, 3725. I managed to get you a room with a splendid view of the mall,” Twelve years of this is going to drive me insane. Buster thinks all I wanna do is shop like a chick.

"Thank you, but I am not too into shopping,” I said politely. The clerk started laughing,

"No ma’am, the Mall. It’s where you can visit the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial Washington, the Smithsonian.”

'Duh', I thought to myself. 'Of course I know what the Mall is, I was just being sarcastic.' The clerk started laughing, "A joke, hahaha, nice delivery, you had me thinking you were a typical blond for a sec,”

'Great recovery there Michael,' I thought to myself. The clerk waved for the bellhop.

"Jimmy will help you with your luggage.” Jimmy, a young black kid about eighteen, approached me with a luggage cart.

“Um, it’s ok, I don’t have any bags.” Jimmy and the clerk looked at each other and grinned as I grabbed my keys off the counter and walked toward the elevator bank.

Thank you Miss Shifley,” the clerk sad aloud as I walked away. 'I gotta get rid of that name,' I thought, shaking my head. If I weren’t expecting a call from Megan, I would have checked in under a better name. As I waited for the elevator, I watch as the two continued to talk while looking at me. It was then, that I realized what I looked like to them.

I was never known for spending unnecessary money on hotels. Wherever I was traveling to, I was usually actively exploring my travel destination and would rather spend the excess money on sightseeing or expensive dinners rather than a fancy room where all I would do is sleep and take a shower. It had been a long journey for me, and my life had been turned inside out, so for the next few days, I thought I could use some time to unwind emotionally. It had only been two weeks since returning from a year-long mission in space where two of my friends died. In order to undo my failure that got them killed, I switched to the other team and gave up my manhood for the power of a goddess. Now the two girls I love the most, the ones I made this sacrifice for, were missing. It’s a lot for a man to have to deal with and some well deserved R&R was in order.

Lying on the bed, my blond hair draped all over the pillow, I stared up at the ceiling. Still wearing my new black overcoat to hide the fact I was wearing a mishmash of clothing unsuitable for a funeral at which the President of the United States gave the eulogy, I thought maybe a trip to the mall, an actual shopping mall, would be in order.

"If only the clerk had seen what I was wearing under this coat, he would have never mistaken me for hooking in his hotel," I said aloud while I pondered the exchange of looks the two gave each other downstairs. It was obvious to me know, checking in without luggage was drawing attention to myself. Fact is, I wasn't expecting to stay and even if I did, I didn't have much of a wardrobe to lug around with me. Shopping for clothes I was comfortable wearing had been an epic failure the last week and my attempts to find something appropriate to the funeral didn't yield success. I found about a hundred dresses and skirts, but just couldn't swallow my pride and stand in front of my friends dressed like a woman, even if I was one. Finding a panted business suit in the short time I had before the funeral was impossible. In 1986, no one had pants to fit an amazon woman and all the tailors required a couple weeks notice to custom make one that I would likely only wear once or twice.

I was very relaxed on the bed. It had been about a week ago that I finally managed to sleep for a couple of hours, and now I was finally feeling tired again. I took off my boots and coat and threw them on the other side of the king-sized bed. Not stopping to remove the bedspread, I fell backward on the bed, legs draped over the edge. My sharp vision scanned the cottage cheese in the ceiling trying to assign familiar shapes to the patterns imbedded in the stucco. In a matter of minutes my eyes grew heavy. Giving in, I shut my eyes only to open them a few minutes later finding the room was considerably darker. I looked out the window and the sun was low in the sky. “How long was I out?” The clock near the phone reported that nearly four hours had gone by. Longest sleep yet, but I felt great.

I sat up and got out of bed, my bare feet digging into the soft carpet of the luxury suite. The rather spacious room contained a small kitchenette, wet bar, several couches, a large bathroom complete with a Jacuzzi bath, as well as a balcony with a stunning view of DC’s most iconic symbols. I had been to DC several times on PR missions for NASA, but due to training schedules, never had much time to soak in the rich history the city had to offer. I pulled the sliding glass door open and stepped out onto the balcony. A cool breeze hit me, although I knew it was not cool, but about -18 degrees Celsius. My lack of feeling toward extreme temperature variations was going to take a long time to get used to. Most of those sensations were a warning signal in the brain that dangerous temperatures could threaten my body, but they robbed me of experiencing all the changes the seasons had to offer throughout the year. So far, I had encountered temperatures exceeding 1,650  °C as I re-entered the atmosphere. The ceramic tiles that made up the Orbiter’s heat shield glowed red hot from the friction, but didn’t even faze my body or the suit I was wearing. Now, wearing only a thin turtleneck and a pair of black lycra pants, I stood on the balcony in my bare feet without worry of freezing. I thought to myself just what limitations this body had, and what its full potential was.

It was then that I remembered that Kaaren left me instructions. The crystals she left in my possession completely slipped my mind. There was supposed to be data on one of them to help me learn all about her body. I made another mental note for when I returned to the cabin, to unlock the secrets stored inside with the hopes I could see this body as a gift, rather than a curse. There were so many things I needed to learn about this new vehicle I was piloting. I was gifted at being able to fly anything I can get behind the controls of, but controlling Kaaren was a little tricky. Space was easy, there were no forces like drag or gravity trying desperately to ground me like in the atmosphere.

As much time as I have spent in the air without fear, leaning over a railing on a tall building always frightened me. Now, unafraid, I peered over the balcony and saw the street 37 stories below. Cabs were blaring their horns trying to make it to their next destination. It was nearing sunset and the sunlight was bathing the clouds in a beautiful orange hue. The constant feeling of my body absorbing the radiation was diminishing. In about 30 minutes I wouldn’t feel the surging sensation until the morning. My body must store vast amounts of energy like a battery, as I have flown at night and my abilities did not seem to be dependent on constant exposure to sunlight like I had thought. After my first attempt to stop the asteroid my power left me when entering into the shadow, but something else must have been the root cause of my sudden loss of power, because upon my second attempt, I felt similar sensations while hovering just outside.

I stood there staring at the sun until the last fragment of the energy producing ball of burning hydrogen disappeared below the horizon. As I turned to go back inside, I looked to my left and found myself face to face with a couple bundled in thick cold weather clothes. Their noses and cheeks were rosy red and they were holding each other tightly as they braved the cold in order to savor the view of the city. They were both locked in a dead stare toward me.

Breaking the silence, the man said “Jeeze woman, you’re crazy, you’re going to catch hypothermia.” Glad to be finally stared at for something other than my body, I realized I was drawing attention standing in this cold weather with no shoes or coat.

Thinking a little faster, than I did in the cemetery, I replied “Oh, this, this is nothing, you should come to Canada where I am from, this is summer in comparison,” Before they could say anything more, I threw a question their way to deflect the attention away from myself.

“Where are you two from?”

The woman blurted out, “We are from Orange County California, you know, where Disneyland is,” Why do people from Orange County insist on using Disneyland as a reference point to help the geographically challenged in the world understand where Orange County is on a map? I ignored my pet peeve from getting to me and asked a follow up question to keep them talking. I was mid sentence when my phone rang. Excited about the news about to come through the handset, I quickly excused myself and ran for the phone hoping not to miss the call.

Fumbling with the phone, I put the handset to my ear and answered. “Hello.”

“Phyllis?” I almost said no,

“Um yes this is Phyllis,” I gotta ditch this name. “Phyllis, this is Dr. McCormack, we met today,” Yes Megan, I know who you are. We spent a year together in a tight craft likely causing Liz and Brad to wonder what we were doing up there.

“Yes Megan, thank you for calling,” I got a little casual with her. It was too late; I couldn’t take it back. She went through years of hard study to earn her medical license and PhD in Psychology. Women had come far, but it was still a man’s world and she had to work extra hard to be better in her field. As part of her success she enjoyed being addressed by her hard earned title of Dr. by those outside her close circle.

“Phyllis, can we get together? I am busy with ceremonies the next few days, but if you can extend your stay in DC, I would appreciate you meeting with me. I won’t keep you in suspense, so I will say it. No one I have talked to has seen Liz or Ashley,” My heart sank. Where could they be? It’s like they disappeared off the face of the earth. I didn’t give up my identity to save my family and planet only to come home and find they vanished and I am alone, trapped in a body that is alien in more ways than one.

“Thank you for for asking around, it means a lot to me. I can extend my stay in the city, when would you be free to meet?” Megan and the rest of the Deliverance’s crew would be subject to a fierce PR tour, meeting with the President, awards ceremonies and likely further debriefs in Langley.

“Some time Friday, I will call you in the morning and we can arrange a time to meet,” I thanked her again making sure to use Dr. this time.

“It’s ok Phyllis, you had it right the first time, call me Megan,” Relieved I could address my friend as I always have, I seized the opportunity.

“Karen, call me Karen, only a few people I allow to call me that, Liz being one of them. To be honest, the name should have died out with my grandmother whom my mom named me after,” Megan laughed.

“Thank you, I needed that. Yes, not too many women your age have that name these days. Karen it is then, until Friday...And Karen, don’t worry, they are likely just hiding from the press, they're a bunch of heartless demons. Don’t let it worry you. Take care,”

The bell inside the phone jingled slightly as I set the handset back in the cradle. I was sitting on the edge of the bed bending over, elbows digging into my knees with my legs spread wide open. I scolded Ashley many times for sitting in such an unladylike fashion, now her father had better learn to sit properly, if only to keep prying eyes at bay. A huge panic attack was coming on. My face felt flustered and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I was beyond worried, I was now terrified something terrible had happened to them, and now I was stuck in the city for three days with nothing but time to entertain my worst fears.

Getting off the bed, I headed to the bar, in desperate need of a drink. It was a week before launch that I had my last last drop. I enjoyed a good drink and had my fun, but when training or assisting for another mission, there was no one more disciplined than me. The risks were too high to screw around when lives were at stake. One stupid move and people died along with one’s career. The room had a mini bar with over-priced mini bottles of liquor. My old friend was not among the crowd. My sense of depression was overcoming me, and this bar didn’t have Jack. Feeling overwhelmed by anxiety welling up inside, I found my boots and slipped them back on my feet followed by my coat. Making sure I had my keys, and some cash, I went down to the lobby.

Public Relations

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States,” Everyone stood as “Hail to the Chief” erupted from the nearby band. The President and First Lady entered the ballroom, taking their place at the podium. He began another boring speech, just like all the rest, proud of the success of the mission, knowing full that they didn’t do shit. It was the single greatest conspiracy in modern times and the four survivors of Operation THOR were put on display for the world. All four hated it. Mitri was lucky not having to deal with the American Political Machine, but I knew his time was drawing near, where the Motherland would call him on his own propaganda tour.

“Dr. Shephard, I hear you made some startling discoveries up there, I am eager to read your results in the journals when you publish them, hopefully soon,” Eugene had no idea who was talking to him, but he replied as if he did.

“Yes, if my data is correct, there are going to be some new elements added to that table. Very exciting results so far, but you are going to have to wait to read about it, I don’t want to give anything away,”

“Can’t wait,” the stranger said, patting his shoulder and walking off. Shephard leaned over and whispered to McCormack, trying to be respectful to the President as he spoke.

“This sucks, I could be in my lab right now actually working to further science, and instead, Uncle Sam is parading us around as if we were some kind of showpiece. We’re scientists, not objects in some political show,” Megan couldn’t agree more, if only he knew what it was really like.

“I agree, I can’t wait to get out of here myself, I have better things to do than get a fancy medal for something we really didn’t do.” Shephard put his hand on McCormack’s shoulder. She expected him to be bitter and angry for knocking him out back on board, but when he awoke back on the ground, safe and sound, he seemed like a changed man. They had a long talk where he expressed his deep regret for being an asshole.

“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about it, but, I am starting to see life from a different perspective. I’m suddenly grateful for the second chance I have been given, and believe something happened up there, something wonderful. For the first time, I feel alive,”

Collins stood as the President called his name and began walking to the podium to receive his recognition before the herd of reporters and cameramen. He and Shephard also spent some time putting things behind them, knowing full well the gravity of the situation was driving their emotions that almost led to a conflict.

“Oh Shit, here goes night,” Mitri blurted as Turner stumbled his way over to the table, spilling his drink in the process.

“Howdy heroes, mind if I join the elite, best of the best?” He started clapping and cheering loudly as Collins and the President posed for the photojournalists of every major publication. Next, it was Shephard’s turn to make his way before the room full of the leaders of every major country, stopping to shake hands with Collins as they exchanged places. As Collins returned to sit at the table, Turner started tormenting him.

“Well well well, number 1, congrats hero. Let’s have a look at that medal you’re sporting. Bet you think you’re hot stuff.” Davis came over and helped Dwayne out of his seat, escorting his commander out of the room under Thompson’s orders. Thompson took a seat next to the crew, apologizing for his behavior.

“Thank you,” Megan said, “Did I miss something while we were away? Dwayne was always an ass, but when did he get upgraded to a hole?”

“Well, don’t worry about it. After tonight, you won’t be seeing much of him.” Megan stood to begin her slow walk to the stage, leaning down to quickly finish the conversation.

“You fire him?” The cameras were locked on her as they prepared to pan across, keeping her center frame as she stumbled step by step toward the podium.

“No, he resigned, he’s going to work as a consultant for some aerospace company. Didn’t say where, just that his last day was yesterday. He didn’t want to say anything until after the funeral,”

The ceremony went on for several more hours complete with a $25,000 per plate dinner for the wealthy investors who had already invested a fortune into the operation. Rich tycoons were looking to increase their market share as stocks in the companies that built the Deliverance were bought up by Americans wanting to invest in a solid American corporation.

“Thompson, can I speak with you a moment?” The Flight Director helped McCormack as they moved out into the hallway.

“What’s going on Megan, is everything all right?” He was concerned about the bone mass that she lost. It wasn’t bad short term, but for a woman, it could lead to Osteoporosis and could be debilitating later in life.

“I’m fine, I will be running again in no time. Look, it’s not about me. Have you heard anything about Commander Owen’s family? They weren’t at the funeral, and no one I have spoken to has seen or heard from Liz in weeks,”

“I’m glad you mentioned that, because I noticed too today that she was not around to accept her husband's flag. That did make me a little concerned. I tell you what, don’t worry about it, I know a few people that are close to her. Let me see what I can find out and I will get back to you. In fact, do me a favor, reach out to Susan in personnel, I know they keep in touch,” Relieved that she was likely asking the wrong people, she thanked Thompson and started to leave.

“Megan, thank you for looking out for them. I miss him, I like to think that really was him up there guiding you all home, I really do,”

“Same here, I owe him everything,” She turned to leave again.

“Megan, one more thing. I have a couple of openings. I will let you be the one to tell him. You let Brad know I expect him in my office Thursday morning about getting him on the active roster. I got word tonight, that we got a lot of new funding and we have an International Space Station to build,”

McCormack left the room knowing her fame, just bumped her fiancee up into the hole Turner left in the roster. She scanned the room looking for Brad, excited to tell him the news.

Night Out.

I stared up at the sign in front of my fifth bar. Three liquor stores and two bars, all carded this young lass that looked about 20 years old give or take a few. It had been ages since I was last carded and this city seemed ruthless about checking IDs. I had no identity and therefore no ID card. “Nieuport 23,” This had promise, I thought, walking inside. Sure enough, as I glanced around, my intuition was correct. The walls were covered in aviation themed decor. Only a few would know that Nieuport 23 was a french WWI biplane manufactured by the Nieuport Company and not a street address. Whoever owned this place must know a thing or two about aviation to name it after an obscure French aircraft.

Taking a seat at the bar, the young bartender, about twenty five years old, homed in on my blond hair and cute face and was on me in a second. Ignoring all the scruffy looking overweight politicians hitting the bar after sessions of Congress, he came running over to make sure my order was top priority over other patrons that had been waiting for 10 minutes. Finally something good about being a chick.

“What can I get you love?” Ugh, I am never going to get used to this.

“Jack on the rocks please,” A hand slapped the bar next to me causing a loud noise. Some disgusting looking man with a suit and and red tie on was scanning my figure, bypassing all social etiquette. In a drunken slur he blurted out.

“Now that's my kind of woman, eh Ralph?” leaning his head toward his drinking buddy but keeping his eyes fixated on me. “Gotta love a broad that can drink JD. Me and Mr. John Daniel’s go way back,” He managed to find his own glass of Tennessee’s iconic whiskey and held it up to salute me.

I wanted to ralph myself. “John Daniel's?” I asked. “Well, when you have known him as long as I have Sugar, It’s John,” This guy had to be in politics, he was so full of shit. “Really,” I said as I leaned back on the chair, “must not be very good friends.”

"What the hell do you mean by that?" He replied, pissed off at me questioning his friendship.

"Jasper, Jack is short for Jasper, not John. If you were really his friend, you would know that. Now buzz off.” The surrounding bar erupted. “Oooh, you just got owned by a chick,” the equally repulsive Ralph chimed in, laughing at his friend. The bartender held up his hand wanting to hi five me.

“That was very impressive.” Basking in the moment, feeling like I was a guy again partying with my friends on a Saturday night out, I gave him the courtesy and returned the five if anything but to feel normal again.

Humiliated, the duo took that as a cue to deprive me of their obnoxious presence and left to sit at a table in the corner. The bartender placed a glass in front of me, dropped a couple of cubes and started pouring. The unmistakable sound of that dark amber liquid exiting the bottle was magic to my ears.

“Seriously, that was awesome. Good to see a lady who has some taste and the smarts to back it up. Besides, we have been trying for a while now to get rid of those two. You did in one minute what we have been trying for hours to do.” The pour exceeded what I guessed to be 1 1/2 ounces. “And 10, and 11 and 12” the bartender said as he completed his count measuring 3 ounces. He placed the bottle back in its rightful spot with the smoothness of a gunslinger holstering his weapon, all while keeping his eyes locked on me.

“To my hero,” He dropped in a couple of straws and positioned the glass in front of me in one smooth action. I reached into my coat pocket for some cash. “Please,” he said, “It’s it’s on the house and I won’t take no for an answer,” I held up my glass as if to toast him. “Thank you very much,” I paused to read his name tag, “Mike, not a bad name, I’m Karen,” He reached his hand over the bar to shake hands. I reached over to shake as I always do, but Mike gently grasped my hand and rotated it so that my hand was on top and lifted it higher in the air. Giving a slight nod as he said, “Pleased to meet you Karen.”

“HEY MIKEY,” I turned my head as I heard the dreaded shortened version of my real name being called out. “When you get done getting that broad’s phone number, ya think you can maybe muster up a little time in your day to get us another drink?” Mike excused himself and took to tending other patrons. I pulled the straws out the the glass and lifted the glass once again toasting my departed friends. “Kaaren, wherever you are, Godspeed,” I added in a slight whisper, followed with a long draw. As the sour mash slid down my throat, I wondered if alcohol would even affect me.

As more people returned from work, the bar started picking up. This was definitely a local’s bar, everyone seemed to know someone. About two hours later, I was nursing what was left of my third double, feeling no effects that I hoped would have had me drunk by now.

“You pouring that down the drain, or drinking it?” Mike, coming by to check up on me as he did every 10 minutes, asked.

“Every drop,” He looked at me in amazement.

“Damn Karen, you look as if this were your first. Another?”

“Sure, why not,” I swallowed the last of the third.

“Mind if I make you something special?” He held his hand up as if to stop any protest, “Hold on, give this a try,” Before I could resist he had his shaker out, and was filling it with Jack, Grenadine and something else. He placed a martini glass in front of me, while mixing the cocktail together. Flipping the lid of with his thumb, he poured the red drink into my glass and topped it with a cherry.

“One Jack Daniel's Metropolis. Jack, Grenadine, and Vermouth. The manliness of Jack Daniel’s whiskey made sweet and poured into a sexy elegant glass,”

'Was I really being that obvious? Think Michael, think,' I said to myself. I tried to tap into that sweetness Mike thought I had if for anything to show appreciation. After all, this drink did represent me more than he will ever know. I tried smiling, and took a sip. Surprisingly I liked it. The taste of the Jack was strong, but mellowed by the cherry flavor of the Grenadine. “Excellent, I love it.” Mike smiled and left me on my own.

The music started getting louder and people were dancing to Cyndi Lauper. Several guys were getting fired up on beer and hitting on a group of girls dressed to kill. I was still wearing what I came to town in. Tomorrow, I figure, I will take some time and get me some real clothes. I hated shopping with Liz and would rather get a root canal than wander aimlessly through the women’s clothing section saying yes to everything she asked my opinion on. The amount of time I wasted waiting for her to try things on was staggering, who knew all that time I should have been taking notes.

Besides requiring little sleep, I also did not need to pee often, maybe once or twice a day. I miss being able to sleep and pass time away, but not having to take a leak ten times a day is a gift, especially since I can no longer do the deed standing. I remember my first time and how humiliated I felt having to sit on the toilet. The alcohol had no effect on my awareness, but it was doing something to my bladder, and for some reason, I suddenly needed to go with greater urgency. I stood up and started making my way through the crowd, getting many looks along the way. There were guys sizing me up wondering what heavenly treasures where under my coat, while others were likely thinking I was a tall freak. The doors to the bathroom were within reach when a voice called out.

“Hey, Big Bird, where the hell do you think you're going?” Clearly a stab personally directed at me, I stopped and turned, seeing a group of girls standing next to each other locked in a dead stare up at me. “Line starts back there bitch.”

The woman in the middle wearing a pink spandex mini dress and a blue version of Michael Jackson’s jacket pointed several girls back where the line began. She had an excessive amount of makeup on and a typical 80's hairdo that looked like the sole tools required to style her hair were a paper clip and an electrical outlet. She was at least seven inches shorter than me. If she removed her pink shoes with four inch heels I would tower over her.

“Oops, sorry about that,” I apologized and got in the back of my first line for the bathroom thinking how much worse it could have been had I walked into the men's room, which was precisely where I was heading by mistake.

Ahead of me, the girls were huddled together and giggling. They were whispering to each other and looking back up at me, clearly up to no good. I was about to eavesdrop with my super hearing when they got silent. About ten minutes when by and I was second to next in line. My heart was pounding, I had never been in a women’s restroom since I was a kid going in with my mother. My memories of those trips were deleted from memory long ago, leaving me uncertain what to expect as I entered into virgin territory, the only place in this man’s world that women could truly call their own.

I was next and it better be quick. I wasn't sure if I could control my muscles down there; I might be able to seal the dam shut, but I couldn’t figure out how to manipulate my new muscle groups. Finally, one of them came out. I stepped in leaving my old self behind and into a different world. What would I see? The one in pink with the attitude was at the mirror, doing her makeup. She caught my reflection in the mirror, giving me a dirty look followed by a giggle. There were about 5 stalls and one handicapped at the end. Searching for an empty stall I nudged on the first door. It was locked. “This ones taken bitch,” I tried each and every door, and all yelled back with some kind off expletive personally directed toward me. The girls were all giggling. Screw it, I used my thermal and scanned the remaining stalls. Petite little white silhouettes were all seated in the stalls except the handicapped.

Finally, I hurried for the door and locked myself in. I turned to face the commode, and was horrified at the sight before my eyes. These women were evil. A week after I saved them from their doom, they were already back to their miserable selves. On the toilet, the seat was soaked in urine and other fluids I don’t even want to mention. The floor all around was wet from urine as if they all took turns squatting on the ground. They all erupted in laughter. “Need some paper Big Bird?” It was worse; I would have been better off having run into the men’s room and tried peeing in the urinal in front of a dozen guys. I would have been their hero, but this, this was humiliating and sick. To top it off, all the toilet paper and seat covers were gone.

Time was running out and I had to go. I took my coat off and was about to waste a $200 overcoat, when I hung it up on the hook instead. I remember hearing stories of the filth of women’s bathrooms and how women learn the art of hovering. Well I can hover too. I lifted my sweater, and pulled down my tights, lifting myself a couple feet off the ground and assuming a sitting position. Concentrating extra hard on controlling my flight, knowing full well the consequences of a crash landing, I locked into a tight focus and amazingly held steady.

'Ok Commander, just like docking the Orbiter with MIR.' Making slight adjustments, I lined myself up over the disgusting toilet, careful not to let my clothes fall. Satisfied I was lined up, I cut loose. The girls must have been expecting me to pee in the corner or go in my pants, because the moment they heard the water splashing in the toilet, the laughter stopped. Finished, I got myself dressed again and stepped out to meet my tormentors. I fought tooth and nail to restrain my anger and rage. A quick wash and I turned to leave. Alone, and the tormenters still hiding on their stalls, I smiled as I reached up and turned off the lights, leaving them in total darkness. The girls started screaming.

“What the hell” I thought as I destroyed the light switch before leaving. There were a few in line that looked relieved seeing me emerge. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” and hurried back to the bar.

“I was beginning to think you left,” Mike said. My drink was still there with a reserved sign next to it.

'Crap, this guy has the hots for me or something,' My mind thought as I gulped the rest of my drink down as quickly as possible while reaching into my coat for a $100 bill. Mike put his hands up refusing. “Mike, you have been great, but I have to go. This isn’t for the drinks, it’s for the light switch,” The girls came pouring out of the bathroom one of them yelling “Where’s that bitch?”

“Did you piss them off too? Oh man, I love you. Can I call you,” he said as I hurried for the door.

“Don’t have a phone. but I’ll be back,” I lied as I took off, the angry formation of girls gaining on me. Clearing the front door I ran out into the cold turning down an alley where I could fly away without being seen. In the cover of darkness I began my ascent. I was a few stories up, when I stopped and watched as they turned the corner. Two having rushed out into the cold night without their coats abandoned the pursuit in favor of warmth. Pink and two of her friends proceeded into the alley after me.

I never really knew just how evil women could be to each other. A simple mistake where they thought I was cutting in line, and they felt justified to act in such a vile manner.

“What is the world coming too?” I thought as they started disappearing into the shadows, losing visual sight of them. Back to infrared, I saw the three hot bodies walking down the alley. The noise of a can banging around startled me, as did the three. Two more white silhouettes appeared from behind the dumpsters. “Well well well, what do we have here?" The sound of a man talking in a deep voice.

“Oh shit, trouble,” I thought. The two converged on the three girls who turned to run, but found themselves at a dead end. They were trapped. The sound of a switchblade opening reverberated off the walls of the alley. I really wanted something bad to happen to those girls, but this was not what I had in mind. Besides I swore to Kaaren that I would do good. I had to think of a way to defuse these two without drawing attention to myself. I couldn’t let anyone know I was some freak alien, especially after the girls all saw my face.

“Wees gonna have a little fun tonight aren’t we?” They were getting closer. I had to act. I dropped to the ground while staying in the shadows. The sound of another can crumpling as my foot crushed it caught their attention. The two spun around startled from the noise of something behind them. I could hear the faint sound of their hearts accelerating their beats per minute as they realized they weren’t alone with their prey.

“Takes a couple pretty tough men with knives to prey on some helpless women. Real manly,” I called out from the cover of darkness.

“You got quite a mouth on you, you bitch. Come get some,” The sounds of another knife, this time a balisong. I could see the white shape manipulating the twin hinged handles that concealed the blade. A couple of swishes later and the blade was ready for action.

Back in the dojo, I did extensive weapons training and knew how to defend against knives. When I was twelve I was getting into trouble in school from moving around so often, My dad’s friend from when he was stationed in Japan recommended I channel my energy in a more positive manner. He sent me to study martial arts under Take Sensei, a 5th Dan in Aikido. I was immediately hooked and spent most of my youth getting thrown to the mat. By the time I was getting ready to join the Air Force, I was a 2nd Dan black belt, and I was at peace with the world. The beauty of the art is it doesn’t require any strength, I simply use the attacker’s momentum against them by blending into their attack and redirecting their energy. It makes perfect sense to one who understands physics. Women were highly effective at the art as they were forced to learn the techniques right the first time, while men were sloppy, overcompensating in the strength department.

I could destroy these two creeps with no effort, but I would blow my cover. A thought crossed my mind, if I applied my training I could hide my speed and strength in my techniques and appear as nothing more than a martial artist defending herself. I stepped out of the shadow and let myself be seen. It was a day of firsts, my first time attending my own funeral, my first time getting hit on by a man, the first time going into a women’s restroom, and now I was receiving my first wolf howl. I was getting tired of being seen as a sex object and I certainly wasn’t going to take it from these two douche bags.

“Well hello pretty,” Switchblade said in a deep raspy voice. The girls were confused as to whether they were happy or sad to see me. As long as the attention was on me and not them, they seemed happy.

The techniques were useless unless I had their momentum to work with. I needed them to attack me so I egged them on a little and went right for the gut.
“What’s the matter boys, have a little nub of a cock, the only way you can get laid is by forcing yourself on someone?” That did it, Switchblade came lunging toward me thrusting his knife toward my abdomen.

“Die you whore.” Before his blade could connect I pivoted my whole body, shifting out of the way of the attack and ending up on the right side as his knife hand continued forward, stabbing nothing but air. As I executed the pivot, I grabbed ahold of his wrist and continued his forward progress leading him in a downward turn around my center. I squatted, bringing the knife hand lower to the ground, pivoting again, building momentum. As quickly as I led him downward, I stepped out of the center. Pressing my thumb against the back of his hand and reaching up with my other hand I pushed my open hand on the back of his. While keeping his hand centered at my midsection I reversed my stance by shifting my whole body using my hips to turn me. My compete mass was effortlessly creating torque on his wrist. If he didn’t fall backwards or execute a break fall, his wrist was going to snap. We trained how to receive the techniques just as much as we trained applying them. The loud snap of the wrist told me he didn’t know the ukemi for the perfectly executed kotegaeshi.

He flew through the air screaming in terror as this blond woman neutralized his attack barely using her super strength or speed. He landed hard on the cold pavement likely breaking his shoulder in the process. He was out of commission. Balisong was next. Enraged at what I just did to his friend, he ran up to me and swung his blade in an wide arch like a haymaker punch. Instead of moving away from the attack, I stepped into the attack. I brought both of my hands up. My left hand chopped to the elbow above his right hand, stopping the attack in it’s beginning before it gained any momentum. My right delivered a strike to the face, not to injure, but merely to distract. While he was worrying about getting his face out of the way, I seized the opportunity to secure his knife hand. Grabbing the wrist with both of my hands I pushed it into the air and away from me. Ducking under his armpit and stepping through, I pivoted my hips keeping his wrist at my center. I moved my right hand and pressed his hand toward his body, while my left hand applied pressure to the nerves in the wrist and held his elbow pointing upward.

The result allowed me to apply a lot of torque to the wrist that gave me complete control to move his large body anywhere I wanted. Pissed off he swung a hook at me with his free left hand. At this point I pinned his hand against my chest almost between my breasts and instead of using my arms to do the work I merely turned my whole body. As his punch came, I just twisted my hips sending ripples of pain up his arm forcing him to abandon the punch. The girls were laughing as my attacker was reduced to screaming like a girl. Time to put an end to it. Like I was holding a fishing pole I gripped his wrist tight with both hands and made a motion cutting through the air, as if I were casting the pole, forcing him to the ground. Pivoting one last time, I held the wrist with my left hand, chopping again to the elbow while stepping back a couple of steps.

He fell flat on his face with a wet thud. I pushed his arm up behind him and stepped in with my left leg to brace his arm against. Leaning in, I torqued his shoulder, effectively pinning his face and shoulders into the ice gold ground. A little bit of pressure and I could pop the arm out of the socket. I took the knife from his hand and manipulated the handles, securing the blade.

“Not so tough are we? ARE WE?” He screamed.

“No,” I leaned down and said,

“Now, I can rip your arm off, or I can let you go so you get help your friend here. If you think you can get the better of me, think again. Don’t be stupid and you can leave with just some injured pride. What will it be?”

“I wanna go home,” he said on the verge of tears. I gave his hand a tight squeeze to show my seriousness, before releasing my grip. His hand fell to the pavement. Slowly he got up and true to his word gathered his buddy and left down the alley.

“Holy Shit, that was the fucking coolest shit I ever saw in my life. Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Look sweetie, you’re lucky to be alive. If it weren’t for some miracle that happened a couple of weeks ago, you wouldn’t even be here right now. Be grateful for your life, because that’s twice you almost lost it,”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply, and turned to walk back out of the alley. It worked, my secret was safe. I was just some tough broad who knew some fancy moves as far as they were concerned. I reached the end of the alley when Pink cried out.

“I’m sorry,” As soon as I could, I found another alley and took to the sky. Higher and higher, I soared over the city and decided to take that tour of DC that I never had time for.

To Be Continued....Episode 6 “DC”

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---Angel Episode 6 "DC Follies”---
By G.M. Shephard

Megan having retreated from the party early, receives devastating news before she can tell her fiancee about the good news regarding his flight status. Michael/Kaaren passes his time in the city, contemplating how he/she should spend the next twelve years, while waiting to see his friend again. Later he makes a startling discovery.

Angel S:1E:6 “DC Follies”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012

- -Episode 6 “DC Follies”- -

Megan was sitting on the bed reading when Brad finally returned from the awards banquet. Her hips were hurting from all the walking around and decided to leave the party early leaving him to enjoy himself with his soon to be fellow astronauts. She got herself comfortable and poured a glass of wine celebrating the news that her fiancee will finally get his time in space. Megan sipped the fruity Zinfandel she bought on the way back while catching up reading one of the many medical journals that had formed a tall stack on her office desk. It was gibberish to many, but exciting to her. She loved having been to outer space, but it was inner space, the human body and the human mind that really fascinated her.

"Hey honey, how was the rest of the night?" She asked her fiancee as he closed the door to their hotel room. The two met five years ago while working together and they quickly started dating, keeping their relationship quiet for a whole hour until the close-knit group that the astronaut program was, figured out they had they hots for each other. Their time together was severely restricted once she was selected out of a handful of other candidates to join one of the two crews of the Deliverance. In the little time they did have, they squeezed in any free moment they could together until two days before launch, he popped the question. It was rash, she knew they still needed more quality time together before taking that big step, but in light of the situation, it was a girl's dream proposal, one that she would tell her kids a hundred times. Everyone seemed to know long before she did, that he was going to ask her for her hand in marriage before sending her off to the middle of the solar system. Arranging to sneak away for an hour, they stood before the Discovery on Pad A as it was being prepped to take her to her rendezvous with the Deliverance. With the Sun setting in the west, the sky colored bright orange, he got down on his knee and completely flubbed the words he had rehearsed a hundred times. He was cute as he tried desperately to get the words out, until his heart took over and improvised. What ended up pouring out of his soul made Shakespeare sound like Dr. Suss to the girl deep inside her.

"It was all right" He said not embellishing too much detail about the rest of his night.

"Come over here, there is something I want to tell you." Brad lowered his head and walked over.

"Yeah, I have something I need to tell you too," He replied, "go ahead, you first."

"Don't be silly, I want to hear from you, mine can wait, what’s up?" She wondered how he heard the news already as Thompson gave her the honor. He was silent for a minute, and his reluctance to start talking triggered alarms that something wasn’t right. Megan began to panic inside when he began.

"Megan, I'm sorry, I really am, but I...um...I don’t know how to tell you this, so I am just going to say it. I fell in love with someone while you were gone,” he paused a minute waiting for his devastating confession to sink in before switching to his pre-planned list of excuses for his infidelity, “I didn't want to tell you right after you got back, with all that you had going on, but I can't keep it from you any longer. I love you, but she, well we're having a baby. I know I'm a jerk, screwing around while you were saving the world, but, well, I'm sorry,” he concluded. Megan sat there in silence for 5 minutes staring at her lap refusing to look up at him tears gushing out of her ducts and spilling down her face.

"Please get your things and get out, I don't want to see you again," She said through the tears as she pulled the diamond ring off her finger and tossed it on the bed in front of him. He left the platinum engagement ring with a princess cut 1.75 carat diamond behind and collected his bags in silence. She never noticed, but everything was packed up by the door as if his departure was well planned.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but please don't say anything to anyone." Megan tried to control her rage as she processed his asinine request. She just spent a year apart from him on the most important mission in human history, and he couldn’t keep it zipped up for 12 months. She was the sole female in a crowded all male vessel and managed to come back to him as pure as she left. To think after all that, he would have the nerve to ask me to help him save face so he could win his place on the roster.

"It's a little late for that, Thompson wants to see you on Monday morning in his office. It sounds urgent."

"Did he say what he wanted?" He asked with a hint of fear showing through, a fear she could easily detect.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT YOU BASTARD!" She screamed as she threw her journal at him making him instinctively duck. Brad scurried out the door as she went from a passive emotion wreck to a raging scorned woman spewed from the pit of hell. The door slammed leaving her alone. After a few minutes of screaming at the empty room, the rage subsiding leaving her a teary eyed disaster as she laid on the bed sobbing. Before her anguish wore her out and she fell sound asleep, a slight smile came over her face as she thought of the fear that would plague his mind until Monday morning.

- -Washington DC- -

It was getting late in the day and I figured it was time to get back to the hotel. I had spent the better half of the last two days engrossed in study. I found Washington DC to be a wealth of knowledge both historical and scientific. My main draw was towards the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, but in light of some unknown recent event, everyone and their mother was packing the place. One would make more forward progress moving a shuttle, atop a wide load semi truck, up 5th Ave during rush hour than to brave the crowds suddenly filled with an interest in the history of space flight. With my ability to travel anywhere in the world as if going out to get the mail, I figured I could come back anytime I wanted, so instead my tour led me to other key parts of the city soaking in as much as I could. Around noon I found myself in front of the public library where I decided to do a little research on stellar evolution, supernova types and galaxy structures.

The library did have a sizable collection of books on astronomy, but lacked the depth libraries at the university level had. I was amazed that the incredible speed at which I could move also translated to my reading ability. Most passed by me either staring at me for my looks, or for the fact I was just flipping through pages as if looking for pictures. Little did they know I was reading every word on the page comprehending every sentence and committing it to memory. I scanned about a page a second, and in a period of a couple hours I had gone through all the books and then some. Several people approached throughout my study questioning why I was even bothering with such deep subjects if I was just going to flip through them. They couldn’t understand why a cute blond wasn’t married and having kids, instead reading about “Astrology” as they mistakenly called it. What unnerved me more about the encounter, was it wasn’t coming from men, but from the elderly female librarians. It was like they were stuck back in the 40’s with the archaic notion that a woman’s place was in the home. Being a female was bad enough with men looking at me for my body, but I was never prepared to receive similar treatment from women as well.

As I left the library to head back to the hotel, I considered the possibility of going back to school, this time getting my Doctorate in Astrophysics. After the Air Force, I received my Bachelor of Science degree in Astrophysics followed by a PhD in Mechanical Engineering from Caltech. I had an impressive education, but now in a different body, I had no degree with Karen’s name on it, and without that, all my knowledge wasn’t going to get this girl through the front door. Becoming an astronaut all over again was uninteresting to me. I can take trips into space any time my heart so desired, but I still had limitations and likely couldn’t venture too far from my life giving Sun.

What I really wanted to find out where Kaaren was was from. The crystals would satisfy that answer, but my detailed knowledge of the universe was getting rusty, and this little appetizer of knowledge would hold me over until I could return to the cabin for the main course. More and more powerful telescopes were being developed that would allow for further look back times that will eventually take us back to when the universe was only a few seconds old. I wanted to be able to look through a telescope and see Kaaren’s home star as it looked 30 or so years ago, long before her and her father embarked on their fateful journey. It surely would be something to look forward too, and perhaps taking part in developing more powerful technology to reach out to other worlds. It would take years of work, and I didn’t like the idea of the difficulty I would face re-entering the educational arena as a woman, but my newfound skills could give me an drastic edge over the other students. I had plenty of time, time I should put to use to benefit humanity instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

- -An Hour Later- -

I entered my suite and tossed my handful of bags on the bed then went into the bathroom and turned on the jacuzzi. While waited for the tub to fill up, I picked through some of the clothes I found in between tourist destinations. It wasn’t much, but I finally found a couple pairs of jeans that managed to fit after a slight struggle to get them around my hips. They were a tight fit, but they fit, so long as I had something to cover my ass with. The steam from the tub was rising and before I set off another blood curdling alarm, I shut the door while I undressed, throwing my new jeans on the floor. Next I took off the dark red hooded sweatshirt that had the letters “DC” on the front. It was very touristy and announced to residents of the city I was a visitor from somewhere else, yet I found it comfortable and neutral able to be worn by either my new body, or my old without drawing attention. I pulled my hair through the hood of the sweatshirt letting it fall around my bare back and chest and tossed the inside out sweatshirt onto the ground next to my jeans. Standing by the bed wearing nothing but a plain pair of black cotton panties I opened a package of rubber bands and secured my long thick hair into a pony tail. The dense mess of hair that came standard with the rest of this body was starting to stress me out. It was constantly announcing it’s presence and demanding my attention like a small child in constant need. After nearly three weeks of fighting it, wishing this body could look acceptable with my old simple to manage crew cut, I tied it back.

I grabbed one final, bag setting it near the jacuzzi, before kicking off my undies and hopping into the warm water. I leaned further and further back until I submerged my head under the water level, coming to a rest on the bottom of the small jacuzzi. I held my breath and laid there enjoying the relaxing benefits of the jets while my long legs, the only part of my body above water, stuck up out of the tub and hung over the edge. Finally after shattering Michael’s underwater breath hold of three minutes, I resurfaced what I believed to be ten minutes later. I squeezed a splash of shampoo in the jacuzzi which quickly got sucked into the water pump and spewed out through the jets. As the soft white foam started accumulating on the surface of the water, I reached over and grabbed the bag I brought into the bathroom with me. Inside the bag was a bottle of the best Vodka I could find in the city. The owner of the shop, an elderly man from the Ukraine slapped his seal of approval on the bottle and was nice enough to forego the ritual scanning of the ID once I started conversing with him in Russian.

An unplanned change of events prevented me from attending Yeltsov’s State funeral which was rescheduled to occur sooner than originally planned. Instead, I will have to celebrate his life alone, naked in a tub drinking Eastern Europe’s contribution to the world’s bar. The white and red paper seal wrapped around the cap tore as I unscrewed the top and paused a moment in silence foregoing the use of the many Russian cheers, finding they were inappropriate, all translating into a wish for long life. After a few moments thinking of my fond memories of my Russian friend, I took my first tug on the smooth Ukrainian Vodka distilled from fermented potatoes and grains and let the alcohol seep into my blood stream hoping tonight would somehow be different.

After an hour, I was surprisingly relaxed and found I had the start of a slight buzz was coming on as I neared the end of the bottle. Finally I found myself truly relaxed and my mind a little at peace as I tried to convince myself that Megan was right, and Liz was hiding from the mobs of reporters begging to ask ridiculous questions about how she felt about my loss. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, we had outlived the typical expiration date of a marriage’s honeymoon phase and twelve years later, we were still madly in love. Sure we had our moments, but I found it difficult to reconcile her fear of facing the press, would some how trump her husband’s funeral.

As the panic started to rise, I finished off the bottle as the small silky smooth bubbles popped tickling my breasts. Ignoring my paranoia of Kaaren watching, my mind become slightly curious overtaking control of my hands forcing them to cup my breasts feeling their softness. It felt good as I squeezed and massaged them a little before shifting my attention to her nipples. The pleasure that was building was taking my mind away from the only pain this body was capable of feeling.

“Enjoy all the discoveries you make while in my body for everything it has to offer is yours to explore and cherish.” I quoted out loud recalling that moment back on her ship minutes before she handed full possession of her body into my care.

“What did she mean? Was she talking about her powers, or did she also mean she gave me permission to enjoy the pleasures of her alien sexuality?”

Giving into my male mind’s burning curiosity as to what kind of pleasure signals these things produced I decided to take her literally on all counts in an effort to mask my hurt. Male nipples, as seemingly useless as they are, did have some degrees of sensitivity, but only produced local ticklish sensations. Kaaren’s on the other hand seemed to produce radically intensified pleasure sensations feeding impulses to other parts of my body. In the time I have been living as her, my sexual drive seemed non existent. Looking at attractive women did not stimulate parts of my body, nor did men. It was probably due to my mind having been very occupied with things more important than sexual activity, but now I relished in the wonderful feelings slowly building and spreading throughout my body. I was relaxed, and my buzz was in full effect, my pain slowly fading when a loud noise rung though my room. The phone was ringing.

“Shit,” I yelled as I scrambled out of the tub hoping to not miss Megan’s call. I yanked the door open and accelerated for a split second before my wet soapy feet slipped out from under me. In the middle of building up forward momentum, gravity took full hold of my body and I hit the tile floor hard shaking the floors below, while sliding across the tile. My naked soapy body plowing through the mirrored closet on the other side sending shards of glass flying through the air. I was lying on my back looking up just as a large pointed sliver of mirror came crashing down threatening to disembowel my perfectly shaped abs in an accidental act if seppuku. Instead of piercing my belly, the glass hit my dense skin and shattered harmlessly into hundreds of small fragments littering the tile floor. As the neighbors pounded on the wall for me to be quiet, the phone rang for the fourth time as I quickly picked clumsy self up off the ground desperately trying to gain traction. The glass between my feet acted to provide the necessary grip my feet needed to keep from slipping and was finally able to reach the safety of the carpet when the phone stopped ringing.

“Nice going, Michael. You got yourself a twelve year wait till Kaaren returns, and now seven of those are going to filled with even more bad luck,” I said out loud, “Shit, now you missed the call.” I was beating myself up for not flying across the room, when the phone started ringing again. I stood naked over the phone with fragments of the mirror and soap dripping off my still wet naked body. Taking a couple deep breaths to regain my composure, I answered.

“Hello,” I said as I put the handset to my ear.”

“Hi, Ms Shifley, this is the front desk, we received a call that there was a loud noise coming from your room. We just wanted to see if you where all right and see if you needed any assistance.”

“Yes, I had an accident and slipped on the tile. I’m terribly sorry, but I will need someone to pick up all the glass.” This was embarrassing, but could have happened to my mortal self just the same.

“We are very sorry about that. Are you ok, did you injure yourself? If you need, I can send someone to take a look at you.”

“No, I am just fine, just a little emotionally bruised, but I am un-injured.” I stood there picking a piece of the mirror out of my perfectly shaped navel as the concierge notified me he was sending assistance up to my room.”

Quickly, but carefully this time, I floated above the mess of glass on the tile and brushed the glass off my body before making my way to the shower to rinse off before the clean up crew arrived. After what was my fastest shower yet, I dried off and covered my body with a white complimentary robe just as someone started knocking on the door. Making sure my robe was secure and not showing anything off, I opened the door to see a Manager, two maids and a fourth. The latex gloves on his hands gave away he was a hotel staff medical technician or nurse.

“Ms Shifley, I’m Bernard Elliot, one of the senior managers, may we come in?” He handed me his card. I waved them in embarrassed at the mess they were about to witness in the bathroom. “I am terribly sorry about this, where was it the accident happened?”

“It was over in the bathroom," I began to walk them towards the bathroom when the manager motioned for me to stay put.

"Please Ms Shifley, we will take a look, if there is broken glass I don't want you to hurt yourself. If you don't mind I would like to have Leonard examine you and make sure you don’t have any injuries."

"I appreciate it, but I am really ok." I knew they were looking out for their own well being and didn't really care much about mine.

"I'm sure you are, ma'am, but we like to look out for our guests. I promise he will be gentle and will only take a couple minutes.”

"Ms Shifley? I'm Leonard, if you don't mind I am going to check your vitals and make sure you are all right. Sometimes we feel fine, but in fact are not. It won't take long, can you tell me what happened?" Before I could protest, he had me recounting the story, minus a few details while he checked my pulse rate.

"Thats quite an accident, wet floors can be a killer. You seem lucky not to have any lacerations from the glass." Very gently, pausing for my permission, he took my bare feet into his hand and examined the soles. It was utterly pointless as I knew the dangerous glass couldn't penetrate my skin. Still he seemed to be determined to ensure I wouldn't be suing them. As he examined my foot, It came to my attention I was leaning back in the chair with my legs spread wide open as I have done all my life. With only a bath robe on it would be easy for him to sneak a peak if he so desired. Quickly, I closed my legs together sealing my girlie parts away from his view.

"Were you wearing slippers, it's amazing, you don't seem to have any cuts anywhere?" I nodded that I had in order to reduce suspicion. He moved to my back and started examining the back of my head when Elliot came back into the living area.

"Ms Shifley, did you say you slipped, or tripped? There is a cracked tile on the floor that you likely tripped on." I know I clearly slipped and fell backwards. My skull must have cracked the tile when I hit the ground.

"To tell you the truth, I thought I slipped, but things happened so fast, I don't remember. Either way I shouldn't have been running like that. I'm really sorry."

"Ms Shifley, there is no need for you to apologize, it could have happened regardless of how fast you were running," the sounds of glass shuffling around as the maids swept up my mess carried through the room partially drowning Elliot out as he continued, "that crack could have caused anyone to trip, and those mirrors are supposed to be safety glass. You can't imagine the types of parties we have in these types of rooms." He turned to Leonard and asked, "Well, how is our guest?"

"Amazing, she seems just fine," he replied as he shifted to the front of me. He withdrew a small pen light from his shirt pocket and shined it in my eye bending low to examine my eye's reaction to the light, "wow, you have incredible looking eyes, can you follow the light for me without turning your head?" My eyes tracked back and forth as he moved the light from right to left.

"Good," he said moving the light high drawing a large square in the space just inside the space of one's normal field of vision. My field of vision, unknown to him was a bit wider."

"Excellent. Are you having any trouble seeing, any spots, any blurriness?" I shook my head no. "Great, everything looks good to me, you’re quite lucky, Ms Shifley." Elliot stood before me.

"Ms Shifley, here is what I would like to do. I don't want you stepping on any glass, so I would like to offer you another room, or if I can arrange for you to have dinner somewhere while we clean this up. I promise we will be quick about it." I did skip dinner, and was now I was feeling a little hungry, but I needed to stay near in case Megan called again.

"Mr. Elliot, I appreciate the offer, but that call was very important to me, and I need to stay close in case they call again." He was very kind and gentle, and seemed like an expert in hospitality.

“The guests who have reserved the room across the way haven’t checked in yet, I am going to let you use that to get yourself cleaning up and into your clothes. When you are done, I will take you downstairs to our restaurant. If anyone calls for you, I will personally come get you. How does that sound?”

Within a few minutes the maids brought my clothes to me and, in the privacy of the other room, re-dressed myself in the same clothes I had on earlier. While I changed, I could hear Leonard and Elliot talking in a quiet whisper.

“Her eyes weren’t responding much to the light and were slightly dilated. She also had a little difficulty tracking the pen.”

“Well there was an empty bottle of vodka, who knows how much she had,” Elliot said informing Leonard of the possible intoxication.

“It couldn’t have been that much, she was very alert, just slightly slow in responding. She was very warm too, but that could have been from the tub,” Leonard added to his analysis, “All in all she should be ok.”

“Well regardless of whether or not she was drinking, that tile could cause problems for us. I am going to have to see why that wasn’t noticed after the last guests left. Man I would have given my left nut to have seen her running naked, all lathered up in soap.” I chose that precise moment to stop my eavesdropping and open the door. The two were just starting to laugh at the mental image of my nakedness, when I suddenly appeared in front of them. They were quickly rendered silent and remained that way while we made our way to the lobby. Elliot escorted me to the restaurant where a table was waiting for me.

“I already gave my front desk instructions to look out for any incoming calls for you. Enjoy your meal, and let me know if there is anything else we can do for you.” He had been so hospitable, but now, I disliked him knowing what was really going through his mind. After a couple minutes dwelling on it, I forgave him, knowing full well, I have done the same thing when I was a man.

I was half way though my meal when Elliot returned informing me my call had come through. He escorted me to a row of pay phones with a couple of house phones. He handed me the white phone’s handset and pressed the button to connect to the appropriate line.

“Hello,” I answered knowing it could only be Megan.

“Hi Karen, it’s Megan, how are you?” She asked while Elliot confident my call was received, waved signaling he would let me have a little privacy.

“Well, not too bad considering, how about you?”

“I’m exhausted and I have a lot going on, but I still want to meet with you before I head back to Houston. Can we meet in the morning, say around 9am?” How can I turn down an opportunity to see my friend?

“Of course, where do you want to meet,” I replied.

“There is a cute little French cafe on F St not too far from Ford’s Theater. I went there this morning and wouldn’t mind going back before I leave. I think you would like it.”

“Sounds good to me, I can meet you at 9, see you then,” She took that as a cue I wanted to get off the phone and said goodbye, hanging up before I could ask her for an update. I set the phone back in the cradle cursing myself as it would be another long sleepless night that I would have to spend in suspense.

- -Cafe- -

It was quarter to nine. I had arrived at the cafe a bit early and paid the host a little extra to get me a table in the back away from the crowd. I was nervous about seeing Megan again. I felt like I screwed up many times giving myself away during our last couple conversations, but I had to keep reminding myself that there was nothing at all to worry about. Why would she ever suspect I wasn't who I claimed to be? It was more pointless worry on top of my missing girls. After all, she ran into me.

Every thirty seconds I kept looking up at the front of the little cafe to see if my friend had arrived, my mind going crazy running through all the possible answers to any questions she might ask me. Today there will be no further blunders like in the cemetery. As the waiter brought my coffee, I looked up to see Megan walk through the front door. She was alone and walked slowly with her cane as she looked around the dining room. Her searching eyes finally found me in the back waving to her. As she was half way across the room, I stood up to help her the rest of the way.

"Thank you,” she said putting her arms up in protest to my assistance, “but I am all right. Only a couple more weeks of this and I can go back to two legs. A woman my age shouldn't be walking with a cane just yet."

Before I could reply, the waiter cut in and took Megan's drink order before leaving. I settled back into my chair and pondered how I would start the conversation. As much as I wanted to get right to what was on my mind, I still wanted to know how my friend was doing.

“Have you been enjoying your time in the city?” I said keeping it simple and generic.

“It’s been stressful. I feel like Uncle Sam has dragged me through the wringer. This whole hero status isn’t something I was thinking about when I signed up for this.”

“I’m sure it can be tough becoming an instant celebrity, everyone wanting a piece of you.” Megan did look tired and beat. She seemed like she was trying to be happy, but sad underneath her invulnerable mental state.

“Well not everyone,” She said with her head hanging low, “How about you, I hope my crazy schedule didn’t interrupt your schedule. I’m sorry to have kept you in the city.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was able to keep myself occupied. So, have you heard anything new since I last talked to you."

"I'm afraid not, Karen. I have asked around made a couple calls to some people I know in the personnel department where I work. All those that I knew who were close to her, haven’t see her in close to three weeks. Things are still very crazy at work in light of recent events, and I am sad to say not a top priority for most. One of my bosses has taken interest and we have called the authorities to report missing persons. They are out there looking for her.” I was welling up, trying hard to fight the tears afraid she would find it odd that a friend of Liz would get so emotional crying over her loss, when I realized from her point of view I was a chick and supposed to get emotional over things as trivial as a dead goldfish.

“I'm thankful for all you are doing, you don’t have to do this for me,” It was odd that she would take time out of her schedule to help a stranger, but it’s possible the experience she encountered changed her to make her an even better person than I already knew her to be.

"Karen, like I said, I owe Michael my life. I can't tell you why, but I do. He was a friend of mine and I will do anything to repay him, including making sure his family is safe. With the exception of a crazy mob of reporters, you are the only one who seems to care about their whereabouts,” I was shocked to hear that no one seemed to care about my family.

“Why does no one care?” I said showing a little increased emotion. It was making me angry that no one gave a shit up until now, even Megan who hadn't given it a thought until the cemetery.

“Look Karen, I get that you are upset, I really do. Please understand, it’s not that no one cares, but there has been a major international crisis that the world is still trying to settle down from. They are all right, trust me, they just got lost in the shuffle, and will likely turn up after the press goes away. You watch.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get upset, I know your right.” The waiter came over for our order to which we both made a rush decision on what to eat, eager to return to the conversation rather than wasting time picking the ideal breakfast.

“So, how do you and Liz know each other? You have to be at least 10 years younger than her if not more. You said you were from California right?”

“Yes, California,” Let’s start with the easy question, while I think of a good lie for the second, “I live in San Bernardino County. No place special, near the mountains not too far from LA.” Ok, not really a lie, actually true, just not specific. Now, what about that first one. “Liz and I-”

Beep, beep, beep, beep… Megan frantically rummaged through her purse finally withdrawing a pager.

“Crap, I’m sorry, I am going to have to take this. You know I’m a doctor, but I specialize in psychology and I promised I would follow up with a patient when I got back from the mission. My partner took over my practice and all my patients. This one, I have no idea how he got through the last year,” She made a twirling motion next to her ear to emphasize how cuckoo he was. She got up and slowly made her way to the bank of pay phones in the back.

“Thank god, saved by the bell,” I said aloud as the waiter brought our food. After about 15 minutes Megan returned and we began eating, keeping quiet for a while.

“So, Liz was friends with my Mom, who passed away sometime ago. She has been like a big sister to me and has kept in touch over the years,” I said amazed at what a few minutes of rehearsing could do.

“Karen, I am sorry to hear that. Were you two close?”

“Yes, she passed away when I was a teenager. I was pretty devastated. Anyways Liz was always there for me,” More slight fibs, but not really lies and all were mostly true depending on context.

“I can imagine how rough that must have been on you.. It’s not easy for teenage girls to loose their mother right when they are going through so many changes. I can see how Liz stepped in as that older sister and filled some pretty big shoes.” She paused to take a bite of her rapidly cooling quiche as the weight of what she just told me set in. It was then that I realized that If I were anything at all like human females, a friend I would not be so happy to see, could come for a visit at any time. My mind traced back to Oct 18, It’s been almost 21 days. I had no idea where on Kaaren’s cycle I was. She could have left me at any moment. Oh, thank god nothing happened, and I thought of this now before an embarrassing accident occurred.

“Are you ok, you look suddenly flustered, is something wrong,” She asked picking up on my newest worry in my life. I calmed down making a mental note to get myself some protection after breakfast.

“Sorry, I’m fine, you reminded me of something I need to do. Where were we?”

“What about any other family?” Megan asked resuming her series of questions as if there were no interruptions.

“I appreciate you asking, but I am rather alone, I don’t have very many people in my life right now. My father is gone, and I was an only child.”

“You know, if you ever want someone to talk to, you can some see me. In fact I have been doing a little soul searching the last couple days. I’m thinking of going back to my practice and leaving all this NASA stuff behind me.” That surprised me greatly. It was always Megan’s childhood dream to go into space; I couldn’t believe she was going to abandon it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but you shouldn’t let all that happened keep you from what you want to do,” I said trying to discourage her from abandoning her career.

“I know, but still, I think I got my fill of outer space, and want to get back to doing what I am good at. There are people I need to take care of. What about you, what do you do?” That was a good question, I had no clue.

“Right now I am between jobs,” and lives, “I have enough saved to be comfortable for a while, but I will have to get back to work eventually.” She looked at her watch.

“I’m really sorry Karen, but I do have a flight I need to catch soon,” she said, reaching into her purse and withdrawing a small white card. “Here is my business card, I know you are in California, but if you wanna come stay in Houston for a while, you are welcome to it. It will keep you close if Liz and Ashley come home.” The waiter dropped off the bill, Megan in one smooth stroke slipped her credit card in between the bound leather without even looking at the receipt and handed it to the waiter. My attempts to pay were futile, eventually surrendering in appreciation. We walked outside and talked a little longer.

“Please reconsider coming to Texas; Liz would like it if you were close when she gets home. It’s going to be your turn to be there for her. She is really going to need you the help her through all she is going through.”

“I will think about it. Either way, I will call you.” I gave her the number to my cabin, knowing it was safe. We hugged briefly. I still found it strange to tower over her. I stayed with her talking until she was able to flag down a cab to take her back to her hotel. Forty five minutes later I was checked out of my own hotel breaking even as they comped my whole stay. Before long I was traveling through the sky at approximately 30,000 ft, heading home excited as to what I would discover.

- -Crystals- -

“Time to unlock all this body can do,” I thought as I flew back to the cabin eager to soak up all the data contained on the crystals Kaaren left me. It is still unclear to me how it slipped my mind as I slipped her suit off her sexy body. There was so much happening that day, that the excitement of successfully saving the planet overwhelmed me to the point I was no longer thinking clearly. All I remember is wanting to get out of that tight outfit and lie down on a bed for a while to calm my mind and let the stress of the last year leave my body forever.

A quick scan in infrared showed there was no presence of any life other than some small varmints around my cabin. It was safe to land without being seen by any prying eyes. During my week in DC, the west coast was hit by a fierce, persistent storm created by a vigorous low pressure system that had drifted east from the Hawaiian islands and made landfall along the west coast. After a brief struggle with a sheet of ice blocking the door, I entered my cabin and kicked off my boots, and tossed my bag on the dinner table near the door. My body was warm and comfortable although I could see the vapor of my breath instantly freezing as I exhaled. The round antique Coca-Cola thermometer hanging on the wall read that it was -11 degrees Celsius.

The lights on, I started a fire in the fireplace, not for the warmth so much as for the pleasant sounds of the pockets of air crackling under the heat and the mesquite fragrance that permeated the air. There was nothing like a good fire to sit around, and tonight, along with a nice pot of hot coffee, I planned to relax in front of the fireplace and learn everything there is to know about my full capabilities as Kaaren. The wealth of knowledge she endowed me with about our two worlds was about to become mine so that I could benefit my fellow human beings. With the coffee brewing and the fire raging, I almost caught myself skipping in excitement as I hurried into the bedroom to find the suit.

There were clothes still scattered all over the place from when I had tried to find something to wear. Kaaren’s suit was draped over the back of the wicker chair Liz kept in front of the sink where she sat brushing her hair or applying makeup or any number of things women do while us guys where waiting by the door patiently eager to get the show on the road. It was always my theory that professional sports were created to keep us guys occupied, while the girls took their sweet time getting ready. It always amazed me how we would be twenty minutes late leaving because of her but if I took one minute to run back into the cabin because I forgot my watch, our tardiness would suddenly be shifted on to my shoulders.

The belt was still on the counter top where I had left it that first day I stood in front of the mirror examining my female body in all it’s nakedness. With hopes of changing my feelings about my new body, I picked up the belt and searched for the crystals. Opening the first pouch I withdrew the clear crystal that she said contained all the information she and her father encoded for me. I knew relatively little about the two and where they were from,

“Who are you Kaaren, and where are you from?” I said as I held the transparent crystal up to my face where I pondered it’s elegance. It was about 15cm long and and about the diameter of a 50 cent piece. Data storage for computers was a growing industry as they were starting to become common in all aspects of business and personal living. Still the storage units were bulky, expensive and contained very little storage. I wondered what the limitations of the crystal’s storage capability were as I set it on the marble countertop, guessing it was light years beyond our current state.

I withdrew the next crystal from the second pouch and held that up to the light. Beams of pink light shone on the walls as the light photons coming from the ceiling light passed through the magenta crystal. According to Kaaren, her return sometime in the next twelve years, would be announced by this crystal glowing bright pink, thus letting me know I could return to my male body. I began to wonder, what life would be like then. Would my body be returned to me aged about twelve years, or would I still look like I would now. What about my wife, If my aging slowed down, my wife would easily be much older than I. Would we ever be able to just pick up where we left off. What about the endless questions about my supposed adventures saving Kaaren’s world. I shook my head. Liz and Ash were missing, and what happens twelve years from now, is the least of my worries.

I set the beacon down on the counter next to the clear crystal and returned for the last and final key crystal. Rotating the belt, I located the final pouch where my right hip would be. As I went to open it, my heart skipped several beats and my face suddenly felt warm as the panic began to overtake my body. The pouch was empty with the exception of a little dirt. I felt all around, and frantically checked the rest of the belt.

“Fuck,” I cursed out loud. All those that know me, know I am not one that curses often. To me it was always a sign of a lack of intelligence that one would would have to resort to foul language to get their point across, but today, this situation called for the crudest word in the english language to be uttered by my lips.

“Ok, Michael, calm down and think,” I said aloud trying to regain my sense of peace, “I clearly remember seeing Kaaren put the crystal in the pouch and sealing it.” It has to be around here. I turned on every light in the room and began tearing the place apart looking for it. After an hour of searching every nook and cranny in my cabin at least ten times, I sadly concluded that it was no longer in my possession. The necessary piece that would allow me access the the information on the other crystal, was lost. Without it, I would truly be on my own with no one to guide me, no secrets of the universe at my disposal. All their collected knowledge, their history, their science and arts, now inaccessible. The secrets to her powers while on earth, and even understanding of her biology in the palm of my hands, yet unattainable. In a fit of rage, induced by a feeling of despair over my situation growing out of control, I punched the wall as hard as I could splintering the wood panels and destroying a wood stud underneath.

I was starting to deeply regret my decision. I would have been better off just letting the world die than to be trapped in this stupid body, my family being lost anyways. Why would any man want to become a woman. It’s so degrading, I don’t care how strong and powerful I am. It’s humiliating going out in public getting whistled at by members of my own sex. Might be great for those born as a women who desire a man, but I can’t stand it.

“Fuck you Kaaren, you ruined my life. I was ready to die up there you bitch, and now I’m alone, stuck in a body I hate.” I kicked the chair across the room where it bounced off the wall while I continued to scream as loud as I could. It felt great yelling at her, the rage was such a release as I had no one to talk to, no one to share my pain with. Part of me really resented Kaaren, but for the most part, I was just frustrated and the rage helped me free some anger so I could think rationally again.

“Ok Michael, it was on the ship, and the only other place I had the suit on was here. So between there and here, where did I go?” Calming down, my mind ran through my journey from the start, all the way back to the cabin. After leaving the ship, I had spent some time trying to learn how to fly, then I interacted with the Deliverance shortly before pushing it into orbit. None of those interactions would have knocked the crystal out of the pouch. After the Deliverance was safe, I made my first attempt at moving the asteroid. I recalled that dreaded moment when I started to feel weak inside the asteroid, but there was nothing that happened that would have led me to lose the crystal other than my re-entry.

It was very possible the friction could have opened the pouch causing the blue crystal to fall out. It could be just about anywhere then and my chances of finding it were essentially zero. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I said to myself out loud many times as I realized my hope was lost. The rage was beginning to build again as I was in despair, hitting rock bottom. Tears ran down my face as I fell to my knees. I couldn’t take it any longer, the loneliness was too much to bear. Michael was dead to the world, and all that is left of him is misplaced, trapped in being no one knows. There was no one in my life to carry me through my troubles, 'No one,' I thought..."except one.' I made my way to the kitchen, and picked up the phone, dialing the number that I memorized from Megan’s card.

“Hello,” She said in an equally sounding level of anguish.

To Be Continued.…Episode 7 "Event Horizon"

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---Angel Episode 7 "Event Horizon”---
By G.M. Shephard

Michael/Karen cracks under the strain he/she is under and takes Megan up on her offer to wait with her in Houston in hopes Liz and Ashley come home. Megan decides to tender her resignation at NASA and focus attending to her new friend/patient.

Angel S:1E:7 “Event Horizon”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kiitylover

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Dear Readers, Thank you for following along so far. What you are about to read, it a personal favorite of mine, it's also very personal. Please enjoy this episode.

-Megan-

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Episode 7 "Event Horizon"

---Megan's Place---

Megan was glad to finally be home after such a long journey. She sat bundled up in a blanket at her kitchen table with a bottle of wine, going through her mail. She was able to deduce roughly at which point Brad started screwing around on her by the neatness of the mail piles. The first few months, Brad had meticulously sorted each envelope into neatly stacked piles depending on type. All of her bills, opened and paid by him, were sorted by type, followed by a pile of junk mail, and lastly her growing fan mail from thousands of aspiring young girls whom she inspired.

As the year progressed, her bills were clumped together and no longer divided based on water, electricity, phone, mortgage. Each of the piles showed signs of his distraction as he no longer took the time to put them in tight stacks, but threw them in crude piles atop the neat piles. By the time his affair was in full swing about four months ago, her mail was just dumped in one large unsorted mess in a mail carrier box. Megan started crying as she wondered if he was heartless enough to bring that whore into her home. She wouldn’t put it past him, that the two defiled every room in her house while she was living in a space about the size of her office with six men. She was depressed enough having just ended an emotional call to her parents where she told them the news. Her dad was frank and wanted nothing more than a few rounds alone with the bastard that hurt his little girl, while her mother spent the better part of an hour trying to analyze the situation, using emotion to read into Brad’s black heart. In the end, the call was making her feel worse inside and did little to comfort her. She looked forward to talking with her brother who was always the voice of sound reason in the family, able to cut through the crap.

To break free of the depression, she turned her attention to the pile of fan mail. Dumping the box of unsorted mail on the the center island in her kitchen, she carefully placed the pile of pink and white envelopes all addressed to her, handwritten in the most feminine of handwriting. It brought a smile to her face knowing all the young girls who aspired to be her someday. Bottle of wine in hand, and the fireplace crackling, she unpacked the box onto her sofa, took seat next to the pile and began reading. One by one, her tears of sadness were replaced by tears of joy as she carefully read each of her fan’s dreams. The stories of these girls struggling in all aspects of growing up into young women and the inspiration she gave them, suddenly rendered her problems null and void. Her relationship problems were trivial compared to the plight many of her fans were going through. It made her feel better how she was able to turn lives around without even having to schedule a counseling session with them.

She was in the moment, happy to know her failed mission, somehow succeeded in changing a part of the world for the better, and her heroism was justified, when the phone rang. She looked at her watch and saw it was midnight. Typically, emergency calls were routed through her office, but she hadn’t started taking patients yet. She wiped her tears from her face and picked up the phone.

“Hello,” She answered.

---Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center, Houston TX---

“Mr. Thompson, Mr. Carter is here to see you,” the soft voice of his assistant said through the intercom.

“Great, give me a couple minutes and send him in.” Frank cleared a few preliminary classified reports of Operation THOR off his desk and put them back into his safe. Nothing that happened made any sense and they would probably discover a unifying theory of everything before they unlocked the mystery surrounding the world’s miraculous salvation a few weeks ago. There was a polite knock and after granting permission to enter, Brad opened the door and hesitantly stepped inside.

“Mr. Thompson, you wanted to see me.”

“Brad, have a seat,” Frank said pointing to the chair. He was a little busy so he skipped past the formalities of standing and shaking the man’s hand. They all knew each other, so bypassing social etiquette wasn’t unusual around here, “I take it you talked to Megan?” He appeared to look a little uneasy and shifted in his seat.

“Yes, she said you wanted to see me this morning.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“Think about what sir?” It was becoming clear that for some reason, Megan decided forego being the barer of the news. Frank scrapped the dialog he had prepared and changed his approach.

“Brad, there were a few unfortunate events that have forced us to make a few changes,” Frank’s job demanded constant seriousness and he had little time to let his humorous personality shine. He was somewhat known for having a dry sense of humor and leading people down a false path where a punchline was waiting for them. He was about to give Brad his dream shot, but decided to take advantage of Megan’s silence and screw with him a little. Apparently he knew what this meeting entailed, but had no clue as to which way it was going to proceed. He was sweating, knowing his career was either going to crash and burn or reach escape velocity right here in this office. Before Frank could continue, Brad spoke up.

“Look Mr. Thompson, I know what you are going to say, I deserve it.” Frank thought the panel’s decision was the right one, he had all the right stuff, and you had to have that kind of attitude, but he seemed to have a unusually high ego to say that he deserved it.

“So you think you deserve it, is that right?” Brad lowered his head.

“Yes,” he said as if feeling reluctant to admit it, “I’m a jerk, it was completely selfish of me. Things just happened and I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Frank was suddenly confused as to the sudden change in trajectory the conversation just took. He was completely in the dark, but didn’t want to admit it as he was now very curious as to what Brad was talking about.

“Ok, tell me what happened,” Frank said to get him talking, Brad kindly took the bait and started spilling his guts.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, but we started going out four months into the mission. I knew it was wrong, but I, well we didn’t think there was much time left in the world. I didn’t know everyone would find out. Megan knows everything, she broke off the engagement the other night.” As Brad spilled his story of his affair, Franks hands, while hidden under the desk, clenched into tight fists. His blood was boiling as what he was hearing. He proceeded calmly at first.

“So let me get this straight, you have been having an affair with someone this past year?” Brad barely finished saying yes, when the personnel outside his office jumped out of their skin as Thompson when ballistic.

“Are you fucking kidding me, you egotistical bastard,” He pounded his fists on the desk as he got up and walked around bringing himself within of the standard bubble of distance Marine Corpse Gunnery Sergeants stay outside of when yelling at new recruits. “Your fiancee was risking her life 54 million kilometers away from earth, saving your ass, mine and the one you were banging in the back of your Mustang. You piece of shit, she might as well be my daughter. Who the fuck were you banging?” Frank could see the silhouettes of people massing outside his blinds listening to the commotion. Giving Brad a quick moment of relief, Frank threw a magazine at the window sending a message to the crowd to disperse. For a moment they scattered, only to reconvene seconds later like a school a fish.

Frank, making his point clear, instantly calmed down and returned to his desk.

“Do you know why I called you in here today” Brad was about to speak, when Frank cut him off, “You shut your hole, I wasn’t asking you a question. I called you in here to tell you the panel approved putting you on the active flight roster. Looks like that woman who’s life you just destroyed is smarter than we both think. She was supposed to tell you that, instead she convinced you to feed yourself to a lion that wasn’t even hungry.” Frank enjoyed watching as the prick before him realized she had been played into giving himself up.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said knowing he just completed flushing his career down the toilet.

“You are. I don’t know who you are screwing, but she is nothing compared to what you just let slip through your fingers. There is a really good guy out there that deserves such a fine woman, and you just gave him his shot. Here’s the deal, the panel chooses who goes on the roster, I don’t have a say in that, but I am king of this castle, and I get to chose who on that roster is on my flight team. In case it hasn’t been apparent to you yet, we are all a big family. Lives are at stake, and we don’t fuck each other over. If that’s what you want, I know plenty of people in Washington you can work for, but it won’t happen here. I would love to send you packing but I can’t. You better hope and pray that I get fired over what just happened, because as long as I am the Flight Director, you’re not going up. Do you understand me.” Brad shook his head in agreement.

“Now, I am suspending you for two months while you think about your career. I hope you will do what Dwayne did, and find another job so I don’t have to look at you. One more thing before you get out of my office, if whoever you are screwing works for me, you tell her to put in her resignation now, because if I find out on my own, she will never work anywhere in this field again. Now get out of my office.

---Megan's Place---

It was close to noon, Megan had spent the better part of the weekend cleaning her house of the dust that had accumulated over the last year. She was tired and her hips and legs were hurting, but she was feeling stronger and able to move around a little un-aided. She finished cleaning up and put some coffee on while she get cleaned up. Karen was due to arrive around 12:30 and had little time to get dressed. As she stepped into the shower, she recalled the phone call she received the other night. She knew Karen would call her, but didn’t count on it being so soon. Megan knew her friend was very alone and hurting and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and help her. She hoped she could gain her friend’s confidence where Karen would be able to open up to her. She needed a way to quickly convey her friendship and loyalty and hoped Karen would respond to her. Megan finished getting ready, checking for the fifth time in the mirror that her hair and makeup were perfect. 'This is going to be tough.' she thought as the doorbell rang.

---McCormack Residence Exterior---

I scanned the address number one more time before ringing the doorbell, ensuring I wasn’t about to disturb the wrong house. Megan’s place was very nice with a sizable front and rear yard. I knew approximately where she lived, but had never been to her house in the years prior. Most of us lived close to Houston or just outside, although during training we could spend much time away. The families enjoyed being close to the central hub of communications to the Orbiters while we were in space. Megan lived in a crowded neighborhood so to be safe I landed in a park several miles away and took a cab, passing navigation duties to the cab driver, who found her house as if he had been there a hundred times. After my third confirmation of the address, I rang the doorbell and waited.

“Just a moment.” A rapid clicking of heels on the wood floor approached the door, which opened, revealing my friend who wearing a navy blue dress that stopped just above her knees. It was casual, yet appropriate for entertaining guests. She wore black nylons and black leather high heeled shoes. Megan was cute, her most attractive feature was her bright smile that lit up when she got excited about the smallest of things. Her shoulder length brunette hair was freshly trimmed and worn straight. She had a geeky look to her making her stand out as being the intelligent yet attractive.

“Hi Karen! Thank you for taking me up on my offer, I am so excited. Come on in, welcome to my home.” I timidly stepped inside where she gave me a hug and escorted me inside and locked the door behind me.

“Thank you for having me over. I’m sorry I called you so late the other night.” I felt terrible calling so late, but I was desperate and a complete emotional wreck.

“Don’t apologize, I am really glad you came by. I made some coffee, can I get you some?”

“Thank you, it smells great, I would love some.” She poured two cups and handed one to me motioning towards the cream and sugar.

“How was your flight? It’s about a three hour flight from LAX right?”

“A little shorter than that,” I said before complimenting her on her choice of coffee hoping she wouldn’t ask any more about my journey. She took me on a quick tour of her house and let me put my bags in her guest room.

“Quite a nice place you have here, how long have you owned it.”

“I bought it about five years ago. My dad helped me get it while I was putting my money into my Practice across town. I really loved the neighborhood and it would be a great place for a family if I ever have one. Might be a little longer than I thought, but it’s not about me today. Let’s go into my office and we can talk.” She led me to the back office and pointed out a couch for me to sit on. Again she closed the door even though they were the only ones in the house.

“Karen, I want to you to know, that what is said in this office remains between you and I, understand. I will be doing everything this Dr. knows how, but I am, first and foremost your friend, and I want you to know you can trust me.

“Thank you, I don’t know why you are treating me so well, you hardly know me, you are a blessing to me right now and I appreciate it.”

“I want to begin by showing you something. It may not be easy for you, but I want you to please trust me. Will you let me?” I began getting frightened as she unlocked a drawer and withdrew a large envelope. She walked over and took a seat next to me. Our hips touched as she sat very close. "Can I show you something?" I agreed and right on cue she began opening the envelope. Inside was a folder with the white glossy backside of a large 8x10 photograph. Immediately I sensed she had an ulterior motive trapping me here to show me crime scene photos of my murdered family. My hands trembled and shook as fear once again flooded my mind. I could hear the beating of my heart thumping loudly as she withdrew a letter sized photo and passed it to me face down. I wish I hadn’t lost that crystal, I would know how to read the thoughts running through her mind right now and be free me from the suspense.

“No one, knows about these, except me, and I plan on keeping it that way. You and I are the only one to know of their existence.” The whole puzzle I have been trying to figure out about her strange behavior suddenly started to come together as I flipped the sheet over coming face to face with a close up of Kaaren’s face and the long range array behind it, realizing I had been played the entire time. I started to stand up to leave, when she gently touched my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I had to talk to you. I was afraid you wouldn’t let me reach out to you, but I wanted to - ” She paused and started crying “- Thank you for saving us and know I am your friend.” I stood up, I couldn’t do this. Revealing anything about who I am inside scared me to death.

“Megan, thank you for your time, but I must leave.” She quickly stood up and blocked the door. “Please, I have so many questions. Who are you? Why are you here? I want to know what happened to my friend. Please, I need to know, you can trust me.” She fell to her knees crying, blocking my exit. By no means trapped by her frail body, I was unable to leave. I knelt down in front of her and took her hand.

“Megan, I - I can’t tell you who I -” My tongue was knotting up.

"Come on get yourself together Michael,"   I said to myself.   I stared into her face, her makeup running down her eyes.   'I want so much to tell you that I am your friend, but I am so scared.   I don't know who I am right now.'   Why can't I tell her? She knows me better than anyone. I am so alone right now and have no one to talk to. My family is missing, and she is my only link back to my friends. I have to trust her.

“Megan, thank you for bumping into me at the cemetery. Looking back, you did that on purpose didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said allowing a laugh to escape while she was still crying, “You, you stood out like, like a sore, sore thumb. I recognized you right a away.” She stuttered, as her sobbing was causing her to inhale suddenly while speaking.

“You are very a very bright young woman, and I am glad you found me for I would have been too afraid to come talk to you. Thank you for being a friend to me, I really need you now more than ever. I have something I need to say, but I am so frightened.” I paused thinking twice about the path I was about to go down.

“It’s ok, you can trust me, I owe you my life.” I sat there for a minute trying to get the words to come up but lacking the final bit of courage to tell her who I really was inside this body. My true self felt so out of place like it didn’t belong and I wanted so much to be able to tell someone. Megan was the only one I could trust. Half of my journey coming out and revealing myself was already done. She did all the work for me, graciously finding me and opening the door. All I had to do, was step through where I would emerge a free person unchained.

I began sobbing like a little girl and teared up. It was like standing on the edge of an event horizon of a black hole, wanting to explore what mysteries lay in the unknown, but afraid knowing I could never return. Perfectly safe and debating whether to make that final leap towards the unknown in which there was no return, I raised my foot and slowly stepped inside.

“What do you want to tell me? You are safe with me, let me help you lift that weight off your shoulders and free you from the burden you carry.” It was the same thing she told me during one of our sessions in the privacy of the Deliverance’s lab a week before we arrived at the asteroid. The fate of the world was resting on my shoulders, all the training couldn’t prepare me for dealing with the fear I carried inside, fear of the consequences if we screwed up and killed all life as we knew it.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, there is nothing you can tell me that will turn me away. Let your secrets be ours to share.”

“Ok, ok. I’m not - I mean I am - What I am trying to say is...Michael is alive,” Finish the step. Grow a pair, “Michael is alive and well, and he is standing before you.” She embraced me as I completely let go and exposed me invulnerability to her. Weeks ago the mighty savior of the planet Earth, now utterly reduced to rubble in her arms.

“Oh Michael, I knew it was you. Don’t ask me how, but somehow, I knew,” She tried to hug me as tight as she could as I was spilling my tears all over her dress, “It’s ok, let it out. You have great courage to be able to tell me what you just did. I am here for you, and we are going to figure this all out together, ok?”

Megan pushed me away slightly so she could look into my eyes. “Ok, hard part’s over, now I wanna here how this all happened.”

---Later---

My time had come for me to tell my side of the story. We ended up leaving her house and taking a long walk in the park where I told her about my near death experience, thinking an angel was coming for me. I told her about Kaaren and the ship. She was proud of me for giving up my male pride and agreeing to a life as a woman in order to save all whom I cared about.

“That took great courage Michael. Even though you had little choice, it was still your choice and you sacrificed yourself for the sake of all. For some men, that would be worse than dying and spending an eternity in hell.” She had a point, many would have turned Kaaren’s offer down flat.

“I admit, I almost did myself for that same reason. I didn’t want to be a woman, and I still don’t, but I wanted redemption, and I wanted the gifts she possessed to undo my failure.” I told it like it was.

“Michael, what’s the matter with being a woman, you won’t always be a woman. She will be back, won’t she?”

“I don’t mean it like that, but come on, you understand the mind better than I do, women can be like men with little to no scrutiny from society, but the same is not true for me. We have to be tough, and be manly in our actions, our choice of clothing, even our entertainment. Besides, it’s not that I hate being a woman, it’s that I am confused being both. Worse, I am not even in a woman’s body, your friend here is in some female alien’s body. I may look very human, but I am very different.”

She stopped me and looked up at me. “Michael, I can help you with all that. I may not be the most feminine of women out there, but I have spent my lifetime learning to be female. You have had three weeks. If you are willing to learn, I can teach you how to be more comfortable in your body and all the other things that come along with it. In time you will be a pro at maintaining that angelic body of yours.

I backed off. “Listen Megan, I’m really not interested in going shopping, putting on makeup, wearing high heels and going on dates, I just want to hide out as best as I can until Kaaren comes back with my true self.”

“Michael, you are going to find that you are wrong, women do not have that freedom you think we have. That time may be approaching, but society still demands a lot from us girls and thinks we should have a specific place in the kitchen cranking kids out. You are going to have to try to fit in. You don’t need to engage in relationships, but-”

“No Megan. None of that girly crap for me. I might have the body for it, but I don’t want it.”

“Michael I am not going to force you to dress up and do things you are not comfortable with.” A couple was staring at us as they walked by listening to Megan’s strange words. She paused looking at them. “What, we are practicing our lines for a play, got a problem?” The couple shook their heads and walked off in a hurry. We turned and started laughing.

“Nice recovery.”

“Thanks - Now where was I? - Oh yes, I am not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, but keep in mind your idea is not going to work in that body of yours. You picked one hell of a gorgeous alien to switch places with; it would be impossible to dress as a tomboy. Trust me, you will draw the attention of men no matter what. I promise I will do my best to help you however way you want me to. I am just glad I found you and you are alive. She hugged me wrapping her arms around me and placed her head on my chest listening to my heartbeat. I hugged her back happy I had a friend in this lonely world. We walked in silence down the path a ways.

“Michael, what’s it like?”

“It’s amazing, I see the world in a completely different light, I hear things no one else can hear. Soaring through the clouds and flying in space is exhilarating.” Megan realized he wasn’t responding to the question she really wanted to know about.

“That sounds amazing, but I wanted to know what it was like for you being one of us now? Men all over are dying to understand us girls, and you are the only male in history to know what it’s really like. I’m so jealous. If I could be a man for a week, I would die rich from book sales sharing my experience.”

“Thats a complicated question, one I am sure you will be able to help me unpack soon, but the short answer is I’m not really one of you. I am not a genetically human female, but an alien female. So far, Its not that different as long as I am not thinking about it, but when I do, I have different feelings. It’s still my male mind in a very female looking body, but I don’t know if my girl parts are the same or different as yours.” She laughed at his childlike description, knowing he was uncomfortable as are all men talking about female genitalia.

“I didn’t think about it that way, you could be right, there might be differences, but whatever differences you may have with us genetically human females, we can study together. Think about the science we can do! Michael, you don’t have to say yes right now, but will you let me examine you?”

I was about to protest her sticking cold objects inside me when a guy on a bike zipped past us and snatched Megan’s purse before speeding off down the path. She started screaming at the thief who just stole her belongings when I turned to her and said,

“Shh, quiet, don’t draw any attention.”

“He just stole my purse, what do you mean be quiet?” I smiled at her as the purse snatcher disappeared around the bend.

“Wanna see something really cool?” Before she could respond, I had already scanned the area for possible witnesses and upon determining we were alone, broke off into a run several times the speed of sound. In a flash I was gone, to only appear in front of our poor thief seconds later with Megan’s purse back in my hands.

The thief was in shock not sure what to make of me. Scared he tried to turn around and flee, only to find me in front of him again. “You know, this bag is a little too girly for you, I don’t think pink is a good color on you,” I walked up to him. “It’s not nice to steal what doesn’t belong to you.”

______

Megan heard a loud scream up ahead followed by a flash as Michael appeared before her holding her purse. “Oh, thank god. You didn’t hurt him did you?” Kaaren’s face lit up as Michael manipulated her lips into a very pretty smile. She was so beautiful and would be a knockout if Michael would let her. The two continued down the path talking the whole way.

“You know, I have to stop calling you Michael when we are out in public. Are you ok with Karen, or is it Kaaren...Or Phyllis? By the way, you know I saw that tombstone too don’t you, terrible name?” Her laugh was so cute as was her voice. It would be hard for anyone to know the real him. Next to Liz, she knew him better than anyone. I hope we can find her and Ashley soon.

“Her name is Kaaren, pronounced like Kaar-En, but let’s keep that name between us. For now, Karen is fine until I can think of something else to go by.”

“How about Michelle?” Megan said with excitement.

“Please,” Michael said, “that’s so cliche, besides, you know how I feel about my name.” Megan looked up at her old friend in the body of her new friend.

“It really is you in there.” She said as they passed the purse snatcher. He was squirming on his stationary bicycle nearly naked trying to keep his balance. The crank arms, where the pedals had been attached, were wrapped around his ankles, and the handlebars were bent around his wrists, trapping his hands securely on the bike. To make his situation worse, the was seat missing, keeping him from being able to sit. The man was gagged with the inner tube from one of the tires keeping him from yelling for help. Megan started laughing as Michael approached him. His eyes went wide in fear as Michael reached out and rang the bell on handlebar a couple times, teasing him. Megan laughed as she watched the man squirm in his bonds. She held her purse up teasing him further, before they both ran off, leaving him there alone.

______

Life was far from normal, but it was getting better, as better as it could get. I was no longer alone. A good friend of mine, was now my best friend and confidant. She was the sole keeper of my secret and the only person on Earth to know what I did to save the planet. Death staring me in the face produced little fear, but standing in her office trying to muster up the courage to free my inner being and let Michael live again scared me. I wish she would have told me she knew it was me inside, but her approach freed me and taught me that there are those in the world who see people for the soul inside, rather than the fleshy outer appearance. It’s a blessing having her in my life as she is the only person who can stare past the beautiful bombshell of a body I am trapped in see nothing but the soul inside, the soul of her friend.

The holiday season was in full swing, as I remained at Megan’s place. As much as she has done for me, I kept her company and helped her through her own rough times. While she worked on my emotions, I put her through a physical routine, taking her walking and eventually running every day until she could walk normally again. Once part of my daily routine to maintain my health, I now ran for pure enjoyment and insisted she join the daily routine. Brad was a short lived hole in her life, I become her project, and she quickly forgot about the cheating bastard. Posing as one of her fans, she took me to the Johnson Space Center where I reunited with old friends while hiding out as a geeky looking college student interested in astrophysics. People I used to work with took a liking to me and my intelligence, all expressing their interest in me coming to work there some day. Megan presented her bosses with her resignation despite their pleading otherwise. She had new avenues she wanted to take her career, but they felt her experience in critical situations along with her other credentials would make her effective working with and training future teams. In the end, they gave her three months to think it over, and take a much deserved break, after which, if she still wanted to leave, they would accept her wishes.

Still as positive as my life was, one thing remained. The police had found no traces of Liz and Ashley. The house showed no signs of foul play. The closest clues were reports of her suddenly becoming withdrawn as the mission reached the final critical phases. As the mission fell apart, and personnel were scrambling to work the problem, she stopped coming around. Before anyone noticed, they had completely vanished without a trace. Her credit cards were not being used, her Volvo was still in the driveway. None of the neighbors had seen her leave the house. Ashley’s school said the last time she came to class was October 13th, less that a week before my encounter.

I used what ever resources at my disposal to spearhead a national campaign to find my family. Once word started spreading and the media caught wind that the late Commander Owen’s family was missing, an endless stream of exposés on my life and their possible whereabouts flooded the TV. Despite all the attention the story got, not a single credible source came through. There were many sightings flooding the department that was handling the case, but after the police wasted their time following up on each lead, it turned out to be false information from people wanting attention. With all my powers and abilities, there was nothing at my disposal to help me find them. With Christmas a few days away my anguish started returning as I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever see them again.

To Be Continued....Episode 8 “It’s the End of the World as we Know It”

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by G.M. Shephard

While Michael/Karen and Megan prepare to spend Christmas together, another Christmas celebration somewhere else is in the planning stages, one that will be less enjoyable for those participating. The big question will finally be answered.

---

 
Angel S:1E:8 “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Editied by: jeffusually
kiitylover

Episode 8 “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”

In the late 1950s, a popular do-it-yourself project for the home was to build your own bomb shelter. The Cold War was in full swing, and both the Soviet Union and the United States were stockpiling nuclear weapons with the sole intent of making the other side glow in the dark. The citizens of each side lived in daily fear of a sudden attack that would vaporize whole cities in the blink of an eye. Schools would conduct nuclear strike drills in which the students were told to get under their desks, as if the 10-million-degree heat generated from the fusing of hydrogen, deuterium and tritium would be deflected by the wood and steel of the desk. The paranoia took hold of the people; they were convinced a nuclear apocalypse was imminent. Humans’ fear of death, and their desire to live, prompted them to find their own solution to extend their lives when the leaders failed to do so for them. Life reduced to the bare minimum suffering in a confined space underground for years was better than dying a quick death as your body was instantly vaporized in temperatures greater than in the core of the Sun.

Living underground unable to venture outside was harsh living. The amenities of everyday life we take for granted must be conserved and used sparingly. Electricity, fresh water, sewage, and even clean air, all of which used to come in or out of our homes as if by magic, now all came as a result of hard work. Electricity had to be created by gas generators and solar panels. The thick dust in the stratosphere that blocked the Sun and did little to generate power. Gasoline was stockpiled, and will last for some time if conserved, but cannot be stored indefinitely like crude oil. In time, if used sparingly, the fuel reserves would last until the Sun started to appear in the sky again. The solar panels above would then be able to generate free endless power from the power of the Sun’s light. Clean water and air were also a concern as was the elimination of waste. Fortunately, filters were in place to keep both the air and water supplies clean and free of contamination. All this in order to survive until it was safe to return above the ground, uncertain of what would be discovered.

“Would there be any other survivors, or were we all that was left?” Liz asked herself this question a hundred times a day, and the possible answers ate her alive. There was little to do to keep her mind occupied and entertained. Some days, she wanted to just end it and pop the hatch, and die a slow painful death as radiation destroyed her and Ashley’s bodies cell by cell. What did they really have to live for? Michael was dead, lost in space, and Liz missed her husband having spent many nights locked in her bedroom, crying while Ashley begged to be let in. When Liz was rational, she and her daughter did everything they could to entertain each other in an effort to avoid thinking about that point when life suddenly changed for the worse.

Having to conserve power meant that their entertainment was limited to books, board games, cards, art, and endless sleeping. Even if electricity was plentiful, no one was broadcasting on TV or radio. No shows to follow each week, or music to dance to. It was when every possible ending to every game was experienced, and all the songs were sung a thousand times, that life started to get miserably boring, allowing the depression to take hold, stripping them of any will to carry on. The depression was so debilitating, paralyzing one from functioning. In the early days after the impact, Liz wouldn’t eat or drink. She sat in the corner of the shelter curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth until the last drop of fluids left her tear ducts. As the first week passed them up, and time progressed, Liz grew stronger and focused all of her attention to loving her little bundle of joy.

Liz prepared dinner while Ashley lay on the couch reading a book. She was a bookworm like her father; she loved entering the world of someone’s imagination where she could escape the small, confining world that protected her, yet imprisoned her. Fortunately, the only resource it required was light and the few fiber optic skylights delivered some free light twenty feet below. For at least part of the day until the sun passed low in the sky, they had some dim light that passed through the clouds. As part of Ashley’s daily routine, she would wake up and record each new day counting up to that 730th day, in which they could leave this miserable place and breathe fresh air again. Earlier in the day she had marked in red pen December 21. It was the only thing they had to remind them that Christmas was only four days away. This year there would be no trees, no lights, no fancy dinners, and no presents. All they had were Christmas carols and the paper snowflakes they made to remind them of the reason for the season.

“Ashley, time to eat. Put that book down and wash up, honey.” Ashley groaned at being told to do obvious things such as washing her hands before dinner. They sat down at the small round table in the corner where a bowl of Chef Boyardee ravioli, a bowl of heated canned vegetables and a half a package of saltine crackers waited eagerly to be consumed.

“For dinner, the chef has prepared a delightful meal of Ravioli á  la Owen. Freshly made Italian pockets of noodles stuffed with savory seasoned beef, covered with a garden fresh herb marinara with a side of freshly plucked vegetables.” The mother and daughter began giggling. It was their tradition before praying over every meal to over- hype the canned rations as if they were once again dining in a fancy restaurant. If anything, it served as a brief moment of escape and made them feel like all was still right in the world.

“Thank you, Lord, for keeping us safe and provided for. Make the dust go away so the Sun can come out and let us go outside again. As always, say hi to Daddy for us and tell him we love him and miss him. Amen.” They crossed themselves remaining silent for a few moments, while fighting the tears back.

“Bon appétit,” Liz said as they dug in and began eating.

“Oh, this is delicious; compliments to the chef,” Ashley said, continuing their routine a little longer, drawing another laugh. The rest of dinner was eaten in silence as it often was. Since Michael left Earth, the dinner table was quiet as they struggled to find hope to remain alive in an extinct world.

“Ashley honey, I need to talk to you.” She was such a great kid. She was very smart like her father, but it was her constant joy she carried around with her regardless of the situation they were in that Liz loved most about her daughter. She had this magical aura around her that kept away all the evil the world had to offer. She was completely unaffected by the death and devastation that existed twenty feet above their heads and lived each day happy as can be. Liz wished that she could be young and innocent again, free from the burden this cruel life dealt her.

“What is it, Mommy?”

“Ash, I’m sorry, but this Christmas isn’t going to be like they used to be. I don’t have anything I can give you.” It was hard to accept; she had nothing to offer her daughter. Ashley didn’t deserve this kind of life. She should be playing with the other kids, going to school and developing into a young lady.

“That’s OK; I don’t need anything as long as I have you.” Liz started crying; her daughter was so mature and selfless. She held her arms out to her.

“Aw, come here,” Ashley put her fork down and hugged her mother, “I love you, you know that right? I wish your daddy were around to see how big of a girl you have become. He would be very proud of you.”

“He can see me; he’s an angel now. He’s in heaven watching over us.” Liz started to choke up even more.

“You’re mommy’s little angel. I tell you what,” Liz said as she released Ashley and looked her in the eye, “Instead of presents, we are going to pig out for Christmas. Anything you want, we will make it and have a feast. How does that sound?” Ashley cheered and went back to eating her current meal. No matter what, Liz committed herself to getting through this, if for anything, for her daughter.

______

“Nothing like that fifth cup of coffee in the morning,” I said out loud laughing at my tired old joke while inhaling the pleasant aromas of the special Columbian roast. I sipped my coffee pretending it was actually burning my lips while laying out the assortment of breakfast pastries. Megan, awake from her slumber, was drawn to the kitchen by the best alarm clock known to man. She appeared in the doorway wearing light blue plaid pajama bottoms, a light blue tank top and a furry white robe. Her hair was messy as if she had driven down the freeway with her head sticking out the window. She held her hand up to her mouth and let out an obnoxious yawn.

“Good morning, sunshine. Coffee?” I asked her handing her a freshly poured cup that I poured the moment the sounds of her getting out of bed vibrated my ear drum.

“Yes, please. Ooh, these look great; where did you get them?” she asked picking up a ham and cheese croissant and placing them on a plate.

“Oh, just a little French cafe a friend of mine told me about.” She looked at me a little puzzled.

“What friend is -” before finishing the sentence, it hit her. “Really? When did you go there?” This time she finished her sentence before realizing it was a stupid question.

“This morning. They open at 7 a.m. Eastern Time.”

“Thank you Michael; that was very sweet of you. You didn’t have to go all the way back to DC,” she said as she poured some cream into her coffee.

“It only takes me about 15 minutes to get there flying at a moderate speed. I can get there faster, but I tend to wake people. Besides, I enjoy watching all the lights passing below. You can’t imagine what I can see with these eyes.”

“Oh my god, this coffee is out of this world. Where did you get it?” She asked completely ignoring what I had just told her about my flight time and eye sight.

“Columbia.” She was in the middle of taking another sip when I told her. She spewed the Columbian brew through her cute little nose. I started laughing at the mess she made all over the countertop and handed her a napkin.

“You went to Columbia for coffee?”

“Sure. I can go anywhere I want, whenever I want. The world is mine to explore. There is a freedom that this body came with. I no longer have any boundaries or vulnerabilities. Of course, I have become very emotionally vulnerable as I realize this body is also my prison.

“You are very lucky to be able to experience what no person alive will ever get to encounter. You get to see the world through many different points of view, while the rest of us have to wonder. What you have is a blessing, a true gift. I hope you will see it someday as only that, and use what you have been given to bring people together.” She paused knowing that it wasn’t a good time to get into a deep conversation. Instead, she switched back to what Michael was trying to tell her. “So, tell me about this vision of yours.”

“It’s spectacular. I wish I knew how to describe it. You ever see one of those behind-the-scenes documentaries and they show you raw clips of the film as it was actually shot, then they show you the finished product where all the colors are vibrant and bright, the image sharp and crystal-clear? Then you look at the original film and it’s all bland looking. I see the world as if it’s the final cut. Beyond that, I can see in very low lux as well as infrared and radio wavelengths. Not sure about the other wavelengths.”

“Sounds amazing. You have really good acute hearing too, don’t you?” I let her question sink in a moment. Losing all control, I snorted at Megan’s comment, followed by a building, uncontrollable hysterical laugh that persisted for several minutes. Megan kept asking what I was laughing at but I couldn’t stop cracking up. My eyes were sealed shut and tears flowing down my cheeks while my knees buckled. It was impossible to breathe and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my mind.

“What?!” she asked again as I finally started to control myself and started to explain.

“Yes, I do, it seems last-” I began laughing for another minute and was starting to piss her off by not including her in my entertainment. She started laughing; mostly laughing at me tearing up from my own laughter.

“Sorry,” deep breath, deep breath, “Yes my hearing is very acute. Seams last night you were enjoying yourself. Heard you brushing your teeth for about twenty minutes with one of those electric toothbrushes,” I erupted into another episode of laughter, struggling to breathe, as the color of Megan’s face was suddenly desaturated leaving her a pale white.

“I’m so sorry,” I finally added afraid I hurt her. Her hand was covering her mouth, embarrassed that I had heard her getting off in the privacy of her own bedroom. Her face was now beet red.

“Oh my god, you heard that?” She started laughing herself causing me to resume my laughing bringing me to the point of asphyxiation.

“Oh, oh, oh my god, yes,” I started quoting her exact words she moaned as she approached climax. We regained our composure, “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Michael, I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet, I didn’t know you could hear that well. Anyways, don’t apologize, it’s really not that embarrassing.” I could tell she was about to switch roles and start talking serious. “Sexual desires are perfectly normal. They are just as strong for females as they are for males, and we have our needs just as you guys do. Did you know there was a new study back in ’79, showing that almost 74% of women between 18 and 30 masturbate at least three times a week? That number is rising too. There is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s perfectly normal.” I was a little taken aback. Sure, I knew women got off, but those numbers…that was hard to believe.

“74% percent? Really?”

“I can show you the journal. I think I have it in my office.”

“That’s OK, Doc, I believe you. I just didn’t know you girls were so feisty when we weren't around.”

She smiled and we were about to laugh again when she asked, “So Michael, time for a little truth or dare. Have you ever done it by yourself? Be honest.”

“Well, of course, been doing it since I was a teen -” She cut me off.

“No Michael,” she said pointing at me, “have you ever taken that new body of yours to the height of Mount Everest and danced for a while on top of its peak? And no, I am not talking about your ability to fly.” The tables were turned, and the conversation was no longer fun.

“God no,” I said very fast with enough authority behind it for her to know I was telling the truth.

“That is surprising. You mean you haven’t been the least bit curious about what a woman’s orgasm feels like?”

“Yes. Well, a little, but I’m afraid to touch it.”

“It? It? It has a name, Michael. Why can’t you guys say it? You have to come up with all these slang words that defile our anatomy. It’s called a vagina. Say it. Come on, man up. Say it.”

“Vagina. There, I said it.”

“See, it’s not so bad. It’s much more dignified than all those other words people use. Words men use to strip it of its beauty and objectify it.”

“Well, the word vagina isn’t that much more dignified.”

“What do you mean? It’s the medical term for the female genitalia.”

“Yes, and that medical term is Latin for ‘sheath’ or ‘scabbard.’ You know, I used to have a sword that might have fit,” I said mockingly at her failed attempt to make me see my new female parts with a little more respect.

“Touché. I didn’t know that. Since when do you know Latin?”

“I got bored last week.”

“Wow, you learned how to speak Latin in a week?” she said in amazement.

“No, I just learned the vocab, haven’t learned any grammar. Likely won’t take it any further; it’s rather useless I become a priest. I was just reading about angels and got sidetracked.”

“That’s pretty amazing, Michael. OK, let’s go back to how this all started. What do you mean you are afraid to touch -” she held up both hands and made quotation marks with her fingers, “- it?”

“I have tried touching my breasts, but every time I do, something weird happens. It’s as if she’s watching me.” I told her about the encounter with the 747, the smoke alarm, and the time the phone rang in the hotel.

“Michael, I only called you once that night.” I was frozen in my tracks.

“Maybe she was watching me and was somehow able to manipulate, from light years away, the world around me,” I was thinking to myself as Megan busted up laughing.

“I’m sorry, Michael. You should see the look on your face right now. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I did call you a second time.” I tried to force a smile,

“That’s not funny.” She patted me on my shoulder as she made her way over to the sink to rinse out her mug.

“Well, I have to get ready. I have stuff to do today, and I need to go to the office a little bit and meet with my partner about resuming work after the holidays. Would you like to come with me? I can show you my office.”

“Thank you, but I thought I would go over to the police station. They haven’t been calling me back. Besides, I want to see if it would be OK to go into my house. I passed by the other day and it was in pretty bad shape.” I fought desperately to restrain the feelings from breaking free and coming to surface. She saw my pain coming back and stood beside me as I sat on the barstool around the island in the middle of the kitchen. She pulled my head close to rest on her shoulder.

“Michael, I know they’re out there somewhere. As long as you won’t give up on them, neither will I. We will find them, and we do, I will do everything to help them understand who you are. It will be difficult and scary at first, but they will see that inside you are the same man inside that you always have been.” She ran her hand through my hair stroking it as I teared up.

“What if we find them, and they reject me? What if I am some kind of freak to them? Liz isn’t into girls, and I highly doubt she has a thing for E.T.s.”

“Michael, you’re not a freak, you’re very special and have a purpose. There is no one like you in the world. You may not believe that right now, but there is a reason for all that has happened to us and most especially you. I don’t care how long it takes, we are going to find out those answers together, OK?” I shook my head and sat up straight again. “Now, I have to get to going. If you want to meet me for lunch, call me at my office before noon, and you can tell me what happened at the station.”

“OK. Megan, thank you for finding me. I am so glad to not be alone anymore.”

“Michael, you found me first and brought me home, now it’s my turn to do the same for you. Oh, speaking of. My mom is having Christmas Eve dinner on Friday, and I want you to spend Christmas Eve in the home I grew up in. My family is very grateful I was able to return to them, and I want you to meet them. I am not going to take no for an answer; I don’t want you to be alone this year. Besides, there is nothing better than a traditional Irish McCormack family Christmas.”

- - Christmas Eve with the McCormacks - -

Megan pulled up and parked her BMW in the driveway of the house she grew up in. It was a beautiful house in an upscale neighborhood in the Houston suburbs. Her parents, into their mid-fifties, just celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary and were just as happy today as they were the day they met. I helped get our contributions to the holiday dinner out of the trunk and we made our way to the front door. I went to press the doorbell when Megan opened the door to her home and walked right in. The house permeated with a combination of pine and cinnamon fragrances mixed with the smell of the Irish holiday roast. Drowning out the electronic 8-bit music box connected to the light strands on the tree was the cheerful sound of adults chatting and kids playing. It was a full house, and I was getting second thoughts, thinking I should spend the night alone in solitude.

“Megan, I think I am going to go home. I don’t really want to do this. I will see you later.” She looked at me with a disappointed look, but behind her eyes I could see she understood. As I reached down to place the bags on the ground and duck out, a loud voice echoed through the front entranceway.

“MEGAN HONEY, Merry Christmas!” Mrs. McCormack appeared from around the corner still wearing her red and green apron. They kissed and hugged. “I’m so glad to see you, sweetie.”

“Hi Mom. Merry Christmas! I brought a bunch of stuff.” She took the pan out of Megan’s hands. “Mom, this is my friend Karen; Karen, this is my mom Catherine.” Instinctively I reached out to shake hands, but she was faster with the hug.

“Well hello, Karen; pleasure to meet you. Welcome to our home.” She released her death grip on me and made a quick friendly comment about my height.

“Mrs. McCormack, pleasure to meet you, too. Thank you for having me over.” She made a quick downward waving motion with her hand.

“Oh please, call me Cathy. Come on, let’s go inside and we can talk. I have to check the roast.”

We followed to the point at which all the sounds converged in and around the kitchen and family room.

“Wow, you grew up here? Quite a house,” I said marveling at the interior of the McCormack family home. By no means a mansion, it was still quite large and professionally decorated inside.

“Ronnie! Get off the couch and help your sister and her friend.” Without delaying a second, Megan’s older brother hurried over and tried to take the bags from my hands.

“Here, let me take that for you, taking the bag from my hand. The bag dipped slightly until he could properly compensate for its weight having misjudged how heavy it was. “Hi, I’m Megan’s brother Ronan. You can call me Ron or Ronnie.”

“Ronan, nice to meet you. I’m Karen.” We walked into the kitchen where there was a large gathering of men standing around picking at hors d'oeuvres and drinking while the women were all working to get ready for dinner. A woman I hadn’t been introduced to yet was yelling at the small children running around through the kitchen. Cathy introduced me to the other girls who were herded together in the kitchen. I was instantly bombarded by a thousand different questions, most of which I either didn’t want to answer, or didn’t know how to. They were suffocating, causing me to rapidly become uncomfortable when Megan’s father came in from the garage and saved me.

“Hi Daddy,” she said as he heard her calling him. He hurried over and kissed her.

“How’s my M&M? I’m so happy glad you finally made it home. You are looking a lot better than you did last month.”

“Much better; thank you. Getting stronger and ditched that cane. Dad, this is Karen.
She is a friend of mine; she’s been getting me back in shape. Karen, this is Dr. Damien McCormack.” He reached out to shake hands.

“Another Doctor; now I know were Megan gets it from. Dr. McCormack, pleasure.” He shook my hand gently although I knew if I were in my male body, he would have been the type that would have sized me up by the pounds per square inch of force I could have exerted against his.

“Thank you for what you did for my daughter. She’s lucky to have someone looking out for her well-being. Last month, my baby was like an old lady hobbling around on a cane. Glad to see her looking normal again. Karen, can I get you a drink? Wine, cocktail?”

“Thank you; just a beer please.”

“Beer?! A pretty lady like yourself drinks beer?” He turned to Megan, “I’m starting to like her already. Mind if I show her around?” I was starting to worry, but I trusted my friend knew her father well enough.

“If she doesn’t mind, but you behave, Dad,” she said playfully. He led me over to the bar area in between the kitchen and living room as Catherine whisked Megan away into the kitchen with the other girls, where they continued gabbing away as if they never ceased. The bar was fully-stocked with everything one would need to make any drink their heart desired.

“Our beer is a little dark; hope you don’t mind. In this household, if you can see through it, it’s not allowed through the front door.” I laughed as he withdrew a pint glass and filled it from a tap built into the bar. He handed me a dark black stout with a think perfect head on top.

“So, how do you know my daughter? Well that’s a stupid question; everyone knows her now. I can’t tell you how proud of her we all are. My little girl ventured into space and came home an international hero. Sorry, that was rude; I asked you a question and I kept talking.”

“It’s OK, Dr. McCormack; Megan and I met through a mutual friend. I’m really glad to know her. She is a remarkable and intelligent woman. You did well raising her.”

“Thank you; I appreciate that. Please, I don’t get too caught up in the doctor bit like she does. Just call me Damien.” He took my half empty glass from me, “Here, let’s top that off, and I will introduce you around to everyone.”

- - Christmas Eve with the Owens - -

The flashing red lights came on near the entrance. Liz and Ashley were finishing their little Christmas feast when the front of the bunker become bathed in bright red light, piercing the dim incandescents that created a barrier the shelter’s darkness couldn’t penetrate. Liz and Ashley got up and ran to the door. As the large wheel on the door started turning, Liz grabbed the shotgun off the rack and pointed the barrel at the door. As she waited, she rocked the slide loading a 12-gauge round into the breech. She kept Mossberg trained on the door in anticipation of whoever was coming through the door. Ashley held tightly to her mother's thigh as she stood behind her. The heavy steel door swung open revealing a man in a brown biohazard suit. He stumbled slightly entering the bunker.

“Hi Liz, can you help me?” the man asked as he handed a couple large bags to Liz. She lowered the weapon and laid it against the concrete wall. “I come baring many gifts.” He undid the zipper on the side of the suit and pulled it over his head. “You know I am never going to get used to you greeting me every day with that shotgun pointing at me. I know how good of a shot you are.” Dwayne Turner stepped out of the airlock and sealed the door before hanging his suit up. Liz hugged him happy to see he had returned.

“I’m sorry. I am glad you are home safely.” He held her tight before releasing her and pushing her back a little gently caressing her shoulders.

“Nothing to be sorry about. You are doing everything I have told you to do. It’s for all of our safety. People would kill for the security our home has to offer. Never forget that.” He knelt down reaching into the bag.

“And you, come here, I have something for you.” He produced a little box and handed it to Ashley. She opened it and saw a box full of fresh raspberries, her face wide eyed with excitement.

“Can I have them now?” Dwayne nodded approvingly.

“You may, but you need to promise me something. Where are you supposed to be when that door opens?” Ashley pointed to the bedroom on the far end of the shelter. “That’s right, I don’t want you standing behind your mommy in case she needs to shoot. You are much too innocent and I don’t want you seeing anything you shouldn’t see. Do you understand?” Ashley nodded in agreement. Dwayne gave her a quick noogie. “Go, get out of here and eat your treat before they go bad.” She ran to the couch, her lips already red from the berries.

“Are they safe?” Liz asked.

“I ran more tests and the greenhouse is working, and there is no radiation leaking inside. Pretty soon we can be eating fresh vegetables again.” This was the best news she received yet. She was tired of canned fruits and vegetables. She longed for fresh food again, and if his biosphere did what it was supposed to, life will start improving. “Come help me with the rest.” He leaned over and started whispering into her ear so Ashley couldn’t hear, “Don’t ask me how, but I managed to find a few things that will help make Christmas a little more special.” He opened the bag and let her peek inside. There were cans of food, sodas, some dusty toys and games and a few old-looking Christmas decorations.

“Oh my god, Dwayne; thank you, thank you. You’re the best. We are so lucky to have you. You are going to make that girl of mine really happy tomorrow, but I get worried every time you go out there that you won’t come back. Don’t risk yourself over silly toys; we need you more.” She reached out and hugged him again.

“Liz, you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you two safe. Michael, wherever he is now, would want me to take care of you two. Looking back, I wish it would have been me that went up there, so you three could be together.” She looked at him in the eyes as she started tearing up.

“He would be proud of you. I know you two weren’t the best of friends, but it’s amazing what people do when the world falls apart around us. You were there for us, when no one seemed to care.” Dwayne took the shotgun and ejected the shells, reloading it before he hung it on the rack near the entrance.

“I know he would have done the same for me.”

“Dwayne, do you think I can go outside sometime?” Dwayne stopped.

“Liz, I thought we talked about this. I would love for you to get some freedom from here, I really do, but we only have one suit. If you go and tear it, then I won’t be able to go outside anymore and look for survivors or supplies. The greenhouse is just getting started and will be producing in a few weeks. What’s more important, you getting a little sightseeing in a desolate wasteland, or that little girl’s health? Look, I know it’s a long time, but we will make it. You keep trusting me and someday in about two years we can open that hatch together. I promise you, just be patient.” Liz knew he was right; she would put them all at risk by going outside. She had no idea how she was going to get through it, but he was her rock during these dark times. She knew she needed to show him more appreciation for the risk he took every day to keep her and Ashley alive and well.

__________

There was a clear line of demarcation as the female half prepared dinner or watched the kids, while the men gathered around the rear projection big screen TV watching football. I sipped my beer. Caught somewhere between the two groups, I didn’t want to drift to far from the safety of Megan’s presence, but far enough away from the babbling girls. There was nothing I could talk to them about. I could hear their conversations as they gossiped out other girls and their relationships. They talked without interruption, never running out of useless things to keep their lips moving. Megan I could talk to; she was intelligent, an equal to me. We never spent much time talking about others. As a psychologist, she had clear boundaries she set with her family regarding gossip and refused to talk about others behind their back. It allowed her to have a good, healthy relationship with each member of her family although they likely talked about her behind her back.

The drama queen was her younger sister Rayme, who locked her sights onto me the moment she saw me. Her boyfriend ended up having a great night as she suddenly became very attentive to his every need. She would pass him small snack foods during a kiss. He was in heaven, wondering what got her so hot all of a sudden. He had no clue the attention he was getting was to send a clear message to me to keep away from him. My ears could hear everything she and her cousins were saying behind my back. According to them, I was a tall, anorexic, sex addicted mental patient of Megan’s that had a drinking problem. If only they knew I wished those could be my problems and how miserable my situation really was. Now I had to adjust to being a female and subject to unjustifiable hostility by women who judged me from my outer appearance. To make matters worse, I could hear every slanderous comment whispered between them regardless of how hard I tried to tune them out. Deep down, I hope I never learn Kaaren’s ability to get into someone’s head and know what they were truly thinking. That sort of power was witchcraft and I didn’t want it. I hated myself enough, and knowing what others’ hearts really thought of me would only make my insecurity worse.

Slowly, I inched my way into the testosterone-filled den where the men were clapping and cheering on their team.

“Who’s winning?” was all I could think of to ask, trying to be admitted to the inner circle of masculinity of which I used to be a card-carrying member. Every male head paused and looked back at me, staring as if I were standing there stark naked. After a few moments of shock that a woman hand entered their territory and was trying to play with the boys, they redirected their attention back to the game. It was a useless attempt as I never liked American football much and didn’t understand the game. Growing up, I was more of an intellectual and never got into very many team sports. My attempts to have others explain what was going on in the middle to the critical final moments of the battle were met with fierce hostility.

“MEGAN!,” her younger cousin Steve yelled, “WE’RE TRYING TO WATCH THE GAME AND YOUR FRIEND’S BOTHERING US.” His dad, who was sitting next to him, smacked him upside the head.

“Be nice to your cousin’s friend,” his father said.

“Not having a good time?” Megan said, coming up behind me and handing me a glass of hard alcohol. “Here, family label. Tell me what you think.” Whiskey was not my buddy, but so far my second-best friend in the house. I made passionate love to it hoping the night would get better soon. Truth was, I was miserable. My family consisted of my father, mother, and I. Then it was only him and I, and then he departed shortly after Liz and I were married. Liz’s dad died when she was nine, and her mother passed ten years ago. Hanging with large close knit families was foreign to me and made me feel uncomfortable when it should have been a welcoming experience.

“It’s OK, just trying to fit in; not working out so well.” She reached up and grabbed the collar of my overcoat.

“Here, let me go hang this up for you.” I let her take it off realizing I had been in the warm house over 30 minutes looking strange still wearing my coat. “I really like that sweater; red looks really good on you,” she said, complimenting me for my choice of clothes.

“Thanks!” I loved it, too, and it was the closest thing to female attire I permitted myself to wear. To cover my lower body, I wore a pair of matte black tights and black leather boots that looked like something like feminine cowboy boots, but with softer leather. I let my thick hair down and flow around my shoulders. Megan went back to the kitchen, leaving me in limbo, stuck somewhere between my old life and my new life. I decided against either; I proceeded down the hall homing in on the sounds of boys and electronic sounds. The rec room at the end of the hall emitted the twinkling glow of a television. A young boy’s head peaked down the hall and saw that I was approaching. He was startled and quickly disappeared. I could hear him yelling to the other boys…

“A girl’s coming. Quick!” As I stepped into the room and looked around, I could see all four shove something under the couch cushions and then pile on sitting uncomfortably close to each other.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked. They all quickly replied.

“Nothing!” The four boys ranged in age from ten to fifteen and all had that guilty look of having nearly been caught with a Playboy. I turned my attention to the TV where there was some new video game system that I hadn’t seen yet.

“Ooh, can I play?” I was bored, and playing cheesy video games sounded better than listening to a bunch of blabbing women.

“No, we’re playing right now,” two of them yelled as I took a seat on the ground and curled my long legs up.

“I thought you boys said you were busy reading,” I said giving them a serious look while I tried to figure out the complex controls that consisted of a directional pad, and two red buttons, “Tell you what, I am going to play, while you boys sit there on that magazine.” Their guilt kept them from getting up.

I hit the start button and began flying through space shooting at an endless assault of things trying to kill me. Manipulating my spaceship through space suddenly only required the use of a few simple controls and it was impossible. It should be easy; instead, the computer was killing me faster than the NASA programmers during the thousands of simulations Collins and I were subjected to.

“Hahahaha, girls suck at games.” There was no way this ace pilot was going to be beaten by young pubescent boys who already had it in their heads they were superior. After a quick read of the manual, I was back in the action.

The older one whispered, “Typical chick, they always gotta read the instructions.” His sense of superiority faded not long after I had my ship fully powered up. Aided by two round orbs following me around, my increased firepower crushed the enemy as I dodged an endless barrage of enemy fire. Instead of conceding to my superior piloting skills, they began tormenting me the same as the home team fans torment the goalkeeper into missing the puck. After I reached the fourth stage, I had had enough and walked out. As I stepped into the hall, my hearing caught a faint whimper coming from the dark room. Quietly I homed in on the sound, the sound of a child sobbing. Before turning the lights on, I scanned the room picking up a small white shape on the ground in the back corner of the room. I turned the lights on and walked across the room. There, curled up in a ball was a little girl about six to eight years old. Her arms, supported by her knees, were wrapped around her head. She was wearing a red and green plaid dress and white stockings. I couldn’t see her face, but she had black hair with a little red headband. She looked as alone as I was feeling in this huge house busting at the seams with not-so-jolly people.

“Hi there,” I said trying to establish my first friend of the night, “Do you have a name?” She tightened her huddle preventing me from gaining access to her face. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to get through to her, I switched from playing hero to victim.

“Everyone is so mean to me. I am going to stay here too if you don’t mind.” After a few minutes of pretending to cry, curled up in my own ball, she picked her head up and slowly came over to me. Raising my head I looked at her coming over to me. She was a very cute girl, a beautiful mix of white and Asian. She saw my face and smiled at me.

“Will you play with me?” she asked with a sad look on her face.

“Only if you tell me your name.”

“Ayumi,” she said in a really cute voice with a hint of accent.

“Ayumi, that’s a pretty name. My name is Karen.” I held my hand out to shake. It had been a while, but my parental experience was coming back recalling the times I spent with my own daughter.

“How old are you, Ayumi?” She held up her hands and displayed seven digits.

“Seven,” she said, and never stopped. She just kept talking and talking, happy to finally have someone pay attention to her. In the short twenty minutes we spent together, I learned all about her, the entire time picturing Ashley’s face in place of hers. My moment of feeling like my daughter had been returned to me and all was normal again, was interrupted by a slight scratching sound. I turned to the door and saw half of Megan’s face peering around the door frame. Her smile was back.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough, my friend; long enough.” I was about to say something when I heard someone calling.

“Ayumi-chan, imasuka?” Megan turned and waved someone into the room. A short Asian woman, obviously Japanese, walked into the room calling for her daughter. As she passed by, Megan followed her into the room and stood beside us.

“This is Natsuko, Ronan’s wife,” Megan said beginning the introductions as I started standing, coming face to face with Ayumi’s mother somewhere between my squatted position and fully erect. Her eyes tracked my face as I continued to stand upright, forcing her head to tilt back as she was now looking up at me.

“Eh! Seiga takai desune.” She said to herself with an astonishing look on her face. I started laughing knowing exactly what she said. She switched to English and introduced herself, “I’m Natsuko, but everyone calls me Summer.” Her English was good and had an impressive vocabulary, but her pronunciation needed a little work. Instead, I bowed and dished out my rusty Japanese that had been dormant in my brain since the beginning of my Air Force days.

“Natsuko-san hajimemashite. Boku wa Kaa-Ren desu. Yuroshiku oneigai shimasu.” I conjugated the pronunciation of Karen into the Japanese sound system, pronouncing the way my alien name should sound. Her face gave away her surprise of me being able to speak her language, but a look of embarrassment filled the same face afraid she insulted me by commenting on my tall stature.

“How you speak Japanese?” She said really meaning ask where I learned Japanese. I held up my hand and put my thumb and index finger close together.

“Boku wa nihongo ga chotto hanashimasu.” I said confessing I didn’t really know that much. She started giggling a little.

“Eh! Nihongo ga joozu desune.” She switched back to English, “You have very good pronunciation, but you should say ‘atashi wa’, not ‘boku wa.’ Uman say ”atashi wa”, men use “boku wa”. Wakaru?” That was embarrassing; I never became that proficient in speaking. Others thought I was fluent when I introduced myself, but my Japanese quickly fell apart after that. I simply forgot after all these years that their society is very male-dominated and women have their own way to speak. Beyond a casual conversation, it is almost required, especially in business. I thanked her for correcting me as Megan announced it was time for dinner. My two new friends escorted me to the family table while Megan rounded up the rest of the stragglers.

_________

Ashley was sound asleep in her bed. With the rations Dwayne found, Liz felt better about having feasting on extra rations. The excessive food helped knock Ashley out early, so Liz and Dwayne could get started. Liz quietly closed the door behind her motioned to Dwayne that it was all clear. He returned to the main door and opened it to retrieve the small tree he left behind. Half of its green color was gone, leaving behind dried brown remains. It was still dripping wet from when he hosed it off, but a little water wasn’t going to hurt anything inside. Liz came to the door and saw what he had.

“Oh wow, a tree!” It was the first vegetation she had seen in several months.

“I’m sorry; it’s not much, but it’s still got a little life in it.”

“I don’t care how brown it looks, it’s perfect. You thought of everything. There is going to be one happy child tomorrow morning, and it’s all your doing.”

“Is she the only one that will be happy?” Liz looked up at Dwayne.

“Of course I’m happy. I’m sorry I can be very distant sometimes and not show my appreciation for all you do. It’s -” Dwayne put his finger up to her lip to silence her.

“Liz, you don’t have to apologize. I’m not ignorant as to what’s happened to you and all you are going through. If you weren’t depressed and grieving Michael, I would think something was seriously wrong with you. I’m a big man; you don’t need to worry about me. The fact that you two are safe is all I need from you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead followed by a hug drawing her short body close to his. After a short embrace, he broke the connection and whispered for her to stay put while he went into the supply closet. After a minute he returned with a bottle of wine.

“Wanna celebrate a little?” he said, holding up a bottle of Merlot. Without giving a verbal reply to the question, Liz showed her approval by grabbing two metal cups. Dwayne expertly peeled off the foil and pulled the cork in a smooth motion that made a maá®tre d' at a fancy restaurant look like an amateur. He let the expensive bottle of wine breathe a minute before pouring a little for Liz to taste. He could have been pouring her wine out of a box for all she cared. Liz couldn’t tell the difference between a good wine and old grape juice. She was able to sense, however, that this was not from his everyday collection, but from his reserved rack.

“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly toasting her. After downing their first glass, they got to work moving the tree into place. Liz unpacked the sole strand of lights and wrapped it around the tree.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find any paper to wrap this stuff up with,” Dwayne said apologizing.

“Dwayne, this is amazing. She is going to be thrilled in the morning. She was so cute the other day when I told her we wouldn’t be able to have Christmas. You know what she said? She said she didn’t need anything as long as she has us.” Liz told the story, embellishing a little to include their protector.

“She’s a great kid, Liz; you and Michael have done well with her. How is she coping otherwise?”

“You mean regarding her father? She is sad sometimes, but she handles it much better than I do.” They finished setting the presents around the mangy, half-dead pine tree and took a seat on the couch. She poured him another cup full of wine and he returned the favor by taking the bottle from her and filled her cup. They sat in silence drinking enjoying the faint smell of the evergreen slowly filling their concrete home with the pleasant holiday aroma.

“Thank you,” she said as she leaned over and kissed him. The soft kiss turned into two followed by a much longer third. She backed off after the third and sat there in silence. She stood up finished the last of her cup then reached out for Dwayne’s hand.

“Come on; I have a Christmas present for you.” She said as she led him to the bedroom.

- - Christmas Morning - -

A year ago, Megan, the rest of the crew and I celebrated Christmas en route to our destination. We were almost three-quarters of the way when we took a day off from our daily mission run-throughs. We double-, even triple-dipped on our lousy food rations, but in light of the atmosphere, we had fun. Mission Control ran a local radio station feed allowing us to listen to some Christmas carols while we celebrated. Collins spent his time sharing the reason for the season, while his arch nemesis, Dr. Shephard, explained how Christ wasn’t even born in December and that how Christmas was nothing but a collection of pagan holidays. Despite the awkwardness of their debate, we nevertheless enjoyed the special day as best as we could.

I did receive one Christmas miracle, as December 24th fell on my day of the week in which sleep would come to me for a while. The excessive amounts of food and alcohol consumed at the McCormack family Christmas dinner helped put my body into an extra slumber. I woke up the next morning to the sound of Megan walking down the hall into the kitchen.

“Hey sleepy, Merry Christmas,” she said smacking my butt with the newspaper as she walked into the family room, “get your shoes off my couch!” Suddenly aware I had passed out on the couch, I sat up and saw that I was still wearing my clothes from last night.

“What time is it?” Blinking a couple times, I found the clock above the fireplace and saw it was 8 am.

“Oh wow, I got about seven hours of sleep.” I stood up and stretched.

“What time did you get home?” I asked. My time with Ayumi and Natsuko made the night better. Natsuko was thrilled to have someone not only interested in communicating with her, but someone that had an interest in her culture. She was even more surprised to find out where I received my exposure to Japanese culture. Most of Megan’s family loved her and thought she was a very proper woman for their son, but she was different than your typical McCormack and therefore was still an outsider.
As much as I enjoyed having to return the favor and give the time of day, I was becoming depressed thinking of my own two girls and had to leave.

“I got home about midnight. I saw you crashed on the couch and just couldn’t bring myself to waking you.” She giggled a little, staring at me. “I love the hair.” I reached up to feel around, only to remember I let Ayumi style my hair into pigtails. My fingers struggled to grasp the rubber bands to that I could free my thick hair from their bondage. “Leave it for a little while; I think you look cute.”

“Megan, the last thing I want is to look cute.” It was just the two of us, so instead of resisting, I let it be for a while.

“I’m sorry last night didn’t go as I thought. My sister was being her typical self and I’m sorry. I thought it would be good for you to be around some safe people. Maybe if it had been a smaller crowd. Still, my brother said Natsuko and Ayumi enjoyed talking with you.”

“Last night did suck. Rayme announcing to the table I needed to eat more, then, after me overeating, her telling your cousin I was going to purge it into the toilet later really pissed me off. Who the hell does she think she is? I didn’t do shit to her.”

“I’m really sorry; it’s not something you did. She is insecure and has a lot of her own issues. You are very naturally beautiful and she saw you as competition.”

“Look, I had no interest in her boyfriend, or one for that matter.”

“I know that, but it’s not so much over her boyfriend. She has worked hard to look the way she does, and maintaining that image is her obsession. She doesn’t like herself much. She was jealous of your looks and she said those terrible things to make herself feel better. If it makes you feel any better, I let her have a piece of my mind after you left. Her antics don’t work on me, and I unleashed hell. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you for doing that, but don’t cause any rift over me. Besides, the night wasn’t all lost. I think I know where I lost the crystal. Remember the plane encounter I told you about? I crashed into a corn field in the Midwest somewhere, and I think it fell out in the crash. My mind can remember so much, but when I stress out I can’t think straight. It took your mom’s announcement at dinner about how the lack of corn ruined the harvest to remind me.”

“Michael, that’s great! Do you think you can find it?”

“I don’t know; I didn’t even know what state I was in, but I remember some landmarks that could help. In a few hours I am going out to look.”

“Well I wish you success. Tell you what, let’s enjoy Christmas morning a little first. Come on.” She led me to the family room where the tree was. I took her stocking off the mantle and handed it to her.

"Here, Merry Christmas." First order of business was to get the gag gifts out of the way. It was a tradition all of us on the crew had; birthdays and holidays we would go out on a limb to find the silliest of gifts, yet something personal. Megan pulled out a large flat package wrapped in holiday giftwrap. She tore the paper away to reveal some kind of arts and crafts package. On the front were little spacemen, a space shuttle, rocket ships and other space vehicles. She read the cover.

"Shrinky Dinks: Space. That’s pretty cute." She read the cover a second time and processed it in her mind a second before laughing out loud, "Oh I get it, hahahaha. ‘Shrink’y Dinks. For the space shrink. Very funny. I think you just outdid yourself, Michael.” I laughed along with her, impressed at my creativity.

"OK, your turn," she said as she went over to the mantle. She was about to reach out for the lone stocking hanging up, when she suddenly bent down to pick something up off the floor behind the chair. As she stood up, she turned and held up a woman’s nylon stocking filled with packages wrapped in gift wrap clearly meant for a girl.

“Payback’s a bitch, don’t you agree?” She said as I timidly took hold of the silky smooth unorthodox Christmas stocking and began to unpack its contents. “Open this one first,” she said pointing at the smaller package. It was a long rectangular shape and had a little weight to it. As I shook it sizing it up something slid back and forth inside. Nervously, I tore the package open to find it was a box of toothpaste. I stood there with a confused look on my face as Megan started smiling.

“Go on open it up.” I followed her instructions and opened the box of toothpaste as she started laughing. Instead of a long tube of dental hygienic formula that 9 out of 10 dentists approve, two “C” cell Copper Tops slipped out. She struggled through her laughter to instruct me it was safe to open the larger package. At this point, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was coming next. It was her turn to laugh to the point of suffocation as her hysterics were slowly starving her brain of precious oxygen and my turn to turn bright red as I peeled the paper away.

“Michael, you may think you can explore any part of the world in a flash, but there is one world where you are going need a little help reaching new heights. Oh, and speed won’t help you much.” She was rolling on the floor laughing her ass off as I stood there reading the box.

“Touché,” I said, wishing I had kept my mouth shut the other day. “The Cosmic Rocket.” Well wasn’t she was a riot? It looked rather large and was colored pink with black markings similar to the ones on the Saturn V rockets.

“Come one Michael, laugh a little. It’s our tradition; it’s not serious. I loved watching you laugh and smile the other day. Kaaren has such a pretty smile; besides, it was good seeing you happy for once.” She was right; even if it was at her expense, it was great laughing like that. Life hadn’t given me much lately to laugh at. Those couple of minutes where I almost rupture internal organs, I felt almost like a normal human again.

“Come here,” she said has she put her arms around me. “I know you’re sensitive to this stuff. Don’t ever think I am pressuring you into anything you are not comfortable with, ok?” It was relieving to know I was under no pressure to us this new toy, so I lightened up and took it for what it was, our age-old prank.

“Well played; very well played.” She picked up another package and handed it to me. It was a rather large box, like the type that usually contain the dreaded holiday sweater with a knit reindeer on the front.

“I have something serious for you, something that I think you will rather enjoy wearing.” I was having trouble believing I would enjoy wearing anything she bought me. Slowly I tore the paper away. Under the paper was a plain brown cardboard box. I removed the lid, worried about what I would find. There was a layer of red tissue paper folded over something soft underneath. Pulling the paper away, I saw before me a silky red teddy and lingerie set.

“Are you kidding me?” I said as she started giggling again.

“I’m sorry; this was my original gag gift before you inspired me the other day. Keep digging. I pulled the sexy garments that were designed for the sole purpose of being removed from a woman’s body out of the box and tossed them to her.

“Here, go try them on for me,” I said laughing while exploring the rest of the box for other embarrassing items. In the middle was a plain black box made out of stiff cardboard. Megan looked really excited as I opened the box to discover its contents.

“Are you serious? Oh my god, how awesome is this? That cute smile of Megan’s was lighting up her face as she fed off my excitement.

“I take it you like it?”

“Like it? I love it! Where on earth did you get this?” I said taking it out and trying it on. It was a little large on my slender wrist, but its usefulness was essential.

“I had some help from Sean, he knew right away what I was looking for, but remained clueless as to why I really wanted it. Turns out they make them for hikers, skydivers and hang gliders.” Of course, I couldn’t believe I didn’t think of this before. The main large section was a barometric altimeter that would measure up to 40,000 feet, while the smaller section measured my vertical airspeed. Attached to the band was a compass that would allow easier navigation. While all these instruments would be useless at high speeds and extreme altitudes, they would be beneficial under normal flight conditions.

“Thank you so much; that is an incredible gift. I can’t believe you thought of this.” With all the planes I have dived out of over the years, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of this.

“Michael, it’s my job to listen to everything people tell me and analyze it. Even when you don’t think I am listening, I am. Part of it is just being a woman; we are really good at listening.” Megan was right; she and most other women were great at listening to others. This was something, regardless of which gender group I belonged to, I needed to improve on.

- - Christmas Morning in the Shelter - -

“Dwayne, it’s Christmas. Why do you have to go out?” Liz pleaded with him to stay and be together on this holiday.

“Liz, I would love to, but it’s a different world that the one we used to live in. Our survival demands I don’t get any holidays. There has been some faint chatter on the radio. I want to try boosting the power of the antenna. Think about it. If I can find some other survivors, we might have better chances. It will be a better life for Ashley if there are other kids her age.” Liz couldn’t argue with his reasoning. Again, he was right. She only hoped the other survivors out there were friendly and not the kind she needed the shotgun for.

“You two have a good day. Ash, have fun with your new games. Bye Liz; I will be at Site “B” most of the day. Hopefully soon I can find a pair or working radios so we can keep in touch while I am out. Until then, you two are perfectly safe and have enough provisions in case I don’t come back. You be strong.” Dwayne reached over and kissed her on the cheek and gave Ashley a hug.

“Thank you, Dwayne,” Ashley said to him in appreciation of the gifts he brought her.
“Don’t thank me. It was Santa; he knows how good of a girl you have been for your mother. Keep being sweet.” He pulled the suit up and over his head. Liz helped him zip it up and seal it shut. He picked up his bag and turned to open the door. The lights came on as he turned one last time waving goodbye to the two girls seeing him off.
After a brief struggle with the heavy door, Dwayne sealed the door. He climbed a steep flight of stairs and opened a slightly less heavy door; exiting and re-sealing that. Stepping into the outer part of the bunker there was a one final short flight of steps leading to a set of wooden doors which he swung open to exit into the outside. He looked up into the sky and saw a faint bright spot hanging low in the sky barely penetrating the thick clouds. The rubber suit was getting cold as the suit was rapidly adjusting to the frigid temperatures outside. Dwayne closed the wooden doors and headed towards his Jeep Cherokee 4x4. He tossed his bag into the passenger seat then turned towards the house twenty yards away.

After unlocking the front door, he stepped inside and turned on the lights, looking around the room. Dwayne, all alone, unzipped the suit and threw it on the ground in the entry way. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a six pack from the fridge and popped the first bottle open. He hated putting that stupid suit on every time he left only to take it right off again. Before returning, he would reverse the process, putting it back on. Before descending into the bunker, he would dowse it with the garden hose before going back down below only to take it off again. The charade was a lot of work, especially when he brought groceries, toys and other treats for the two voluntarily living in his shelter. Much work went into making sure what he brought them didn’t appear as if he had bought them at the local grocery store.

He never meant for it to get to this. In the beginning, he wanted nothing more than to be the hero and actually save Michael’s family. He loved Liz from the first day he met her and was jealous of Michael. He hated that Michael got command while he was stuck on the ground, the extent of his heroics, communicating with the crew who were actually immortalizing themselves into the annals of human history. When the place went on lockdown and it became apparent the government wasn’t going to tell the public that the Deliverance failed, he broke protocol and rescued Liz and Ashley. They were camped down and ready for the Apocalypse. He was their hero, their savior. and if felt great to be needed. When he learned of the miracle and the disaster was adverted, he returned to tell them the news. For some reason he lied keeping them there for another day and another and another until he started believing himself that the end of the world did indeed happen as Liz and Ashley knew it.

After all these years of being second to Michael, Michael’s life was all his, including Michael’s wife and daughter. Michael was gone and would never be back. As long as Liz thought there was a danger of radiation, she would stay down there. The asteroid releasing radiation was completely false, but she trusted his expertise and research into biospheres and living in harsh conditions. Since the first nuclear detonation in 1945, high levels of radiation instilled a certain level of fear of the slow painful death it caused. It was enough to keep Liz put, and he didn’t need to worry about locking the doors to keep her from leaving. Eventually, he won’t be able to keep this fantasy running. His pretend world had a two year time limit and would eventually force him into making a decision. He shook his head and put off those worries. He would cross that hurdle when the time draws nearer. Right now, things were finally starting to get good; Liz’s depression and loneliness was getting her open up to him a little. All he had to do was come home with a bag of goodies that kept her daughter happy, and she gave herself freely, not having anything else to offer him in appreciation. The best part is she came voluntarily and no one has a clue where she is. Dwayne fell back on the couch, turned on the football game, ready to enjoy his Christmas Day before heading out to the many dinner parties later in the day. Life was bliss.

To Be Continued....Episode 9 “Needle in a Haystack” Coming soon Mid December 2012 (but sometime before the end of the world)

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by G.M. Shephard

The police have had little luck finding Liz and Ashley leaving Michael/Karen skeptical that he will ever find his wife and daughter. To make up for his loss, he sets out to use the gift he was given to help others in need.

Angel S:1.5 E:9 “Needle in a Haystack”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kiitylover

Episode 9
“Needle in a Haystack”

----police station---

“Hi, I am here to see Detective Reid,” I said to a desk sergeant I had not seen before. He stayed engrossed in his paperwork and talked to me without looking up.

“Can I tell him who’s asking for him?”

“Yes, my name is Karen; he knows who I am.” His eyes remained fixated on his work as his hand reached the proper distance and came to rest directly on the handset. Without glancing at the keypad he dialed an extension and waited a second.

“Reid, I got a --,” He finally looked up at me, paused a moment, and smiled, “-- a pretty little lady named Karen out here to see you.” He listened a minute before hanging up. "Have a seat over there, miss, and the detective will be out in a few,” he said pointing at the row of chairs.

This wasn't a doctor's office — the station didn't have magazines or complementary coffee while the guests waited; it was boring and sterile. I had been here so many times over the past month that I knew I was becoming a nuisance to the police. Sure, it was obvious they had bigger cases on their plates, but still I wanted answers, and my faith in law enforcement was diminishing the more I interacted with them. I had been here on Tuesday, but was turned away after waiting for twenty minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the sergeant staring at me, enjoying the pleasant visual feast my image was giving him.

Ignoring the stare-down as best as I could, I recalled my experience yesterday where I ventured back to the Midwest in search of the missing crystal. The search was hopeless, and I gave up just as soon as I started. The early snowstorm that hit the Midwest destroyed much of the country's corn crop just as the farmers were in the middle of harvest. The snowy landscape made identifying the field where I had made my embarrassing crash landing virtually impossible. The weather conditions were so poor that farmers left the destroyed stalks in the ground, where they turned white from the snow. Any gouges in the fields made by impacting meteors were covered from view, and nothing in my visual range could detect them. I visited many fields searching for some of the landmarks, all of which were hidden in the white powder that made identifying their precise location almost impossible.

Even without the snow, everything looked different. Most of the areas I had covered in Oklahoma had only scattered fields. My memory of that morning was distinct — the landscape was nothing but cornfields, leading me to conclude I had been further north that morning than I thought.

I checked my compass and headed northbound at 25,700 ft., staying well below the normal cruising altitude of passenger aircraft to avoid any more run-ins with commercial aircraft. Knowing my precise altitude and direction could help me avoid further near-misses. Eastbound passenger craft would be flying at odd-numbered altitudes, one of 33,000, 35,000 or 37,000 ft., while westbound craft would travel in even-numbered altitudes with 1,000-foot separation between them and the eastbound flights.

Looking below, I noticed that the snow layer was getting thicker and thicker the further north I headed. “This is pointless,” I said aloud in the privacy of the clouds, “this is worse than a needle in a haystack.” There is no way I could have ventured this far north, but as I looked below, the density of frozen cornfields was increasing. In the end, I decided that wherever that crystal was, it wasn’t going to be found this time of year. In a couple of months, the ground snow will start melting and the landscape will become recognizable again, making searching possible.

"Hi Karen,” Reid said, snapping me out of my deep thought, “I'm really sorry I haven't been getting back to you. There is a lot going on lately and we are really busy. Come back to my desk and we can go over a few things." Reid led me through a maze of cubicles and desks. The sound of typewriters and modern computer keyboards filled the room as detectives typed reports. Several other detectives had others at their desks taking statements regarding their own cases.

"Here, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you; I am fine," I said as I took a seat at his desk.

"Probably a good idea; the coffee here sucks. All things considered, how was your Christmas?" He opened a drawer and reached all the way into the back for the Owen file.

“It was okay; how about yours?”

“I had to work. Supposed to be a happy time of year, but lots of burglaries and domestic disputes. I did get to sneak away with my girlfriend for a few. How about you? You spend it with anyone special?”

“No, just a good friend of mine,” I said rather too quickly, surprising him.

“Well, keep that quiet around here. These guys will be all over you, and as my girlfriend will tell you, dating a cop is only cool for so long.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

"So the last time we talked, we went over some of the false reports we received. I had you look over the names to see if anyone seemed familiar. It takes a long time, and we are stretched thin, but we checked out the ones that seemed to stand out; each one a dud." I was getting used to disappointment.

"So where do we go from here?"

"Well, this is complicated. The good news is, due to your brother’s international status, the Feds are now involved. I don't particularly like turning cases over to them, but they have better resources and could help us out. The bad news is there is simply no sign of foul play, and they too are prioritizing the case under the pile with a fair amount of leads. Elizabeth and Ashley just up and vanished on or around October 17th, leaving nothing behind as a clue."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

Reid shuffled through the thin stack of papers within the folder. "Here, take a look at these. These are the phone records for your brother's house. See all the calls coming in, along with their durations? The length of calls started getting shorter and shorter, following your theory that she was becoming withdrawn. Now, notice anything strange starting on October 17th? Calls continue, but she's no longer answering. Everything from her phone records, banking, social activity — it all suddenly stops on this day." I scanned all 10 pages of data, committing every date, time and phone number to memory. After I was done with the phone list, I switched to the banking records.

"Don't you find it strange that the banking stopped? There were no sudden large withdrawals, no closing of accounts. Nothing. Someone that was planning on taking a trip somewhere would have taken cash out."

"You are very bright; that's good detective work there. That bothers me too. The best case, she voluntarily ran off with someone and left her old life behind. It happens — "

"No, my…my sister-in-law wouldn't just leave!"

“Karen, I am not saying she did. I am simply running through all possibilities. That’s my job, to think about things that seem unthinkable.” This meeting was going nowhere; it was obvious that this case was going to get shelved into the cold-case files in record time. I had to change the subject.

“Detective, I have a request.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“My brother’s place has some serious signs of neglect. The lawn is overgrown, the gutters are filthy, not to mention that the inside could use a little work. I would like to be able to go over there and maintain it a little, if anything to give it an appearance someone is home.”

“Let me look into that for you. I believe we have swept the house several times, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Let me just make sure we have what we need, and we can open it back up. As long as you have access, I don’t see the harm. Let me pass this by a few people here — ” Before he could finish, the phone rang.

"Reid," he paused, listening. "Okay, I will be right there." He hung up the phone and cleared the files off his desk.

"Karen, I have to attend to something. It won't take long if you want to wait, otherwise I can meet with you tomorrow and I should have an answer for you." I didn't have any intention of letting him out of my grasp; he was avoiding me enough, and I wanted answers.

"Thank you; I can wait." He opened his drawer and withdrew his service weapon, securing it in the shoulder holster he was still wearing and put on his white sports coat. He looked as if he had been watching too much Miami Vice and decided to throw out the typical western attire of Texas for a more ‘trendy’ look.

"If you need anything, you let someone know." He left me alone while I stared at the contents of his desk. Across the way, two beat cops were sitting starting at me, whispering to each other.

“If she needs help, I would be glad to mow her lawn for her,” one of them said to the other. They laughed and high-fived each other. It was sickening and it pissed me off. It’s bad enough being gawked at constantly, but having to hear the disgusting chauvinistic banter from these jerks lowered my self-esteem to unbelievably low levels. I couldn't take hearing this anymore, and struggled to tune them out any way I could. After a while of manipulating my jaw as if trying to clear my ears in higher altitudes, I finally found that sweet spot. It took many further tries, but I eventually found I was able to adjust my hearing the same as my vision. Like working with a sound mixer, I found I was able to filter out sounds. Trying to ignore the two cops, I concentrated, and found that I was able to filter them out and focus in on other conversations.

As I listened to other interviews, I found my situation wasn’t unique. There were so many others that were desperate for police help. It was depressing as I listened, realizing the police had many other cases they couldn’t do anything about. In the cubicle next to me, a husband and wife, Carl and Cindy, had been burglarized on Christmas Eve. The thief was a heartless wretch and stole all the presents they had bought their two children. Someone must have seen them store the toys in the garage and when they left for the night, the thief broke into the side door leading into the garage. Cindy was in tears, as they had been struggling to make ends meet and now they had nothing to give their children for Christmas. The detective handling the case tried his best to comfort them, but he had no leads. He knew that even in the unlikely event that they caught the thief, the merchandise would be long gone, and this poor family still would be out of luck.

I listened closely as the couple ran through a complete, itemized list of everything they had bought their two kids that was stolen out of their home at 2112 Jim Bowie Dr. I thought about how I might be able to track down the person that did this to them, and if there were a way, recover the toys for this poor family. Dolls and Star Wars toys simply weren’t on the police’s top priority list, but I had the time to make it mine. I redirected my hearing and scanned the array of conversations.

A few cubicles down, a woman was pleading with the officer taking her statements. She was clearly upset and desperate for help. Of all the people seeking help this day, this one touched my heart more than the rest. For some reason, her troubles drew my attention. She was crying and begging the police to help her.

"Mrs. Millbourne, your husband tells a different story. He said you fell — "

"I didn't fall, I didn't run into the door, and my son didn't accidentally throw a baseball at my face — the fucking bastard is beating the shit out of me, while you assholes have your thumbs up your asses. You really gonna — "

" — Mrs. Millbourne, let's calm dow — "

" — Calm down?! I won't calm down! I'm scared, I'm living in fear every day, and the very people that are supposed to protect me think my husband's standing in the community is somehow more important."

"Why don't you just leave?"

"Really, that's your answer?! I can't; he would cancel my accounts and leave me penniless. I have no one to turn to, and even if I did, he would come find me." She had had enough and grabbed her bag, storming out of the room.

As she left, I caught a glimpse of her and studied her face. I, too, uncertain that the police gave a crap about me, got up and left, trailing her into the parking lot. She hurried past the cluster of cubicles and made her way toward the front desk before finally exiting into the cold. I made my way to the edge of the parking lot while tracking her. There were too many cameras and people around for me to take off, but if I could position myself across the street, I might be able to follow her on foot until I found a place I could safely take off without being seen. As I crossed the street, I watched as she got into a metallic blue BMW. I focused my eyes out of the normal scope at which people could see, and observed her sitting in her car for ten minutes crying through my peripheral vision. She was far away and there was too much traffic for me to hear anything she was saying, but it was clear she was afraid. Finally, she turned the engine on and drove out of the parking lot.

-------

Cindy finished clearing the table while the kids went to watch TV. Carl sat in silence, pouring the last of the cheap wine he and Cindy had had with dinner. He was still beating himself up over leaving the side door open that had allowed the thief to enter the garage and rob them blind. Cindy saw the torment her husband was going through and came over, taking a seat on her husband’s lap. She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

“Honey, it’s not your fault,” she said, trying to comfort him.

“But it is! I should have closed the back door and locked it.”

“Come on, one shouldn’t have to make sure we lock our back door when we go out. This is a safe neighborhood; things like this don’t happen here. Please, you are going to make things worse by letting that bastard get to you. We have each other, and we are all together, that’s what is really important.” She sat on his lap and hugged him, “I love you.” Carl reached up and held his wife.

“I’m glad I have all of you too. You’re right, all the material stuff isn’t important. Still, it’s heartbreaking to watch them robbed of what should have been a pleasant Christmas memory. I think we should tell them the truth.”

Cindy had a strange look on her face. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetie, right now, they think Santa Claus screwed them. They’re great kids and they know that. It’s crushing them, thinking that the big man doesn’t care. Besides, this is a great time for us to start teaching them that there are people out there whose greed overcomes their sense of right and wrong.”

“So we are going to instead rob them of their childhood? I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Cindy said with reluctance. “In a few months, we can make it up to them. They will get over it.”

“I disagree; I think it’s a good time to talk to them about it. Besides, they are eight and nine; we are not going to be carrying on the Santa routine that much longer. It’s a silly fantasy anyways.”

Cindy considered their ages and came to agree with her husband. He was right about everything. She did love the Santa routine, as it was one of her favorite memories when she was a little girl, but she was about eight when one of her friends at school spoiled it for her and told her Santa wasn’t real.

“I guess you’re right; someone is going to tell them at school, and we will become bad parents for lying to them.” Cindy saw the look in her husband’s eyes that he indeed wanted to go through with it. She hugged him and gave him another kiss, then turned to her two precious kids.

“Kids, turn off the TV and come over here. Your father and I have something we need to talk to you about.” Both of them groaned as they were just getting into their TV time. Like a pair of juvenile zombies, they dragged their feet toward the kitchen table.

“What do you want, Mom?” her son Danny asked. She patted the empty chair as her way of telling him to take a seat. Once they were settled in, Carl took the lead and began talking to them.

“Kids, I know this was a bad Christmas, and I know you are blaming yourselves, thinking this was something you did. Your mother and I have something we need to say.” He paused, suddenly lost for words. After a minute of trying to find the right thing to say, Cindy took over.

“What your father is trying to say, is, you two have been very good, and in no way, is any of this your fault.”

“But how come Santa didn’t come this year? All our other friends got stuff.” Cindy was about to respond to her daughter Emily, when a loud noise sounded from above. Something hit the roof. Carl scooted his wife off his lap and got up, listening. The kids became alarmed and ran over to their parents. Carl reached behind his chair for his Louisville Slugger and started preparing for a second meeting with the sick bastard that ruined his family’s Christmas.

“Stay inside,” he ordered his family and he opened the back door.

“Carl, don’t go out there — it’s not worth it. Let’s just call the police.” He ignored her; being the man he was, he went out anyway, scanning his dark backyard for the would-be thief.

“Come out, you bastard!” he yelled as he looked up on his roof not finding anything.

“Carl, come inside,” Cindy called out. He wasn’t going to listen. “Do you see anything?” Carl was about to chalk it up to a meteor hitting the roof when he turned around to find himself staring at a tall blonde woman in a Santa suit holding a large sack. He became frightened at her sudden appearance from out of nowhere. He had just scanned the backyard finding nothing, yet here she was standing and looking at him. He raised the bat, ready for action. She was unafraid and had a very confident presence before him. There was something about her, something almost divine.

“Who are you?” he asked as his family slowly ducked their heads out to see the strange figure. She smiled at him.

“Carl, your troubles have been heard, and someone wants to make sure your family has a good Christmas. It’s a little late, but I think I have everything you want in this bag.” The bat fell out of his hands and onto the grass as his wife and children took a position beside him. Cindy was choking up at what she was hearing. Upon seeing the children, the woman unslung the heavy bag and set it on the grass, squatting next to it. She motioned for the kids as she opened the bag, revealing a sack full of wrapped presents.

“Santa is a little tired, but he wanted me to come make a special delivery,” she said to the kids as they saw every Christmas wish finally came true.

“Are you Mrs. Claus?” Emily asked.

“Something like that. Danny, Emily, you have wonderful parents who love you very much. I know you two have been very good, and Santa’s very sorry he missed your house yesterday. You two keep being good, you promise me?” The little boy and girl both nodded in agreement with wide eyes. Carl, never showing emotion, was tearing up.

“I can’t believe this — this is a real miracle,” the woman cut him off before he said too much.

“Carl, Cindy, the big guy wanted you to have something special as well. You two take care and have a very Merry Christmas,” the stranger said as the kids, excited, started tearing into the bag laying the packages on the ground. Carl and Cindy, not wanting the paper getting wet from the grass, bent over to stop them.

“Not here, wait. Let’s take them inside. Say thank you to Mrs. Claus here,” Carl said as he pointed to the woman. He looked up, finding his hand pointing at nothing. They all looked around the yard, but no trace of her remained. She just vanished. Suddenly Emily shouted, pointing towards the sky.

“Look!” Carl, Cindy, Danny and Emily all tilted their heads back in time to catch a red blur streaking across the sky. Their kids’ expressions were featureless compared to their parents’. It was completely normal for children to believe what they just saw, but Carl tried desperately to comprehend what he just witnessed, truly a Christmas miracle, one that turned him into a believer.

-------

I ascended into the cold winter night watching the family below me. My actions made me proud and I enjoyed watching them as their Christmas tragedy became a holiday story the kids will tell their grandchildren someday. It felt great being able to do something for others. What I couldn’t do for my Liz and Ashley I was able to make up for by helping make someone else’s Christmas special. The officer was right; finding that thief would be near impossible. Instead, I used some of the money I would have used in the hotel and spent the better part of the day tracking down everything on the list those desperate parents read off to the detective. Everything and then some, all so that those children would have a Christmas to remember. Even the poor parents — I left a little of my father’s money so that they could get back onto their feet. It wasn’t much, but my needs were little these days. If I wanted to, I could live without a home, happy and free with no need for shelter to keep me warm, or give me a place to sleep. I could travel the world without spending a dime, and food was a pleasure, since I received most of my energy from the sun. If I wanted to, I could live on very little, and it made my day to help a poor family have the merriest of Christmases.

I headed north following the streets, looking for another family that needed a miracle.

-------

"Mommy, if we’re all that's left, why do I need to study and do homework?" Ashley, thinking very rationally, asked her mother.

"That's a good question, but let me ask you: What if we're not the only ones, what if there are more out there hiding just like we are? Don't you think it would be beneficial to have a good education? Think about it — you might be the smartest girl on earth."

Liz needed to keep herself and Ashley occupied and took to spending a better part of the day schooling her. It was difficult without resources and she hoped Dwayne would be able to find some books somewhere. Before Ashley was born, Liz had taught at the Jr. High level, having earned her BA in education, and taught English and History for five years before giving it up to be a full-time mom. She missed the classroom and hoped that when her daughter was older, she could resume, but being a mom was very satisfying, and now she could do both. It helped speed up the days, as it occupied their minds, distracting them from the horrible truths that existed outside the heavy steel door.

"I guess so, but what if we are really alone?"

"Ashley, you can't think like that. You know there are over 5 billion people on the planet? That’s a lot of people; I bet you at least 20% are hiding somewhere else. We won't be alone forever."

"Are you and Dwayne going to get married?" The question surprised her; she had been careful not to be seen alone with him, but young kids are very observant and she was obviously picking up on the fact that she and Dwayne had been a little friendlier than at first. Truth was, she didn't like him much, and she knew Ashley didn't either. He had done a lot for them, to keep them safe, but Liz felt much shame offering herself to him as repayment. She owed him her life, but not herself, and it pained her deeply that Michael wasn’t really able to see what she was doing. She was hurting deep inside, and the brief moments of pleasure did release some of the pain, but soon after, it returned, stronger than before. If Ashley was detecting even a hint that she and Dwayne were shacking up together, it could be very traumatic as she too was hurting inside; all she had was her mother to comfort her. Ashley couldn't escape into a bottle, or share in the intimacy of another's embrace. She was fragile at this age, and everything she watched her mother do would be embedded into her life, possibly duplicated down the road.

"Ashley, honey, I don't love Dwayne — I love your father. I miss him every day, I really do. Never forget that. Dwayne has been very good to us and keeps us safe. I am just trying to take care of him; he's alone too. I hope you understand."

"Kinda. He is nice, he brings me stuff, but he mostly ignores me when he is here."

"I'm sorry, honey, you know I will never ignore you, right?" She nodded, "Good, now give your mother a kiss and let's get back to work. Thirty more minutes and we can stop for the day. Deal?"

-------

I hovered above the house, listening. It was a large, fancy house, one owned by Clint Millbourne, a wealthy Texan who struck it rich in the oil business. After the police station, I followed Victoria Millbourne to the home of her friend who was watching her two sons. Overhearing their conversation, I learned that Clint had been traveling and hadn’t been home for three days. He was due back sometime tonight, so I returned and waited for him. The house sat on a sizable chunk of land and didn’t have any immediate neighbors.

I scanned the house in infrared while listening for any activity. It felt wrong having such access to people’s private lives. Their every movement and every whisper were mine, making me slightly uncomfortable. Using these powers would require restraint to keep them from corrupting me. It was simply too easy to invade people’s privacy. Even attempting to keep one safe, there was still a line I felt I shouldn’t cross.

The house was quiet and the two shapes inside seemed to be asleep. The smaller of the two that I guessed was the woman’s young son slept in his own room down the hall, while the husband was nowhere to be seen. After about twenty minutes, around 10:30 p.m., Mr. Millbourne's Ferrari pulled into the driveway. Clearly drunk, he stumbled out of the car and made his way toward the house. Mrs. Millbourne’s white silhouette sat upright in bed the moment she heard her husband opening the front door. She ran to the bedroom door and listened for a moment. She then returned to a sleeping position, most likely pretending to be sound asleep to avoid any confrontations. It was no use; he was already yelling at her and he hadn't even made it up the stairs yet.

"Where are my shirts?!" he yelled coming into the room, "Wake up, get the fuck out of bed! I asked you a simple favor, to pick up my shirts for tomorrow, and you can't even do that! You have very little expected of you around here." He grabbed her and pulled her out of bed.

“NO! STOP IT, PLEASE, STOP IT,” she begged. I didn’t need any super hearing to hear every word she was saying. I had seen all I needed. He was indeed a prick. He didn’t give a crap about his shirts; it was just an excuse to dominate her. He likely had a father that beat the crap out of him when he was a kid, and instead of breaking the chain, decided to add another link to the long line of family abuse. This bastard was a poor example of a man. For the first time, I found myself preferring being the person I was now, than being a male asshole.

I floated outside the window watching as the situation slowly escalated. Time to do something.

______

Millbourne easily blocked the feeble attempts of his wife’s counter attack. She tried fending him off by throwing things at him.

“Stupid bitch, you can’t hurt me. Try all you want, you’re too weak,” he paused in thought, bringing a smile to his face. “Tell you what, I will let you have a free shot at me. Hit me in the face as hard as you want and I won’t do anything to stop you.” Millbourne presented his face to her, leaning forward while putting his hands behind his back. She clenched her fist as if falling into his trap. Her weak punch would do little to hurt him and would likely hurt her more in the process. Either way, his dominance will be clearly established.

“COME ON, DO IT, HIT ME YOU BITCH!”

She wanted so much to take advantage of this free offer—if it were indeed free—but it would only give him an excuse to beat her harder. She wished she were strong enough to fight back and resented her weakness, her sense of complete helplessness
to the situation he constantly kept her in.

“That’s what I thought. Let me get something straight with you: I own the police, I get one more call you went to go see them, and you will wish you were dead, you ungrateful bitch.”

She was crying and terrified, truly wishing for death rather than going through another night of this. She had tried leaving so many times, but she hadn’t worked since she was 19. He made all the money, and any time she tried to run off with the kids, he would simply make a call to the bank and freeze all her accounts. She had no family to turn to, and after a night exposing her kids to the homeless in a shelter, she was forced to go back to her tyrant husband.

In the beginning of the marriage, he was kind and gentle; a true gentleman. They were in love, but after she started having kids, things started falling apart. The custody issue trapped her into his control and she played right into the game he had in mind all along. Once she was totally dependent on him, his abuse started to escalate, eventually turning violent. After the first couple of beatings, she tried to run, but he was simply too powerful a person. She hated him, she hated herself. Suicide would have been an option if it were only her, but the idea of leaving her sons behind where they would grow up in his despicable image would be unthinkable. If there were anything she could do, it would be to tough it out and make sure her two boys knew to love and respect women.

“I’m superior in every way, and you will start respecting me. Haven’t you learned by now, that you can have a good life if you just do as I say?” He raised his hand to hit her when his car alarm went off. He paused for a moment, making sure it was indeed his alarm. Instead of hitting her, he pushed her onto the bed.

“Stay put, I’m not done with you,” he said, pointing at her as he ran down the stairs and out the front door, grabbing the remote to his Ferrari’s alarm on the way out.

As he walked down the path, his eyes were focused on finding the right button to silence the ear-piercing alarm. Finding it, he pressed the magic button, killing the sound that was more annoying than useful for deterring thieves. “It's pointless in this neighborhood,” he thought. This was a very wealthy area of town, loosely filled with expensive homes on large acres of property. Most of his neighbors were too far away to hear him roughing up his wife, and any alarms going off were always the result of some small scurrying animal. The alarm drove him nuts at times; he knew he could easily afford to replace his ride, but Clint Millbourne’s Testarossa was his girl, and he pampered his baby like nothing else that belonged to him. He walked around the car, inspecting every inch, ensuring it was as spotless as he had left it twenty minutes ago.

He stood looking toward the street, trying to locate any signs of any intruders into his secure property. Satisfied it was just an animal, he turned to walk back to finish his business and perhaps get a little something after. As he faced the front door, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a tall woman standing between him and the front door. She was beautiful with long flowing blonde hair and a slender face. The stranger was clothed in all-black clothing.

“Well hello, pretty.” She was silent and just stood there. “You got a name, angel?”

“Good guess. How did you know?” She answered back.

“Angel? Really? Well, you sure look it.” Clint approached the strange woman standing on his walkway. She walked past him, brushing him as she walked toward his car.

“Quite a ride you got,” she said admiring his car.

“Hell yes she is — she’s my pride and joy.”

“Most guys with a ride like this are trying to compensate for other areas they are lacking in. You’re not lacking anything, are you, Clint?”

“Hey, don’t touch her!” he shouted as the woman put her gloved hand all over the hood, caressing the sleek curves. “Are you deaf? Get your fucking paws off her!”

She retracted her arms and stood to face him. “I’m curious, Clint; you treat this piece of shit car like a woman, and you treat your woman like a piece of shit. Your priorities seem a little out of whack.”

“Hey, fuck you! How do you know my name?! Who the fuck are you, and what business is it of yours how I treat my whore? How the hell did you get over the gate?” he said, slurring his curse words, still drunk from his night out.

“Such a tough man you are. Bet it feels so good knowing you can beat the crap out of weak defenseless females.” Her mouth was starting to enrage Clint. He had never had a woman dare talk to him this way. “You know, Clint, I am starting to think that you are indeed lacking in the manhood department. You like beating up weaker people? Is that how you make up for what you lack between your legs, or is it your Ferrari Testicle here?” He walked over to her with his fists clenched. “Aww, what’s the matter, Clint, or should I call you Clit? Did I strike a nerve? I tell you what, you pussy, let’s play a little game; see if you can man up. I will let you get your first shot in; go for it. Land one right here as hard as you can; that’s if you have the balls.”

“Get the fuck off my property or I will call the police.”

“Jeez, is that the best you can do? I thought you were tough. You might as well have your wife take you shopping for a dress tomorrow, because you belong in one, you wuss.”

That was it. Clint snapped, falling right into the same trap he had laid out for his wife just moments ago. In his rage, he drove a hard right hook to her face. His hand accelerated with all the force he could muster in his drunken state. As his hand got closer to the target, he noticed with his blurry vision that she remained still, not flinching. She was really going to let him hit her. As his hand impacted her right cheek, he was hoping it would shut her up. Instead of her face giving under the force, his hand came to a sudden stop, buckling as if he had just punched a concrete wall. He could hear and feel the bones in his hand and wrist shattering followed shortly after by searing pain shooting up his arm. He doubled over, fighting the agony, trying desperately to keep from screaming.

“Really, that’s all you got? Jeez, Clit, no wonder you need to hit girls — you hit like you are one. You seriously just broke your hand hitting this face? Damn, you’re pathetic.”

Now he was really pissed. He must have misjudged his last hit and hadn’t tightened his fist enough. This time he would go for a softer target. He lured her closer until her stomach was within reach. With his remaining good hand, he punched the bitch hard right in the abs. Again, instead of a soft target, his left hand crackled from the solid impact. Not nearly as bad as the first, but his left hand was now clearly broken as well. She approached, still unafraid.

“Stop, don’t come any closer,” he shouted as he tried to back up. As his car blocked his escape, she reached out and grabbed him by his suit jacket and lifted him effortlessly off the ground as he kicked helplessly. “Who the fuck are you? Let me go!”

“Let’s just say I’m your wife’s guardian angel,” she said. Before he could laugh, he felt himself being whisked high into the air. The ground disappeared below him as the mysterious woman flew high into the night sky, carrying him with her. He was screaming when she came to a stop in the clouds some 10,000 feet up. Below, the lights of the Christmas-decorated houses illuminated the dark landscape. At this height, it was freezing and Clint's teeth were chattering. His hands were throbbing from the pain induced by the fractured bones shifting around inside.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Simple, I'm going to drop you. Better grab hold of something. He tried to manipulate his mangled fingers when she let go of him. Gravity took hold as he plunged toward the city lights below. He was at terminal velocity in a matter of seconds. His screaming increased as he wondered how he went from the predator to prey in such a short time. He was about 1,600 feet off the ground when the angel's hand grasped his swelling wrist and slowed his decent. The pain was too much to bear as his weight was now being supported by his damaged appendage. She took him back up to 10,000 ft.

“Please, it hurts. Let go of my ar—”

“Really bad choice of words there,” she said, releasing her grip on him again, this time only letting him fall a few hundred feet before grabbing ahold of his ankle holding him upside down. A wet spot appeared in his pants and traveled up his inverted body, soaking his shirt with warm wet urine. “Aww, we gotta get you diapers now too?”

“PLEASE STOP, IT HURTS! PLEASE!” He was broken and pleading with her to stop.

“Why? Your wife pleads with you all the time to stop, yet you smack her around more just for asking you to stop. I say we keep going.” She let go again, following him to the below the minimum chute deployment altitude of 1,000 feet before slowing his free fall, bringing him to a stop at 20 feet. New foul smells permeated the air as his fear loosened his bowels.

“That was fun, wanna do it again?” she asked. He was crying profusely and begging to be let go. The angel set him down. He was too much of a mess to try running, although the thought crossed his mind. She grabbed his upper arm tightly and spoke directly to him.

“Listen up, you prick. I got the sad duty to follow you everywhere and watch everything you do. I personally don’t like the sight of you, but I don’t pick the humans to watch over. From this point forward, you will respect your wife, and treat her with dignity, submitting yourself to her. Otherwise, when I see you step out of line, you and I are going to have another encounter that will make this one look like a walk in the park. Do you understand me?” He quickly shook his head up and down. “Good, because you will not be able to see me, but I will always be watching. I can disappear, and become anyone I want. You will never know where I am, and no one on this earth can protect you from me,” she said as she opened the door to his precious sports car.

“What are you going to do?” Clint asked as she sat his soiled pants on the leather seat and buckled him in place.

“We are going to fix your priorities tonight. I recommend aspirin for the headache.”

“What headac—” he tried to ask before she hit him quickly on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

---

It was the middle of the night and no one was awake; the balconies were empty, not a soul in sight to see me return. As fast as I could so that I would only appear as a brief streak, I flew into the open door, coming to an instant stop the moment I was in the cover of darkness. I was getting better at controlling my speed, now able to exceed the speed of sound and stop on a dime without causing any structural damage to property. I walked over to the phone and dialed.

"Front desk," a voice answered on the other end.

"Yes, can I get a wakeup call for 7 a.m. please?"

“Sure thing ma’am.” After declining any further assistance, I hung up the phone and got comfortable. If Clint were smart, he would keep his mouth shut. If things worked out to my favor, he would now be the one living every day in fear that I am constantly watching him. He would have about six months of healing before he could resume any abuse, but paranoia would set in, keeping him on constant edge. The fear of his wife’s heavenly protector appearing at any moment would be enough to stop his violence. With any luck, he will see that even though he doesn’t deserve it, she will show compassion for him, and he will learn to love her. All this was wishful thinking; his type change briefly in response to getting caught, quickly reverting to their evil ways after a few weeks. Clint will need a few more visits to knock some sense in him. If he turns out to be stupid, he will blab that he broke his hands punching a woman fitting my description, who afterwards threw his car into a rock wall and put his drunk ass into the driver’s seat. A story like that will land him in the nut farm real fast, and problem solved. Still, to be cautious, I checked into a cheaper room at my favorite hotel in DC earlier in the day. I spent time in key government buildings with thick security hoping to imprint my image onto the many thousands of cameras.

The hotel staff knew me. Bernard, happy I chose to come back with no hard feelings, made sure I was comfortable. After a brief explanation that I was ditching my married name, and a nice tip to avoid further questions, I checked in under the name Karen Santucci, using my mother’s maiden name. Clint’s story, even if the police believed it for a second, would fall apart after my alibis checked out, bringing him closer to the rubber room. The simple answer would have been to disguise myself with a wig, some makeup and maybe some thick glasses, but the perfection Kaaren’s face radiates would be needed to convince him, along with my supernatural abilities, that I was indeed who I said I was, and there was no force on Earth that could protect him should he step out of line. My plan was solid. People lie and make up strange stories when confronted with their misdeeds. Crashing his car while driving drunk is enough to pass his fairy tale off as anything other than just that. As for my description, what angel isn’t a tall blond heavenly beauty?

I lay down on the bed, proud of the good I had done this week. Megan is right: I do have a gift, and it’s time I stop feeling sorry for myself and use what I have been given to help people. All these powers and abilities I possess, and yet I am just as helpless as the police. It’s understandable that they can’t do much for my situation, but in so many cases where they can make a difference, they either can’t do anything or don’t want to do anything. Carl and Cindy have two happy children and a little boost to get them back on their feet. Victoria…well, she is free. Whether she uses that freedom to escape, or to show compassion to a man who never knew what it is like to be loved growing up…well, that will be her decision to make. A big smile came over my face as I stared up at the ceiling.

“Kaaren, wherever you are, I hope your mission is working out better than mine is. I know you can’t hear me, but I’m sorry for the things I said to you. This isn’t working out the way I thought it would when I stepped into that chamber, but I am not going to throw away what you gave me. I ask you, if you can hear me: I need your help finding my family. The crystal is gone, and I don’t know what I am capable of. If there is something that can help, please help me.” It was stupid talking to her, but it was comforting. There was no way that she could hear me, or even see me, but I liked to think she could. Before passing out for a while, I shifted my attention and prayed to God the same prayer. I drifted to sleep hoping that one of the two would hear my cries.

----

It was a quiet Thursday morning, and the museum had not yet filled up. While content on my own, I joined a small group of aviation-enthusiastic early birds on a guided tour. The tour guide was an elderly man, Jack, as he insisted on being called. He was in his sixties and had flown the F-6F Hellcat in the Pacific against the deadly AM62 Japanese Zero. He took pride in telling us about the time an ace Japanese pilot with 9 kills mistook his powerful new plane for the weaker Wildcat, hoping he would stall out, making his helpless aircraft an easy kill. The Hellcat had the power to make the climb, and when the Zero finished its loop expecting a tenth kill, it became the first of many Hellcat victories. I loved listening to everything this old man was saying. I felt as if all the femininity I was living with for the last couple months suddenly vanished, and I was back to normal, shooting the breeze with my buddies. Having Megan in my life was wonderful, but I was missing talking to the guys. This old man had no care in the world how beautiful I was — he was faithful to his first love, and gave all his passionate affection to his planes. I wanted to take him out for dinner and let him talk for hours.

“This here is the Wright Brothers’ famous plane, where on that morning of December 17, 1903, Orville flew a whopping 120 feet when he landed and realized his luggage was missing.” The crowd was in an uproar laughing at just how true that statement is in the modern aviation world.

Half way through the tour, I began to shut up, much to Jack’s disappointment. I was impressing him with my aviation knowledge, but simultaneously pissing off the crowd of supposed know-it-alls. I was getting snide looks, and the comments I could hear being whispered between the guys was worse. The only one that treated me like a human was Jack. The tour progressed through his favorite era and into the modern age, before finishing at a full scale mockup of the Space Shuttle’s forward fuselage where guests could sit in the flight deck.

“Anyone know anything about the Space Shuttle?” The crowd started pointing at me, but I swallowed my pride and declined. It would only be showing off if I offered it up. It was clear that Jack’s knowledge of modern aircraft wasn’t as good as of the earlier planes, but it was still impressive nonetheless. The tour ended and the group ran off to the gift shop, more interested in souvenirs than actually learning about aviation history. I was then alone with Jack.

“Mighty impressive knowledge you have there about aircraft, miss. You impressed the hell out of this old man, and that’s not something most men I know can do.” I was flattered by the way he worded his compliment, taking great care to elevate me above the elite.

“Thank you, sir. I rather enjoyed every moment. I usually never take tours, but today, I am glad I did.” He reached out to shake my hand and I quickly offered it into his tender care, but he gave me the honor of a man’s hand shake.

“Very pleased to meet you, Miss …?”

“Karen. Quite honored to meet you, sir,” I said, instantly reverting to my military protocol and addressing superiors with the respect they deserve.

“So how does one as young as you know so much about aviation?” he asked, appealing to my age rather than gender. He was such a gentleman, and I felt very comfortable around him.

“Well, I must have been a pilot in a past life. That and I do much reading on the subject of aviation.” It was the best I could come up with.

“Is that so? Well, that’s quite a memory you have there. I would love to keep talking with you, but I have another tour starting up in a few and I am meeting my nephew for lunch after. Please, promise me you will come back and see me sometime.”

I agreed, shaking his hand again and saying goodbye, and headed toward the bank of cabs, foregoing a painless two mile walk back to the hotel. There was a short line of people waiting for a cab and I was debating walking when I heard someone calling my name. It took a while to register, as I wasn’t used to being called by my female name, but after a couple of times, it became clear there wasn’t someone with my same name being called. Turning to see what the commotion was about, I saw a twenty-something year old guy pushing through the line, making his way toward me. I looked around to see if there was someone else he was approaching.

“Karen?! Oh my god, it is you.”

I turned back to face him and saw that he was the bartender from Nieuport 23. He was out of breath, having looked like he ran cross-country to catch up to me. My jaw was wide open in shock that I was being chased down by a guy excited by me suddenly reappearing in his life. I was suddenly very afraid where he thought this chance encounter was going to lead. Playing dumb sounded like my best defense as he came to a stop huffing and puffing directly at my 12 o’clock.

“Karen, I never thought I would see you again.” Okay, this was creepy; he probably hadn’t stopped thinking about me the moment I left the bar.

“Um…” was all I could say.

“Mike; remember me? A couple months ago, you came in and cleaned my bar of some lousy customers?” Playing dumb wasn’t going to work with him.

“Oh, yes, Mike, of course I remember. Good to see you.”

“It’s really good to see you again. Were you just visiting the Smithsonian?”

“Yes, just finished up at the Air and Space. I was going back to my hotel before I head back out of town later.” His heart sunk a little when he heard that I wasn’t a resident. It was a good thing; better he know now.

“Quite a place, isn’t it? I was just heading there now. If you would like another tour, I would be happy to take you on a personal tour.”

‘Okay, now what can a bartender know that Jack didn’t?’ I thought to myself. “Thank you, but I just took a rather pleasant tour.”

“It wasn’t with a sixty year old geezer with one too many stories about the Pacific, was it?” Now my stalker was taking potshots at a real gentleman.

“Hey, that guy knew what he was talking about. I enjoyed his tour very much.” He was laughing.

“Relax, relax, you were in great hands. That geezer is my uncle. He and my grandfather taught me everything I know about flying.”

‘Son of a bitch,’ I said to myself as the gentlemen behind me started yelling at me.

“Hey lady, you wanna move forward, please?” The person in line said in an aggravated tone.

“Sorry,” I replied as I moved toward the front of the line, Mike following along. How the hell was it that I can’t find Liz and Ashley, yet this kid could find me in this big haystack of a city, and turns out he was the nephew of the nicest man this body has yet to meet?

“You are his nephew that he’s having lunch with?”

“Yes, that’s my Uncle Jack. Quite an extraordinary man, isn’t he? You should really get to know him. Oh, the stories he can tell. Say, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but come have lunch with us.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t want to interrupt your time together.”

“Nonsense; he would love it. Besides, I still have your change from the bathroom repairs. It’s not much, maybe enough for a small drink at the cafeteria. Come on' what do you say?” I was speechless, searching frantically for a way out, shy of just taking off in front of the whole crowd.

“Lady, you gonna take the cab or what?” The door was open and I was next. My head looked back and forth, deciding between airplane talk with two guys, or escape from being asked out.

“Mike, look, I appreciate it, but —” the crowd started chanting…

“GO WITH MIKE, GO WITH MIKE, MIKE, MIKE.”

I was holding up the line, and they wanted to see some helpless romantic score. It was clear that I was starting to piss off the cab driver who couldn’t care less about my love life, so I made everyone happy and pulled Mike aside. The guy behind be hurried for the cab as the rest applauded, cheering Mike on for his victory.

We made our way away from the mob to a little area in front of the museum. I was scared hanging out with a guy that was buying me drinks a couple months ago in a bar. Still, my life since then has had nothing but a constant female presence. I loved Megan dearly, but I longed to hang with the guys again. My ‘inner’ me just wanted to feel normal, but the ‘outer’ me always attracted, in the wrong way, the very guys I wanted to hang with. I felt alienated, unable to sit with my fellow bros without one of them targeting me in their gunsights hoping to score a victory with this attractive body. I was as straight as they come and any thought of being with a man scared me to death, yet as afraid as I was, I was still lonely. Jack allowed me to be a man again without the carnal interest. He was as respectful as Mike was that night at his bar. Sure, he liked me, but he did allow my inner male to emerge. For the first time, I had a faint sense tingling in the back of my mind as if I could read his heart. It was almost as if some kind of super female intuition was starting to surface. He was sincere and seemed safe as far as I could detect. I decided to give it a shot, but to be sure, there was no harm in laying out some clear expectations, something I felt other women needed to learn.

“Listen, Mike,” I started, “you seem like a great guy and I wouldn’t mind having someone to hang out with, but I am going to be honest with you: I am not looking for anything romantic. I have had some big life changing events happen to me recently that I need to sort out. If you can respect that, then I would be happy to hang out.” His eyes lit up.

“Hey, you don’t need to pull the friend card. I like you, I find you fascinating, but I am too busy these days for a relationship. I would be thrilled if we can be friends."

"Well, okay then. So you're into planes, too? Guess it's no accident you started working at that bar," I said leading the conversation.

"Accident? Not a chance. I grew up there. Uncle Jack and my Dad own it although it's pretty much just my dad's place now. I just help out a few nights a week."

"Why an obscure French aircraft?" I asked.

"You know that's a plane? I'm impressed; most think we named the place after a brand of cigarettes and got the spelling wrong." That brought me a chuckle. He was funny just like his uncle. "My dad and uncle named it after the plane my grandfather flew in the Great War."

We continued until we reached the museum entrance where Jack was finishing his tour. Mike killed time by sharing his knowledge of aircraft, which as I discovered was pretty impressive for such a young kid. It was confusing; I was his senior, and junior to his uncle, but now, I felt like the baby, a few years younger than Mike's apparent age.

"Hahaha, watch out for her, she's trouble," Jack said as he saw us approaching while the last of his tourists left, "I'm so glad to see you found my favorite nephew,"

"Uncle Jack, I'm you're only nephew."

"See, I'm right; that makes you my favorite." They exchanged as if they were quoting lines from a play. It was clear they had a strong relationship.

"If you don't mind, I invited Karen along."

"Mind? Heck no, but I will be damned if you are going to take her to a food court. Let's go someplace else. Hell, I will even cough up a little extra retirement money and treat the both of you." After a fierce debate between the two, they settled on a small pub a couple of blocks away.

The three of us spent several hours listening to Jack’s stories and drinking beer. I was having the time of my life and, for once, all my troubles seemed so distant. Mike and I hung out another hour after his uncle left before I decided to end the day on a good note, still fearing Mike was going to try taking it further.

"Well, Mike, thank you, but I have a flight I need to catch," I said, putting a false urgency behind my departure.

"You know, we know quite a few people in the airline industry; it would be a shame for you to spend top dollar on airfare. You let me know next time you come to visit, and I can get you an awesome deal on first class."

"Thank you, Mike, but I get a pretty sweet deal already."

"Well, unless you get to fly for free, you're gonna have a hard time beating the deals I can get." I simply smiled and didn’t argue.

"I will take it into consideration." I reached out to shake his hand. He repeated the shake he gave me at his bar.

"Will you be back in DC soon? Can we keep in touch?"

"I will be back sometime soon. Currently I don't have a phone, but if you give me yours, I will let you and that geezer uncle of yours a heads up that I am coming back." That made his day and he quickly scribbled his phone number on a napkin and handed it to me.

"I'm really glad we became friends. I hope to see you again sometime. Have a safe flight back home,” he said.

“Thank you; I will. I will talk to you soon,” I said as I walked out the door wondering if I really ever wanted to see him again.

------

The house was empty and Megan's car was gone. Her driveway had a couple of newspapers piled up to indicate she had been gone more than a day. I set the newspapers on the center island in the kitchen and began going through them. Sure enough on the morning's front page, bottom half, was the headline "Wealthy Houston Oil Tycoon Hospitalized after DUI Related Accident." Below the headline was a photo of the wrecked Ferrari, its front destroyed after the impact with the rock wall along a quiet road a few miles from Clint’s house. The reporter arrived on scene just after emergency crews and got a great shot of him being removed from the car, pant stains and all. Due to his public standing, the authorities didn't give up much, but the media filled in the blanks just fine labeling it an inevitable self inflicted accident resulting from drinking and reckless driving. I read the rest of the paper and put it back in order for Megan to read when she got home. As I got up to get a drink, I noticed a blinking light on the answering machine. The display read that there were five messages. I hit the play button and waited through the date and time stamp to hear an undesirable soft feminine voice sound through the house.

"Hi Megan, it's me. I'm in DC again and will be here a couple of days sightseeing. If you need to get ahold of me, I am back at the Marriott, room 4625. Hope all is well, and I will bring back some goodies." The message ended with a beep. It came to my attention that that was the first time I had heard my own recorded words coming out of Kaaren's mouth. It sounded different than how I hear it every day. It had been a couple of months and I still really wasn't used to my new female voice. I could tell it was me based on my speech patterns and the way that I pronounced words. It was clearly Kaaren’s voice from the way I remember it in the ship, but it was different. Kaaren’s speech had a hint of an English accent, which had me baffled until I concluded that whoever surveyed the Earth prior to her arrival must have picked up their English from a Brit. Why do we always assume that the USA is where all alien landings occur? It was also possible that the USA didn't exist at the time of their visit. She never told me how long ago her people came to Earth. The next message began playing.

"Karen, it's Megan. Sorry I haven't been around, but I will be over at JSC for several days on business. I will tell you about it when I get back, but I won't be able to call much until I get back. I should be back by New Years Eve and we can drink ourselves silly as '86 vanishes into history." It sounded as is if there was more to her visit than simply confirming her resignation. I personally didn't want her to resign, especially if she had some notion to suspend her aspirations for my benefit. Yes, I needed help adjusting to my new life, but not at the expense of her dream. The final three messages put me into panic mode. All three were from the same person, and sounded almost identical, almost as urgent.

"Karen, Detective Reid. When you get this message, can you please call me, you got my number." It was late, but the urgency in his voice and the implication of who he was calling about demanded an immediate response. I picked up the phone and dialed his number from memory.

To Be Continued....Episode 10 “Rodina”

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by G.M. Shephard

Karen makes a mistake and Detective Reid discovers something unique about her. Later while returning the Owen's house, Karen makes a discovery of her own that leads the police to closer solving the mystery.

Angel S:1.5 E:10 “Home Sweet Home”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

---Note---

Happy New Year Everyone. I have decided to push the episode “Rodina" forward to Episode 11 and release this as it’s own episode.

----------

Episode 10 “Home Sweet Home”

"Detective Reid please," I said over the phone. I was put on hold for a couple minutes, before someone finally picked up.

"This is Harris; can I help you?"

"Um, I was on hold for Reid. Is he in?"

"Sorry, you just missed him. Is this an emergency?"

"Oh, no, just returning his call. He called me a few times while I was out of town."

"Can I ask who this is?"

"Sorry, my name is Karen, Karen Santucci. He's working on a case of mine."

"Oh, Karen, I didn't recognize your voice. This is Harris; Reid took your case from me. Tell you what, let me put you on hold and get him on the radio." I sat listening to a stupid recordings loop informing the public to dial 911 during an emergency instead of the main line. "Duh, who would instinctively call any other number?" I said aloud as Harris got back on the phone.

"Sorry about that. Takes a few to route a call through our radios. What I would give if we can all have those fancy phones in our cars one day. Nope, scratch that — then the Captain would never leave us alone. Anyway, Reid apologizes; he was busy today and forgot he already called you. He said it can wait until tomorrow if you would be able to come by in the morning. He has a couple of things to go over with you." My heart started slowing down at the news. Thank god — I was scared and was fearing the worst, or somehow that Clint squealed.

"Great. Any particular time I should come by?"

"Can you come by around 9 a.m.?" He asked

"Sure, that will be fine; I will see you then. Thank you."

"Of course. You have a good night." I hung up, relieved, yet still a little anxious. What if they are on to me and luring me to the station?

"Stop it, Michael; they don't know anything, and if Clint talked, you have your alibi. Then again, your alibi fails, because they know you can fly. Oh, this is crap, there isn't a soul that would believe him if he did tell the truth," I thought to myself. I grabbed a bottle of Jack out of the cabinet, poured myself a glass, dropped a couple ice cubes on top and took a long sip as if it were water while I unpacked the bags of pastries. The cops eat stale donuts every day; still, I wanted to make sure these stayed fresh, so I bagged them up in plastic bags until tomorrow, setting some aside for Megan and me.

---Police Station---

"Hi, Karen," Detective Reid said, coming to greet me in the waiting area.

"Hello," I said, picking up a couple of large bags of pastries from DC's finest French cafe, "Little belated Christmas present for all of you." He took one of the bags and read the front noticing the address.

"Looks great. Washington, huh? Hope you didn't go there just on our account." He said laughing.

"No, I went back there a few days to visit some friends, and see my brother's memorial. They erected that in record time."

"Well, we are very grateful to him. Hopefully we can do something to pay him back."

As we walked to his desk, I could see the other cops completely ignoring me, setting their senses on the two bags, which their expert detective skills told them that they contained food fit for law enforcement. They converged like a pack of ravenous carnivores ready to make a group kill. Reid led me over to a coffee station where I could leave the goodies for everyone to attack. Before anyone could tear into them, Reid took first dibs and made an announcement.

“Hey everyone, these are compliments of Karen here, so if you are going to help yourself, do the courtesy of saying thank you.” They all sounded a dull monotone “Thanks” that sounded as if they were all being rudely awakened from a deep sleep as they viciously attacked the bag.

"Here, have a seat," Reid said pointing to the chair at his cubicle, "Let me start by apologizing for calling so many times yesterday. Turns out I have another case with someone named Karen. Yesterday was pretty stressful and I got my numbers mixed up. I ended up calling you more than once."

"You had me worried — you sounded pretty serious."

"Oh, I always sound like that. Trust me, it were serious, I wouldn't call. I would just show up with bad news or a pair of handcuffs. Again, I am really sorry."

"No worries," I said.

"Okay, I found something. I performed another sweep of the house and came across a footprint that didn’t belong. It didn't match Michael's shoe size, and it was clearly from men's boots. I am still waiting to get word as to the brand and model."

"So, what does that tell you?"

“Well, someone other than Michael was in the garage, and all the neighbors checked out. It could be anyone, but it is certainly some evidence that another male was at the house.” Reid started shifting through some paperwork while sinking his teeth into a chocolate croissant. He wiped his mouth with a napkin while nodding his head up and down and holding an upturned thumb out to show his approval.

"Well, I have something,” I said as I withdrew some handwritten pages from a file folder I carried in with me. “I found a pattern in the calls made to Liz.” Reid took the croissant out of his mouth and put it down, taking interest in what I had to say.

“Mind if I see that?” he asked, pointing to the yellow pages from a legal pad. I handed them over and he started looking through them.

“When you saw that the duration of calls were shortening, did you notice something else that was becoming less and less frequent almost proportional to the call duration?” His eyes lit up as he frantically searched for the file with his copy of the phone records. Both of his index fingers traced down the two sources verifying the data.

“The calls from 555-1211. I can’t believe I missed that. You're right, it’s almost proportional.” He set the pages down and looked at me in the eyes. I commend you for seeing that, but I have to ask, Karen, where did you get this? Did you go into my files and copy this the other day?”

“No, I...um...I memorized everything when you showed the documents to me.” He laughed.

“Right. Look I appreciate you trying to help, but don’t let me find you going through my files again, these are not public records. If you need something, you ask me and I will see what I can do. You understand me?”

“Detective, I’m serious; I didn’t go through your drawers. Remember, you locked them after you put on your coat?”

“She didn’t touch your files, Reid,” a uniformed female officer said as she approached. “I was keeping an eye on her for you. She was just sitting there for about 15 minutes before leaving.”

“Thanks for your input, Mendoza. Don’t you have any paperwork to do?” he said with a little aggravation at her meddling into his affairs.

“Nope, I finished already. Just about to turn them in and head home,” she said as she put her pen back into her shirt pocket below her badge. She was a little stalky and sported a neatly shaved crew cut. At first glance, she looked like a man until I studied her body and mannerisms. She had a relatively soft voice and a pretty face, clearly female.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here — go home.” She turned to leave when Reid stopped her. “Wait, do you have something like an accident report or something that isn’t too sensitive?” She began thumbing through her reports and withdrew a collision report and handed it to Reid.

“What do you need that for?” He looked it over and handed it to me holding up his hand to silence Mendoza’s protest.

“You got thirty seconds,” he said checking his watch. I wasted five before I figured out he was putting my memory claims to the test. The report was about 12 pages long and I began skimming through them. I was reviewing them a second time when he said, “Stop.” He took the report out of my hand and started skimming through it. “Driver number two - what’s his driver’s license number?” he asked as he withdrew his handcuffs. I looked at Reid, then at Mendoza.

“Reid, what the hell are you doing? Give me my report back.” He put his hand up again.

“Well, I’m waiting,” he said as he started pushing the ratchet of the cuff through making a distinct clicking sound.

“His? Driver two was a woman, Elaine Goodman, CA driver’s license A7555639. Date of birth July, 5 1954 —” He stopped me, and stood up. He grabbed my arm and escorted me away from the desk, motioning for Mendoza to follow. He led me into an interview room and shut the blinds as Mendoza closed the door.

“Driver three, make and model of car.”

“Rudy Espinosa, 1973 Toyota pickup, TX license plate 4JKL727.”

“What’s the VIN?”

“JT4RN56S2F0139246,” I spouted off without thinking. He stared at the report and started laughing.

“Holy shit, Karen, that’s unbelievable,” he said quietly. “You seriously can read that fast and commit that to memory?” Mendoza looked at him and then me, clearly impressed.

“Yes,” I answered, not sure where this was heading. I was feeling stupid for giving up that fact about myself. The excitement of finding something they missed caused me to not stop and think about the consequences.

“What about the patterns — how long did it take you to catch that?”

“Once I got home, I wrote it all out on paper, and saw it almost immediately. Why?”

“You know what this means, Karen?” I shook my head. “There are people that can do what you do, but are usually autistic or have other types of mental impairments that prevent them from functioning normally. You, you are completely normal as far as I can tell, and probably the only one that can do what you just did. You ever think about being a policewoman?” Mendoza turned her head and groaned.

“Police officer, Jesus, a police officer.”

“Sorry,” Reid corrected, “You ever consider a career as a police officer?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t thought about it. I planned to study astrophysics, but with Liz and Ashley missing, I haven’t been thinking about my future much.”

“Well, if I were you, I recommend you take that into consideration. We can use people who can think analytically and have a good memory for detail.” That’s not all I have — I could actually be a great cop, but it’s not really something I had in mind, I thought to myself.

“I appreciate it; I don’t think law enforcement is for me. I am really just trying to help solve my own case.”

“Fair enough. Just promise me you will give it some thought.” I agreed, even though I knew I was not interested. The last thing I needed was to join the very people who couldn’t do their job because of bureaucratic nonsense, or lack of motivation. I could do far greater good on my own, and without a code to limit me. “The reason I brought you and Mendoza in here is I don’t want anyone else to know what you can do. I want to keep that between us for now. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure — I don’t really go around touting it to begin with.”

“OK, Karen, can you go back to my desk? I need to speak to Officer Mendoza privately for a minute and then I will be right there.” I got up and left, closing the door behind me. I was about to listen in, but my abilities nearly got be in enough trouble today and I figured I had better learn to restrain myself. After about ten minutes, they emerged and met me at Reid’s desk.

“Karen, I have a busy schedule today, so I am going to cut things short with you. Mendoza here is done with her shift and has agreed to take you over to your brother’s place. I cleared everything, so if you want to go over there, you are free to do so. Just let me know if you find anything out of place.” My eyes lit up at the news I could go back to my house.

“Thank you, Detective; I really appreciate it.”

“Just call me Reid. You’re welcome.”

---Dwayne’s House---

Dwayne turned on the faucet in the kitchen and unpacked the bag of groceries he bought earlier. First he withdrew a pack of tomatoes and began washing them off, taking great care to check each one for any tags, removing any he found. He repeated the process with some peppers, onions and some fresh herbs. He then dried them off and packed them in a plain cardboard box and set them aside. The greenhouse was no lie, and was in working order, but it would be another week before he could harvest anything from it. Things were slipping a little with Liz and the ‘brownie points’ he got at Christmas were running out already. A nice dinner made from scratch with fresh vegetables would be sure to get him back on top of her world, and keep that kid of hers quiet.

The greenhouse was unique, and completely self-sufficient. It was a fully-operational biosphere producing not only its own food, but oxygen as well. Dwayne desperately wanted to go back into space, but with the new funding NASA received in the aftermath of the Near Earth Object that almost impacted, it had projected to put a man on Mars by 2013 followed by an outpost on the red planet. His new job with BioWorks would ensure a steady comfortable income working in a field he loved. The best part was that his research was done mostly on his 15-acre property outside Houston. The weather was subtropical and had a decent year-long climate. Much of the grants he received he poured into conducting test experiments studying long-term survivability in one of several enclosures constructed on his property.

The ability to work from home kept him very close to Liz and Ashley. So far they hadn’t suspected anything being amiss. The house was off the beaten path, so there was little vehicle traffic going by, and certainly nothing they could hear. The shelter was about 30 yards from the house, built about 20 feet underground. The entrance to the shelter was just inside a small utility shed that housed backup electrical generators as well as water and air purifiers. Since the disaster was averted, resorting to such systems was unnecessary. Instead, normal power and plumbing were provided by the same system as the house.

---Home Sweet Home---

It was strange riding around in a police car, but I felt relieved that I wasn’t in the back. Then again, there was very little that was intimidating about the vehicle and the authority Mendoza’s badge gave her. There was little any of them could do to restrain me; as far as I knew, I was above any human being on the planet, yet I still felt humble. Kaaren certainly knew my heart as she said she did. I imagine she wouldn’t turn her power over to just anyone, and she knew I wouldn’t use her body for evil.

It was so easy hurting Clint and bringing him to submission through pain. He was reduced to complete helplessness in a matter of minutes, a helplessness that surpassed what he subjected his wife to. He would be unable to do anything to stop me, and the feeling of power I had over someone was incredible, yet frightening. I was afraid this power might overwhelm me and grab control of my character. The way I talked to Clint, the way I treated him was not me. Afterward I felt great, knowing I did something to help a woman no one gave a crap about, but in the end, I didn’t feel good about myself. Over and over, I tried to convince myself it was for the greater good, but deep down I knew a monster was emerging if I didn’t find a way to control it. Most of it came from frustration and stress, but that is no excuse. Sure, he is the one who hit me first, but I clearly egged him on, luring him into attacking me, knowing full well what the consequences were.

“So, you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?” Mendoza said, breaking the silence.

“Just spending it with a friend of mine; I don’t know what we are going to do yet. Likely end up staying in. I am not really in the celebration mood. To be honest, I can’t wait for 1986 to fade forever into history. Looking forward to what the new year will bring, hopefully something good.”

“I know how you feel. It’s not easy losing the people you love, especially when you don’t know what happened to them. You know, Reid understands you more than you give him credit for.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Reid’s sister vanished about two years ago. She and her mother weren’t getting along, and she ran off. She had done it hundreds of times, but always came back. One day she ran out and never came back. She was last seen at a club downtown. She left with some guy and completely disappeared. She and Reid weren’t very close, but he has become obsessed with trying to find her. It might sound a little strange, but he hopes by finding Liz and her daughter, he can make up for his failures.” No, that’s not strange at all, I thought to myself.

“Thank you for telling me that; I had no idea.” Certainly explains his continued interest. “Does he think it’s foul play?”

“Well, like your case, there is not much to go on, but he knows his sister well enough to know she wouldn’t disappear forever. Two, maybe three weeks tops, but she always came back. It’s been two years without a word from her.”

Mendoza pulled up to my house. Liz’s Volvo was in the driveway and completely filthy. The yard looked more like a jungle, complete with overgrown grass, and the fall leaves were still on the ground from November. She parked the cruiser in the driveway and I took a moment to think about what I would find inside.

The house was a storage facility of memories. I hadn’t seen a picture of Liz and Ashley in over four months. I thought back to my last video call I had with them. We were en route back home, sometime before we detonated the devices, when we all took turns calling home. For several weeks, we were busy on the surface of the asteroid and didn’t have the time for personal communications other than through Davis and Turner. Ashley had grown so much in the time since I last saw her, two days before taking off.

Slowly, I opened the car door and stepped out onto my driveway. Mendoza got out of the car and looked around the front yard. A neighbor I had never seen before, who saw the black and white approach, stood out on their front yard and watched. I Remembered Liz telling me during one of our calls that the O’Reiley’s put their house up for sale. They must have moved in at a great time. It was probably nothing new to see the police come by, but he seemed to be interested in who I was. I ignored him and went to the garage door. I paused a second in front of the key pad before entering the code. The door began to open, revealing my covered Porsche. I entered cautiously and began looking for the footprints. I found them near the storage cabinets. They were made by some brand of work boot and looked to be about a size 12 shoe. The orientation of one of the prints was facing the cabinets. I opened them up and scanned the contents. Mendoza helped out by illuminating the inside with her Maglite.

“You see anything?” she asked. The top shelf was empty. My knees went weak and I collapsed onto the ground.

“No, No!” I started crying out as tears started to run down my face again. She came over to me and crouched down next to me.

“What’s the matter? What did you find?” After a couple minutes, I settled down and got back to my feet.

“The suitcases are gone — they left. Liz, hell, even Michael was too short to reach them. Whoever these prints belong to was tall enough to get them. She had someone get them down for her.” Mendoza looked around the footprint with her light.

“Maybe not, look!” I scanned the ground while she looked around the garage. About the time she found what I was looking for, I noticed the four round circles where the dust had been disturbed, “Karen, come here.” She was crouching next to the folding stepladder I kept around so Liz and I could reach areas of the house that were out of reach for our shorter bodies. I reached out to move the ladder.

“Stop! Don’t touch it.” She was fixated on the black plastic folded step. She withdrew a pair of gloves from her belt and put them on. “You’re right Karen, someone did help her get the luggage down, but he needed a step stool as well, look, his boot print is on the step. She reached for her radio.

“151 to Dispatch.” After a second or two a voice came back.
“Dispatch, go ahead, 151.”

“Request, forensic team to lift a set of prints at 3329 Purple Cone Flower.”

“Is that the Owen Residence?” Came a voice after a short hesitation.

“Affirmative,” she was told to stand by.

“Units are in the field, ETA two hours.”

“Damn it,” she said making sure she wasn’t transmitting, “Dispatch, give me a 20 on Reid.”

“Stand by,” the voice replied. “He’s responding to a 261A.”

“Roger, request his assistance as soon as he is available,” great, now we had two hours to kill.

“Mendoza, can we look around inside while we are waiting? We might be able to find something else.” I was getting excited. They were right about me being useful; in one minute I was able to find something they overlooked. Of course, they had no way to know the suitcases were stored there.

“You can call my Patricia, or Trish,” she said, “Just don’t call me Pat, especially downtown. I would never hear the end of it.” I immediately figured she was tormented by the male officers for her butch appearance.

“Thanks, sounds familiar. Call my brother Mike and he would be all over you. He wouldn’t even let Liz call him that. He insisted on Michael. What do you prefer?”

“My friends call me Trish, thanks for asking,” she said as she tried to open the door to the garage. It was locked. “You have a key?” I walked over to the work bench to retrieve the space key I kept in an empty coffee can full of miscellaneous screws and other metal parts. She stopped me again and tossed me a pair of latex gloves. I put them on wondering what my fingerprints looked like. My obsession up until now had been with my fingers had been my longer nails that could sever steel wire. I was a nail biter all my life, and these invincible fingernails were driving me insane. Fortunately they were practically long at most and didn’t grow beyond that. Painted, they would look rather sexy, still they were a nuisance and took a while to get used to. I dumped the can out onto the bench and took the key, unlocking the door leading into the laundry room.

“So were you and your brother close?” Trish asked as we stepped inside, closing the garage door to keep anyone from disturbing the scene.

“Yes and no. I grew up constantly on the go. My mother left him and his father when he was 15. She never told me why and eventually took off on me too, leaving me alone to grow up with whoever would take me in.” I gave her a story I had been working out in my head in case anyone questioned who I was. Most of it was half-truth, but in reality, since my mother left, I don’t have any idea what became of her. I loved her dearly, but spent many years hating her. Eventually I found my peace and let her go, but still, resentment persisted, one that repulsed me to even use her maiden name. I would prefer to go back to Shifley, but Santucci was needed for my cover.

“She told me a lot about Michael so I feel like I know him better than he knows me. Some years ago, watching shuttle launches, I connected who he was and tracked him down. He didn’t know I existed until I reached out to him. He was busy and we had little time together, but the short time was meaningful. I wish we had more time for him to get to know me before he departed this world.” I put my head down tearing up again at my story. It was a fabrication, but in a different perspective was the truth and allowed me to speak with conviction. Trish came over and put her hand on me. Outwardly, she seemed very many, but inside, very in touch with her sensitive female side and was able to comfort me.

“It’s okay. Sometimes our best memories come from single events rather than lifelong connections. You must be very proud of him — I tell you, I am. Heck, it must feel great knowing the whole world knows his name. Bet that is driving your mother crazy.” It was a very bold statement, one that not many would make to someone they hardly knew, but it made me feel good and brought a smile to my face. If my mother were still alive, it really must be killing her to know the son she abandoned for her own selfish reasons is now a household name.

We turned the lights on and, surprisingly, the power was still on. I had imagined all the utilities had been shut off after a few months of non-payment. The house was clean as if she’d tidied up before leaving. Nothing looked out of place.

“What about clothes — would you know if a substantial amount were missing?” Damn, she had so many, who knows what she could have purchased and thrown away while I was gone. No doubt her therapy dealing with my absence was spending my very hard earned money in the mall while I was wearing the same three outfits and eating freeze-dried food for 12 months.

“I will have to see — you know fashions can come and go like yesterday’s news, so what might seem missing, could in fact have been thrown out.” I scanned the closet in the bedroom looking for anything missing while Trish agreed with my statement about fashion. I thumbed through her hanging clothes, mostly coats, dresses and fancy blouses.

“She has some pretty nice taste in clothing, very fashionable,” she said taking a dress out and examining it, “don’t you just love this?” I was a little taken aback at her interest in my wife’s clothing. She was holding it up to herself as if she were trying to envision how she would look in it.

“Are we working, or playing dress up?” I asked. She put it back with a little huff. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right, we should keep focused. I shouldn’t have taken that dress out.”

“Trish, can I ask you a personal question?” She chuckled.

“Okay…?” She said with a little reluctance.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the type that gets thrilled about this kind of clothing.”

“So, you think I’m a typical butch lesbian, without a trace of femininity?” she asked, calling me out for generalizing her.

“Well, to tell you the truth — and I don’t mean this to be judgmental or anything — I am just inquisitive, but yes. I guess it’s a stereotype. So you mean you are not?”

“Honey, it’s all image. I love being a woman, but I also love being a cop. At times I don’t know what’s worse, dealing with the scum on the streets, or the scum I work with. When I first started I was about as hot as you are. Almost got myself killed when a perp grabbed ahold of my hair and went for my gun.” She pointed to her buzz cut, “solved that problem and the gawking at the same time. After I transferred and put on a little weight, I just get harassed for being a dyke, but the guys don’t hit on me, so it’s a plus. Don’t get me wrong — I love men, but I have a job to do. Catch me on my days off, I am a different woman. You keep that between us okay?”

“Makes sense, I can kinda relate.” Trish was scanning my body.

“Let’s talk about that. You are very beautiful, yet you look like you belong on a farm. Sporting jeans and a red flannel shirt. Very unkempt, no make-up; just a very plain, attractive homegrown kind of woman.” She knew I wasn’t right either.

“I grew up on the go; I wore what was practical. I am really not into girl clothes at all. My closet doesn’t have any skirts or dresses, just pants. I wish I could pull off what you do. I hate being howled at. Some of those cops you work with are disgusting. Reid seems like he torments the hell out of you, but he is one of the nicest ones there.” She didn’t say anything, instead turned her head and looked around a little. I did the same, having told too much about myself. It was comforting to find another woman who had to hide herself and was forced by society to conform or become someone opposite to the norm. It sucked she couldn’t just be who they were and instead forced to put on a mask to fight crime.

My gloved hands opened the drawers and fiddled through Liz’s wardrobe. Her underwear drawers seemed a little on the empty side with many of her bras and panties missing, yet everything was folded neatly. Same thing for socks. Most if not all her socks and loungewear was gone as well as her sweaters and several of her jeans. I relayed my findings to Trish, careful to generalize what groups were missing, rather than specifics.

“Sounds like someone else was trying to be practical, but practical for what?” She asked, “It’s almost as if she left knowing what the conditions were like where she was going.

“I don’t get it. Liz was very feminine and loved the girl clothes, yet it seems like she left most of that behind. Why would she do that?” I went into Ashley’s room and discovered the same thing — all her practical clothes were gone, but most of her girly attire was left behind. One thing stood out: her books were gone except for a few that had fallen on the ground.

“OK. Did you say at one point they were supposed to be going to a government shelter, that they were pre-selected?”

“Yes, but they never checked in, they never made it. Why?”

“Well, think about it. If you were going to go live in a cave with thousands of other refugees for two years, I don’t think you would be taking formal attire, but something warm and practical. Ashley looked as if she knew she was going to be bored. What if that's where they were heading, and something happened to them on the way?”

Things were starting to make a little sense, but who did the boot belong to, and why was her car still here? There was one thing I had to check that could shed light on Liz’s actions. I went back to my office and found our family portrait. I paused staring at them, we were so happy. Liz’s red hair was bright like a firebrand, while Ashley, six at the time, was so cute. The two girls were on opposite sides of me, each posing with their heads leaning against mine. I stared at my image for the first time in ages. I had grown my hair out a little for the picture and managed to shave my mustache which was showing a few early grey specks.

“They looked very happy,” Trish said.

“They were; a rare example of a family in today’s day and age,” I said as I reached up and pulled the picture down revealing another safe. I dialed the same combination as the one in the cabin and popped it open. I stepped back pondering what I was seeing. The $5,000, jewelry and my watches were all still there. She didn’t take them.

“Even in a shelter, these would be worth something. In a survival situation amongst a community, these could have been used to barter with. Why did she leave them?” She was about to speak when I stopped her.

“Shhh,” I whispered, listening, “someone’s at the door.” Just then the doorbell rang.

“That’s pretty good,” she said as I maneuvered toward my front door. I opened the door to find Reid standing there.

“Hi Karen. I got the call you two found something.” I let him in, while Trish and I filled him in.

“That’s amazing work there. I can’t believe we missed all that.”

“Well, you couldn’t have known what was on the top shelf.”

“Still, we should have noticed that there were suitcases missing,” Reid said in disbelief that I had closed the gap more in two hours than he had in two months, “there isn’t anything missing from the safe?”

“No, it’s all there. Everything he said would be there was still in its place.”

“Well that complicates things, now, doesn’t it? We can eliminate a kidnapping, because people don’t pack for a kidnapping.”

Trish spoke up. “What if they packed some bags to throw us off?” She had a good point.

“Observant, Mendoza, but if they did, they wouldn’t take specific articles of clothing — they would have just thrown any old thing into the suitcases. As you said, they were picking certain types of clothes as if they knew where they were going.” We were at another wall.

“Okay, so no kidnapping unless it was done on their way to the shelter.”

“For now, let’s keep it on the table and I will see what I can find out about the shelter. Let’s go to the garage.” We got to the garage when we heard the sound of a car pulling up. I opened the door to the crime scene team arriving.

“Again, really? Haven’t we been through this place a dozen times, Reid?”

I heard one of the Forensic techs mutter to the other, “More like Reidtard.”

“Real quick, then you two can go back to getting your jollies on."

“Oh, that’s so funny, did you make that up yourself?” they said, bickering at each other before they locked eyes onto me. “Well, well, well, when did you get an actual woman on your team?" he said, turning his attention to me. “Wow, I didn’t know they hired skirts like this as cops. Hey babe, wanna go out with someone with an actual brain?”

“Leave her alone, she’s not a police officer. Now get your asses over here, and see if you can get me some prints off this ladder. RIGHT NOW,” Reid said angrily.

“Oops, he looks mad. Here’s my card; call me if you ever need anyone to experiment on you.”

What a complete douche. I reached up to grab it, but instead flicked it out of his hand. Reid and Mendoza chuckled as they left to attend to the ladder. One of them pulled out a flashlight and shined it on the bar. Instead of a harsh yellow light, it was a soft purple color.

“Hey Reid, what print do you want, there are a hundred on here. You wanna narrow it down a little?”

“Get all of them for me and find the one that doesn’t belong to Mr. or Mrs. Owen.”

“You know, I have real detectives with real cases that need our intellects. Your missing tramp and her kid don’t qualify.” That sent me over the edge and I walked right up to Mouth and hovered over him.

“Listen up, short stuff, that tramp happens to be,” I paused a split second to make sure my rage didn’t cause me to slip up, “my brother’s wife. You think you're hot shit? Well, NASA must have thought you were an idiot, because I didn’t see your sorry ass getting shot into space to save everyone on the planet. You will give him and his family a little fucking respect, you got me, Doyle?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Man, what are you, a moron? You just handed me your business card a few seconds ago. Reid, don’t tell me this is the best you guys have. I bet with a little bit of training we can get a monkey to brush a little powder over a print and lift it with some scotch tape.” Whether it was my height, or the tone of my voice, he and his quieter partner turned and got to work. Reid watched closely to make sure they didn’t screw it up. After about 20 minutes, they were done, and took off without saying anything more.

---Bunker---

Liz and Ashley sat on the ground next to the couch playing Monopoly. They loved the game, because it sucked so much time away to play. At present their longest game lasted four hours and Ashley had the record for the most wins, plunging her mother into complete bankruptcy. Tonight was a little payback as Ashley narrowly escaped a third set of doubles and instead of landing herself in jail found herself on Liz’s Park Place with a hotel on it. Ashley’s salvation came as Dwayne announced they could sit down for dinner. He had purposely kicked them out of the kitchen for the last couple of hours while he cooked for the first time.

“Dwayne, everything smells wonderful,” Liz said, savoring the aroma of Italian Cuisine filling the bunker. They sat down and found a candlelit table with dishes of covered foods. He tried hard to copy Liz and Ashley’s routine, but failed miserably. Ashley giggled a bit, while Liz pretended to approve his attempt. Fact was, from the smell of everything, tonight’s dinner didn’t need to be hyped.

“Ladies, tonight, we celebrate, a fully functioning greenhouse with our first meal made mostly from the fruits of my labor. Bon Appétit,” he said as he withdrew the coverings.

“I used the hard pasta from the supply, but made my own sauce from the tomatoes, onions and garlic I grew. I also made some eggplant and zucchini as well as freshly made bread from the flour reserves. Sorry, the cows weren’t producing yet, so no cheese.” He added a little joke in the end.

“Oh my, Dwayne, this looks amazing. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I used to cook all the time. Haven’t had much time the past several years, but I know my way around a kitchen.” Liz thought how impressive that was, a man cooking for her. Once, when she left Michael alone with Ashley for a ladies’ night out, he opened the cabinets and asked her what looked good. They ended up going out that night. Dwayne’s culinary claims were indeed accurate as she took her first few bites. With what they had available, it was heavenly, like a first class restaurant came to them as a compromise.

“Oh, this is so good, Dwayne,” Ashley said, beating her mom to the punch. Liz immediately agreed. He poured Liz a glass of wine, then one for himself. After about twenty minutes, they were stuffed and couldn’t fit anymore in their stomachs.

“Thank you very much — that was very sweet of you to not only grow the produce, but to take the time to cook it as well.”

---Megan’s Place---
I returned home to Megan's at the same time she pulled into the driveway.

"Perfect timing," Reid said, seeing a car pull into the driveway. He stopped his sedan along the curb taking care to pull up along the driveway and not along the curb. He quickly put the car in park and got out and ran to my door as I opened it up.

"Here, let me," he said trying to be a gentleman. He finished pulling the door open before I could resist.

I mustered a quick, “Thanks,” as he shut the door.

"Karen, I am really impressed at your talents. You have quite a gift that you can use to get some really bad people off the streets. I really hope you will consider what we talked about today, because I think if anyone solves your case, it's going to end up being you. You will put me to shame, but think about others out there that could benefit from what you have to offer."

"Reid, I will think about it, but I really don't want to be a police officer. I don't care for guns much and think my skills can best serve humanity in other areas."

"What if I were to tell you, we often bring in people with certain skill sets as a consultant. We have worked with mathematicians, scientists, psychologists, and hell even psychics if you can believe that. Would you be interested in spending a little time every week reviewing cases? If you can help us clear our plate, we can devote more time to your case and hopefully find them." It was appealing. I wouldn't be a bother anymore, and I could get first-hand knowledge of case files I could then use to really protect the innocent.

"Tell you what, it's New Year’s Eve. This has been a shitty year for me, and I want it over with. Let's see what the new year brings and talk about it next week. Deal?"

"Sounds like a plan," he said as Megan came over to greet us.

"Hi Karen." I returned the greeting as she turned to introduce herself, "Hi, I'm Dr. McCormack. I'm a good friend of Karen."

"Dr. McCormack, Detective Reid. I've been assigned to the Owen Case. Your friend here is quite an extraordinary young woman."

"Yes, I am aware of that. When did you take over the case? Wasn't there another detective handling it a couple months ago?"

"Yes, that was Harris; I took over around late November. They keep dumping these impossible missing persons cases on me, but I have a passion for them, so I don't complain. We made some progress today, but I will let Karen tell you about it.”

"I can't wait to hear about it. I want those two found just as bad as anyone," Megan told Reid.

"I understand you were on Operation THOR and served under Commander Owen?"

"That's right; Michael and I were very close. He was a great friend."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss — both of you. I know it's rough losing the people we love. Listen Doctor, I know people have interviewed you already, but if you can spare some time in the next few days, would you mind if I sit down with you? In light of some recent findings I would like to revisit this investigation."

"Of course, anything I can do. But I will warn you, I have a great alibi," Megan's humor didn't come out often, but when it did, no one was expecting it and made it even more funny. Reid and I got a great laugh.

"Okay, here is my card; call me after the new year and we can set up a time. In the meantime, you two have a safe and wonderful New Year." He got in his car and drove off, leaving Megan and I alone. We walked to her car where I helped her with her luggage.

"Where did you go?" I asked her wondering why she was packed to stay someplace that was 45 minutes away.

"Let's go inside and I will tell you about it. First, I could use a drink." Megan changed out of her business suit and into something more comfortable, while I opened a bottle of Chianti for her. After twenty minutes, she came out wearing a blue sweatsuit.

"Oh, I thought we would go out," I said a little disappointed.

"I would, but I am a little tired right now and I am not feeling all that hot. I would rather get some take-out, stay home and get crazy drunk with my best friend. How does that sound?” Great, only I can’t get drunk. I was going to say something, but chose not to. She seemed a little down.

“Is everything all right? It’s not like you to turn to drinking.”

“Later. I’m hungry; what do you want to eat?” I thought about it, for a moment, and put it back on her.

“I am open to almost anything. Tell you what — pick any place you want, and I will go pick it up.”

“You know, Chinese sounds great. There is a pretty good little place down the street —”

“Seriously? You want Chinese from a little place in Texas?”

“Michael, I know you can fly to China, but I don’t need the best Chinese food, nor do I need you to impress me. I just want to have a nice relaxing night with your company. I have lots to tell you, so hurry back.”

---Bunker---

“Dwayne, thank you for dinner, but I really am not in the mood for anything tonight. I’m not feeling well. This was a really bad year and a lot of pain is welling up. I just want to sleep early tonight,” Liz said gently pushing him back.

“Liz, it’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to get into a lengthy explanation and you don’t owe me anything. I risk my life for you because I can about you.”

“What about Ashley? Or is it only me you care about?”

“Of course I care about her too.” Dwayne was getting a little uncomfortable, as Liz was starting to put a little pressure on him, and his culinary skills weren’t getting him anywhere on New Year’s Eve. He thought he should have ditched the two for his company party, all expenses paid using the funds they received from Uncle Sam.

“Well, Dwayne, if you care about her, you mind showing her a little? She is missing her dad and could use a man that takes interest in her. You can’t just keep showering her with shit you find in that wasteland. She needs a father figure more than she needs a board game from some deceased person’s house.”

“Hey, I am really busy and put myself out there for you two, isn’t that enough? What do you want from me?”

“Quiet down — you are going to wake her up.”

“Then stop talking to me like that! Where the hell did all this come from all of a sudden?”

“She told me herself: you ignore her.” Liz thought she shouldn’t have told Dwayne that, but now he knew and she couldn’t take it back.

“Well, excuse me for trying. I’m not Mike, I’ve never been married and I don’t have kids, so I don’t know how to raise them.”

“It’s not complicated, Dwayne; it’s like dating, you listen to them and take an interest in what they say. Interact with them, and they love you for it.”

“Hey, your her mother, that’s your job. I’m not her father; I am just keeping you two alive. Consider yourself a little fucking blessed to have me, otherwise you wouldn’t be alive. You know what, fuck this,” he said as he walked towards the door and grabbed the suit off the hook. Liz began to panic.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Where does it look like? I am leaving. Spend the night on your own — I will sleep in the greenhouse with some plants that appreciate me.” He had the suit halfway on when he went into the storage and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Almost forgot, something to keep my celebration going.”

“Stop, Dwayne; you’re already drunk. Don’t go outside, it’s too dangerous while intoxicated, you can tear your suit, or damage the green house.”

“Oh, what do you care if it did? Truth is, I don’t care anymore if something happens to me. I’m tired of putting this shit on every day.”

“Please don’t go outside; I need you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Liz said as she started to cry, “I’m afraid and I’m hurting inside. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He continued to zip up the suit, ignoring her.

“Guess you should have thought about that before you started ranting. Goodbye, Liz.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him crying and begging for him to stay.

“Dwayne, please, I am so afraid you will get hurt out there. Please stay with me tonight. I’m getting a little PMS. It’s not you; it’s me. I’m so sorry, please stay.” She hugged him tight while he let his arms hang low, not willing to give in and hug her back. Finally, he reached up and embraced her.

“You’re right. It’s dangerous and foolish of me to go out tonight, especially after already drinking,” he said to her, really taking into account the increased number of drunks and cops on the roads above. She kissed him on the cheek and then pulled the suit off him and hung it on the wall. “I’m sorry too. I know you are taking care of Ashley alone. I will try harder to interact with her more. I may need some help, but I will do my best.”

“Really? Thank you, Dwayne. I’m very sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated the way I just did. You are a great guy and we are glad you came to get us that night. I think about what would have happened if you left us like everyone else did. I don’t know why Michael asked you to look after us, but he knew what he was doing when he chose you. I love him — understand that — I always will.

“Of course Liz; I wouldn’t expect you not to,” he said as she closed the door to the bedroom and took off her shirt. He watched her undress before him and thought, ‘Putty in my hands,’ while he took his own shirt off.

----

“I hope to never eat freeze dried foods ever again. A week long shuttle mission was one thing, but a year of that was just too much,” I said as I loaded up another helping of broccoli beef and fried rice. Megan raised her glass in salute to my statement.

“Amen to that,” she said as we clanged out glasses together and sipped our wine. “That and those cramped conditions we had to eat in.” I scooted my chair right next to hers and leaned up against her while taking a bite.

“You mean you didn’t like bumping shoulders with me as we ate?” she laughed as I moved my chair back ending the routine.

“No, I didn’t mind it that much; it was Eugene who I didn’t want to be that close to.”

“Yeah, he was a pain at times. A few times, I thought about blowing him out the airlock, but all in all he wasn’t that bad. He just wasn’t a ‘people person,’ and certainly no astronaut.” Megan suddenly started laughing. “What?” I asked.

“I never told you what I did to him, did I?”

“No you did not. When was this?” She paused a moment.

“Man was he not an astronaut. Anyways, right after you messaged us in Morse code, he started freaking out and fighting with Sean. As you can imagine, Eugene couldn’t accept that he had no rational answer for what was happening, and Sean thought it was the Almighty Himself outside. Naturally, Eugene went apeshit.”

“Him and Sean fighting over religion? Nahh.”

“Right? More on that later. Anyways, they were arguing while NASA was trying to make sense of our situation, that’s when I —” She stopped, trying to figure things out in her head. “— No, that was later. Actually, that was the moment I got out of there, and went down to the lower deck. Hold the thought about Eugene; I never told you this either. All of them were on the flight deck, and I ducked below. That’s when I used the camera array to see if you were out there. Of course, you couldn’t hear the arm moving behind you, but imagine my surprise when, instead of you in your suit outside, I found myself staring at an unprotected woman I had never seen before.”

“So, that’s why no one knows about the image. How did you keep mission control from seeing the feed?”

“You know, I have no idea why I did this, but I disabled it. It was monitoring only, and I printed straight to the onboard printer. I hid the images in my files. The files are protected as doctor/patient information and were kept undisturbed.”

“That was very quick thinking; thank you for keeping me safe. I kept forgetting to ask you about that, so thanks for finally telling me. How did you figure out who I was?”

“Well, I only had bits and pieces to go on. My first instinct was the same as Sean’s. You were some kind of angel, perhaps Michael’s ghost himself back from the grave. It explained your distinct humor coded in the message and your flight operation knowledge, but when I saw you, I didn’t know what to believe. But I knew the miracle, whatever the source, was personal. Why did you choose to contact us?”

“Well, that was a risk, but truth was, I needed to know what everyone’s status was. I didn’t think I would be able to control my flight and guide the orbiter in for a landing. I needed Sean’s help. I planned it exactly as you described it. I knew Sean could understand the message, and he would link it to the supernatural. I just didn’t want to be seen.” I started to get emotional as I choked out the last part, “I’m glad you saw me though.”

“I’m glad I did too. So, your appearance at the cemetery and your inquiry about Liz and Ashley, not to mention your false name, all raised big red flags. I couldn’t be sure, though; that’s why I kept you around while I looked into their whereabouts for you. Our breakfast at Chez Marie was the giveaway. You forgot two things, Michael; I read your complete history, wrote a psychological profile recommending you for command, not to mention got to know you very well personally. All my questions at the cafe drew you out as much as you tried to hide.” I reached for my glass and chugged the expensive wine like it was water.

“So, how do you know I was trying to hide — maybe I was intentionally trying to be obvious?” She reached over and grabbed the bottle, refilling my glass. I took the bottle and filled hers for her.

“That was always a possibility, but you know the answer to that; it’s not important. What is, is that the planets aligned and allowed us to reconnect and become best friends. I love you, Michael; you are a great man inside, and even though you are in one hell of a sexy woman’s body, I, first and foremost see the real you inside.”

“Thank you; it makes me feel good to be seen as the real me.” I paused. “I do feel, though, you want me to embrace my female side. Sometimes I feel you are pressuring me a little.” I regretted saying that the moment I let it out. For the most part she was right; she did see me as Michael and in private, always called me by my real name; even used male pronouns. Still, in the park, she was real quick to want to teach me about being a woman.

“Michael, you know I want the very best for you, and I want you to be whoever you want to be. I know it’s difficult being thrust into a new body, one that is a different gender, almost twenty years younger, not to mention alien, and immortal. That’s a lot of dysphoria for anyone to have to deal with. I’m sorry I have ever come across as trying to feminize you; it’s not my intention. Don’t forget, Michael, some of this is new territory for me. I specialized in areas of psychology for the benefit of humans living in space, not different bodies. Some of the principles may be similar, but the gender issues are a little new to me. You understand?”

“Yes; I didn’t really mean to sound upset about it. I think about it a lot, and it is a reality I have to face. I am just very insecure about my masculinity and I am scared sometimes being stuck as a woman. I know you are trying to help and I appreciate it.”

“Let me say something, then: let’s save this for another day, okay?” I gladly agreed and let her continue, “First of all, understand, gender and sex are two different things. Sex is what defines your biological identification, but gender is more of a social distinction. Females can cross between the two with little social ramifications, but males are expected to conform to a distinctly male role. They are not allowed to show their feminine sides. There are men in the world who long to be free to express that. Some to the point where they want to become women themselves; others just want to be more open with their sensitive sides. There is nothing wrong with it; it’s just that current societal norms shun such attempts. Think about it — several hundred years ago, men whore tights, wigs, frilly lacy clothes and went to the theater. No one thought they were gay. Show those pictures to a group of high school football players and they would all make fun of them.” I laughed having made fun of such historical figures myself, but what she said was true. Social norms of the day are very restrictive.

“That make sense, I guess. Still, I don’t think I will ever get in touch with my feminine side even if I could. I’m still not really a real woman. I might look it, but I am different. This alien body isn’t the same.”

“What do you mean, it’s not the same?” she asked and I realized I really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Nothing, forget it. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Okay, I won’t push. Just know that no matter what, you can tell me, even the sensitive stuff; just think of me as your doctor. None of that is taboo, okay?”

“Okay, I will. So what did you do to Shephard?” I asked changing the subject back.

“Oh, yes. So, you are outside posing for my camera, and a bit later, instruct us to prepare to orbital insertion. Sean needs to fly, and Eugene starts freaking out to the point that he was going to assault him. Mitri gets between them, and you know how intimidating Mitri can be?”

“Nah, he’s a great guy, but I know what you mean.”

“Well, Eugene isn’t much of a fighter, but he was going to take a swing at him. That’s went I jabbed him in the ass with a needle this long,” she held up her fingers about three inches wide, “and tranquilized him. Oh man, was that great relief.” We were laughing as she described him suddenly pass out and float helplessly in the cabin. “We were just laughing about this the other day in fact.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes, I saw him and Sean, and had a video conference with Mitri. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Really? How is everyone?”

“All of them are doing very well. Sean is almost healed up and his spirits are back up. Eugene is a completely different man — heck, he and Sean are even good friends now thanks to you.

“Son of a bitch, Eugene softens up, and Brad becomes an asshole. How is Mitri?” I asked before her thoughts of Brad could sink in. It was too late, and it brought her down, but she shook it off and answered the question.

“Mitri… As far as I know, he is doing quite well living up the dream in the Motherland. We are going to see him in March.”

“Great, he’s coming back here — what for?”

“Huge plans, Michael; I wish you could be involved somehow. MIR is going to be phased out, and the USA and Soviet Union as well as several other nations are going to collaborate on an international space station that will maintain a constant crew in space.” I got very excited.

“Oh wow, that is wonderful news; how exciting. I take it US and the Soviets will be principal engineers on the project?”

“Yes; they are already working on standardizing components so that the modules will interlock with each other. Between the Shuttles and Soyuz rockets, we will be launching regular missions over the next couple decades as well as another Deliverance-class vehicle for a possible Mars mission somewhere down the road.”

“Damn, NASA’s going to be busy. Where did they get the funding from?”

“Stocks in companies are through the roof — everyone wants a piece of the companies that saved the world. Space is the hot ticket. They are even developing an orbiting telescope and naming it after Edwin Hubble.” I was bouncing off my seat with excitement.

“So I take it you are staying on board?”

“Well, yes and no. I am going to stay on as an independent consultant. People are going to be living around the clock on the space station, and I will have to develop a training program and guidelines for the international crews that will be living up to six months at a time. They need my experience, and, so far, I am the only one who knows how to tranquilize a crazy astronaut.” She chose the moment I took a sip to say that and I blew the wine out through my nose. After a few minutes of laughing we got back to a serious conversation.

“Okay, I get you and Sean. What’s Eugene’s involvement?”

“Mostly the three of us are going to meet up with Mitri for a PR tour. Eugene is head of research studying all the samples we brought back, so he won’t be involved much after we get back.”

“Back? Where are you meeting up with Mitri?”

“Moscow. We are all going to Russia, then he will follow to us to a few other destinations yet- to-be-determined.”

“Russia, you are all going to Russia? That’s going to be quite a trip. March will finally start warming up too.”

“Why don’t you come with us? You can meet us there.”

“Yes, but I don’t have a passport.”

“You don’t need one — you can land anywhere.”

“True, but Megan, the Soviet Union isn’t the US; there are constant checkpoints and KGB will randomly stop you for your papers. Not really worried about getting caught without them, but if they catch me with you, it can get someone in trouble.” Still I wouldn’t mind going and keeping a distant eye on my friends, I thought.

“I didn’t think of that. Good thinking. You know, we need to find a way to get you an identity. So far, you don’t exist. If we can somehow get you an identity, we can get you into a university, and back into NASA. We can really use your brain.”

“Well you’re not the only one after my brain. Turns out the cops want it, too.” We shifted to the living room and sat down by the fireplace while continuing the conversation.

“What do you mean?” Megan asked as she got back up and went into the kitchen.

“Well I goofed and memorized everything in Reid’s case file.” She came back with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

“Here. You liked my family’s label?” She said as she poured a tall glass, “So how is memorizing that a goof?”

“Thanks,” I said taking the glass and inhaling the nutty aroma, “I goofed because I wrote it all down to examine the data. I found a pattern and showed it to Reid, who thought I went into his cabinet. I almost got arrested, so I told him that I have a photographic memory and proved it to him. He insists I should be a detective or at least a private consultant helping solve crimes.”

“What do you think about that?”

“Preferably, I would rather do what you suggest, but while I am in that police station, I hear people’s problems, problems that none of them really want to take the time to help them with. Megan, it hurts so much that I can't find my girls, but I can't just sit around feeling sorry for myself.   I need to do something, and I'm hearing that there are others who I can help.   Hell I already have.

“That is very admirable, Michael. You do have many things at your disposal to assist those in need. Heck, you can do both, you know. You don’t sleep, so why not work one at night and the other during the day? Life can’t be all play, you know.” She had a point; my sleeplessness drives me insane sometime and having something to constantly keep me busy might be a good thing.

“You’re right — I need to keep myself busy, and I can serve humanity in two different ways at the same time. Something to look forward to in 1987; ‘86 sucked.”

“Not entirely, I did meet a really good friend this year.” I was getting a little sad thinking what I have gained versus all that I have lost. Still, I thought about what we found in the house, and for the first time since my family went missing, I had a vague shred of hope that they were alive somewhere. Where and why, I have no idea, but they were out there, and, by god, I will find them, and so help the person, if any, who took them from me.

Several hours later, I was on my fifth bottle of whiskey, drunk and screaming a slurred “Happy New Year” into the night sky with Megan just after we watched the delay of the ball dropping in the Big Apple. It felt like an era of my life was ending as 1986 came to a close, and I looked forward to what the new dawn would bring.

To Be Continued....Episode 11: “Rodina”

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by G.M. Shephard

The Crew of the Deliverance is reunited in Soviet Russia. To keep a close eye on Megan, and get close to his friend Mitri, Michael assumes the identity of a Russian woman with a similar look to Kaaren, but with a shady past. As Anzehla, she unknowingly in caught in the middle of a plot to to topple the Soviet Government.

Angel S:1 E:11 “Motherland”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Episode 11 “Motherland”

---Kolyma Gulag Hard Labor Camp, Siberia---

The prisoners were led by chains out into the still harsh wintery landscape of Siberia. All were rather dangerous looking men, imprisoned for murder, kidnapping, theft, insubordination within the military. Most had been in the camps for years and were serving sentences ranging from a couple of years to life. It was still early morning, and the rest of the prisoners were still sleeping. The men assembled near the front gate next to a couple of trucks. Colonel Tolkachev stood before them examining his selection. Each had been chosen a couple of months ago. Chosen for their ruthlessness, their ability to survive, but mostly, because he knew they would die before coming back here. Since the time they were picked for his operation, he had them sequestered from the rest of the prisoners. Their hot food rations were increased to start reversing the withering effects the harsh conditions of the camp had on its occupants. The modern Gulag, while harsh and cruel, was still far more humane that it was during Stalin’s reign. Then, prisoners were starved and worked to the point of exhaustion. If the hard labor or lack of food didn’t get you, work related accidents, -40 degree weather, inmates, guards or illness‘ would take your life before three months were up. All said and done, between 1930 and 1950, over 50 million people perished in the camps.

“You have all be selected for an early release from prison. There is a mission that you will complete, one of great importance to the security and well being of Soviet Union. Upon the successful completion of this mission, you will be granted full pardons and allowed to rejoin society. Each of you will be taken by truck to a train. There you will be told what is expected of you and given everything you will need. If you fail, or if you run, you and your families will be imprisoned and you will never see the light of day again. Now get on the trucks, there is warm clothing and hot food waiting for you.” Those magic words “warmth” were enough to convince them to take the risk and accept the opportunity to serve their country.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

“How long has it been since the accident?” Reid asked as he brought himself up to date on the Millbourne file.

“Coming up on three months already,” Victoria replied trying to think back to the exact date. Reid browsed through the file.

“Yes, it was December 30th around 11:00pm. How is Mr. Millbourne doing?”

“He is recovering well, but he has a long way to go. His right hand had to be reconstructed, it will never be the same again. The left is healing well and will likely be just like new in a couple more months.”

“I am glad to hear that he is doing better. Still a mystery how he shattered his hands when he hit that wall, but he is mighty lucky. How are you doing?”

“You know, for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say, I am a happy woman. Life is much better. That night was a game changer. I had had enough of his shit, and was ready to live on the streets, rather than endure another day with that creep. I don’t know why he left me alone and drove off that night, but I wished him dead. An hour and a half later, there is an officer at my door telling me he had been in an accident.” She started tearing up and Reid handed her a box of tissues from his lower drawer, “Thank you,” she said as she took the box from his hand.” I know it sounds awful, but when she was standing there at my door, I was secretly happy, hoping I was finally free of him. Instead the bastard was ok, just really banged up.”

“Mrs. Millbourne, I know your situation and it’s not easy to live in an abusive relationship and having to live every day in constant fear. I won’t pretend you didn’t mean what you said. So how is your relationship now?”

“He is different. He won’t talk about what happened that night, but whatever it was that intervened in his life, it worked; he is a different man. He has raised his voice at me a few times, but quickly backs down and apologizes to me. He is very respectful to me and my son since the accident, and while far from loving, I suspect he is finally on the right path,” Reid knew the routine well enough with these kinds of men. Hell he worked with enough of them in his department. Cops and their stress made for a bad combination if they had an aggressive nature. Several had their own wives that seemed to keep falling down the stairs. They were all the same though, something would get them to stop for a while, but sure enough; give it some time; they would be back and vicious as ever.

“Mrs. Millbourne, I am sincerely happy to know your life is improving and your husband is a changed man. I really want to believe that, but I am going to be frank with you. People like your husband have these abusive tendencies that stem from something in their own past. Behaviors such as these, while at time do suddenly change, are often short lived changes,” he said as he continued to read through her file taking into account every time she tried filing charges against him. He was a very dangerous man, and Reid knew his type well. One of two situations always panned out, either his type would kill the wife in some rage, or she would eventually fight back, shooting and killing him. It was tragedy either case. Either the woman, who never got the help she deserved, ends up dying, or a misguided jury convicts her for killing the bastard that deserved the bullet. The Millbournes were rapidly approaching that point, and had he not wrecked his car, one of the two would have wound up dead.

“So you believe me?” She asked.

“I do,” Reid told her.

“Than why the hell couldn’t I have had you working my case all these years. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to go through all this bullshit and my own collection of broken bones.”

“I’m very sorry it worked out that way. Turns out the detective working your case suddenly took an early retirement and yours truly here, was given several of his cases. I promise you, I am not like him, and take these types of cases seriously. Now I want you to reconsider dropping the charges you have pending against him. The DA doesn’t really want to touch it considering his position, but I recommend keeping them filed should he revert to his old self.”

“I understand, and normally I would agree with you, but this time there really is something different about him. He is trying. He has never actively worked to correct himself and has gone so far to have enrolled in some kind of class to fix his aggression.”

“Anger Management classes. That’s great, definite steps in the right direction, but again, a lot of the time, it’s all to get you to let down your guard.”

“My guard, I have no guard and he knows that. He had full access to do whatever. He wasn’t even afraid of you guys. I had nothing against him, nothing he needed to feign improvement in in order for me to back down. It’s,” she paused thinking about it more, “It’s almost as if he is afraid of something else. Sometimes it’s as if the devil himself visited him that night. I can’t explain it, but every time he has tried to unleash his anger, he quickly reacts almost as if he is terrified about something.”

“I sure wish there were something that could terrify some of these creeps into being civilized. I tell ya, it would sure make my job pretty easy,” he closed the file thinking about what he just said. Unknown to her, it seemed right around the time of Clint Millbourne’s unfortunate accident, the crime rate in the area had been decreasing a small percentage. Some of it was through good police work that led to some no good sons of bitches being taken off the street. Some of those cases he solved himself thanks to his secret weapon. Since Karen had agreed to help him out, he had been secretly feeding her case files. Many times her fresh set of eyes, picked up on areas that had been previously overlooked. She was good with math and could run sequences of numbers through her head faster than some of these newer computers. He disliked the fact he took all the credit for her work, but she repeatedly expressed her disinterest in any recognition. Still he wanted to do something for her to make up for all she had done to further his career. Fewer shit cases like the one in front of him were getting thrown his way in place of higher profile cases. He had a passion for real police work and although the Millbourne domestic abuse file was shit, he considered it equal in terms of importance.

“Let’s approach this case this way Mrs. Millbourne. I believe you, and I believe in you. You may not think I ever come across bad people who suddenly change their lives one day and become someone completely different, but occasionally it does happen. Of those few cases, even fewer are lifelong changes for the good. Now I am not saying your husband isn’t in that minuscule category, I just want to error on the side of caution. If we drop these charges, they go away and you can’t use them later on. You will start from scratch and we won’t be able to step in.”

“I understand the risk, but I tell you he is a different person, one who finally respects me. All of us need a fresh start, and I don’t want to hold something over him the way he used to do to me.”

“I get that. Look, I can’t speak for all the others who handled your case, and I won’t apologize on their behalf for not believing your story. Any one of them would be very quick to light this file on fire and get you the hell out of their lives, but I want you to know, I am not like that. I take each of my cases seriously and to prove that, I don’t want you out of my life. Let me be proactive and check in on you every once and a while. I will keep this file set aside, and after a few months, we can revisit your request,” she thought long and hard.

“Thank you detective, I really wish you would have been in my life sooner, but my decision stands. I will take the risk. Our marriage isn’t great, far from it, but it is very different from what it used to be. I appreciate your time,” she stood up and gathered her things. He was about to protest when the phone rang.

“Reid.”

“Reid, I have an Agent Maxwell with the FBI here to see you.” said the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I am expecting him, keep him waiting for about ten minutes while I finish up here.” Reid hung up without getting an acknowledgment.

“Perfect timing, thank you again for all your work.”

“Ok, Mrs. Millbourne, good luck, I wish you well.”

“I appreciate it, I will be fine,” she said with confidence.

“I hope so, but seriously, if you need me, please don’t hesitate to call me. I promise there won’t be any ‘I told you so’ moments.”

“Ok, I will,” she said as she left. Reid scanned the room.

“Hey Mendoza, get your ass over here,” he yelled causing all the other officers to direct their attention to him and Mendoza. Several of them started making comments to each other wondering what she was in trouble for now. She arrived at his desk.

“What do you need Reid?” She asked.

“Maxwell is here for our Federal pow wow. Find Harris and that lab rat with the big brain, and meet me in the west conference room.

“10-4,” she said and hurried off while he collected the Millboune file and put it back into his drawer of open case files, then withdrew his increasingly larger Owen file and headed to the front to collect his favorite federal agent.

---Domodedovo International, Moscow---

“Welcome to Moscow, may I see your papers please?” a man dressed in normal suit asked while several Russian military guards stood nearby with a Kalashnikov strung around their shoulders. Several other non uniform KGB stood at the other end of the table. The troupe of American astronauts who saved the world waited at customs waiting to go through the rigorous screening by what Time Magazine reported to be the world’s most effective information-gathering organization. Shephard was first to go through the routine.

“Dr. Shephard, welcome to Soviet Union.” He scanned Eugene’s passport and special entry papers that had been arranged by top level government officials. Their arrival and purpose was of great importance, but the KGB did not take this as an excuse to relax, “I see your hair is different color than in your picture here.”

“Yes, I am turning a little gray so I recently dyed it.”

“I see Doctor, how long will you be in Moscow?” They had all been briefed and well prepared for this, but Eugene was getting frustrated figuring they should know the full itinerary.

“We will be in Moscow for two days followed by a tour of the facilities in Star City. We will be there for about seven days, then we will take a tour of the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan that will last for four days, then we will return to Moscow and fly to the UK.”

“Very good Doctor, we are glad to have you in our country, welcome to Moscow.” After a brief inspection of his personal bags, he was admitted.

Dr. Roth was next to go through and received equal questioning of his business. He resisted a little having been instrumental in the planning work and had been to Russia many times over the last few years. Still they treated him like this was his first visit.

“I understand your frustration Dr.,” the KGB official said in remarkably good English. “Regardless of your visit, our country has rules as to who enters and who does not. I know that is not something you Americans worry about, but we do. Your visit is very important and it would be a shame if someone posed as you to enter into our country and disrupted the festivities between our two countries. Don’t you agree?” His thoroughness was suddenly explained by his fear of letting an American spy inside by letting his guard down. He finished with Roth and repeated the process on the rest of the Deliverance crew and NASA officials. The group was led by a man who introduced himself as Yuri Borov who was in charge of their care for the duration of the stay. He took them outside where a bus was waiting for them.

“What about our luggage?” Collins asked.

“We do not want you to worry about your belongings, they will be taken to your hotel rooms, where they will be waiting for you,” Yuri said addressing the who group answering the question they all had in their minds, “please, we have schedule to keep, people are waiting.” A few minutes later, when everyone was settled, the bus departed for the hotel.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

Reid went over the developments of the case over the course of the last three months with Maxwell who reviewed the copied documents added to the case file as Reid briefed him.

“Great going kid, way to make some progress,” he said referring to Reid’s 35 year youth compared to his 55 years. This was going to be his last year before retirement. He had had a meager run with the Bureau, never rising very high, and a somewhat spotty record that had more failures than achievements. For about three years, his superiors were convinced he was finally on the high road, ready to end his career with some rather large cases being solved. His success run was short-lived, and eventually went back to a mediocre performance. This was his last major case and like Reid, it was dumped on him. Maxwell kept getting the shit assignments more or less to convince him to retire as soon as possible.

“Thank you,” Reid said as he continued, “Mendoza here escorted Mr. Owen’s sister to the house, where they discovered the extra boot print and the missing luggage. Forensics was able to match the boot print with the other found on the floor a week prior. The Sister, who is the half sister of the late Michael Owen, had first-hand knowledge that the luggage was stored on the shelf above the first print. The boot is a standard workman’s boot, size 12. Judging by the hight of the shelf at about 8ft and the boot print only found on the first rung of the step stool, we have determined the hight of the boot owner to be about 5’.7”-5’.8”

“We also lifted a partial fingerprint off of the step stool handle. We are running it through the database, but it is slow going. It might be a while before we can get a match, if that,” Meissner the lab technician said, “it’s definitely from an adult male.”

“That’s just terrific now isn’t it? Your big breakthrough is a print from one of the most popular size and make of men’s work boots, worn by a man who is the average hight for an American male, and a partial fingerprint. Come on, I thought you said you had made a little progress.”

Harris jumped in, “We have, in fact we are most likely sure this isn’t a kidnapping and whoever this mystery man is, Mrs. Owen might have gone with him voluntarily.”

“You guys are killing me, a missing suitcase doesn’t rule out a kidnapping,” Maxwell interjected.

“You’re right, but very specific articles of clothing were packed as if she knew where she was going? We went over this before, but it’s hard to believe that someone who was trying to make it look like a kidnapping would go through the effort of picking warm comfortable clothing, leaving behind any business or formal wear. Same thing for the daughter.”

“There you have it, she ditched her rocket man for someone else and the two hit the road for a cooler climate,” Maxwell said closing the case with his sarcastic rhetoric.

“There was a development that fit that idea almost perfectly.”

“Great a scenario, well let’s hear it,” Maxwell said with excitement.

“Dr. McCormack approached me back in Jan -” Reid had only begun filling him in when Maxwell interrupted.

“- This doctor, she’s the skirt astronaut that spent a year in the taxpayer’s bucket of bolts with our deceased flyboy right?”

“Skirt?” Mendoza said with a little anger in her voice.

“Yeah, skirt, broad, dame, chick. Hey don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that they are sending women into space, gotta have someone to cook and clean for the other astronauts. Ahahahah,” he started laughing at his own joke.

“Look Maxwell, you mind, that’s not appropriate.”

“What, we’re all guys here,” Maxwell said trying to justify himself. Reid casually shook his head and pointed to Mendoza. He looked at her for a moment and studied her.

“Really, well, no kidding, had me fooled. Do I put my lunch order in with her? Hahahaha.”

“Hey Maxwell, it’s fine with us if you won’t want to touch this case, but do us the favor and leave it to us, but don’t come here and insult my fellow officers as well as the very people who are responsible for you still breathing,” Reid said as Maxwell picked up the file and started reading up on McCormack.

“Ok, back to your scenario, you were saying about the good doctor?”

“Yes, Dr. McCormack approached me back in January. On a hunch she asked me to look into her ex-fiancé, a Bradford Carter. He was in the astronaut training program while she was preparing for her mission. They got engaged prior to her leaving. According to her, about four months into her mission, he began having an affair.”

“Wow, that’s some pretty juicy material for a soap opera. I love it, keep going.”

“Upon her return, he finally confessed and revealed that his mistress is pregnant. They separated, and she moved on. One thing he never told her was who he had the affair with and no one at NASA seems to know.” Maxwell leaned forward, highly interested. “Anyway, Dr. McCormack started to have uneasy feelings and went around the sister to have me follow the ex.”

“So the scenario you propose is that Carter, and Owen’s wife started schtuping while their significant others were on a rock out in space, the Mrs. gets knocked up and can’t bear the thought of NASA painting a big red “A” on her chest for cheating on a great American hero, so she runs and hides. That’s great, why haven’t we found her yet and closed the case?”

“I really wanted to, it was the only, as you keep saying, scenario that fit like a glove. It explained everything from her gradual withdrawal as time progressed all the way to her leaving her old life behind and disappearing. Only problem, she is not Carter's mistress. A NASA admin by the name of Susan Phillips, who is no longer employed there, is.”

“That’s a disappointment, you had me thinking I could retire and put an end to all this funny business. So what did you bother telling me this for?”

“Just because Carter isn’t the stud, it’s still a likely scenario played out with someone else,” Harris said starting to use Maxwell’s favorite FBI term. “There are a few problems, however. First, everyone we interview at NASA were very quick to say impossible. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Owen were still madly in love. Any idea that she was having an affair was unthinkable to even the night janitor.”

“I agree, based on my feedback from Dr. McCormack and Ms. Santucci, Mrs. Owen likely disappeared for other reasons,” Reid said, throwing his opinion on the table. “Still, to be sure, we are looking into her medical records. We are working on getting a court order to subpoena her doctor to see if she has had any pregnancy tests that showed positive. Also, we would be uncertain of her progress until we get an affirmative, so until the court order comes through, we have sent her picture and information to hospitals in case she goes into labor.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, we also have another bit of information that leads us back to Ms. Phillips. Upon reviewing phone records, we came across a pattern that closely synced up with Mrs. Owen’s withdrawal. This number belonged to NASA’s Personnel Department and none other than Ms. Phillips’ line. Apparently, she and Mrs. Owen were friends. Unfortunately Ms. Phillips has not wanted to cooperate with us, so we are working on getting her in here. The process has been slow, but we hope to bring her in for questioning next week.” Maxwell closed his files and put them back in his case.

“Well thank you gentlemen, for wasting my time. You keep up the good police work there, while I go bag a few bad guys. See you again in a few months.”

---Mochba Hotel Bar---

"That was a tiring day wasn't it?" Eugene asked glad to be relaxing after their long day that began the moment they hit the ground.

"Yes indeed, and we haven't even begun our trip. All in all, not nearly as bad as that training we went through, and we can drink, so our situation has improved," Megan said while sipping her wine. They sat at a little table in the corner of the hotel bar. She was about to retire early, when she ran into Eugene in the lobby. He wasn’t tired yet, and wanted to relax a little. Like him, Megan was here solo. Collins was married and brought his wife along. Sean and Debra were spending the evening having a quiet second dinner together, while they had the opportunity. Mitri was also married, but was busy meeting with the engineers from NASA. Megan was grateful that they were mostly brought here for show, while the NASA design team worked with the Russian engineers almost around the clock to start producing results for the taxpayers. For Megan, and Eugene, it was a free night for the two before they had a moderate schedule in Moscow. Tomorrow would be a day spent giving the first love to the Russian politicians, after which they would spend most of the time in Star City.

"Very true, he said, those were some grueling days. It still amazes me how even with all the countries pooling together, we were able to accomplish what we did in two years. Still, in the end, it wasn't enough. Call it luck, a miracle, whatever, somehow we managed to survive and life continued. You ever think about what happened up there?"

"Do you think I would't?" Megan said sarcastically.

"You're right, that was a stupid question. Of course you think about it. I sometimes can't sleep at night, trying to recall just what it was we encountered up there. So let me ask you a better question, just what do you think it was? Certainly something did intercede on our behalf."

"I really don't know."

"That's surprising, you and Collins seemed to have the most hope in what you were hearing. Someone or something was indeed outside. Sean told me all about the rest of the encounter. With all he told me, it did sound like Michael. He knew the systems, and procedures, but how could he move the vehicle? It’s just impossible, and I don’t really buy it. What about little space friends. You know, I have heard rumors that a few ground based telescopes that were fortunate enough to have a clear sky that night recorded a large glowing white ring next to the asteroid.”

“A ring?”

“Yes, it was pulsating and shortly after it appeared, the asteroid supposedly started moving towards its mass.”

“So a giant flying saucer appeared and sucked it up with its tractor beam? You know there was a time when you wouldn’t have considered that as a remote possibility. Not much of a skeptic any more are you?”

“Oh, believe me, I am skeptical as ever. Skepticism is good, it’s what helps drive good science, but I was taking things I thought to be impossible off the table on the account they were part of the fairytale category. I assumed the supernatural doesn’t exist, because no one has ever encountered it. Those that claim they have are considered nuts. I know we have, and as far as I know, we aren’t crazy. So, now I am putting my skepticism to the test. If the supernatural is false, then a very logical, rational explanation can account for that asteroid moving. So far, I have found none. I am close to concluding that there is something out there. Is is a personal God like Sean believes, I don’t know? We talk about it a lot, but I don’t think I can buy it completely. What about you, you're Irish, so you have to be Catholic right? What do you think about all this stuff?”

“Half Irish, my mom’s side is British. So my parent’s families didn’t get along on at least two levels, but you’re right, I grew up Catholic. I went to church and all, and I believe in God, but I don’t really give it any thought. It’s more of the way I was raised and was just told to believe it. Going back to those aliens, do you believe the stories?” Megan asked, having first hand knowledge that they did exist.

“Tough to say yes or no to. I know a lot about geology, but even more so, I know where everything comes from.”

“You do? Where?”

“Stars. Rocks, metals, gasses, you, me, everything on the periodic table, were all created by stars. The first formed early in the universe’s history from only hydrogen, helium and and trace amounts of boron. They lived for millions of years before exploding. Light heavy elements were created and formed the next generation of stars. These, like our Sun, had very long life spans, about nine to ten billion years. It wan’t until these died out that heavy elements required to form a planet like earth, and give birth to life, could be formed. This means there is limited windows of time for other planets to have formed and give rise to an intelligent species that could build the technology to reach us. Earth formed about the time those population II stars were dying out. Are there intelligent aliens out there? Maybe, but it’s likely they aren’t that much older than we are, and if so, it’s highly improbable that they will be stopping by anytime soon.”

“That’s pretty fascinating, I never thought about it like that. So these supernova is what gave us all our elements. I remember studying a bit about that in med school, but we didn’t dwell too much on the subject. How often do these explosions occur?”

“Well, we are studying one right now.”

Megan shifted in her seat. “Really?”

“Yes, it was visible in the southern sky starting in the middle of last month, February 23rd to be exact. It is expected to reach peak magnitude in May. The data is still coming in, but the papers I have been reading are quite interesting.” Megan started thinking deeply. Michael had told her that Kaaren’s reason for coming here was her home star was going to explode. A slightly uneasy feeling came over her even through the time frame Kaaren gave for her star to die was all wrong.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I am fine, wine is hitting me. Gene, you think I can take a look at those journals when we get back, I would like to read about them?”

“Of course. In fact, I would love to show you what I have been working on sometime. How about you come by my lab, meet my new partner, and maybe after we can have dinner."

"This sounds a little like a date?" Megan said with some of her own skepticism.

"Perhaps," Eugene said neither accepting or denying the invitation, "it’s the least you can do after you tranquilized me.”

“You deserved it,” Megan said quickly, but playfully.”

“I did, didn’t I. Well, I really came apart at the seams, and freaked out. It bothers me, because I know you saved our asses by stabbing my ass. If you hadn’t done that, and I injured Sean, we would all be dead right now. As far as I am concerned, you were pretty heroic and I was acting like a frightened child.”

“Gene, we all have our moments where fear grabs ahold of us. We are all very strong, but we have our limits. We are human, nothing to apologize about.”

“Well, I will never let my fear harm anyone again. After all, I have stared death in the face and lived to tell about it,” Eugene said as the bartender came over with two glasses of a clear liquid.

“We didn’t order these,” Megan said.

“It is from woman at end of bar,” he said pointing to no one in particular, “I see she is gone. Miss, she said she is big fan of you and wanted to buy you two a drink. This is very good vodka,” he said. Megan and Eugene toasted and took a drink. As Megan did, she noticed some writing on the napkin stuck to the bottom of the glass. When Eugene wasn’t looking, she looked closely at the writing. It was Michael’s sloppy cursive handwriting. It read “open your window.”

---Security Briefing---

"Brother, is has come to my attention that you are in danger," Major Sergei Mitri said to his younger brother Nikolai, "There is a plot by a group of extremists who would like to exploit your national status to rally the people into a revolution and overthrow the Politburo. Their strength is growing and some have managed to get on the inside. Intel says a woman of unknown description will make contact with you. It is important that you do not fall to her seduction, she will only lead to your capture."

"My dear brother, thank you for looking after me. It seems we are in difficult place, what you described is what we both want for this country. I have much freedom and power given to me for doing essentially nothing, but like you, I long for our people to be free. If my capture can help move that cause along, than so be it."

"You are too humble. You did a great thing up there, you should be proud of yourself. I am proud of you. I agree with you that we both want the same thing for our people, but there are other ways. Violence is not the answer. I have been very ruthless all my life, and after the asteroid almost killed us all, my ways have changed. I want to see a free Russia, but I do not want to achieve that through my brother's blood."

"Sometimes, blood needs to be spilled in order for a people to be free. Our American friends know that all to well."

"Maybe you're right, but I am still being selfish, and I will not let my younger brother be the one to sacrifice himself, there are other ways. Now, my most trusted men will be at the banquet, watching your every move. We have rehearsed possible scenarios in which some one might try harming you, or taking you. My men are very good and have been able to intervene with lightning speed to take you to a safe location. I would like to spend some time with you going over those procedures, so you know what to expect."

"When do you want me?"

"Right now, my men are waiting."

---Mockba Hotel, Moscow---

“Damn it, where the hell is my? Son of a bitch,” Megan swore as she unpacked her suitcases, completely laying everything out on the bed. Her cosmetic and toiletry case was missing. “Great, those commie bastards are probably going to sell my cheap Avon cosmetics for top dollar to some Russian bitch who doesn’t know any better.”

“Megan,” She jumped out of her skin at the sudden presence of someone in her room. She turned to see Micael standing there by the window.

“Jeez Michael, you wanna warn me next time?”

“Sorry, I thought you were expecting me,” Megan gave Kaaren’s body a curious examination.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?” she asked, noticing the straight pale brunette coloring.

“Nothing, it’s a wig.”

“Since when are you wearing a disguise?” she asked, since Michael never bothered hiding his appearance before.

“Since I arrived in the Motherland,” he said. “Megan, a few things. One, my name is Anzhela, do not call me by anything else while we are here. Two, watch those commie comments. Your suite isn’t bugged, but you never know who can be listening.”

“How do you know it’s not bugged?”

“I can see radio wavelengths, and I can also hear very well. I can’t detect any surveillance equipment. Rather shocking that they aren’t listening in, but be careful anyway. Remember, you can whisper to me, and I can hear you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t bother me right now,” she said rather rudely.

“You ok?”

“No not really. It was a long bumpy flight, my things are missing, and I am not feeling well right now.” Michael put her arms around her.

“It’s ok, don’t let that stuff get you down. That was a long flight though.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear you rubbing that shit in right now.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, why are you so damn touchy? I wasn’t trying to rub anything in, I was going to tell you I tailed your plane the entire flight. It was probably the slowest I have flown in this body.”

"You flew along side out plane the entire 12 hours? Why, I don't need you following me around like that, besides, isn't flying supposed to be the safest form of transportation? What the hell do you think is going to happen?"

"Megan, I have never seen you like this before, what's wrong? He asked as she frantically went through her things for the tenth time.

"Some of my things are missing and I need them."

"What are you missing?"

"Look, I need you to do something for me," Megan said in a soft whisper. "I need you to go to the store for me and pick something up. At the airport they unpacked my bags and some of my things are missing."

"Sure," I said, "what do you need?"

"Um, can you get me," she paused trying to say the next part, "I need some," she paused again clearly uncomfortable to make the request, "shit, I'm a doctor and I can't say this for some reason, but well to be blunt, I need you to buy me some Pads. There, I said it." A look of fear crossed Karen's face.

"You mean pads, as in, um, pads?"

"Jesus Michael, yes, those kinds of pads."

"Well that explains everything?”

“Screw you.” Megan said.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Look, why do you need me to go, why can't you go get them yourself?"

"Really? That's your answer, you can't go run a simple errand? It’s an emergency. What are you afraid of anyway, you should be a seasoned pro by now?" She looked at Karen and saw the expression on her face. "What?"

"That's just it Megan, I'm not a pro. In fact I have never bought them. Ok, once in a vending machine, but I never used it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's what I have been trying to tell you. I must be different, because I haven't had that friend come visit me."

"You unbelievably lucky bastard. Now I hate you." She paused, realizing she was starting to get overly bitchy. She herself was lucky and didn't suffer from PMS nearly as bad as her sister, but when her time came and her stress was high, her hormones took hold. "Sorry, had to get that out. Ok, so talk to me, you have never had your, um...jeez, you've never had a period?"

"No, I'm telling you, nothing. The night I called you, you know the day we met at the cafe in DC, I started freaking out. I thought I was getting PMS and the inevitable was just around the corner, but nothing ever happened. I was so scared as I had no idea what to do, and no one I could ask to help me."

"It's ok Michael, every one of us girls has been there. When I was 12, the first couple months I locked myself in my room and refused to go to school until it was over. I fought and fought with my parents to let me stay home, afraid if someone found out. The first time, it was acceptable and they let me stay home, but eventually I had to learn to accept it as a normal part of an adult woman's life. It's something we all go through. You, maybe you are lucky, but I think you should strongly consider letting me examine you when we get home. I promise you, I will be very gentle."

"Hell no, thanks but no thanks. I have barely touched myself, let alone let my best friend go exploring down there."

"Michael, I'm not going exploring, I want to learn what makes you different so that we can be prepared to deal with issues should they arise. Any way, let’s talk about this when we get home. Are you going to help me, or what?"

"Seriously, why can't you go buy them, what do you need me to go for?"

"Because I don't want these crappy Russian ones, they are made out of the same material as their tanks."

"You're kidding, you want me to fly back to the US and buy you a pack of tampons? Jeez, this is every man's worst nightmare and then some."

"Michael, don't be a wuss. This is not taboo, and you don't look like a man. Just stop in New York, and you will never see that cashier again. In thirty seconds they will forget all about you. Now come on, can you help your best friend, or are you going to force me use the ones made by the Soviet Military?"

"Ok, but you owe me big time. Now what kind do you need?" She handed me a slip of paper with the precise type and brand written out as well as a list of other items that vanished from her luggage.

"Pads huh?"

"Yeah Michael, they should be easy for the pilot in you to pick out, they have wings." She started laughing as I put my arm around her and gave her a playful hug.

"You're lucky I love you so much, otherwise you would have been up shit creek with that comment." She was a little taken aback by my open expression of affection.

"What do you mean you love me Michael?" Karen stopped to really ponder what she meant.

"You know Megan, you’re my friend. You have made my last,” she paused in thought, “almost six months now, bearable. I’m very happy to have you as a friend. Now, before I start crying like a chick, I gotta get going and go do something manly like go hunting, or pee on a tree."

"Nonsense, you can be sensitive without being female, there is nothing wrong with a man expressing what's on his heart. Most of us girls love that in a man. Now be a man, and go to the store for me.

---New York City---

“Can I help you miss?” the store clerk asked as I browsed the cosmetic aisle of the drug store in the Upper East Side. She was an elderly woman who looked as if she lived her whole life in the store.

“I’m ok, thank you,” she said, lying through her teeth, the man in her refusing to ask for help.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

She scanned through Megan's list and added items one by one into the hand basket. ‘Hair brush, check. Tooth brush and tooth paste, check. Easy parts done, now, what’s next?’ She stood in front of the cosmetic aisle with a completely dumb look on her face. ‘God, chicks are complicated. All this crap just to go out.’ It seemed as if there were a dozen different shades of foundation, several dozen for blush and lipstick. “So help me god if I find that no good SOB at the airport who didn’t put all of Megan’s belongings back into her suitcase.”

“You sure you could’t use a little help?” the clerk said with her local accent kicking into full gear. I was already hating this experience. I swallowed all of my male pride and conceded by saying…

“Yes, can you please. I have no idea what I am doing.”

“First time in make up?”

“No I don’t wear the stuff, it’s for a friend.”

“Let’s see what you got here,” she looked over Megan’s list and one by one started filling the basket up with little jars, tubes, brushes and countless other complicated female accessories.

“Jeez, she can’t go two weeks without this crap?” I accidentally said aloud.

“You sound like my husband, yet you look like my daughter. You’re not kidding when you say you don’t wear make up, you’re quite a lucky girl, You don’t need anything to make that face look any more beautiful than it already is.”

“Thanks,” I said as the gears in my head started spinning. “Say, what would I need if I wanted to make my face look less pretty?”

“Now what would you wanna make your pretty face look all harrable for?” Her accent was killing me. The Texans were bad enough, but the local back east folk were difficult to understand at times.

“I don’t like being looked at for my beauty. I want to hide it.”

“You know, I thought the same way when I was your age. Them boys was annoying at times, but you wanna know something, you’re gonna get to be my age and will forever wish you were the beautiful broad you are now.”

“I kinda understand what you are saying." I said while continuing the rest of the sentence silently in my mind 'besides I really don’t plan on growing old in this body. Kaaren can have that experience.' “Still, what would I need?” The clerk was nice and spent about twenty minutes teaching me to apply makeup to subtract Kaaren’s beauty.

“Here, look in the mirrah,” I had no idea what she just said, then saw her hold a mirror and it clicked. She looked at her image. The strong shadows broke up the natural contours of her face and made it look a little rough. Along with the brunette wig and glasses, my face certainly looked less attractive. Still, I if I were a guy again and saw this face walking down the street, I would have still gone after it.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Can you bag that up separately for me?” I asked as she went back to the list.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have this particular type of Maxi Pads in stock. There’s another store a couple blocks down that might have them.” I thanked her again and after finding a cheap backpack, paid for everything and headed down the block. The make-up was working and fewer people were staring at her. The neighborhood was slowly slipping downhill in terms of cleanliness, and the types of people roaming around were not the kind a lone woman should be walking amongst. I ducked into the store and found the feminine hygiene section, scanning the products with super speed, finding the ones on Megan’s list.

“Will that do for you Miss?” the clerk said as I timidly set the pads on the counter. “That will be $2.65.” She withdrew a stack of American dollars mixed in with Rubles and scrounged for a five dollar bill. I looked up to hand it to the clerk, who was standing there with his hands in the air, looking at someone behind me.

“Nice and easy bitch, hand over the cash,” a voice behind me said. I slowly turned to see a man in a ski mask pointing a sawed-off double barrel shotgun at my chest. ‘Shit, all I needed tonight.’ He looked at her, then the counter, then back at her. "Hurry up, hand that cash over and don't get all menstrual on me." My blood started boiling and I might as well have been PMSing, because his comment turned her from calm to raging in a matter of seconds.

"Screw you, get a job jerk." He was in a state of shock that someone had the guts to stand up to him, completely uncaring if he fired or not.

"I said hand over the money, or I will splatter you all over the shelf," he yelled.

"No, It's my money and I'm not going to give it to a piece of crap such as yourself, put the gun down and get the hell out of here before you get hurt." It was clear he was scared at my domineering presence. He was mostly talk and afraid to shoot and began backing up as I walked toward him, confident the shotgun wouldn't hurt me. The clerk was hiding behind the counter as I maneuvered the thug toward the front door. He forgot about the end cap at the end of the shelf and tripped backward over a stack of Pissweiser cases. Startled, he discharged the right barrel, while I stood there dumbfounded, trying to react. The world around me began slowing down and the image before me came to a crawling speed as the red hot glowing pellets left the barrel inching toward my upper chest. In panic, I stood there frozen, not knowing what to do as the cloud of lead grew closer and closer.

The buckshot impacted my tan trench coat, shredding it to pieces.   I was horrified as next, a cloud of crimson erupted in front of me indicating a massive wound.    As the tiny pellets destroyed my upper chest, splattering my blood into the air.   The tiny red droplets hovered in front of me and in slow motion fluttered to the ground like confetti.  A sensation started traveling throughout my body as the damage sent messages to my brain indicating trouble, but after a moment, I realized it wasn’t pain I was feeling, but an intense feeling of pleasure.  My face felt flustered as a tingling sensation began building around my center body mass spreading spreading   between my legs.   It was a heavenly feeling and I was enjoying the new sensation as I watched Kaaren's alien blood behave strangely as gravity slowly took hold of the droplets.  After what seemed like an eternity, it dawned on me that the strange behavior wasn't because the blood was out of this world, but because it wasn't blood.  Liz’s red sweater under my coat that had been obliterated and the red cotton fibers were slowly floating to the ground.  The world started to speed up again as the assailant stood there in shock at seeing me unharmed after being hit from such a close range. His shock quickly changed to laughter as he looked up at me from the floor.   He was pointing his empty shotgun at my chest laughing hysterically when I looked down.   Both of my perfect breasts where not only unharmed, but fully exposed through the hole the shotgun blast made in my sweater.  I stood there feeling vulnerable, exposed for the dirtbag to enjoy, while relishing in the pleasurable sensations the buckshot released after impacting Kaaren’s dense nipples.  The muscles in my lower region felt as if they were contracting and for the first time and seemed to be announcing a sudden presence that required attention.   I shook sexual desires out of my head and refocused my attention to covering up my bare tits, so that I could deal with the asshole with the shotgun.  The world started moving in normal speed again, and I seized the opportunity while the thug laid there laughing.  Quickly I kicked the shotgun, but he was already in the process of pulling the trigger.  The second barrel discharged into my lower leg as I brought it up impacted his hand and sent the empty weapon flying across the small shop. My hearing was starting to register the sounds of people reacting to the shots.  Switching to infrared, I could see the white shapes across the street moving toward the shop.  I was half naked and completely unharmed and in a matter of seconds, was going to be on display for the world to see.

While keeping one arm covering my boobs, I grabbed him with my left hand and threw him out the store window where he landed on the hood of a car.  The sudden shattering of glass and the thug coming to a hard landing on yellow cab, provided a distraction, and gave me a couple extra seconds to get away.  Faster than speeding buckshot, I left a five dollar bill on the counter and grabbed the pads with Kaaren’s prints all over them, darting out the back.  I cleared the door and went vertical, making my way into the safety of the sky with the pads under my arm, still feeling aroused.

---Bunker---

Liz woke late worried that she slept in too long, leaving Ashley to fend for herself. Her eyes were still hazy when she opened the door and saw Ashley sitting at the table talking.

“Good morning sweetie,” Liz said. Ashley turned to see her mom coming out of the bedroom.

“Morning mom,” she said in return. Dwayne rocked his chair back a bit so that he could see Liz approaching from around the wall.

“Hey Liz, good morning. Want some coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he quickly got up to fetch a cup.

“You, keep working, one more page to go,” Dwayne said pointing to her homework.

“What are you two doing honey?” Liz said as she bent over and kissed the top of Ashley’s head while examining the contents of the table.

“Dwayne is teaching me Algebra.”

“And she is really good at it, she picks this stuff up really fast. She has that science kind of mind. I wonder where she gets that from,” he said, stirring an emotional response from Liz. She froze for a moment, fighting to keep her grief caged, not wanting to deal with it at the moment. After a brief struggle, the beast was cast back into the depths of her heart where it would remain for another hour before she would have to fight it again.

“You are, well mommy is very proud of you. Dwayne is very good with Math and science. He can teach you all the things your mother can’t, so you listen to him, okay?”

“I will,” she said. Dwayne added a pack of sugar and a couple of scoops of powdered creamer into Liz’s coffee, just the way she liked it.

“Thank you,” Liz said, taking the cup from Dwayne as he resumed the lesson with Ashley. They continued working the problems, and Dwayne kept throwing variations at her. One by one, she was able to process them and with little help solve the problems in her head. After another half an hour they stopped. Ashley got up from the table and ran toward the couch. “Hey, clean up the table, and say thank you to Dwayne for working with you.” Ashley turned around to face him.

“Thank you Uncle Dwayne,” she said, giving him a slight hug around his waist.

“I’m your uncle now, is that so?”

“Why not, you and daddy were friends right?” Dwayne started to feel uneasy. He was perfectly happy and content in his world, and Ashley’s sudden affection for him was stabbing at his conscience. The last three months, he had been doing as Liz wanted and started to give Ashley a little attention. She fed off of it, and so did he. Now Liz was burning for him, but he actually enjoyed being the father figure, even if it was just a charade. Ashley calling him uncle was calling him to question what he was doing with them. Why was he doing this? He knew he could be supporting her top side with nothing sinister going on. Part of him wanted out, but he was stuck. Any exit strategy shy of disposing them would result in his arrest and a life in prison. He knew from watching the news that he was safe and the authorities had nothing to go on. In five months, no one had connected him as a suspect. Hell no one thought they had been taken, but rather disappeared on their own accord. Still he had to find a way out of this, one where he could escape.

One idea that would work, would be to flee the country, leaving them in the bunker with the door unlocked. Eventually when the power was shut off, or they ran out of food, they would emerge, and he would be long gone, in a country without extradition laws. He could run now, while no one was perusing him, and settle down comfortably and start a new life. He was becoming overwhelmed inside and had to go.

“Dwayne, what’s wrong?” Liz asked, seeing the rapid change in his face. He shook his head.

“Nothing, just thinking how sweet your little...well, not so little girl is. I don’t deserve you two in my life. I wish Michael were here. You deserve him. That day I first saw you, I was envious of him. You were so beautiful in that red gown sitting at the bar. I didn’t know who you were, and tried hitting on you, then Michael came up to you and I realized you belonged to a good guy. I confess Liz, I hated him that moment. I wanted to be him, everything about Michael, he was better than I, his life was better.”

“Dwayne, it’s okay. I understand, I really do. You have been so strong for us, and we haven’t been doing the same for you. It’s okay to let it out.” Liz hugged him, “You were meant to want us. Something was preparing you to care about us, because frankly, no one else seemed to care about what happened to Ashley and I.” The more she talked, the more his sudden sense of guilt left him as he milked every moment she spent praising him. Being needed by her was a rush, and as long as she needed him, he would keep her around.

---Big Bear---

I stood in the bunker holding my Colt 1911. I loaded a fresh magazine and sealed the door so the gun shot couldn't be heard. The 12-gauge rounds did major damage to my clothing, but after examining my body, I was completely unharmed. When the pellets hit my skin, I became sexually aroused for the first time. It was scary for a brief moment thinking the red in the air was blood, but as it turned out, it was only my sweater and even scarier when, in the midst of being shot at, became uncontrollably hot and bothered. The feelings subsided on my flight back to Houston, but something was bothering me, so after a quick change, I headed to California.

What bothered me, what the hit to my lower leg. The buckshot impact produced a strange reaction and that's what I needed to duplicate. On the concrete wall inside the bunker I had a pair of my lycra pants stretched and fastened tightly against the wall. I chambered a round and took aim. Slowly I squeezed the trigger and discharged a round from about the same distance I took the shotgun blast from. I entered into my high speed observation watching the round in slow motion, inching it's way towards the target. As the bullet impacted, it compressed against the concrete and mushroomed while tearing he nylon fabric in the process. A large hole appeared as the stretched fibers suddenly gave way. The bullet bounced off the wall chipping some of the concrete in the process. I fired several more times with the same results.

I sat and pondered my next experiment for several minutes before gaining the courage to do what I had in mind. My ears were still ringing as I inserted a fresh magazine and pointed the barrel point blank at my leg, still wearing an identical pair of stretch pants. My heart raced and I yelled trying to overcome my fear. My Colt's custom hair-light trigger gave way after a slight squeeze and discharged a round right into my upper thigh. There was no pain, the round harmlessly bounced off my thigh, but incredibly, the pants weren't damaged. I aimed lower, where my shredded jeans were still intact and fired again. The bullet tore through the loose fitting jeans, but bounced off leaving the tights underneath intact.

"Amazing," I said as I prepared for my next experiment. On the middle shelf of the supply closet was my tool box. I opened it up and fished for what I was looking for. Inside I found a small butane torch similar to ones used by chefs. It wasn't suitable for welding, but it worked wonders when it came to rapidly defrosting anything around the cabin that froze. After refilling the unit, I hit the electric switch and lit the torch. The blue flame crackled to life as I approached the wall. The nylon instantly shriveled up and ignited the moment the flame hit the pants. Next I turned to my leg. The blue denim caught fire the moment the torch hit the fabric and caused a small fire to break out on my leg forcing me to temporarily stop and pat it out. My hands worked to smother the fire while receiving no burn damage themselves. The heat from the fire went unnoticed by my body. I began to wonder just how heat resistant this body was, so I reignited the torch and held the flame far from my hand, moving it slowly, closer and closer as I confirmed the heat wasn't harming me. Eventually, the torch flame was an inch away and my hand wasn't burning, only registering a moderate change in temperature. I waited a minute before concluding I was pretty heat resistant.

"Now for the final test," I said as I put the torch to the Lycra pants I had on under my jeans. Nothing. The flame was being deflected the same as on my hand and was undamaged from the extreme heat. After a minute without being consumed, I turned off the torch and set it down. While I thought about the results of my experimentation, I sat on the chair in the corner. "So that is why Kaaren chose to wear such a silly suit. There was nothing special about the suit in particular, just that it hugged my body very closely. There must be something about me that radiates some kind of field that keeps anything within it protected to the same degree as my body, yet it has to be very close. I wondered how close, so I conducted a final experiment. After a brief change and a little struggle with fragments of my jeans, I readied the torch. Safe from prying eyes, my bullet ridden burnt Lycra pants were back on my body, the holes doing little to cover my private areas. My left butt cheek was exposed, but I didn't care. I stuffed the tights with strips from the jeans and targeted that area with the torch. The black nylon immediately began burning wherever the denim strips were present, but where the tights hugged my skin, nothing happened. My body indeed was protecting any clothes that had a tight fit. This is why my sweater and jeans were destroyed, while my chest, lower body and my tights were intact.

I cupped my breasts in my hands and gave them a good shake, "Well, Michael, if you are going to fight crime, your days of letting these puppies run free are over."

---Megan’s Hotel Room---

Megan's room was dark, but the window was still open. I quickly flew inside and closed the window. She was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was closed and my vision picked up a lot of heat inside. I started laughing as I listened to her through the wall singing to herself while she sat in the tub. Careful not to startle her, I made a little extra noise knowing a sudden knock on the door would scare her. After a few heavy footsteps a voice called out...

"Karen?" Damn it, she has a short memory, I just told her not to call me that.

"I'm back,” I said through the door. “I will leave everything on the bed and leave you be."

"No, wait; stay. Hold on a second." I waited a few as I heard the water splashing around, "OK, you can come in."

"That's OK," I said not wanting to get that intimate with her.

"Come in; I want to see you. I am covered up, so don't be shy." Timidly, I opened the door and stepped inside the steam-filled room. Megan's head was all that was sticking out of the thick layer of bubbles.

"Feeling better?" I said watching her soaking in the hot water, completely relaxed.

"Night and day. A good hot bath works miracles on the female body. Say, you can't see anything with those eyes of yours can you?"

"No, it doesn't work that way. I can see silhouettes, but no details. Right now your body is a little hotter than the water."

"You said you can see radio, too, right?"

"Yes, up through microwave. Found out I was able to see your aircraft’s RADAR emissions. I got bored after the first hour and started toying with my vision."

"What about X-rays?"

"Don't know; I have to spend a little more time out of the atmosphere and see. You know, I just thought that I have been so preoccupied with finding Liz, I haven't been back out into space much."

"Well, go! What's stopping you?"

"Nothing really, just haven't been motivated to go back out there. Look, I really don’t want to talk about anything that will make me think of them.” She sat in silence for a while

"So what took you so long? You have been gone a couple hours; were you able to find everything OK?"

"I had to go home and change. I had a little accident, a rather embarrassing one too." Megan sat up a little, showing the top of her breasts before settling back down.

"An accident?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you. Some bastard shot me with a 12-gauge and–" I paused.

"–A 12-gauge? And...Keep going. Did he hit you?" She was really interested.

“Yes.”

“My god, did it hurt you at all?”

“Just my pride,” I said deciding to forego telling her I got aroused instead of feeling pain.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, let’s just say that those pads I picked up for you aren’t the only thing extra absorbent; found this body here is pretty good at absorbing kinetic energy, only my favorite sweater took a rather rough beating.”

“Where did the bullets hit you?”

“Buckshot,” I said correcting her, “it was a shotgun. Hundreds of little pellets that spread out and do a lot of small, but collected damage if used up close,” I raised my hands and paused. After a moment of embarrassment, I realized I was suddenly comfortable telling her about it, so I continued and drew a pretend circle around my breasts, “Let’s just say, when the smoke cleared both of my guns were drawn,” I said while I hopped up and took a seat on the countertop overlooking Megan. She was giggling.

“Oh my god, that is so funny. So you were topless in public?”

“Yeah, looking back it is pretty funny. I would have been scarred for life had that happened a few months ago, but it turned out to be a good lesson. It taught me something about Kaaren’s body I didn’t know.”

“What’s that?” I explained about my experimentation and the end results of my testing. How I was able to put my theory to the test and produce consistent results.

“Turns out, if it’s a tight fit, it’s just as invincible as me. Take a look; this should make you proud,” I said as I started to unbutton my shirt.

“Well look at you! Looks like you finally holstered your guns there,” she said looking at the black sports bra I was wearing underneath my shirt.

"So who is Anzhela?" Megan finally asked in a soft whisper. I reached into my coat pocket and withdrew her papers. After unfolding the identification documents, I held them up to Megan to look at. "OK, so who is she?" To be safe, I turned the tub on to confuse any microphones that I might have missed. She was about to protest when I held my finger to my mouth indicating I wanted to be quiet. Knowing much about audiovisual systems, she figured out what I was trying to accomplish.

"I have actually been coming here for a couple months. After you told me you were planning a trip, I have been spending a little time here. Like I said, moving around isn't as easy in the USA. I came across Anzhela last month. Surprisingly, she not only knows someone involved with the state dinner in a few days, but she has a very close resemblance to me."

"You do look a lot like her. So where is she now? I don't think she is going to let you take her ID and assume her identity."

"Actually, she did just that. I made a little deal with her. Turns out she was in a little trouble here, so I helped her immigrate to the U.S. I won't get into the details, but I got her settled in a Russian community in Southern California. I promised I would help her when I got back. In the meantime, I am now her, and able to safely blend in."

"This guy, who is he?" Megan asked wanting to know more about Vladimir.

"I am not sure; I have only spoken with him over the phone. He is supposed to make contact with me tomorrow. According to Anzhela, he is supposed to have a connection that can get me into Star City and a job on the night of the event. It will allow me to be close to you and Mitri."

"Why go through all the risk? What's so important that you have to go?"

"There is no real risk for me. If I get caught, I am out of here. It's important to me, Megan. Next to you, Mitri was my closest friend...OK, well Sean too, but that's a given considering we are both pilots. I want to see him again, but his security is too tight. I can't get close without giving myself away."

"And have you thought long and hard about what you are going to say to him when you do get to see him? What would you even say? You can't tell him the truth, the off-truth, or that BS you have been telling the police. You know, if they ever get curious, by the way, they are going to run a check on you and find out your mother never had a daughter. I am frankly surprised they haven't already. Look, I think you are getting in over your head, and need to back off a bit. I know you think you are untouchable, but someone is going to figure it all out, and your 12 years will be miserable."

"Maybe you are right; I do need to stay a bit more low-key. But in reality, I am not worried. As for the police, I don't think they even cared about investigating the disappearance until I showed up. Two, if I do get caught by one or two people, I doubt very much they would talk about it for fear getting thrown in the loony bin. Take Clint, for example; he hasn't said a word about me."

"Who's Clint?" Megan asked.

"Millbourne?" She had no clue, then I realized I hadn't told her about that. "Never mind."

"That name sounds familiar," she said thinking. “Oh, he's that rich guy that busted his car up pretty bad. Eugene knows him. He did some consulting for his oil company years ago. Said the guy's a real asshole," I was starting to realize what Megan was talking about staying low-key. Now, with Eugene in the picture, he had a clear path leading back to me. It might be dangerous for Eugene to see me.

"Asshole? Was he ever–he was beating his wife on a regular basis. Not anymore, though."

"Why? What did you do?"

"Not much, really. I got him to beat me. He might as well have a bionic hand now after they reconstructed it."

"Michael, that is terrible,” she said and paused leading me to think she was showing displeasure. She continued, “way to stand up for us girls."

"I stopped to see him a couple weeks ago. Still has all these pins in his hand. We have regular visits where he wets himself at my presence. The wife seems happier, though, so I guess my work paid off."

“We will see, but don’t get yourself in trouble, you are my friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt. You might be immortal; those around you are not. If you get careless, someone you love can get hurt, and I know your heart, Michael; that is very mortal. Now, I love you, but that man inside doesn’t get to see me naked.”

“Oh nice, I was still a man in a small space ship and I got to see you naked all the time, now I’m not allowed to?”

“No Michael, you can’t. Now be kind and please go get my stuff you brought me,”

“Oh,” I said with a dumb look on my face.

“Yeah, Michael; it clicking in that brain of yours? Hurry up and let me get dried off and ready for bed. If you want to stay around a little longer you can, but I have to be up early so I can’t talk that much longer.” After an eternity, she was finally out and ready for bed. We ended up talking for another fifteen minutes before I went back to Anzhela’s apartment where I would spend a long night with nothing but lousy Russian programming to watch.

---

“You are very a beautiful woman Anzhela,” Vladimir looked over her papers, “Anzhela Surkov from Arkhangelsk. Very cold up there. What is your reason to come to Moscow?”

“Go to school and work. Both very difficult to do back home. Moscow has good schools,” I said in my best Russian.

“I see,” Vladimir said. “Yes, we have very good schools. What school you want to attend?”

“State University, study Aerospace Technology,” it was a stretch, but if he questioned me, I knew how to answer; besides, it would pique his interest in light of the nature of the dinner.

“You are very pretty to study such complicated field.”

“Thank you,” I said with as cute and seductive of a smile I could force myself to muster.

“I am worried; you have been in trouble in past. Not very good if you want to go to State University. You were with a group who opposed Soviet Union, is this not true?” It was true, Anzhela had a boyfriend who was trying to start an uprising opposing the Communist Party. She was arrested along with him and his friends. He father seemed important in the shipping yards that serve as year-round seaport. His influence and her lack of actual involvement with her boyfriend’s revolution allowed her to escape prosecution, but she had a charge filed against her that continued to stay with her. Her boyfriend and his followers were never seen again, likely sent to hard labor camps. “University not accept you with such past; I don’t think we can work together.”

“Please, I was younger and stupid back then. I let my feelings jeopardize my future. I did not believe in his cause.”

“Very well. I do have important job, one that get you special privilege, and maybe we forget your history. You think about it, I contact you tomorrow if my superiors agree.” It ended up taking a couple days, but for some reason he wanted me. He had special papers that would get me into Star City as a guest worker. Vladimir detailed the job working in the kitchen and at some point would let me meet the famous Nikolai Mitri. It was hard to believe that everything aligned so perfectly and I would be able to get in, and get close to him, while still keeping a close eye on Megan.

---Banquet---

“...On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched the first ever satellite into space. Immediately following, was a race by our country and the United States to put the first man into space, the first to walk in space, the first to circle the moon, and the first to land on the moon. Our countries spent many years locked in a peaceful competition fighting to etch our nation’s achievements into the history books. In 1984 that competition ended when the United States of America and the Soviet Union stopped racing against each other, and began racing against the clock. Our two countries vowed now to turn space into yet another battleground, and to preserve the unknown frontier for the good of all mankind. However, the remnants left over from the birth of our solar system decided to declare war, not on one country or another, but on all of humanity. For the first time, these two great superpowers laid down their weapons and worked side by side to overcome this threat.”

“Tonight, we welcome the three American astronauts, Dr. Eugene Shephard, Pilot Sean E. Collins, and Dr. Megan C. McCormack who returned from Earth’s most important mission, having preserved all life, so that we may live another day. We also take this time to remember those who are no longer with us. I take moment to say something about Commander Michael Owen. When Yeltsov and I first learned we would be working with Americans, we were afraid they would not accept us. For some that was true, but Commander Owen had deep compassion for us and treated us as if we were all one big family. He knew us well and spoke our language and by the time we left Earth, we had become close comrades. We spent many long days in small spacecraft and when the day’s job was complete and we had free time, we spent many hours getting to know each other. I had hoped my friend would come visit me, but in the end, he gave his life to save myself, and my three other friends who are also here because of his sacrifice. It is in their honor that we announce our continued partnership with the United States in building the first-ever International Space Station. Like close friendship I had with Michael Owen, United States and Soviet Union look forward to a long-lasting friendship brought together for the advancement of science and the hope we can make this world better place. It is also my special honor to announce tonight a new building built here in Star City that will serve as a joint Soviet and American research facility where together we will find new ways to explore the cosmos. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present, the Owen Yelstov Center.”

The lights dimmed and moving images appeared on a screen behind him. Film and video footage of Michael and the crews were edited together to showcase a memorial video dedicated to the three who died during the mission. After, the subject of the video shifted to show renderings of the new building that will be constructed in Star City. Everyone in the banquet hall applauded for about a minute, preventing Mitri from continuing. Eventually the excitement settled and he was able to continue. After another ten minutes, he finished and welcomed Dr. Roth to the podium to speak on behalf of the United States. The few members of the American press that were allowed entry into the USSR recorded the event. A short time later, the banquet began.

“Mitri, that was a fine speech,” Eugene said as he welcomed Mitri to the table. Each of the four sat at different tables intermixed with other key players from both countries.

“Thank you Doctor; I am happy to see you again,” he said with conviction. Eugene seized the opportunity.

“I am happy to be here. I know our last moment together, I said some terrible things to you. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive; we were all in bad situation. It could happen to the best of us,” he said as he held his drink out to salute Shephard. The two clanged their glasses and swallowed their drink. Mitri got up and patted him on the shoulder, “Excuse me, I have a few visits to make.” He made his way over to the next table.

“My favorite Doctor,” he said to McCormack as she sat at the table examining her matryoshka doll that she and the other Deliverance crew were given as gifts. Unlike the traditional Russian peasant woman painted on the rounded cylindrical shape, a white space suit was painted along with a strong resemblance of her face. “I see you like your doll. Matryoshka is iconic part of Russian Culture, you familiar with them?" Mitri asked.

"A little. Aren't there supposed to be smaller dolls inside?"

"Very good. Yes, they are metaphor of the life or lives we carry inside. Peel layer away, we have other part of who we are inside. Some of us are very complex and have different shades of our personality." Megan removed the top, revealing the next doll. Again, her face was painted with great detail on the inner doll. She removed it to see her likeness now wearing her orange suit worn during liftoff and landing. She pried further, finding her again in her jumpsuit, then finally as her dressed as a doctor.

"You got all the layers of me, that you know. Thank you Mitri, this is very special. What a thoughtful gift."

"You’re welcome. Something Alena thought of and had made. I am glad to see you again and look forward to working with you again. It is good news you won't let bad apple get in the way of what you enjoy."

"Yes. It took me a few months of thinking about it to finally snap out of my depression. I had a lot to keep me occupied, but deep down I was hurting. I finally realized he wasn't worth it, wasn't worth throwing it all away. There are so many people who admire me, and it would be a shame to let them all down over an ex."

"Yes, well, karma has a tendency to bite back those who deserve it."

"I don't need anything bad to happen to him, he is a distant memory. He made his decision and I am glad I found out now, rather than after we got married. Anyway, to change the subject, I enjoyed what you had to say about Michael. You are right; he cared about you very much. I know he wishes he could be here tonight."

"He is here," Mitri said. Megan was taken aback for a quick second before she came to her senses that he was referring to his spirit.

'If you only knew,' Megan thought to herself. Mitri leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"Do you think that was him, returning for the dead briefly to finish what he started?"

"Mitri, let's talk about this later, perhaps someplace a little quiet," she said worried about the others roaming around the tables before dinner was served.

"You are right. I would like to hear what you have to say about it. You three are lucky; you have each other to talk about it with, but I am alone and have had to keep it buried. It eats me alive as to what really happened up there." He stood up and prepared to move on. "Later tonight then, maybe we all go out, just the four of us."

"I would like that," Megan said as he walked off.

---Nikolai Mitri---

"Are you ready, Anzhela? This is your chance to meet him. You will have only a moment with him, so be quick," Vladimir said to me as I watched Mitri leave the crowd. He moved towards an empty lounge area outside the main hall. Several KGB, some in plain clothes, others in uniform, followed him, keeping an eye on Russia's national treasure, yet keeping their distance to give him space. He was relatively alone in a corridor finely decorated in red carpet. The walls were made of finely carved wood panels breaking up the expensive red and gold wall paper. Mitri stood and reached into his suit pocket; producing a silver case. I watched from the shadow, Vladimir at my side as Mitri opened the case and withdrew a cigarette. One of the guards saw his action, and swiftly approached with a gold Zippo. He held the flame up as Mitri lit his cigarette.

“Spasibo,” Mitri said, thanking the guard for his hospitality. A hand tapped my shoulder and I knew my time to see my friend had finally arrived. The months of infiltrating the KGB in order to have a brief audience with him was about to pay off. I stepped out of the shadow and walked down the corridor towards Mitri. The guards were confident Mitri was safe and watched the traffic on the floor of the banquet. On the far end of the hallway, a guard was walking away from Mitri and I making sure the area was clear and the guests were safe. Mitri exhaled the rich unfiltered smoke, blowing it into a smoke ring when his eyes caught my sudden appearance. At first he was pleased to feast his eyes on me, even though I was hiding most of my natural beauty, but I could tell he was growing increasingly nervous as I approached. He looked around for the KGB guards, finding they had their attention directed elsewhere. Instead of alerting them, he chose to wait, uncertain I was any threat and allowed me to get closer to him.

“Hello Mitri, I am glad to see you,” I said to him in Russian. He was a little startled, but the gentleman he was, greeted me back.

“Hello. Is there something I can do for you, or did you just want to meet me?”

“I am a friend of–” Before I could finish, a command was shouted in Russian and all the guards converged on Mitri and I. The banquet suddenly grew quiet as the KGB put the US Secret Service to shame, rushing Mitri out of harm’s way, while a group tackled me to the ground. At first I resisted, but quickly gave in to avoid being discovered. With great speed, they had me on the ground and were handcuffing my hands behind my back. Several AK-47s were pointed at my head, while a KGB officer patted me down.

“She came out of nowhere and approached Mitri.”

“Very good work,” he said as he held a photo in front of my face, comparing the two. “Very good work indeed; this is her. Take her to the suite and don’t let her out of your sight. I will be right there.”

“Yes, Comrade Major,” one of his subordinates said as the others picked me up and got me to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd of American and Russian guests watching the commotion as they led me out of the room.

---

“We have her in custody. I will see to her interrogation personally. Very fine intelligence work, Comrade Captain. Whoever she is, and whatever her plans were, I will get it out of her. Carry on with security and inform me if anything happens.”

“Yes, Comrade Major; it will be done.” The Major turned and left. Captain Kutuzov watched as he disappeared before picking up his radio.

“Woman in custody, situation clear,” he said broadcasting to the rest of the team. It was not an instruction as any listener over the radio would think, but a report that the operation that was about to commence had a green light to proceed as planned.

---

“What was all the commotion about?” Collins said to Dr. Roth and McCormack. Dr. Roth was completely in the dark, but Megan was slightly worried and kept it to herself. She knew there wasn’t anything to be truly afraid of, but it was clearly Karen who had just been arrested.

“Who was that that they took away? She doesn’t look familiar.” Dr. Roth asked.

“Not sure; I only caught a glimpse of her,” Collins said. “Maybe she was some super spy named Natasha, or some cliché Russian spy name?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Roth said expecting more out of his top pilot. “Have you seen her before, Megan?”

“Um, no, never,” she said quickly. The room was rapidly calming down and people were returning to their tables. The few remaining KGB patrolled the room on a higher alert.

“I don’t like this,” Eugene said as he joined the group. “Something is not right. I saw them rush Mitri out of here, all because of some woman approaching him.”

“Relax, Doctor; that is standard protocol. We do the same for our President. To the people of this country, Mitri is an icon, and they will stop at nothing to keep him safe,” Dr. Roth said with his superior knowledge of the Russian political system. “As soon as everything is clear, he will be brought back down.”

“Still, there was something strange happening about ten minutes ago. I saw that woman standing in the dark with that man over there, the one with the leather jacket. They were talking and he nudged her towards Mitri.” Megan started to wonder just what Michael had gotten himself involved in.

---

Vladimir opened the door to the loading dock leading into the kitchen. About a dozen armed men wearing normal street clothes entered the empty kitchen and began setting up equipment on the prep tables.

“Comrade, we are ready. What is your order?”

“Men, a revolution has begun in this country, one that will forever change the Soviet Union, toppling the Party and bringing new freedom to the people. Many have worked hard to bring this change and restructuring to our government. Tonight, all of you will put an end to that, restoring order and reuniting the states. When this is over and the General Secretary is removed, you will all receive a political pardon, and be allowed to join as members of the Party.” He motioned for one of his men who began pouring small cups of vodka. Each of the men grabbed a cup as Vladimir held his up. “To the revolution, to end the revolution.” The men cheered and took their shot in unison.

---

The dinner phase of the reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying their conversing over their meals.

“Tell me, Doctor, did you enjoy the tour of our facilities?” Beregovoi, head of the Yuri Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center, asked of Dr. Shephard. They had spent several days in Moscow posing for the Soviet propaganda machine before the crew of the Deliverance and NASA’s chief engineers led by Dr. Roth left for Zvezdny Gorodok, which was known to the Americans as Star City. The city, which is located several meters away from the Tsiolkovskaya railroad station in the upper-northeast part of Moscow, was the Russian Equivalent of NASA’s Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. Originally created as a secret facility to train pilots of the Soviet Air Force, the facility would become the official training center for cosmonauts and house their Mission Control facilities. Very few outsiders knew what lay beyond the gates. The few who did make it on the inside as workers came out to report lavish lifestyles lived by the cosmonauts. Fancy apartments and shopping centers were scattered amongst the training compounds.

“I am very impressed with your facilities–” he started to say as the sound of automatic gunfire ripped through the hall. Instinctively, everyone dove for cover as a group of well-armed men burst into the banquet hall. Several guards tried to quell the intruders, but were quickly taken out by the gunmen. Eugene scanned the room and found Megan scurrying under a table.

“Everyone, listen to me,” the man in the dark leather jacket yelled as the last of the KGB guard’s lifeless bodies hit the ground, “we are in control of this room, and you will do as we say, or we will kill you. Now, everyone slowly get to your knees and put your hands on your head.” After a few more gunshots, whimpering guests slowly submitted to the authority of their new captors and complied with their commands. Eugene got to his knees and put his hands up while watching, hoping Megan would remain hidden under the tablecloth.

---

My situation was ridiculous. I was handcuffed and sat in an old solid oak chair in a fancy suite. There were two guards standing at my side holding assault rifles, while a KGB officer stood before me interrogating me. They employed their typical routine of instilling fear into their captives, but it was useless; they had no power over me. At any time, I could get up and walk out that door. The entire Soviet military couldn't do anything to prevent my flight from the grasp of the KGB.

"Anzhela, yes? Pretty face in the picture, but you look a little different," he said as he took my glasses and wig off. Kaaren's long golden locks of wavy blond hair were freed from the bonds the wig kept them in, allowing the thick hair to fall around my shoulders. "Very pretty indeed. What is your real name?" I didn't answer.

"I am Major Sergei Mitri. I am in charge of security here. Intelligence said a woman fitting your description would make an attempt on my brother's life, and I see I was well-informed. Now, we can make things easy on you. You tell me who your conspirators are, what they want with Nikolai, and you go away to some place where you live a short, comfortable prison term. If you wish not to cooperate, you will be sent to very, very bad place. It is hell on earth, and much worse for women. It is very cold, little food, and very hard work. You will wish for death within a week." I sat unafraid of his useless threats. No prison could hold me captive, but I also knew the Gulag, as he was referring to, was being dismantled by Gorbachev's attempt to reduce the fear and oppression the government had over its people.

While the Soviet Union officially dissolved the network of corrective labor camps back in 1960, it was well known to us pilots flying over Soviet airspace that, unofficially, grueling hard labor camps continued to operate and served as a place to send political prisoners and criminals. While in the Air Force, I had the pleasure to meet Fredrick Powers a couple years before his death. Powers, a U-2 pilot, was shot down over Soviet airspace in 1960 and was convicted by the Soviets of espionage. He was sentenced to ten years in prison and served nearly two hard years in a camp before being exchanged for a Soviet KGB Colonel caught spying in the US. He emerged from the camp a broken and frail man where he would spend many years overcoming the experience of living in the world’s most feared prison. After having been cleared by the CIA of any wrongdoing, he returned to train other pilots venturing into the hostile Soviet airspace. Now flying the Mach 3+ SR-71, I had little fear of Soviet SAM batteries, but nevertheless, his first-hand intel on the camps made me listen to everything he said. He regretted not taking the easy way out and injecting himself with a shellfish-derived saxitoxin hidden in a fake silver dollar.

“I was a tough man, but they break you down in a matter of days,” Powers said recounting his stay in the camps, “within weeks, your humanity is sucked out of you. I spent two years contemplating suicide rather than continue in the prison. I was lucky, and didn’t have to endure the full ten years of my sentence, but you may not be so lucky. What you think can’t happen in that fancy technological marvel you are flying, will. You will wake up one day and beg for death. A quick painless death, can save you from all that. If you think you are tough, you are not.” I never thought up until that day, I had anything to fear, but with Powers’ training, every mission from that point forward I hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst.

“So, you will not talk, I see,” the Major said as he smacked me across the cheek with his gloves, starting with minor to begin my interrogation. I quickly turned my head in sync with the impact to give the appearance his assault had accomplished what he intended. “I have much experience with using pain to get what I want. You should think twice about keeping quiet.”

“I do not work with anyone; I simply wanted to meet Nikolai Mitri. I don’t know why you think I work with anyone and certainly don’t know anything about an attempt on his life,” I said, earning me another slap across the face.

“You lie–you are working with the someone to either capture or kill Mitri. I have photos of you lurking around with this man.” He held up a photo of me talking with Vladimir the other day near the river. “Who is this man? Is he your contact?”

“His name is Vladimir, he is KGB, and arranged for me to meet your brother. I am nothing but a fan of his.”

“This man is not KGB, and you are still lying to me. You are trying my patience.” He motioned for his men standing over me. Without a word being spoken, they executed their standard operating procedure. One aimed his rifle at me while the other uncuffed me. He attached one cuff to the arm of the chair and produced as second pair, cuffing my left hand to the other arm rest. The Major produced a welding torch as the guards held my hands down. Mitri’s brother seemed shocked that I showed no fear, or emotion. I didn’t beg, by heart rate didn’t escalate, and I didn’t struggle. I just sat there.

“See, you are a spy, trained to withstand torture. I know your kind well. Not many women, but they all seem tough at first. I will break you; you will talk.”

‘In about ten seconds, the cat will be out of the bag,’ I thought. One way or another, I was about to be found out. I could sit here and do nothing as the torch failed to cause painful damage, or I could use my power to leave against their will.

‘Ok, Michael, what are you going to do? There are three people in the room. Overpower them and jump out the window and fly away. What am I sticking around for?’ The torch grew closer and I was about to leave when a faint sound of automatic fire sounded. The muffled sound penetrated the walls of the State building and the Major heard it. I quickly tuned my hearing and listened. People were screaming as the gun fire continued. A guard burst through the door.

“Comrade Major, there is gunfire coming from below.”

“Stupid, I can here that myself. Send a group downstairs to investigate and have my brother brought here. Increase security of this room.” The guard saluted and was off to fulfill his duties, “What is happening? What have you done?” he said to me.

---

Eugene was trembling with fear as he continued to watch the table. He could hear Megan whispering.

“Please help, if you can hear me, I need you. Please hear me.”

‘Great, she was under the table praying,’ Shephard thought to himself. There was a time he would have despised that kind of thought, but for this small group, somehow those prayers seemed to work, and led him to conclude there was something greater out there. Eugene looked around and saw the men were checking the tables.

“Get out, get the fuck out,” one of them yelled at someone who had the same bright idea as Megan. He fired a single round into the air causing the man to quickly scurry out and take position with the others. He was one of the engineers NASA had on our design team. The Russian hit him on the back of his head with the butt of his AK-47 and the he collapsed on the floor.

“Megan, listen to me,” Shephard said, “Megan I know you are scared, but they are searching the tables and they are not being nice about it.”

“I can’t,” a faint whisper came back, “I’m scared.”

“We are all scared, but they will hurt you if they find you. Please come out; I will keep you safe.” She continued her rant, praying, begging for someone to help her. Another one of the Russians kicked over another table, growing tired of bending over. He turned and stood before Megan’s table.

“I hear you crying–come out immediately or I shoot.” Eugene knelt a couple feet away and watched as the large man shifted his sub machine gun and trained it on the table. “I said come out.” She was terrified, completely paralyzed and unable to move. Fear was overcoming him again, but this time, he was fighting to control it. His heart raced as his mind tried muster up the courage to defend Megan.

“Very well,” he said as he aimed. Before he could pull the trigger, Eugene leapt to his feet and rushed the gunman, pushing the weapon out of the way as he fired. The round missed the table, impacting the chair to the left. Eugene struggled with the weapon, but the man was too strong. With little effort, he threw Eugene towards the ground and with out thinking fired a round hitting him dead center in he abdomen. Eugene hit the ground, his legs having given out underneath him. He clutched his abdomen and saw the blood all over his hand.

“Oh shit,” he said in a worrisome voice.

“Stupid American hero,” he said as he kicked the table over exposing Megan, who was screaming upon seeing Eugene on the ground covered in blood. She turned to stare down the barrel of the man’s rifle.

“MICHAEL, OH GOD, MICHAEL, HELP!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as a shot echoed through the room.

To Be Continued....Episode 12 “Motherland Part II”

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by G.M. Shephard

The exciting conclusion to Motherland. Michael's friends are in danger, and teams up with his Russian friend and his brother by revealing he is not of this world. By the end, friendships will be made while others lost. Superpowers will topple, giving birth to something new.

Angel S:1 E:12 “Motherland Part II”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Episode 12 “Motherland Part II”

Dear readers,

What you are about to read is an alternative history of the events that led to the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. For the story, I have moved the events to march of 1987 a full four years earlier under the pretense that the fictitious events of the of the Icarus sparked necessary reform changes sooner in the Soviet Union’s history and that major players came onto the scene sooner. While the events described below have been altered, much is very similar to the actual events that led to the fall of the Soviet Union. I hope you all enjoy. Now to finish writing the final two episodes before the finale. Expect everything within two weeks.

---Nikolai Mitri’s Personal Suite---

"Who is she?" he asked Sergei.

"According to papers, she is Anzhela Surkov. Twenty-five, and lives in Arkhangelsk Oblast, but clearly this is not her. She is likely a spy or extremist who stole her identity to get close to you."

"Why me?"

"Brother, don't be naive; you are important to our country and have much value. People kidnap you and make demands, and Government listens."

"What does she say she wanted?" Nikolai asked.

"That she wanted to meet you."

"Is that not possible? I am a celebrity--women want me. Some girls get crazy over celebrities. Maybe she is an American."

"That is possible," Sergei said switching to a low voice, "her Russian is a bit strange, yet familiar."

"How so?"

"She sounds a bit like you. She use similar words to what you use, and she speaks our dialect."

"There you have it, then. The American woman is crazy about me so much, she studies the way I speak Russian. Do you mind?" Mitri said, asking his brother for permission to approach. He was on his way over when another gunshot sounded. Again the door opened. The Major didn't bother waiting for the guard's announcement.

"Where is the detachment? I demand to be informed in one minute or you will be stationed in Siberia." The guard closed the door and took off.

"What is happening? What is that gunfire all about?" Nikolai asked.

"We are trying to find out," Sergei said as Nikolai stood before me.

"Who are you--what do you want with me?"

Switching to English, I said, "Mitri, I am a friend, nothing more." Just then, another shot rang out as a KGB officer burst through the door.

"Comrade Major, the Banquet is under siege. About a dozen men have taken the room by force and locked it down. We can't get in without the hostages being harmed.” Panic set in at the news.

"Oh shit, what have I done?" I said aloud. I tuned my hearing again and could hear screams. Focusing, I filtered the noise as best as I could until I locked onto a voice that sounded familiar. Megan was screaming, terrified beyond belief. I stood up, picking the chair up with me. The guards each pressed their hands into my shoulders and tried pushing me back down. I squatted with their movement, while my diamond-hard fingernails severed the chains to my cuffs more effectively than a bolt cutter. My downward movement led the guards into a false sense of accomplishment.

Before it registered what was happening, I reached up with my free hands and grabbed ahold of their wrists as I dropped to my knees and leaned forward while pulling their arms low to my midsection. Both men lost balance, falling forward where I increased my pull on their arms, flipping them over my shoulders. They hit the ground hard momentarily, knocking them senseless. Sergei drew his weapon and took aim and fired. I dodged the round and sped to the left plowing through the wall. The suite they had brought me to was seated right next to the grand staircase. As my indestructible body finished penetrating the wood and plaster wall, I took flight, sailing over the balcony railing and somersaulted mid-air, bringing my feet down and my head up in time to see Nikolai watch me disappear down the spiral stairwell where I landed feet first.

---

“MICHAEL, HELP!” Megan screamed at the top of her lungs. A shot rang out and the gunman’s head exploded as a round impacted his skull and exited the other side. Blood splattered everywhere as his lifeless body collapsed onto the fancy carpet of the banquet hall.

“You stupid fuck,” Vladimir said lowering his weapon. Blood speckled Megan’s face from the messy head wound. She continued screaming as Vladimir approached her. “You assholes, you were given instructions not to harm the Americans, especially these two, and him,” he said pointing back at Collins. He pointed his weapon at the dead man and fired three more rounds into him, “You disobey me, and I will send you back to worst prison in Siberia and this time your families will join you.” He knelt before Megan handing her a handkerchief to wipe the blood off her face.

“You will be quiet right now. If you obey me, I will let you tend to your comrade over there. I understand you are doctor,” Megan nodded unable to speak, “He needs you, but if you don’t be quiet, I will take you out of the room and he will die. I won’t even count to three--you will be silent right now.” Megan looked at Eugene who was clutching his stomach. She sucked in her pride, swallowed her fear, and shook her head in agreement, “Very good, this matter does not concern you and the United States. This is a Soviet matter, and you are being used for leverage. It is not my intention that any of you are harmed. If you remain calm and stay out of our affairs, you will get to go home. Now go to your comrade.” He turned to two of his more trustworthy men, “Mentyukov, get her anything she needs--this man must not die. If he does, so do you. Penkovsky, you watch over them. They don’t leave, and no one goes near them unless I say so. Understand?” Vladimir turned back to Megan who was still in too much fear to move. “This man will get you anything you need.”

“Sir,” Collins said. Vladimir turned and saw just who had spoken up. A couple of his men were already obeying his commands afraid of the consequences of hurting Collins. Instead, they hovered over him, ready to act in Vladimir’s orders.

“Speak, what is on your mind.”

“That is my friend over there, may I help the Doctor?”

“You may, but no tricks, understand?”

“Yes.” Vladimir signaled him to move. Collins slowly got up and moved to Megan, taking a knee before her. “Megan, snap out of it,” he said grabbing her shoulders and giving her a quick shake. “Look, Gene needs your help. You are the only one that can help him right now. You’re a strong woman. You held us together up there--don’t fall apart on us now.” Slowly she came around and looked at Eugene lying down with one of his legs bent underneath him.

“Oh, god, Gene!” she said finally coming around. “Sean, grab a couple table cloths, quick.” She was back in doctor mode and ran over, taking position next to Eugene. She examined the entry point where the bullet entered his abdomen. She tried to think of the few gunshot cases she encountered during her residency as St. John’s in Dallas.

“Megan, I think I’m screwed,” Eugene said, his hands trembling.

“Gene, you are going to be all right, I am going to take care of you, just listen to me, OK?” He shook his head as Sean brought the table cloths over, “Sean, cover him up and put one under his head,” she ordered as she took her heels and suit coat off and resumed examining the wound.

“What else do you need?”

“I need a knife, some water, and napkins,” Megan requested as Sean went to collect the items. Vladimir handed her a folding knife from his pocket.

“Don’t be stupid with this or I will kill you. I keep it sharp; it should do whatever you need it for.”

“Thank you. I need to know what kind of round was in that gun. Can I see one?” He retrieved the weapon from Penkovsky who was now holding his dead comrade’s weapon. Vladimir removed the magazine and ejected a round handing it to Megan.

“Doctor, it is a 9x18mm Makarov round. Similar to western 9x19mm, but less power. Similar to .380 ACP. This is a standard ball round.” Megan examined the bullet.

“Thank you; that helps,” she said setting the bullet on the ground. She took the knife and cut a patch off of the table cloth, allowing her access to the wound, while keeping Gene covered. “Gene, talk to me. How are you feeling?” He looked up at her.

“I am OK; you don’t need to tranquilize me again.” He stopped and looked at her, “I wasn’t afraid this time. I told you I wouldn’t be afraid again.”

“That’s right, you did great. You saved me, Gene, now help me save you. I am going to have to make some cuts--I need to see something. Gene, it’s going to hurt a bit, but I need to know how much internal damage you have.”

“It’s OK doc; I don’t feel any pain.”

“Gene, what do you mean? You can’t feel anything?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Sean, quick, straighten his legs and take his shoes off.” Sean reacted very quickly and did what he was told. One of the gunmen arrived with a large green pack.

“Here, field dressing kit,” the man said as he showed Collins the contents of the bag

“Doc, what do you need out of here?” he said pouring the contents on the floor.

“Get some gauze and plug the wound. I need to check something. Be firm, but don’t push down too hard on his stomach.” She took the knife and grabbed the sole of Gene’s foot. “Gene, can you hear me?”

“He can hear you,” Sean said, relaying Gene’s nods.

“Gene, tell me if you can feel this,” Megan poked the various parts of his foot with the sharp clip point of the blade. There were no reactions, no twitches. “Gene, anything?”

“No Megan, he said no, does this mean-”

“-don’t talk, Sean; just apply that pressure.” She looked around for Vladimir who happened to be standing over her.

“What is story, Doctor?”

“Please, we need to get him to a hospital. He has a spinal injury and internal bleeding. I can stabilize him, but if he doesn’t get there soon, he is going to die.”

“I’m afraid there is little I can do, doctor. No one can leave at the moment.”

---

I was in a severe state of panic watching and listening to the drama unfold beyond the doors. There were at least a dozen or more silhouettes with weapons spread throughout the room. Had I not stopped to think rationally, and just burst through the door, it’s likely everyone would be dead. There was simply no way, even with my incredible speed, to take them all out without many of my friends dying. The recognizable sound of Vladimir was talking while standing next to a figure kneeling on the ground. Her cries were unmistakably familiar, belonging to the Doc. I was relieved that she was in no immediate danger and began formulating a strategy when Vladimir addressed her.

“You will be quiet right now. If you obey me, I will let you tend to your comrade over there. I understand you are doctor. He needs you, but if you don’t be quiet, I will take you out of the room and he will die. I won’t even count to three--you will be silent right now,” Vladimir said, causing me to speculate who he was talking about. Who was this guy and just what the hell did I get myself mixed into?

“Don’t move!” a couple men said to me in Russian. I turned to face them. They were Mitri’s men and looked rather young, about my apparent age. Several others arrived on scene pointing their weapons at me. One spoke into a radio.

“Comrade Major, we have her. What are your orders?” I shifted my vision to radio and could see the waves traveling out into a wide omnidirectional pattern spreading like ripples in a pond and disappearing into the distance. Turning back, I saw fainter signals originating from within banquet hall indicating that they, too, had communication.

“Nothing; stay there. I will be right there. Give me your location.”

Through the door I saw what I determined to be Vladimir’s silhouette move away from the hall and into the corridors where I had met him before my arrest. He signaled to someone and the house audio system squelched to life before classical music started playing throughout the speaker system. He turned to his radio and started speaking. I desperately tried to filter the sounds of the music out and tune into his conversation, but the background noise was masking all but a random words.

---

“Report,” Vladimir heard his superior say over the secure radio.

“The plan worked perfectly. Major Mitri and his men reacted just as you said they would. The woman we got was perfect. Her arrest record showing her associating with known extremist groups made her ideal for what we needed in a decoy. They thought she was trying to harm Nikolai and cleared her and the Hero from the room. In a matter of seconds they had her handcuffed, and the Major and all his anti-Party followers cleared the room for us, thinking an attempt on Nikolai had just occurred. If it weren't for Nikolai, I would have put a bullet in Sergei's brain a long time ago. Once he was out of the room, away from danger, the conscripts from the camp took the room quickly. We are now completely in charge.”

“Very good work. You may proceed and broadcast your demands on the open channel.”

“Yes, Comrade; it will be done. Before I do, you should know we do have a situation. One of the prisoners from the camp shot and critically injured one of the three Americans.”

“One of Mitri’s three? How could you let this happen?”

“The man was careless and I disposed of him. None of the men will step out of line again. We have a doctor in the room and she is tending to him, but I think it might turn out to be in our favor. The General Secretary will be foolish to not comply with our demands if an American hero will die should he delay. The US and Soviet relations would be harshly impacted. Urge the Secretary to respond to my threats and allow the American to receive medical attention.”

“Very well; I agree. We will show him and the people just who is in charge of this country after we dispatch the prisoners. Gorbachev will look like a fool and will be forced to step down.
Allow video of the wounded American to leak; we will later announce to the General Secretary that Nikolai has also been critically wounded. This should also provoke him to concede to our demands. Proceed as such, but no more complications.”

“Understood,” Vladimir said as he switched to an open radio frequency and began communicating.

---

“You will come with us now, and no more tricks or we shoot,” Sergei said to me as I watched Vladimir through the door.

“Then shoot. Otherwise, Sergei, shut up; I am trying to listen.” He was taken aback at my use of casual speech and orders I was directing his way. “You have to listen to me--something big is happening here. This isn’t some random hostage situation.”

“What is it then?”

“I could only hear bits and pieces. They mentioned something about me being used to get Nikolai out of the room.”

“Nikolai is very important icon to Soviet Union--maybe they don’t want to hurt their cause by getting him killed.”

“Makes sense, but they mentioned you and your loyal men specifically as if they used both me and Nikolai to get rid of you. I am trying to figure out why.”

“Well I am not popular in my ranks because I don’t have strong loyalty to the Party. If it weren’t for my brother, I'm sure I would be dead by now. How are you able to hear them?" he asked.

"It's not important; just know that I can hear them." I thought long and hard. "Several times the General Secretary was mentioned."

“I do not know; that can mean anything. What else did he say?”

“Something about dispatching prisoners to show the people who’s in charge.”

“They don’t plan on killing the hostages, do they?” Sergei asked.

“No, before he spoke with Megan-”

“-Who?”

“Megan McCormack, she was a mission specialist on board the Deliverance with your brother. Vladimir said to her that it was not their intention to harm them. Comrade Major, I can help. I can take those men out.”

“I am sure you are quite capable, but how do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Your brother here knows who I am.” He turned to Nikolai and asked. Nikolai simply answered negatively by shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

“Nikolai, have you ever told your brother how you got home?”

“I was forbidden to talk about it--in fact, I don’t even know myself what happened.”

“Nikolai, what is this she is talking about?” Sergei asked, surprised that there was something that Nikolai had not shared with him. I switched to English.

“My friend,” I said walking over to the wall and raising my hand, “you know a miracle brought you home safe that day. The Deliverance was disabled--it was impossible for you to have returned home.” I began repeating the message I coded to them by knocking on the hard wood. I wasn’t sure if Mitri knew Morse code, but I could tell from the look on his face, that he at least remembered the pattern.

“That was you?” I nodded yes as he slumped down along the wall, “and all this time, I had thought it was a friend of mine. Instead, this angel before me is my savior.”

“Nikolai, Michael did send me to save you. He is not dead, but I don’t have time to explain to you right now,” his head shot up at the news.

“What do you mean he is not dead? He is alive? Where is he?”

“Later, but now our friends need help, and I can save them. Tell your brother here to trust me, and have his men leave the room,” they conversed in Russian and a short time later, Sergei forced everyone out of the room.

“So, you are the reason my brother has returned to me? Hard to believe, but based on what I have seen, maybe not hard after all. What do you need from me?”

---Banquet---

“Let’s work the problem, people,” Dr. Roth said as he and a couple of the engineers stripped a large rectangular table. One of the cameramen was ordered to film the work the men were doing. They took a portable folding table made of compressed wood particles and began modifying it. Schneider used a large knife on loan from one of the gunman to start punching holes running up and down the table. He pressed the tip of the blade into the table while Gilmore hit the handle with a large heavy stone statue driving the steel through the particleboard. While they made the holes in the table, Collins cut one of the tablecloths into long strips. He hurried and handed them over to Schneider and Gilmore who started feeding the strips into the holes.

“OK, it’s ready,” Gilmore shouted as they collapsed the legs and laid the table next to Shephard.

“OK. We have to be very careful moving him. Grab the tablecloth we placed under him and lift slightly. You two slide the table under him. Be very gentle and try not to move his spine too much.” They quickly lifted Eugene and placed the table under him as Megan instructed. Eugene grunted while they moved him.

“Are you OK, Gene?” He simply nodded instead of saying anything. “OK, good. We are going to move you; before we do, we are going to strap you down, including your head and arms. You won’t be able to move, but don’t panic; we are just doing that so you don’t move and hurt yourself even more,” he reached up and touched Megan’s face.

“You’re an amazing woman Doc; I’m glad I met you,” she took his hand and squeezed it.

“You’re quite remarkable yourself. Now don’t worry, you are going to be fine. I had to open you up a bit and look around in there, you’re in luck, that round didn’t fragment. Your organs and intestines are intact, but that bullet is lodged in your spine and I can’t touch it. Listen to me, Gene; I don’t know the extent of the injury. As soon as we can get to a hospital, we will find out. In the meantime, keep calm. The important thing is you are alive.”

“OK, are you going to stay with me?”

“Yes; they are going to let the three of us move to the kitchen,” she said as the guys carefully started lifting the table. They held it high while Collins slid under and unlatched the legs. They set the table down and started pulling the cloth strips through the holes, strapping Gene in. Collins placed two rolled-up tablecloths along Gene’s legs, while Megan wrapped a shorter one around his neck. They began tying the strips tight, locking him to their makeshift long spine board. Vladimir came by.

“Very good work, people. How is he?”

“He will be fine if we can get him treated. He has a crude stitch job keeping him from bleeding out, but he needs professional care.”

“We are working on it; in the meantime, you and he will stay in the kitchen under guard. No tricks, understand? I am usually not this nice, but his well-being is in my best interests, so don’t abuse my generosity. Now hand me the knives and my men will escort you to the kitchen.”

"What about Sean?" she asked, finding it strange he was no longer being included in the roster of people moving to the kitchen.

"Your friend stays with us. He is important to your government. He will stay as extra security. Now go, and don't try my patience."

---

“We were able to get this for you,” Sergei said handing me a radio and headset. Our pilots use these, as do some of our soldiers. You wear it around your throat so you can talk in a soft voice and still be heard.”

“Perfect,” I said, completely familiar with the technology. Instead of a traditional mike, the mike on these sits on your throat and absorbs vibrations directly from the larynx. I put the radio on and ran through a test. As he spoke back to me, I tied my long hair back and pulled the black beanie out of my coat and pulled it over my head and down over my face. Using my finger nails I clipped away at the wool making a pair of eye holes.

'These things are pretty useful at times,' I thought looking at my fingernails.

“Here,” Mitri said handing me a small suppressed submachine gun.

“No thanks. I will be all right.”

“What are you going to do without a weapon?”

“Comrade, I *am* a weapon, and I am about to get really pissed off.”

“Very well,” he said, keeping his trust in his brother.

“I am going to get you intel on the room and situation. Do you know someone who knows international Morse code?”

“Perhaps, why?” I wrote a message down on a piece of paper and handed it to Sergei.
“If you can find someone, get them to the sound booth of the banquet hall. You will need to take someone out, but once you gain control, have him create some slight feedback and keep tapping that message until someone makes eye contact with the booth.”

“Collins?” Nikolai asked with a big smile on his face.

“None other. He will hear the message and can spread the word that we are about to take the room. Can you have someone standing by to kill all the lights?”

“Yes, but how will you see?”

“Don’t worry about that; just make sure there is no light. I need to get moving,” I said, “wait for me and I will report in soon.”

---The Crimea, Faros, Ukraine---

“General Secretary, we have a situation that demands your immediate attention,” Valeriy Boldin, secretariat head to Gorbachev, said. “Armed radicals have taken over the banquet where we are meeting with the Americans.”

“This cannot be, are you sure your facts are correct?”

“Yes Mr. Secretary. Reports say one of the American astronauts has been critically wounded by gunfire.”

“Which astronaut? Not one of *the* astronauts?”

“I am afraid so; he might not make it,” the deputy chief of the Soviet Defense Council chimed in, adding urgency to their appeal.

“Does Washington know what is happening?”

“So far we have managed to keep the situation contained, but it will leak sooner or later, and if we don’t act quickly to put an end to this madness, all the progress we have made with the Americans will be undone.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“We agree that the best course of action is to stop this uprising. If you declare a state of emergency, we can restore order and imprison any conspirators who have orchestrated this hideous act.”

“I can’t do that, nor will I. My relations with the United States are strong, and as you say, much progress has been made. If I issue a state of emergency as you propose, all my reform work will be undone. I must first and foremost think about what is good for the health of the Soviet Union, a union with more openness and freedom for the people.”

“Mr. Secretary, has it occurred to you that maybe our people still need regulation? Your plans to be more open with them and reform the Party were not accepted. See, they are showing their appreciation by killing an international hero, one who, like Mitri, is responsible for the life they continue to live. You will be finished, and the cold war will resume if you do not act.”

“I see, the situation is indeed dire. What is it they demand?”

“They have made no expressed demands. They as far as we can tell are trying to get attention. They refuse to allow the American to be taken for treatment and have threatened to kill others regardless of their status. It’s worse--Nikolai Mitri is one of the hostages. If he is killed-”

“-Mr. Secretary,” Baklanov interrupted, “our intelligence says that they have a strong network of conspirators and it’s possible their cause could spark anarchy that will quickly rage out of control. We need to act fast and quell this situation and make mass arrests, otherwise this country will fall. If you will not take the necessary steps, then we demand you resign and appoint Vice President Yananyev who will take action.”

“I will do no such thing, nor will I make any rash decisions. Get me more intelligence and find out what these people want. Until then, do not make such demands of me.”

---

“Comrade Major,” the young captain said reporting in, “all communication to the General Secretary’s dacha in the Crimea has been cut off. There are reports that there has been an increase in KGB presence around his retreat. Additionally, there are rumors that he has been placed under house arrest. This happened moments after a broadcast from the terrorists. They are demanding that the people be taken care of. They claim to be the voice of the people who are tired of waiting in long lines for food and basic needs. They want to be promised change or they start killing the Americans.”

“Thank you Captain for your report; is there anything else?”

“Yes, Comrade Major; it appears all KGB on holiday are being called in and armor units are being deployed. T-80s from the Tamanskaya and Kantemirovskaya armor units have already taken position in Red Square and are fortifying their position. Something big is happening.”

“Contact headquarters and report our current situation. Find out as much as you can about what’s going on.” The Captain saluted and left just as his radio crackled to life.

“Report,” Sergei said.

“Contact, two armed guards. I am going to take them out. Shephard and the Doc have been moved to the kitchen. Can you arrange an emergency crew to meet them out back?”

“Yes, we have a hospital nearby. I may be able to get them on the radio. Make sure if you take them out to do so quietly.”

“They won’t even see me coming,” the soft female voice said with absolute confidence.

“Nikolai, this doesn’t seem real. Who is she?”

“Brother, I really have no idea where she came from, but I almost didn’t come back and if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have. All the reports you have heard about the mission are false. We really didn’t do anything up there. The nukes failed and our ship was badly damaged. All hope was lost, and the governments were never going to tell you until the asteroid entered he atmosphere. My hero status is a sham. This woman, this angel--whoever she is--she is the real hero. Because of her you and I are alive. She stopped the asteroid and brought us home. I’m sorry my dear brother for not telling you, but it was forbidden for us to speak of it.”

“That is OK; I am in the intelligence business. I know what it is like to have secrets. What I don’t understand is how you keep attracting all the pretty girls and never introduce them to your older, wiser brother.”

---

“How are you doing, Gene?” Megan asked as she placed a wet napkin in his mouth letting him suck on the water.

“I’m OK, just a little cold,” he answered between his drinks. Two of Vladimir’s trusted men kept watch, one guarding the rear door to the loading dock, while the other kept a close eye on the banquet hall access door.

“You hang in there--we are going to get you out of there real soon.”

“Doc, be honest with me, I'm not going to walk again, am I? I mean, I know I can't feel anything below my stomach, but is it permanent? Am I going to live in a chair the rest of my life?” Megan reached for his hand that was still bound to his side.

“Gene, I really can’t tell you right now. It could be the bullet pinching the nerve, and once removed, signals from your brain will be able to travel to your feet again. I’m not going to lie to you; there is a chance the bullet did irreparable damage,” Megan was crying harder than Gene was.

“Don’t cry for me. I can handle it.”

“Gene, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. This all happened because of me. You wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t freaked out.”

“Megan, look at me. Listen very carefully, this isn’t your fault. See these guys watching us? It’s their fault, not yours. We trained to go into space to face all the dangers it has to offer. Up there, there are a million things that could kill us, and we were prepared for that. Still I freaked out. I didn’t want to die in that small ship. You, Megan--you have never trained to deal with a man pointing a rifle at your face as he started to pull the trigger. I would have messed my pants if I were you.”

“Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“There is no need for you to eat yourself up. The more I learn about my place in life, the more I am convinced something greater is orchestrating it. I should be bitter right now, but for some reason, I’m not,” Eugene told her with half truth. Mostly he wanted to comfort her and keep her from eating herself alive from self-pity. “Please, if we get out of this, I will be OK. It’s not like I was an athlete–lately, I have been working in labs. Easily something I could do from a sitting position.” Megan was about to say something when there was a sound outside the door. Mentyukov stepped through the double doors to take a look. Megan heard him say something in Russian followed by the sound of his weapon hitting the ground.

“Mentyukov, is everything all right?” Penkovsky asked. There was no reply. He called out again, but nothing. Worried about the ramifications of failure, he proceeded to investigate his partner’s sudden silence. He pressed his Kalishnikov through the double doors and slowly moved forward.

Megan watched as the doors suddenly burst inward, knocking the gunman backward and sending him flying through the room where he impacted the metal door leading to the loading dock. A definite cracking sound filled the kitchen as the man's head hit the door and fractured. He slumped to the ground, his life having already left the body. Her eyes left the gunman and turned back to the door. She saw a figure dressed in a long black coat with a black ski mask on. She watched as the figure took the man’s gun and snapped it in half, completely destroying the weapon.

“What’s happening?” Eugene asked, unable to see anywhere but directly above him.

---

I could see the four bodies of heat inside the kitchen. One right on the other side of the door, the other on the far end; both were armed. Megan and Gene were talking while the two stood watch over them. Taking them out would be easy, but doing so in such a way that they wouldn’t discharge their weapons would be a challenge. I would have to lure them outside to avoid any further injury.

The hallway was relatively empty with little to use. Further down, I spotted a vase on a small table that could serve as a descent noise distraction to lure them out. I hurried over and knocked the vase down and sped back to the door, taking position floating just above. The gunman walked through and the doors and they swung closed behind him. He scanned the room looking for the source of the noise until finally finding the vase on the floor. He was about to write it off as a fluke accident when I dropped in behind him and entered my high-speed movement, dilating time as I did so. First I went for the AK-47, grabbing it by the area directly above the trigger while simultaneously covering the man’s mouth with the other. My right hand squeezed hard on the AK crushing the metal housing of the upper receiver together preventing the long flat hammer from reaching the firing pin. With the weapon disabled, I pulled it from the man’s hand and let it hit the ground.

He struggled as I repositioned my right hand around his throat, placing him into a sleeper hold. Frantically he stabbed at me with a knife while the last of his oxygen enriched his brain. I could hear the beat of his heart and blood flow slowing within his body until he finally went limp, dropping the knife. I released my grip so that I wouldn’t kill him and dropped him on the ground next to the door.

“Mentyukov, is everything all right?” I heard his partner say. His silhouette approached the door and he slowly pushed his AK through. I reached out as his hand appeared through the door. Repeating the same technique, I crushed the upper receiver while pulling the weapon out of his hand. His arm was still sticking through the door when I kicked the double doors in the opposite direction. I could hear the snap of his arm as the doors pinched shut on his forearm before swinging inward, knocking the disarmed gunman backwards. I watched as his body traveled the length of the kitchen coming to a sudden stop on the other side before going limp on the ground. With the threat neutralized, I stepped inside while tearing the AK in half. Megan was looking at me with a half happy-to-see-you face, and the other half showing disappointment.

“Where the hell have you been?” she said in a very soft whisper.

“What’s happening?” Eugene asked. I reached up and hit the talk button on the radio and reported to Sergei.

“Comrade, kitchen clear. Both are safe.”

“Good work--a medevac will meet you there,” he said over the radio.

“Who is that?” Gene asked in frustration that no one was answering him.

“Gene, it’s OK; we are safe,” Megan said. She turned to me, and in a quiet yet angry voice started cussing, "Didn't you hear me, where the fuck were you? What was all that shit about with the KGB?" I ignored her and went towards the back door, lifting the body and moving him out of the way. The door was locked, forcing me to tear the door open.

"Megan, please, talk to me, what's happening?" Gene asked in increased anxiety.

"I don't know, Gene," she said as I finished opening the door. Several emergency medical crew were standing on the other side. They rushed in and made their way to the table. "Gene, help is here. We are going to get you moved."

"What happened to him?" One of them asked me.

"Gunshot to the lower abdomen. He has a spinal injury; be careful moving him. She is a doctor. Do either of you speak English?" Both shook their head no. I touched the talk button on the radio. "Major, let me speak with Nikolai," I said as I went over to the body and grabbed his radio.

"Anzhel, how can I help you?"

"Nikolai, the Doc is heading out with the medical crew. I need you to translate her for her. I am giving her a radio from one of the gunmen. Find another radio yourself and tune to channel 263. Tell Sergei to stay on this channel with me." In a moment, Nikolai's voice came through the recovered radio.

"Doctor, this is Nikolai. Are you alright, Megan?"

"I'm fine, Nikolai."

"My new friend here wants me to translate for you. Tell me what you need the crew to know, and I will tell them for you."

---

I finished changing into the dead man's uniform and casted his near-naked body aside. His body odor was bothering my sensitive sense of smell, but I ignored it as best as I could. The other man started waking up as I dragged him into the freezer.

"Wake up," I said smacking him on the face. His eyes opened and saw me standing before him. He instantly became aggressive upon discovering I was female and unarmed.

"Screw you," he said as he tried to punch me. I simply caught his hand in mid-flight, holding it in place while I grabbed him by the throat and lifted him above my head, slamming him against the door.

"You are going to talk or I will slowly crush every bone in your body into a fine powder." To show I was serious, I began tightening on his closed fist cracking a few bones before releasing.

"Stop! What do you want to know?

"Who are you? What is it you are trying to do here?"

"We are just hired help--we don't really care what this is about."

"You take on a job without knowing its purpose?"

"Yes, we were prisoners in the Gulag. We were promised freedom to help end some revolution."

"Why end the revolution? Russia would be free--don't you want that?"

"Yes, but if we don't, we go back to camps along with our families."

"How did you get out of the camps? That's impossible."

"They let us out."

"Who?"

"A colonel with the KGB. He wants to stop some major figure from changing the Soviet Union."

"What is this colonel's name?" I said, re-applying pressure.

"Stop, I need to breathe. I will talk."

"Talk, or I will leave you in here to freeze to death."

"A Colonel Tolkachev--he’s the one who released us."

"Why?"

"I don't know; I just don't want my family to go to the camps."

I started squeezing his neck again, "So you shot my friend instead, you spineless bastard?"

"No, I didn't shoot him, the man who di...did is dead. Please, I don't want any part of this, I-" his radio squelched to life; it was Vladimir checking in. I picked up the radio and set him down releasing his grip.

"Vladimir is going to kill all of you regardless of the outcome. I heard him say so to his superiors. Now, you have two options, you can answer this call and report everything is normal, and I will see to it this man and those he works for can't hurt you or your family. Tell him about me, and I will leave you naked in this freezer until you freeze to death. What's it going to be?"

"I will help you," he said. I held his wrist tight, ready to squeeze down if he started to squeal.

"Smart move--no games, or I will crush you before you can get a word in." He put the radio up to his mouth and started speaking.

"Comrade, everything is secure here," he reported while I started thinking.

“Good,” I said, “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”

---

---

“Captain, did you reach headquarters?”

“No Comrade Major, all communication between here and the outside is cut off. We have tried radio, but have been ordered to maintain radio silence. We have also been told to stand down and not to attempt to re-take the room.”

“What of the reports in Red Square?”

“Armor units are increasing as is crowds of people taking to the streets. It’s almost as if they are preparing for an invasion of the Kremlin.”

“No, it is something else, but I do not know just yet. Get me as much intel as possible,” A communications officer burst through the door.

“Comrade Major, there is radio traffic that your brother has been critically wounded inside the banquet,” Sergei turned to the back of the room where Nikolai was sitting talking on the radio.

“Simply untrue, Nikolai is right over there. They are talking about someone else,” the officer sighted Nikolai with disbelief.

“Comrade Major, they were very specific over the state radio, that it was indeed Nikolai Mitri who was wounded. Television is also reporting video footage from the banquet. They must have edited a tape making it look like that woman shot Comrade Nikolai, then showed the American being operated on by a doctor on scene but claimed it's your brother.”

“Their report is false, they broadcast with misinformation. My brother is alive and well and his two comrades are en route to the hospital,” through the radio headset, Sergei heard a voice.

“Comrade Major, do you know a Colonel Tolkachev?”

“Indeed, he is a very high ranking KGB working close with the Politburo.”

“Do you know why he would release prisoners from Kolyma?”

“I do not, why?”

“I just forced a confession out of one of the guards, he claims him and all the other gunmen inside holding up the banquet hall are from the camps. They were released about two weeks ago and brought here."

"This is troubling news if true. This would mean some very high up in my ranks are involved for some reason. You think these are the prisoners they were talking about?”

“It would fit well with the puzzle. The prisoner mentioned they were trying to stop some revolution. Some major political figure is trying to change the Soviet Union. You know who he is talking about?”

“A revolution, I do not know of anyone who is causing a revolution,” Sergei paused still holding down on the talk button. He replayed the previous conversations in his mind and known intel on radicals that posed a threat to the system. There was no one major working towards change, “Anzhel, I know of no one trying to-” Sergei stopped again this time taking his finger off the button.

“-Major, Gorbachev? What about him?” She said beating him to the punch, “the mentioned him several times.”

“Yes, very good, makes perfect sense now. He is currently under house arrest in the Crimea. Reports have floated around that his Vice President has seized control after Gorbachev failed to prevent Nikolai from being wounded.

“What do you mean Nikolai is wounded? When did this happen?

“Relax, he is fine, it is a false report, but it would be effective at turning the people against Gorbachev.” Nikolai got up and rushed over to his brother.

"Sergei, my friend is reporting their van is being stopped by KGB just inside the gates," Nikolai said interrupting.

"Anzhel, your friends are in trouble just outside."

---

I didn't let Sergei finish before bolting out the back door and into the loading docks. I circled around the building, finding the ambulance trying to get out of the gate about a hundred yards away. Several KGB with assault rifles were barking orders at the driver to step out of the vehicle. Two more approached the back and tried to unlock the doors.

“Come out, or we will open fire,” they yelled. Megan was on the ground next to Gene, curling up in a ball while he remained strapped to the board. I sped over to the van coming to a stop behind the two KGB.

“Howdy boys,” I said in English while removing my face mask. They turned to see me suddenly standing behind them. They had a look of confusion on their faces, not sure what to make of the woman speaking English to them, while dressed in a Soviet military tactical uniform.

“Get back!” They shouted in Russian.

“Sorry, I don’t understand you,” I replied in English. They turned to each other seeking the other’s advice. Seizing the opportunity, I rushed them. Before they could react, I was standing in between their rifles, my body blocking them from training their weapons on me. I reached up and grabbed both of their heads as they tried to back up far enough to point their barrels at me, but it was too late. Careful not to use too much force, I brought their heads together, where a definitive cracking sound echoed off the brick walls surrounding the building. Their two bodies went limp and they collapsed at my feet. A shot sounded followed by the sound of the front door opening. I turned the corner to see another officer pointing his Kalashnikov at the driver as he stepped out of the vehicle. He immediately saw me and turned the weapon on me, his enjoyment of my image rapidly fading as I approached unafraid.

“Stop, or I will shoot.” I continued to walk toward him showing no fear. He raised the weapon and aimed with both hands and pulled the trigger. In slow motion, I could hear the long thin hammer release and hit the firing pin, discharging the primer of the 7.62mm round in the chamber. As the powder ignited and the gas expanded driving the round down the barrel, I sprang myself upward and over the officer, twisting my body mid flight, bringing my feet down and my head up. The bullet exited the gun and the gas started traveling up the upper tube above the barrel back toward the bolt, driving it back where it ejected the spent casing, and re-cocked the hammer before sliding forward again, driving a new round into the chamber from the magazine. By the time the weapon had cycled once and was ready to fire a second time, I landed feet first behind the officer and grabbed his parka with my left hand and his upper right arm with my right. Taking a step back I pulled hard and to the right forcing his gunfire away from the van. His vision had just cleared from the firing of the first round and was in the middle of processing the fact that his target was no longer there when my strong movement pulled him off his feet and his weapon fired in a wide arc to the right of the van. He lost his grip of the AK-47 as I completed the movement and threw him hard. He landed twenty feet away, impacting the pavement, the sounds of several bones breaking from the hard landing tingled my ears. The driver, in a state of disbelief, cowered down on the ground.

“Get in and drive!” I yelled as another officer got the drop on me and opened fire. It was too late and a stream of 7.62 rounds were already heading in my direction. They impacted tearing into my clothes and ricocheting off me. Several rounds bounced off riddling the driver’s side door. Realizing the danger my body was now posing for Megan and Gene inside, I turned my body so that the angle would force the ricochets away from the van while I tried to move out of the line of fire. The officer’s 30 round magazine emptied and I was still alive. A look of horror came over his face, seeing that the only damage his rifle did was shred my uniform. He reached for another magazine out of his pouch and struggled to change the clip. What should have been a fast fluid magazine change, one he had performed thousands of times in the dark, was now a haphazard and clumsy attempt to reload his weapon crippled by the fear of what he just witnessed. I slowly closed the gap and came within a few feet when he dropped the AK and went for his side arm. His Tokarev TT-33 was half drawn from his side holster when I grabbed the pistol and crushed the metal slide and barrel together as if it were made of modeling clay. My right hand drove a hard, but human, punch to his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to the ground where I drove a hard hit to his upper back, knocking him out. With the threats neutralized, I turned to the driver who was still on the ground.

“Drive damn it,” I yelled. He was clutching his side, his hand covering a rapidly increasing crimson stain. The blood pooled around his trembling finger. He looked up at me as I ran over to him.

“Let me see,” I said in Russian. The driver looked up at me, his body shaking. He tried to speak, but his life left him, leaving him in a collapsed heap leaning against the ambulance.

“Shit, shit,” I started cussing knowing it was the ricochet off my body that resulted in his death. I pressed the talk button on the radio.

“Sergei, come in,” after what seemed like an eternity, a voice called back.

“Yes Anzhel,” Anzhel, why do they keep calling me Anzhel?

“I took out the guards, but the driver was killed, and it looks like the other is unconscious,” I said, coming around to the other side and seeing the other paramedic out cold with a large gouge in his head.

“We have trouble over here, other KGB units are surrounding the building and have shot at some of my men trying to leave.” I was in a tough situation. Why were they shooting at their own men? I needed to get back to the banquet hall and take out the rest of the conscripts from the camps, but at the same time, Gene needed immediate assistance.

“Megan, are you okay?” I called out to her.

“Get us the fuck out of here damn it,” I didn’t have a choice, she and Gene would have to be my first priority. Sergei and his men could take the room or delay until I returned.

“Ok, hold on back there,” I said as I ran over to the gate and tore the long metal arm off the post clearing our exit before rushing back and starting up the engine.

“Sergei, I need to drive them to the hospital, have someone give me directions,” I commanded as I stepped on the gas and took to the streets. This was the first time in about a year and a half I had driven a car. It was like riding a bike, but somehow it felt very strange and for the first few minutes driving, my motions were very rigid. I flipped on the lights and sirens while thinking just how grateful I was that the Russians drove on the right side of the road.

“Make a right up ahead,” Nikolai said guiding me blindly through the radio.

---Banquet---

Sean sat on the floor in the middle of a the group. He sat close to his wife holding her tight.

"It's going to be all right Deb, we are going to get out of this. Keep praying. He will hear our prayers."

The house audio systems seemed to come to life for a second, then fade. A subtle feedback persisted that was hurting his sensitive ears. At first he didn't notice it, but there was a distinct pattern. It was a message encoded in the noise. Once again he could hear a repeating message in Morse code.

“Gumby, calvary coming, will signal when ready. Prepare to hit the deck in zero visibility. Spread the word. Thumbs up that you acknowledge."

"Sean what is it?" as he raised his thumb then used it to scratch his head as a guard walked by. He watched as another guard left the room minutes later one of the ones that Megan left with returned. He spoke with the guy in charge briefly before approaching another guard.

"Start telling everyone very quietly to get ready. The lights are going to go off, when they do, tell everyone to get down."

"Why what's going to happen?"

"Help is on the way."

"How do you know?" Deborah asked unsure how her husband came across this bit of information.

"Long story, just do what I tell you, I think our prayers have been answered."

---To Moscow---

I touched down on the roof; Nikolai and Sergei stood waiting for me. They stared with disbelief as I flew unassisted.

“That is quite remarkable. How is it you can do that?” Sergei asked.

“Not entirely sure, I just can?”

“How are Eugene and Megan?”

“Fine, thank you for your directions. He is being rushed into surgery right now and Megan will wait with him.”

“She is quite a woman, we were lucky to have her with us.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “She is quite extraordinary.” Sergei broke up the conversation.

"We need to get Nikolai to Moscow. If the people can see that he is alive and not hurt, then the people will know the CPSU is lying. You can fly with someone else?"

“I think so. Are you dressed warm enough, Nikolai? It’s going to get very cold for you.”

“I’m fine, what about you?”

“I will be fine as well. You trust me Nikolai?”

"With my life. Let's do it."

"You be careful with my brother, I want him back in one piece."

"Trust me, I wouldn't let anything happen to my comrade here," I turned to Nikolai, "You ready?"

"No, not really."

"Since when are you afraid of flying?"

"I'm not, I...um. I have a little problem."

"You will overcome it, hurry, we gotta get going."

"No, it's embarrassing, but you are turning me on right now. I'm sorry, us guys can't help these things." Of the thousands of hours of simulator time, endless forms of distraction were programmed into the computer to see how I could fly the shuttle under duress. They would throw alarms, system failures, cabin de-pressurizations, etc. at me. The good pilots, the ones calm under pressure, dealt with the distractions while focusing on the critical phase of flight. Of all the things that could distract this ace during a flight, I never imagined in all my life, it would be one of my good friends' erect junk sticking into my back.

"Don't be embarrassed, I completely understand. Make it up to me later and buy me a few drinks when this is over. Deal? Now hop on my back and think of Turner." He hopped up onto my back. Sergei stripped off his gun belt as well as the one around his pants. He crudely joined the two together and tightly secured his brother to my body.

“Sergei, you sure you can take that room?”

“Yes, we will take it. Trust me, like I am trusting you. If that prisoner will do as he says, we only have one man to worry about.”

“You have my trust my friend,” I turned my head back to Nikolai, “how about you, are you ready?”

"Turner huh, that was better than a cold shower. How do you know Tuna?" I ignored him and slowly lifted up off the roof.

"Hold on," I said as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, not needing any instructions from me.

"Wow!" He shouted in amazement watching the rooftop disappear from under us. Our altitude rapidly increased, taking us into a steep vertical climb before leveling off at several thousand feet. Except for Clint and Anzhela, this was my first joy ride with a passenger. Unlike my solo flights, where I was immune to temperature, thin oxygen, and high G's, Nikolai was vulnerable and if I didn't pay attention to my flying, I could injure or kill him.

"You ok my friend?"

"This is...how you say? Awesome!" Mitri said with about the same level of excitement Megan had the first time I took her up on a training flight. I had thought she would have been afraid, but a minute into the flight, she was howling like a teen on a roller coaster, “This is incredible, how are you able to do this?”

“It’s complicated,” I yelled back to him hoping he could hear with the wind blowing in his face, “maybe I will tell you all about it someday.”

“So, you are the one? All this time, I thought it was Michael. The morse code, the jokes, all the knowledge of our spacecraft. Instead, it was you. So, you say Michael is alive?”

“Yes, Michael is safe. I found him adrift, on the verge of death.”

“Where is he then?”

“On his way to my home.”

“Where is that?”

“Only about thirty light years away.”

“You mean, you are from-”

“-Yes, I’m not an angel, I’m from another planet.”

“And does everyone on your planet speak good Russian like you?”

“No, I had to learn.”

“Well you had a good teacher. Some minor flaws, but I can teach you. What is your name?”

My real name is Kaaren, but mostly people call me Karen for short.”

“Karen? I like Anzhel better, it suits you more than Karen. Karen is a terrible name for a pretty woman such as you. Karen is an Armenian Man’s name.”

“Hold that thought a moment,” I said interrupting him, “You think you can handle a little more speed?” I said guessing we were only doing about a hundred knots.

“Hit me with it, I trust you.”

“Ok, tell me if you can’t take it anymore. Don’t worry, I can hear you. Ready?” I was already accelerating when he started to speak. Slowly, little by little I increased speed, accelerating toward Moscow. Below I could see an increase in traffic, especially military vehicles. We followed along the highway flying over many Soviet tanks en route to the city center. The cloud layer was getting thick, making visibility difficult, but at the same time I was grateful for it gave us the ability to approach without being seen.

"Mitri, you know of a good place we can land?" I said as I started surveying the area in infrared looking for a spot with the fewest people. How about that alley behind those buildings north of the Kremlin?

“That will work, but there can be heavy foot traffic-” I didn’t let him finish, but started to rapidly descend after finding a brief window in which there were no pedestrians.

“Sorry my friend, I had to act quick.” I said in apology the moment we touched down.

“It’s okay, re-entry is worse.”

We exited the alley and proceeded around the building and hurried down the street at the end of which was the northern end of Red Square. A large gathering of people were in the square protesting in front of a tank column guarding the entrance to the government's headquarters.

"They all think I'm dying or dead."

"Yes I can hear them. Seems like they are calling for Gorbachev's head. The people are fighting for you."

"Only they are fighting the wrong people."

"Got that right, their emotions are going to be their undoing. If the CPSU regains control, their small taste of freedom will pass into history. The Red Amy, you think we can sway them?"

"Possible, like you Americans, a lot of cosmonauts come from the military. In many ways, we are interconnected. What do you have in mind?"

"If I can run interference, you think you can get close to that tank, the one over there in the center?

"I think I can, how are you going to distract them?"

“Nikolai my friend, leave that to me. Just think about what you are going to say. When you left earth, you became a hero to the Soviet Union. Like Yuri Gagarin, you have tremendous influence with your people, and they will listen to you. They know you are not about politics or part of the military. This is your day comrade, right now, you can change history and shift the balance of power away and give it back to the people.”

“You really think it can be done?”

“Your job is easy, it’s been mostly completed for you. All you have to do is get up there.”

“So what are you going to do?” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the crowd. “Anzhel, what are you doing?”

----CPSU Head Quarters---

“He’s escaped!”

“Who?” Colonel Tolkachev demanded.

“Nikolai. We took the building as instructed and executed any prisoners who surrendered. After, we searched the building for Nikolai but he was nowhere to be found. We have his brother in custody and is en route via helicopter. According to several of his men, Nikolai went to the roof, but after an extensive search, we turned up nothing.”

“Vladimir?”

“Unknown. The prisoners caught wind that they were to be killed and sided with the Major. Vladimir helped us capture Major Mitri, but some time after disappeared.”

“What of the Americans?”

“All safe and being treated now. Two of the three astronauts are missing. There are reports two Americans fitting their description have been admitted to a hospital nearby, one with a gunshot to his midsection. Shall we investigate?”

“No, leave them alone, them missing is not my concern, if they made it to the hospital it is just as well. Nikolai missing is bothersome. We need him found. Have his brother brought to me as soon as he arrives.”

“Yes, Comrade Colonel, it will be done,” the Major said as he saluted and turned away to follow his orders. Tolkachev thought about how their plan was unfolding. It wasn’t perfect, but the people were now turned against the General Secretary and in a matter of days, he would be destroyed, and replaced. Before their emotional response could calm down, they will realize that the Party will be back in greater power, and it was them who chose it.

---Red Square---

“Come on, let’s be bold,” I said, changing my mind about distracting the tanks. Something told me, once the military saw him and positively identified him, they would immediately stand down. We reached the rear of the large gathering of protestors, many holding signs with various messages written on them. Interspersed throughout the crowd were KGB officers shouting useless threats over bullhorns, informing them that this was an illegal demonstration. The people paid no attention to them and kept up with their protests. I started to push my way through while pulling Nikolai in tow.

“Izvi`nite,” I said, excusing myself as we pushed on through the dense crowd making our way toward the front of the Kremlin. It was slow moving considering the sheer volume of Russia’s people turning out in protest. Men and women of every age group took to the streets letting their disdain for the tragic events that may have taken the life of this generation's beloved hero be known. The smell of burning Soviet flags permeated the air and spoke louder than words, that the people had had enough.

"Comrade Nikolai!" a teenage boy yelled as he spotted us in the crowd. "It's Nikolai Mitri." Slowly, little by little, those surrounding him turned to see what nonsense he was spouting. The older people in the crowd recognized him first. They looked him over in disbelief wondering if they were imagining things. Timidly they approached us and put their hands on him, touching his shoulders.

"Comrade, is it really you?"

"Yes," I answered on his behalf, "The Great Nikolai is standing amongst you. Help us get to the front of the crowd." At the first utterance of my authoritative commands, the crowds complied and packed themselves tighter so that a clear walkway formed. With an unimpeded path clearing before us, our trek forward increased its pace. We walked by and the people reached out to shake his hand as he walked by. Mitri, timid at first, began working the crowd as a seasoned professional Hollywood actor signing autographs on the way down the red carpet. A silence rippled out from our location and traveled throughout the massive cluster of people

---CPSU Head Quarters---

The massive helicopter touched down on the landing pad next to the CPSU headquarters. The pilot shut down the engines as the rear door to the passenger hold was opened. Two armed guards jumped out and helped the handcuffed Major out. Tolkechev stood on the edge of the landing pad and waited for his prisoner to be brought to him.
“Welcome to Moscow Comrade Major, I trust you had a good flight.”

“Piss off Colonel,” Sergei barked back.

“Major, we haven’t even begun yet and you are already showing me resistance. Come now comrade, we have the same training, you know this will be useless for you. Simply tell me where your brother is,” Sergei remained silent as he was led inside and forcibly seated into a small interrogation room. The Colonel didn’t waste any time and began striking Sergei hard in the face.

“Where is he?”

“Why, what’s he to you?” You can’t touch him, you know that.”

“You are right. I will not kill the Great Nikolai like I will you, but I will send him away until this passes and we have regained all that belongs to us.”

“You are a miserable piece of filth. Are you that hungry for power. You like seeing people suffer?” Tolkechev struck him again sending a splatter of blood across the room.

“You are a traitor to the Party, and you no longer have the privilege of being able to hide behind your brother. I am going to enjoy watching you suffer,” Sergei sat unafraid.

“Do what you want to me, but Anzhela will find you, find all of you, and destroy you,” there was a knock at the door. With the Colonel’s permission, one of the guards opened the door to an out of breath captain.

“Report, what do you have for me Comrade Captain?”

“Comrade Colonel, I have received reports first hand, that Nikolai is in Red Square with that woman Vladimir hired. Somehow they were able to escape and fly to Moscow.”

“How, there was no Helicopter to meet them, everything is grounded in that area.”

“It doesn’t matter, my intel is sound, he is there and making his way through the crowd. I gave orders to stop him and arrest him on sight as an impostor.”

“Excellent work Comrade Captain. Order the helicopter to prepare for immediate takeoff, I will be right there.”

“Yes Comrade Colonel, what is the destination?”

“Red Square.”

“What are you going to do Colonel when you get there? Fire on the crowd?” Sergei asked.

“Whatever is necessary.”

“You have gone mad. This isn’t about some power play anymore, face it, you are scared to death.” Sergei could sense the Colonel knew his time was limited and if the people saw his brother alive, he would be finished.

---Red Square---

"See my friend, they love you?" As we approached the tank column in the front of the crowd, uniformed KBG and Red Army soldiers rapidly approached and formed a wall, blocking our approach. A KGB officer withdrew his side arm and pointed it in our direction.

"Stop right there, this man is under arrest for impersonating a national hero,” I placed my invulnerable body in between his gun and my friend, doubting very much he would be foolish enough to pull the trigger, but taking a defensive posture non the less.

“Stand down Comrade Captain, this is Nikolai Mitri, and his brother outranks you. You go ahead and shoot me, and shoot him, but you know very well who you are killing. Think about what your superiors will do to you if you somehow manage to survive this crowd.” As my speech in fluent Russian was processed in his mind, I stepped aside offering him a clear shot, knowing I could react before his bullet left the muzzle. “Go ahead, shoot the impostor, what are you afraid of?” The fear started to build and everyone with front row seats could see him starting to sweat profusely in the cold.

“Arrest him,” he stuttered to the soldiers. They too sensed the fear in him and remained hesitant to act, knowing the consequences of acting rashly. “What are you waiting for, arrest him, and this woman.”

“Comrade,” I began to say, “the game is almost over, and when it is, whose side do you want to be on? The choice is all yours. Today, you can side with the people, allied with this man here, or you can be sent to prison with all the other conspirators. Think about it, right now, you are the most powerful man in the Soviet Union. Your decision right here...right now, will forever be written in the pages of history. Do you really want to kill the great Nikolai Mitri?” His hand was trembling, having a hard time keeping his gun steady. Before he could react, people stepped forward, placing their lives between his gun and Nikolai. One of the soldiers stepped out of the line and stood before the officer, placing his forehead up against the muzzle of his handgun. It was all the others needed to convince them which way to turn. One by one, they all followed suit standing behind their brave comrade using his skull to protect Nikolai. When the crowd started to shout his name, the officer lowered and holstered his weapon. He picked up a megaphone and yelled through the device.

“Behold, the great Nikolai Mitri!” He stood at attention and saluted, leading the rest of the Red Army soldiers to follow suit and salute him as well. The people nearby witnessing the event, started chanting Nikolai’s name as he moved out from behind those protecting him. The captain handed him the bullhorn and pointed him toward the tank.

“Comrade Mitri, forgive me. Here, take this, your people want to see you.”

“Thank you Comrade Captain,” he turned to me as several reporters finally made it to the front to capture the event. Before he could speak I urged him to continue.

“Later, tell me later. Get up there, everyone is waiting for you.” A tank driver scurried out of his T-72 and met Nikolai, offering his hand to help him up. I was ducking back out of view of the growing presence of international reporters when my ears began detecting the sound of an approaching helicopter. The unmistakable sound of its rotor blades slicing through the air grew louder. Bringing up my infrared, I tried to find a heat signature of an approaching helicopter. As the crowd cheered at the sight of Mitri, I hopped up on top of another tank. The driver tried to push me off, when he started to home in on the sound of the helicopter.

“Crocodile approaching,” he said softly at first, then again to his crew with a louder voice.

“Crocodile, what’s that?” I asked the driver.

“Mil Mi-24 flying tank,” knowing the sound of his air support as well as any Vietnam soldier knowing the sound of inbound Hueys. His human eyes and ears located it first, and a split second later, I picked up its heat signature. Massive amounts of heat poured out of the engine exhaust, making the feared helicopter a very visible target in the infrared spectrum.

The Hind banked hard left as it cleared the buildings and turned toward Red Square, coming to a quick hover facing the tank column. The crowd along with the reporters shifted their attention to the fearsome helicopter that was suddenly hovering over them. The people looked up with a sense of awe and dread at this monster's sudden presence. I was contemplating its intentions when I noticed its 12.7mm gatling gun turret moving around searching for a target. The gun stopped on Mitri’s tank and paused.

“Oh shit,” came pouring out of my mouth as I sped over to him stopping quickly to grab ahold of him. The stream of canon fire started as I quickly flew him to the rear of the next tank. The cannon rounds bounced harmlessly off the tank’s armor and continued for a second before the gunner realized his target was gone.

“You ok?”

“I’m always alright when you are around. You are my own personal guardian angel.”

“That’s cute, but I’m no angel. Hurry get under the tank, that cannon can’t penetrate it. Under the tank was a heavily armored access door that allowed safe escape from the vehicle. I reached up and pulled on the door tearing the latch holding it closed. The heavy door fell, allowing entry to the tank. One of the tank’s crew was standing over looking down with a handgun ready. When he saw Nikolai below, he reached out and took his hand.

“Comrade Mitri, it is a great honor. Come quickly, and your friend too.”

“I have to go, get him out of here? Nikolai, I will be back for you,” I said using my flight to push me clear of the tank where I got to my feet. The gunner who was firing at Mitri’s tank, hoping the shells would miraculously penetrate the armor, saw me appear from under the tank and turned on me. A new stream of canon fire was unleashed toward me. I watched as the rounds left the rotating barrel of the gun heading to where I was standing. Turning away, I looked down the empty space between the tanks and the Kramlin walls and took off running in a fast but peak human speed. The first rounds hit the walls surrounding the government's buildings and continued for a moment before the gunner reacted to my quick movements. Leaving Mitri alone, the pilot moved the cyclic control to the left, tilting the rotors, producing a leftward thrust vector pulling the massive Hind into a sideways movement, tracking me while giving his gunner a stable shooting platform.

A new stream of fire erupted ahead of me as I ran. The 12.7mm rounds arrived at where I would be, rather than were I was a moment ago. The first rounds missed, but the gunner had already adjusted and the second burst hit my upper body hard, destroying my uniform. I increased speed, leaving the area fast enough to leave only a dark blurry streak clearing the Kremlin walls and took to the sky as the ground ended at the Moscow River. With great speed, I propelled my body vertical while removing my shredded top and discarded it, leaving me in just my sports bra. The Hind lost track and was frantically circling my last know position when it turned its attention on Nikolai’s tank now fleeing Red Square. The pilot turned and pursued the tank through the streets.

---

“Where the hell did she go,” Tolkechev demanded, “I hit her. She should be a shredded corpse on the wall right now, but she’s gone.”

“Sir, the target is leaving.”

“Where is she?”

“No sir, the other target. The tank he crawled under is leaving.”

“After him.” Tolkechev demanded. The pilot stopped circling the area and rotated the helicopter toward the tank and moved forward after the fleeing tank.

“He’s heading toward Tverskaya Street.”

“Keep on him,” the Colonel yelled as he fired another burst at the tank.

“Colonel, that gun isn’t going to penetrate the armor, it’s not meant to be used against heavy armor, certainly not our own.”

“Then use the rockets,” he yelled back to the pilot.

“Sir are you mad, I can’t fire those inside the city. Who are you after any way?” The Colonel was going insane.

“How dare you question me, do it or you and your whole family will be dealt with severely.”

“Very well,” he said, reluctantly complying with the order. He flipped the switch arming the AT-2C Swatters and brought up the fire control system. The pilot lined up the targeting recital and was about to fire when something suddenly appeared in his sight. The blurry object came into focus and hovered in front of the helicopter. At first the pilot thought he was seeing things and was about to rub his eyes when Tolkechev yelled out.

"Impossible!" The woman he knew from the photos as Anzhela was flying before them, matching their speed, traveling backwards. She wore a pair of Russian military combat uniform pants that appeared a little baggy and sagged slightly on her hips. The jacket she had been wearing was gone, leaving only a black sports bra to cover her upper body, "Die you bitch," Tolkechev screamed as he placed the targeting recital on the female figure and unleashed a stream of 12.7mm rounds. She crossed her arms over her chest as the shells began to impact her. To his amazement, the rounds were bouncing off her body, inflicting no damage. He shifted up to her head as he yelled to the pilot to fire the rockets. In a panic, he fired while still locked onto the tank. The Swatter missile's engine ignited and instantly accelerated off the hard-point rail on the right wing. The missile flew past her as she covered her face from the continued stream. The prolonged firing of the Gatling gun started to generate too much heat, setting off alarms, automatically killing power to the gun until it could cool down. The woman moved her hands away from her face as a fireball ignited behind her.

"Yes, die you bastard." Tolkechev yelled as the tank exploded off in the distance. "Now you really are dead, and soon your brother will be too."

---

The helicopter continued on a forward flight path continuing toward the fleeing tank as I flew in front. The pilot quickly brought the Hind to a hover and stood before me for a moment.

"That's right boys, party's over, Angel's here.” The gun locked onto me and fired. Crossing my arms, I covered my breasts, keeping the rounds from impacting my sensitive areas. The rounds hit my body, some coming to a stop and falling below, while others hit and ricocheted in other directions. Far from being an effective weapon against armor, it was still considerably stronger than the 12 gauge that hit me before, yet the rounds were causing no more damage or pain to my body.

The cannon shifted and began firing at my head, the gunner assuming that I was more vulnerable there and changing his tactic. I continued to let the rounds hit me, convinced my head had the same protection. Each impact was as futile in stopping me as the rounds hitting my lower body, until I realized I had made a simple mistake. A couple of stray rounds fragmented on my teeth and found their way into my open mouth, one of which bounced and slid down my throat. As I started choking on the bullet, I brought my hands up to protect my face, trying to cough the hot shrapnel up and out of my mouth as the stream continued. The cannon fire stopped and I hovered still trying to cough up the round when I noticed the smoke trail. At that moment the sound of the explosion reached my ears. I turned in time to watch Nikolai's tank turn into a fireball.

"No, oh God no. Mitri!" I said as I sped toward the wreckage.

---CPSU Head Quarters---

Sergei sat in the chair while the two armed guards sat watching him. Slowly Sergei fished around his belt for the tiny pouch he kept on the inside of his belt, all the while trying not to give away what he was up to. With his cuffed fingers he felt along the edge until he came across what he was looking for.

“You two are making a mistake, the Colonel is about to make a terrible mistake and we need to stop him.”

“Quiet traitor,” one of them barked back.

“Traitor? To who? All I want is freedom. Don’t you get it, all of this was almost destroyed had it not been for my brother. Your lives belong to him. Yet, you are going to sit here and let some madman kill the very one who engineered your continuous existence? Is that really so?” The two were quiet and had nothing to respond with, “I don’t care about my life, I will gladly give it up, but Nikolai...we need to stop Tolkechev, he’s gone crazy.”

“I said be quiet.” Sergei didn’t listen and kept talking, distracting them as he withdrew his spare key. A close friend of his was once jumped by a small group of misfits who cuffed him with his own handcuffs and proceeded to beat him to death. The idea of dying in your own bonds troubled Sergei and since the day he learned of his friend’s untimely death, he made sure to carry a concealed means of escape. Slowly, careful not to drop the small metal key, Sergei started to work the lock.

“He’s right Comrade, Nikolai can’t be killed. He was been awarded the Hero of the Soviet Union medal. Harming him without very good cause carries very harsh penalties.”

“And do you know the penalties if he stands before that crowd? We will all be finished,” the Lieutenant was saying to his Sergeant, turning away from me.

“Comrade, I agree with the Major here. I would rather be held accountable for this stupid uprising, than allow Nikolai Mitri to be killed. The plan failed and killing Mitri is only going to make it worse.” As the Sergeant continued to talk, Sergei felt confident his odds suddenly doubled. Free of the handcuffs he rose up behind the Lieutenant. The Sergeant turned his eyes toward Sergei’s movements and accidentally gave him away, but before the Lieutenant could turn, Mitri was on him. Sergei reached around with his right and held the man’s chest, while he reached with the left and gripped his chin. With a quick tug to the left, he could hear the vertebrae in his neck pop. The man instantly went limp and collapsed to the ground, his arms and legs twitching. Sergei stood there watching the Sergeant, who still had his AK-47 strapped around his shoulder.

“So, Comrade, do you still mean what you just said a moment ago? Do you want to help my brother, or are you going to shoot me?”

“Comrade Major,” he saluted, “Sergeant Zhavrid at your service.”

“Thank you Lieutenant, can you hand me my side arm please?” The newly promoted Lieutenant quickly squatted and handed Sergei the dead man’s AK-47 while he removed the gun belt and handed that to the Major. Sergei gave his weapons a quick check and proceeded to the door.

---

The tank was completely engulfed in flames, the gun turret destroyed.   As I approached I could tell all hope was lost.   Without a care of being seen, I touched down just as a secondary explosion knocked me off my feet.   I picked myself up off the street which was littered with bricks and glass from the surrounding buildings, broken free from the shock wave.   Several bodies of pedestrians laid lifeless on the ground.   Quickly, I ran to the tank, hopping up top where the turret was, frantically tearing away the twisted metal but finding nothing but unidentifiable body fragments.   The only thing left that resembled anything human was a pair of cracked helmets with shattered skulls still strapped in, the bodies vaporized from the shock wave.   At first it was a simple feeling of pain that began to well up inside me. I had failed another friend. First Eugene, now Nikolai, both victims of this curse of a body. Tears began to form around my eyes, mourning the loss of my good friend, then suddenly nothing. There was a brief moment where I could no longer feel any pain. I stood there engulfed in flames from the burning tank as my pain disappeared, only to be replaced by anger, then, my anger morphed into an intense rage consuming me.   My eyes quickly scanned the sky for the Hind, spotting its heat signature in time to watch it launch a second missile.  

My mind sent signals to the lower half of my body to immediately start purging my stored energy, and provide thrust.   My lower half of the body still engulfed in flames, I lifted off the tank and accelerated toward the inbound missile, rapidly closing the gap.   As I neared impact, I shifted to the side and came to a sudden halt, reaching out with my hand. I latched onto the Swatter’s stabilizing fin and pivoted in the air, guiding the missile into a wide rotating arc around my center. The momentum of the missile continued to build as I redirected it, letting go the moment it was facing the Hind. The pilot took evasive maneuvers, barely evading the missile which passed harmlessly before exploding The explosion rocked the Helicopter, but did little to its armor.

“You son of a bitch.” The gunner began firing at me. Instead of taking the hits, I dodged the stream diving low, then reversed coming up low under the nose of the Hind. My dense hand cut into the turret as he relentlessly tried to track me. Sounds from the alarms penetrated the armor and registered in my ears as the damage I inflicted on the gun turret set off mechanical failure warnings. Using both hands I held on to the four barreled cannon and used my feet against the fuselage as leverage to tear the gun from the rotating ball turret. The gunner yelled as I held the cannon like a bat and began striking the armored glass of the front bubble canopy. The first hit cracked the glass, but before I could do any more damage, the pilot drove hard on the cyclic and banked the helicopter hard to the left, pressing the left rudder at the same time. The aircraft went into a steep left hand dive attempting to flee. The sudden movement caught me off guard as I was focusing my rage, channeling it into my attack. The glass bubble slammed into me as the rotor blades arched high and wide over my head. I lost grip on the remains of the cannon and let it fall onto the streets below.

As the helicopter rapidly lost altitude from its sudden maneuver, I moved to the right side and began attacking the door to the pilot’s cockpit. My hands dug into the armor plating as if it were nothing but paper. In defense, he banked hard again and fired a volley of 80mm rockets which narrowly missed my ass as I held a firm grip on the door. I looked below seeing the city rushing up fast to meet us. His evasive maneuvers bled off a lot of altitude taking us from about 7,000 ft to just over 400 ft. We skimmed over the rooftops while I resumed working on the door. The metal hinges twisted and snapped, freeing the door from the aircraft. I let the door fall and turned my attention to the pilot who had already drawn his side arm and began firing at me, the bullets harmlessly bouncing off my bare skin.

“Pull up!” The gunner yelled. We both turned to see the Hind rapidly approaching a tall building. The pilot dropped the gun and grabbed the collective, pulling hard to increase lift, while pulling back on the cyclic to bleed off speed and put the helicopter into a steep climb, missing the roof by a few feet. I broke off my attack, letting him gain altitude while I returned to attack the gunner’s cockpit, pulling the left side door off and exposing the gunner, who to my surprise was wearing an officer’s uniform instead of a common flight suit. His rank insignia was that of a Colonel.
“Colonel Tolkechev I presume?” I said, striking him hard in his throat. His hands came up as he began choking from my strike. With nothing to fight back I quickly unsnapped his harness and dragged him from the helicopter. The pilot, seeing that I had pulled his superior from the aircraft turned to give chase as we entered a railroad junction near the industrial section of the city. I began climbing high into the sky watching the Hind attempt to climb after me.
“You piece of shit, what did you have to kill Mitri for?”

“Pretty riled up over him, looks like your nights are going to get pretty lonely.” Switching hands, I grabbed his throat and let go of his coat. I squeezed hard while I drove a hard punch into his midsection.

“Fuck off,” he said in English as he pulled out a grenade, its pin and handle missing. I grabbed the grenade with both hands and turned around, locking his arm under my armpit. I felt the explosion inside my hands as the hot expanding gas and metal shrapnel destroyed his hand. The force repelled my hands away from each other, allowing the gas to escape. My body acted as a shield protecting Tolkechev from the blast, but the stump where his hand used to be slipped through my arms and he fell away as the explosion pushed me backwards. I looked down in time to see Tolkechev hit the titanium rotor blades of the Hind as it rose toward us.

His body instantly shredded, bathing the bubble canopies in blood and carnage while his head, still strapped into the helmet, bounced off the blade and was ejected off into the distance. I turned away from the gruesome scene as a Mil Mi-28 Havoc entered the fight approaching from the opposite direction. Instead of climbing toward me, two missiles streaked away from the Havok, recing through the sky, leaving twin trails in their wake. They impacted the front of the Hind causing a small primary explosion as the first missile exploded, shattering the canopies. The Hind nosed down as the second missile arrived, hitting near the engine exhaust. The secondary explosion cut through the armor, and the rotor blades disintegrated. The heavy helicopter, no longer supported by the lift of its main rotor, fell like a brick and exploded on the train tracks below.

---
Sergei exited the stairwell leading out onto the executive floor where the Central Committee Secretary’s office was. As he and his partner left the stairwell a voice cried out through the halls alerting everyone of Sergei’s presence. Several officers opened fire without warning, hitting the wall with their side arms. Sergei fired a long sweeping burst from the AK-47 hitting two of them before charging across to the office on the other side. Zhavrid remained in the doorway of the stairwell providing cover.

“Three more Major,” the kid yelled as he opened fire, hitting another joining the firefight. Sergei knew they were going to be outnumbered really fast and if they didn’t take advantage of the small resistance now, they wouldn’t be able to push later.

“Cover me,” Sergei yelled as he moved forward, rifle up firing at any movement as he made his way to the next door. Shenin’s office was down the long fancy hallway where Sergei hoped he would be hiding out, likely drinking up the courage to put a bullet through his brain.

---

I raced through the sky making my way to the Communist Party Headquarters west of the Kremlin. Below, the tanks guarding the entrance to the Kremlin walls had dissipated and were now traveling in the same direction I was, leaving the large crowd behind. I looked at the last spot I saw my friend alive and began choking up. The rage began to overtake me again as I neared the main building. My vision revealed several silhouettes assuming shooting positions firing on two lone gunmen. The first of the tanks were arriving below just as I sped through a window on the 10th floor, plowing through walls until I reached the hallway where the gunfight was taking place. There, I came to a sudden stop between the two opponents. For a brief moment the gunfire stopped as both sides, in a state of disbelief, ceased their assault to make sense of my sudden presence.

“Anzhel!” The unmistakable voice of Sergei echoed through the halls, originating from behind me. I turned to look at him and quickly turned away not able to look him in the eye knowing I let his brother be killed. Instead, I turned back to the group of KGB standing their ground, my head lowered but my eyes facing forward delivering a menacing gaze. They opened fire as I began walking towards them, their bullets harmlessly bouncing off my body. They quickly realized that I was no mortal human and began backing up in terror.

“Enough,” I yelled speeding over to the closest officer, stopping at his side, where I grabbed him and threw him into a nearby wall. One by one I drew their fire moving about the room. My destruction became their futile obsession. My rapid movements and invulnerability to their gunfire instantly wore them down psychologically. One, giving up on small arms fire, fired his grenade launcher at me, hitting me in the abdomen. The round exploded causing little sensation to my body. I watched the rapidly increasing fireball expand and the small shards of metal deflecting off my stomach. The force knocked several standing near off their feet, catching hot shrapnel in the process. I turned to the last remaining officers ready to continue the fight when an AK sounded behind me. My remaining opponents fell as Sergei’s AK rounds took their lives ending the confrontation.

“Stay put,” Sergei yelled back to Zhavrid not wanting him to see me up close, “Anzhel, I am very happy to see you. I thought we were screwed back there. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I am here for blood,” I paused as my emotions overtook me.

“What is it? What happened?” Sergei’s voice changed seeing my distress.

“I’m sorry,” my knees gave out and I collapsed on the ground.
“What happened to my brother?”

“The Colonel arrived in a Hind and destroyed the tank Nikolai was fleeing in. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop the missile. He’s gone Sergei,” Mitri fell to his knees beside me. Instead of getting emotional along with me, he instead put his arm on my shoulder.

“I know you loved my brother. Come, we are close. Let’s finish this and make those responsible pay. We can drink our sorrows away later. Get up, Anzhel, I need you, my country needs you.” He gently took me by the arm and lifted me to my feet. “Let’s go, the Secretary’s office is this way.”

---

Kryuchkov sucked down another long tug of vodka while Shenin released the slide on his handgun, loading a round into the chamber. He set the gun on the desk and picked up his glass, emptying the contents.

“It is time Comrade, they will be here for us any moment,” Kryuchkov, the KGB Chairman said.

“Yes it is. It is too bad things did not work out as planned. You think they will have decent vodka in hell?”

“I hope so,” Kryuchkov said putting the gun up under his lower jaw. He was in the process of pulling the hammer back when the two heavy wooden doors exploded inward, one of them impacting his back. The force knocked him forward into the oak desk pinning him in place, his gun falling to the floor and out of reach. Shenin stood up with his own gun in hand looking around the door. Instead of men in uniform, a single tall dirty blond woman in tattered clothes stood in the doorway.

“What is this? Who are you, what do you want?” She remained silent and approached, grabbing the heavy door and effortlessly lifting it over her head, tossing it across the room. She bent down, not concerned about the gun now pointed at her as she retrieved Krychkov’s gun. Shenin didn’t wait, and pulled the trigger. The single round hit only to stop and fall at her feet. He pulled the trigger a second time, hearing only a click reminding him he had only loaded a single round. He went for the box of ammo in his drawer when she kicked the desk backward, crushing his legs. Shenin yelled out in pain, trapped between the wall and the desk. He tried pushing the desk back, but the heavy oak he chose to furnish his fancy office was too massive for him. The strange woman approached and put her foot up on the desk and pushed toward him. The oak pressed harder into his upper legs shifting the broken Femurs.

“STOP! I’ll give you what you want, please stop,” at this point Sergei entered the room.

“There is nothing you have that you can give.”

“Major Mitri...this, this is all just a big misunderstanding. You have us all wrong. We were trying-” The woman pressed into the desk again.

“-Save your bullshit for the courts. Your little escapade placed the General Secretary under arrest, you removed him from power, and you killed my brother, a National Hero. All of you are going away for a long time,” Sergei said.

“What are you talking about, we didn’t kill your brother, he killed us.”

“Scum, let me deal with him,” the woman said.

“No Anzhel, we have much worse places than death in this country. He and the rest will be visiting soon enough. You don’t want anymore blood on your hands. Killing him won’t bring Nikolai back.”

“No one better kill anyone over me,” a voice came from behind. Sergei turned first then the woman.

“Nikolai! You're alive.”

“Very much so,” he replied with a large smile on his face. Several military officers stood at his side.

“How, I saw your tank?”

“Anzhel, you are quite amazing, but it looks like we fooled you too. He chased the wrong tank and so did you.”

“Thats right,” the tank crew member who met Nikolai and I under the tank said, “my comrades volunteered to run diversion and draw the crocodile away. While he was busy shooting at them, your brother here delivered one hell of a speech to the crowd. You should be proud Major, your brother may have just changed the course of history.”

---Star City---

"Dr. McCormack?"

"Yes," Megan answered the American who approached her in the waiting room.

"Doctor, I am Neil Holland, special liason with the American Embassy in Moscow," he said, showing her his diplomatic ID.

"Oh, thank god," she said with a sigh of relief, "Mr. Holland, can you tell me just what's going on?"

"Doctor, we are still trying to figure it all out ourselves, but it appears you and your friends from NASA just got caught in the middle of the last desperate attempts by the CPSU to regain control."

"CPSU?" Megan asked,

"Sorry, we get used to using the initials. CPSU, Communist Party of the Soviet Union. According to the reports, General Secretary Gorbachev was temporarily removed from power and the Party tried to implement their own plan of reform, placing Vice President Yanayev in power. What happened to you was a ploy to mask who the perpetrators were."

"What did they want from us?"

"Leverage, you, Dr, Shephard, Collins, and Mitri have a lot of value. By pretending you were in danger, they thought they could get Gorbachev to react in fear of international pressure. He didn't quite react the way they thought he would. So they changed tactics and leaked footage through the State Television of your friend here. They stitched some video together and made it look like someone shot Nikolai. They fed it to the public, who immediately took to the streets in protest. The people were demanding that the General Secretary stand down, thinking Gorbachev’s lack of leadership caused the death of their National Hero. Somehow your friend made a public appearance and convinced not only the people, but the Military that what was happening was an illegal attempt to overthrow the government. With the backing of the military, communications to the Crimea were restored as was Gorbachev’s seat. From our sources, an immediate order was given, and all those responsible have been arrested. Today very well might be the end of the communist party in Russia. If predictions are correct, it may also mean the end of the Soviet Union in the near future.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"It's a very good thing, but there are a lot of complications associated with it. Like a company restructuring, it's going to have some hard times ahead. Anyway, lets talk about this later; for now, I want to sit down with you and go over a few things."

"Ok, is everything all right?"

"Dr. Shephard, I presume? I spoke with the lead surgeon. Your friend is in recovery right now. It will be a few hours before you can see him, but he is stable. You should be proud of yourself Doctor, you saved his life," Holland took ahold of her as she started crying, mostly out of happiness.

"What about the," she stopped, her emotions preventing her from talking.

"The bullet did do damage, but it was a very low powered round and the damage wasn't severe. It's quite possible in time, feeling will return and your friend might be able to walk to some degree. Right now it's too soon to tell. These men that they used to seize the banquet, apparently they were to be expendable. The ammunition they had was very low grade and under powered. Most of the spare magazines they carried were not live rounds.

"What does that mean?"

"Well for your friend, it means he has hope, it could have been much worse. It appears as if the weapons they had were meant to keep you all in check, but when the time came, they would be unable to defend against anti-terrorist forces re-taking the room."

"I was so scared back there."

"Of course, you wouldn't be human if you weren't. Doctor, let me give you the rundown on what is going to happen. In a couple days, we are going to move Dr. Shephard to our medical facilities inside the embassy. They are top notch, and we have very good doctors. We have one of the best neurologists in the country on a flight, he is due in about ten hours and will remain in the Embassy treating Dr. Shephard. I think we can use one more good doctor if you are up for it. We would like to welcome you to stay at the Embassy, or, if you prefer, we can make arrangements for your immediate return to the States."

"I want to stay with Eugene if that is all right."

"Of course. I have sent for several agents to come and watch over you if you choose to remain here. You will be very safe."

"Where are the others?"

"They are all at the Embassy and we are currently working to get them home. Doctor, is there anyone at home you would like us to reach and let them know you are ok?"

"Thank you, yes, I would like to get in touch with my parents. I'm sure my mom is a nervous wreck right about now, and I might know a better neurologist."

"I recommend we do this. Dr. Shephard will be in recovery for at least several hours. Let's get you back to the Embassy, get you cleaned up, fed, and let you call home. By the time we are done with all that, your friend should be waking up," Megan hesitated, not wanting to leave, but ultimately agreed. A short time later, Holland made sure a diplomatic limo was waiting for them downstairs to take them back without fear of being harassed. The entire ride, Megan sat in utter silence. Her mind kept replaying the vision of the gun pointed at her skull. Over and over she could see the finger slowly squeezing on the trigger. Every time, the action was interrupted by Gene's desperate attempt to save her. She watched as he used his legs for the last time to ensure she would go on living. A deep sense of bitterness started to fill her heart. Her new friend will never walk again because of his sacrifice, and the one friend that could have stopped everything without risk, was nowhere to be found. Gene overcame his fear of death, while Michael was too afraid to reveal himself to a room full of people, men and women who dearly loved and missed him.

"How can you be so selfish Michael? Why did you just sit there and let this happen?" she said quietly with her hand inside her pocket pressing down on the talk button on the radio.

--

"So my comrade is not dead?" Nikolai said as we finished our late night dinner in his lofty apartment. His wife Alena graciously prepared the very best and left us alone.

"No, he is alive and well.”

"I am very happy to hear, that he is alive. To think all this time, I thought he was dead.”

“I thought the same about you last week. One minute you were in a tank, the next a fireball,” I put my head down recalling the feelings surging through me when I saw, what I had mistakenly concluded was Mitri’s death. I killed because of you.”

“You are simply human to feel that way, you did what any one of us would have done. Many who have run this country have never given such thought to the value of life. Because of you, that is about to change. There is a new light approaching on the horizon, and the decades of oppression may very well be over,” he paused and took a sip of his wine, “you know, we call our land Rodina, or Motherland. The word Russia is in the feminine gender and we consider our land as giving birth to all our people. In time, perhaps a day will come, when all my people will know who gave birth to our new free country.”

“Nikolai, my friend, I do no need any such recognition for what I do. As they say in hockey, I provided the assist, but you got the goal.” Nikolai laughed.

“Ah, you know hockey. We will definitely be good friends.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well because of your assist, my brother has also scored,” he said patting her and continuing her joke, “the KGB is being dismantled for involvement in the coup, to be replaced with a new State Security force. Sergei has been given a very special commission and has been made a Colonel, but will likely rise much higher in the near future. He has been placed in charge of seeing the perpetrator’s are tried and sent away. Whole archives of document’s have been seized from the Party Headquarters and being investigated.”

“What about you my friend, what is next for you?”

“My love is in science, venturing out into the cosmos again, not to mention our continued effort with the United States.”

“How are they handling the situation?” I asked, not really clear how my country was dealing with the events that paralyzed one of their own heroes and endangered the others.

“The Government is being rash, but supportive. It is the people at NASA who don’t care about the political crap and are pushing to see our plans through. There are many who want me to enter into politics right now. I don’t care for the idea, but Gorbachev’s influence was greatly tarnished and he will not remain in power long. This is a critical time for us, and I may have to become something I don’t want to in order to save all those I care about. I will have great power and influence and can use it to for the good of my people.”

“My friend, I know what that is like more than you will ever know. Sometimes we do need to transition to a life we never imagined for ourselves,” I stopped to think about what I have been through. All the pain, as well as the good that has come from my personal transformation. One day I hope to be able to look back and see it was all worth it.

“Well I will give it some thought. I know I will hate it, but deep down, I know I have little choice. Now, how about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s next for you? You yourself are transitioning to a new life here, yes?”

“Well kind of. It’s been tough fitting in and adjusting.”

“Does any of the other crew know about you? I take it Megan knows.”

“Yes, she does. She has been a friend to me since the funeral, but no one else knows.”

“I am honored that you found me and privileged me with knowing who my savior is. I will forever be your friend and keep you safe until your time to leave arrives,” Mitri stood up and walked to the cabinets. He withdrew a large, rather old looking ceramic bottle with a label on it. There was a paper seal in the cap ensuring one that the bottle had never been opened. "I promised Michael, I would share this with him when we returned. I have had it in my family for a long time and was saving it for the most special of occasions. Before we lost signal with Michael, I said I would drink his half, but when I returned, I could not bring myself to drink it. Tonight, I want to share with you. Because of you, not only are we alive, but so is my friend." He carefully opened the bottle and poured a little in each glass. He raised the glass to his nose and smelled the very expensive vodka. Approvingly, he raised his glass with mine. "To my old friend, so very far away, and to my new friend, so very close,” we drank in silence for a while, enjoying a long standing Russian tradition of socializing to the wee hours of the morning.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know Michael would love to be here instead.”

“Wouldn’t he? He was a good friend, I hope to see him again soon,” I looked at the clock and realized the sun would be coming up soon.

“Well my friend, I have business to attend to back in the US and must depart. Thank you for your hospitality this past week.”

“It is the least I could do Anzhel.”

“Anzhel, you never told me why you call me that?”

“Anzhela, the name of the woman who’s identity you took, is the Russian form of Angela,” I said it a couple times before letting it sink in.
”¨“No kidding, Angela, really? Which of course is short for-”

“-Angel,” he walked over to the living room and returned with a bag, "I have something for you, but promise me, you open when you get home."

"I promise," Nikolai handed me the bag which contained a medium sized wrapped box, "thank you, and thank you for the vodka, that was a special moment. I am glad to have you as a friend."

"Yes, so am I. You take care and if you ever need anything, I will be here. Please come visit me again soon." We said out goodbyes, and a short time later, I was back home at Megan's place. The lights were off, and everything was just as I had left it two weeks ago. After the incident, she disappeared. It was my hope that she came home, but the evidence led me to conclude the contrary. I left the lights off and laid down on the couch where I quickly let the tiring events of the last couple weeks overtake me. I fell fast into my deepest sleep.

---

The sunlight was pouring through the windows when I finally woke up. The early morning rays penetrated my body and energized my cells. Like an intense rush of caffeine, my eyes shot wide open, taking in the colors of the room. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before stretching. Megan had still not returned. I knew she was ok from reports I heard circulating, but her exact whereabouts were unknown. She could be anywhere, Washington, JSC, or perhaps she continued on the tour as planned. After putting on a fresh pot of coffee, I opened my bags and dumped my clothes into the washing machine. In the second pack that I wear on my front during flight was the box Mitri gave me. I withdrew it, stopping to examine it for a moment before my fingers tore the paper off the box. Inside was a fancy wooden box with a little brass latch. After it was unclasped, I opened it up and found an object wrapped in a silk bag. surrounded by a red silky cushion. The object inside was large and round. As I pulled the object out of the bag, I found an image of myself painted onto it. At first it appeared to be simple, but upon further investigation, I realized the figure was an angel with my face and hair.

"Cute, Mitri," I said as I looked it over. I had seen many like them while walking around Russia, but never stopped to look into them, art never being an interest of mine. The painting on the doll was quite exquisite and obviously hand made with great care. I wondered if Mitri had this custom made for me, or found one that looked similar to me. As I was looking it over, I heard a car pull up into the driveway. My excitement of Megan’s return was short lived as I determined the engine sound was not the same as her Beemer. I put the doll back and closed the lid as the sound of two people approached the door. Instead of a knock, a key entered the deadbolt and turned the lock.

"Hello," I called out the moment I heard the door open.

"Karen?" Well they knew me, that was a relief. The couple turned the corner and entered the kitchen area. It was Megan's mom and brother.

"Hi Catherine, Ronan. Good to see you two again. Have you heard from Megan?"

"Karen, Megan is in Moscow."

"Still? Is everything all right?" I asked, suddenly becoming alarmed.

"She is staying in the Embassy for a few months while her friend recovers. I am not sure if you know, but he was wounded pretty bad and it's going to take a while for him to recover. We just came to get some of her clothes so we can send them to her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"She said you would ask. The simple answer is no."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"I don't know, she wouldn't say, but she wants to be left alone right now. Please don't take it personally Karen, I know she thinks the world of you, but she has been through a lot. She did say that you may continue to stay here if you please."

"Thank you, but I think I will leave. I have overstayed my welcome anyway; it’s time for me to go home.”

“It’s really ok, Karen, but if you insist. Do you have a place to go?”

“Yes, I have a couple of places, thank you Catherine.”

“You don’t hesitate if you need anything.”

“I appreciate it, I will be fine. When you talk to her, please tell her I hope she is well and that I miss her.”

“We will be happy to,” Ronan said. I served them the coffee I made while I cleaned up. Ronan and I spoke a little while Catherine grabbed her daughter’s belongings and packed them up into a couple of suitcases they brought along. Catherine spent a while making sure everything was neatly folded and tightly packed while Ronan went into her office and packed up some of her files. I got nervous as he drew near the locked drawer with my NASA photographs, but he ignored it and packed up files without even looking through them. He closed the case and locked it wheeling it out of the room. I was beginning to feel at if it was some kind of bad divorce. The other found it unbearable to be in the same room, so the spouse sent her family to come separate our assets. A feeling of loneliness started to creep back into my world as my only friend who knew me, was leaving me all by myself. I chose not to wait for the laundry to dry and dumped the damp clothes into a trash bag and grabbed my few belongings out of my room. Using all my strength, I quickly stuffed as much as I could into my bags, stopping before they burst at the seams. Before they noticed me missing, I walked out the front door, leaving my key behind and hurried to the park where I could fly away without being seen. The Houston landscape grew smaller as I gained altitude, before leveling out and heading west toward my place of solitude.

To Be Continued....Episode 13 “Untitled”

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by G.M. Shephard

Michael, alone again deals with the pain of taking a life, while Megan far away deals with her own buried emotions. Meanwhile Liz makes a startling discovery that things aren't quite what they seem.

Angel S:1 E:13 "Hope Lost"
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

---United States Embassy, Moscow---April 3, 1987

Megan sat beside the bedside watching Eugene sleep. She held on to his hand, careful not to disturb any of the pick lines in his arm. His hand slowly squeezed hers and his eyes fluttered and opened. He brought his hand up and yawned, then turned to look at Megan.

"Hey there, how long have you been here?" he said as he started to wake up.

"Only an hour. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a truck, other than that I'm okay. Where are we, this place looks different?"

"You are in the U.S. Embassy. We moved you here the other day. You caught a staph infection and we put you under until the antibiotics fought it off. We decided it would be better to move you to better facilities where we could be in control of your medical care. My dad flew in, he's a neurosurgeon, one of the best, and will be treating you while you remain here."

"A doctor? Well I can't wait to thank him for raising such a gifted young woman."

"I'm not that young, but thank you."

"How are you holding up?"

"It's been a rough week, but I'm hanging in there. Been getting lots of rest as well. Fortunately I didn't have to continue on the tour."
"All things considered, though, I would rather be in Kazakstan right now."

"Dr. Roth and some of the Engineers are there now. They are determined to set an example and show to the people of the US and USSR that we are not going to let this little incident keep us down."

"That's a great idea," Megan heard a strange voice behind her. She saw a man in a suit who looked vaguely familiar, "Eugene, you mind if I come in?" Gene didn't speak but raised his hand and waved him in.

"Well you look beat to hell, but looks like you have some great company."

"Hey Bob," he said with a low voice. "Bob, this is Dr. Megan McCormack, Megan, Dr. Meersman. Bob is my partner back in the States."

"Doctor, pleasure to meet you. So you're his phantom partner?" she asked.

"Hahaha. Gene here didn't paint me to be that mysterious did he? To answer your question, yes, we are working on some research projects together." Megan looked at him, studying his features.

"Doctor, you look very familiar, have we met before?"

"Yes, indeed we did, last November at the Presidential banquet in DC."

"Oh right, I remember now. I remember you met Gene that night and you gave him your card."

"Yeah, I had to suck up all my pride to meet him there in that den of thieves, having to subject myself to all those politicians, but it was worth it. I think we have a good thing going and are making a lot of progress."

Gene looked up at him. "Well, gonna be a while before I can resume, and even then, I'm not sure what capacity I can resume."

"Nonsense Gene, you never got up from your chair before, so I don't see anything being different." He paused, "sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No, don't worry about it, I know you well enough, that's just your way. So what made you come all the way to Russia?" He pointed to Megan, "She's fine, let her stay."

"I have been talking to some of the heads of our project and I have a proposal for you. Since you are probably going to be here a while, why not get back to work as soon as you can, and be part of something special at the same time?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Your friend here is correct, we need to show the people that this incident was a political one, and nothing to do with science. We and the Russian scientists are committed to unity and research for the betterment of the people. I can't stand the politics and want avoid it as much as possible. What would you say if I were to tell you I have made arrangements to start a lab in Star City. I have partial approval to move some of the items and we can start sharing our research with our Russian counterparts as we were supposed to in the first place."

"All of them?"

"Well not all the items, some for obvious reasons can't be moved. What do you think?"

"I think it's great, thank you for taking the initiative," Eugene said in a quiet weak voice.

"Of course, what are partners for. Get some rest and we will talk about it in a couple of weeks after you get a bit stronger. I will leave you two be, but it's good to see you and I'm glad you are going to be all right." Meersman took Gene's hand and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Get some rest now. Doctor, pleasure meeting you." Megan stood up and shook hands.

"Dr. Meersman, you mind if I talk to you outside a moment?"

"Why of course. Gene, you don't mind if I steal her for a moment?"

"No, go ahead." The two left the room and stepped out into the hall.

"How can I help you Doctor?" Meersman said.

"I've decided to stay in Russia for a while until he heals up and gets through therapy. I've called my partner and he is going to resume full control of my practice again. I would like to offer any help I can."

"Possible, have you talked it over wi...well of course you haven't, you two just found out about it. Talk to Eugene and if he's ok with it you and I can talk more. What's your doctorate in?"

"Physician, then I switched to Psychology."

"Oh, that kind of doctor. Well, we aren't doing much in the way of biology. We have a lot of rocks that might need a professional to listen to their problems." Megan snorted as the joke suddenly hit her."

"Oh my god, that was funny, thank you, I needed a quick laugh. Seriously though, I don't mind, I can do do research, filing, or if you need me to just answer phones. Anything, I just want to help."

"Ok, thank you Doctor, we will be in touch. Now get back in there, your patient needs you."

---Houston Police Department, Westside---April 24, 1987

Reid stepped into Captain Brown's office. Brown was a large bald headed black man whose domineering presence would better serve the public out on the streets, rather than behind a desk babysitting his officers, but he had grown tired of seeing the crime scenes first hand. He would rather see photographs of the bodies, where the the smell of death couldn’t reach his nose.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

"Reid, have a seat." Reid sat down and tried to get comfortable. Calls into the office were seldom pleasant, most of the time a bitch session for something he had done wrong. His lieutenant, Whithers walked in with Ferguson trailing. Reid started to get very nervous nervous seeing this many department heads in the room.

"Sorry we’re running late," Whithers said.

"Reid,” Brown started as the two Sergeants took a seat, “we have been going over your case files and we're a little perplexed."

"About what sir?" he asked, starting to get even more nervous, but still able to control his mannerisms.

"At first we thought it was a fluke, but we see a trend here, one that we hope won't change. The last several months, you have been closing quite a few of your cases, making some solid arrests. The DA has been coming back confident of convictions. You were promoted to Detective quite young. We had high hopes, then we got mediocre results from you. Looks like you are starting to finally shine."

"Thank you sir," Reid said, relaxing his sphincter muscles knowing this was a rare pleasant visit to the Captain’s office.

"Now we know your sister's disappearance has played into much of your performance. Personally, that is not excuse, you leave that shit at home. Hell, if you want a sister that bad, you can have mine. I wouldn't mind her taking a hike for a while. What I am getting at is, if this new and improved Reid is the real deal, then I think you can serve better in Homicide and get away from those bullshit crimes. What do you say, wanna move up to the big leagues?"

"You deserve it Reid," Whithers chimed in. "I've noticed the improvement in your attitude. You seem more focused. We also like your dedication, something that some of the others are lacking."

"Thank you Captain for the opportunity."

"Ok, great, that's what I wanted to hear. Here's how it's going to work. We are going to move you to Homicide Division on a probationary status. You prove yourself out there, you stay out there. But I have a couple of conditions."

"Yes Sir?"

"First, you wanna search for your sister, that's fine, but absolutely none of it on my time. I don't want to seen any more of that on your desk. Take it home, and work on it there, otherwise let the detectives I have assigned take care of it. Two, you hand over your cases to Harris and Gutierrez."

"Sir, what about the Owen case?"

"That will go to Gutierrez. I know you are very into this case, but if you want Homicide, you can't have the Owen case. Choose right now. I personally wouldn't take a deadbeat case over this opportunity, and Homicide won't come up for you again for quite a long time."

"I see," Reid paused in thought. Could he really give this case up? "Sir, can I request you give the case to Harris. He started with it, and knows Karen better. Gutierrez, well you know he doesn't like her."

"Well, he will have to get over it. Harris' plate is too full right now to take in that case. Maybe in a couple of months, but not now. The case isn't going anywhere anyway, so don't stress. The feds pulled out and frankly I am considering shelving it."

"What do you mean the feds pulled out? When?"

"The other day, I got a call and they are handing the case back to us. There is no evidence that it is interstate, and they frankly have no jurisdiction unless it was a kidnapping. We don't have any reason to believe it was, so they are out. They don’t give a rats ass about those two missing, so what do we care they are dropping the case. I don’t know why I am going on about this, get out of my office and get to work. You report to Whithers now.” The men all got up and turned to leave.

“Thank you sir.”
”¨“Yeah, yeah, make me proud, and don’t screw things up.” Reid walked out wondering how he was going to break the news to Karen. She wasn’t going to like the fact that he traded her case for a promotion.

---Big Bear Lake, CA---

The bald eagle soared over Big Bear Lake waiting for it's prey to swim close to the surface of the calm clear blue water. Now mid April, ski season finally over, a peaceful calm came over the mountain for the briefest of moments. With no snow to attract skiers, and the weather not yet warm enough for camping, the mountain would belong solely to the local residents for a couple more weeks. It was a perfect time for me as I knelt along the eastern side of the lake meditating, my long legs folded under me and my hands resting open palm on my knees.

My eyes closed, I tried to enter into the state the Japanese called Mushin or empty mind, where my mind came to a complete rest. My efforts were made near impossible as the faintest sound of every leaf blowing in the gentle breeze stimulated my ears. Squirrels a hundred yards away nibbling on leftovers from the campers the night before could be heard by Kaaren's ears. I opened my eyes and looked for the eagle in the sky. My vision, now equal to hers in sharpness and clarity, spotted her immediately. She was majestic and free, not a care in the world other than finding food for her and her young high up in the mountain where few could reach. In many ways I felt as she did. I was alive and free, yet so much plagued my mind.

I was alone again and now feeling in greater despair than back in November. A large hole still existed, one that Liz and Ash used to fill. My best friend now blamed me for the injuries Gene sustained and rightly so. Megan had refused to talk to me, leaving me alone to grieve and suffer the guilt of the lives I took. It's an easy thing to say one would kill those who deserved it in order to save those you love, but living with someone's blood, regardless of how evil they may have been is harder to do than many may think. It scared me to think about how easy it was to take a life, to remove someone from this world with no effort, no fear of consequences. Their humanity staring back at you begging for more life as you sucked it from them, sending them to meet their maker. All this power, I knew I needed to harness it for fear it would consume me.

The eagle flew north, disappearing over the trees along the hillside. I looked around, quickly confirming there was no one around before taking off after the eagle, crossing the lake in the time it takes to blink. I caught up with her as she began flying upward, making for the high cliff line, and flew alongside before she saw me, immediately taking evasive maneuvers by banking hard to the right and heading low toward the tree line. Her long wingspan and heavier build made it difficult for her to maneuver away from me at the tree line, where a falcon could bank and turn sharply as it hunted prey in the forest. At first I gave her the respect of keeping my distance, but stayed intimate with her, matching her every movement. Slowly, little by little, I moved closer to her, shifting below her just as she started to climb high, reaching for the safety of her nest high on the cliff's edge. As she conceded, knowing she couldn’t get rid of me, yet concluding I meant her no harm, she led me back to her home, landing on a long branch sticking out of the cliff wall. Careful not to get too close to the nest, I came to a hover a couple of yards away and watched her. Inside the nest were four eggs. In several weeks, she would have new offspring and would spend the better part of her time teaching them to fly. Eventually all would leave the nest and all but one would wind up dead before winter arrived. It was sad how so few of these majestic creatures survive.

I left the nest behind, accelerating high into the clouds, passing into the upper stratosphere and heading south southeast toward Texas. It was a cloudy day in Houston, with a thick layer of clouds hanging over the city, shielding it from view. Instead of racing to my destination in my usual rush, I slowed to a glide and stretched out my arms as if I were the eagle. Both she and I, strong, powerful, and free.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

The Sergeant didn’t bother waiting for me to approach the bench, he picked up the phone and dialed.

“Reid, Big Bird’s here to see you,” he stopped listening to Reid, “Big Bird, tall blond chick, the one that teaches you your ABCs...Sure, I’d be happy to bring her to the back...Oh, to that little cubicle of yours. So sorry, I misunderstood. Well I will bring her back as soon as I have nothing better to do, I got a no good piece of shit I need to take care of.” He hung up and looked at me, “hey sweet thing, welcome back into my life.”

“Big Bird? That’s original, never heard that before,” recalling the girls at the bar oh so long ago.

“Hey, what do you say you and I go get a drink some time and then get naked.”

“Yeah right.” Sergeant Miller gave me sour look after turning his offer for a good time down without giving it a thought.

“Clyde, what the hell did you do now?” He looked over to the handcuffed young scruffy looking perp. “I told you boy, I didn’t want to see your ass in here again.” Miller hit him hard on the face while the arresting officer held onto his upper arm. He remained still, taking the blow, but I could see him start to get angry. “What the fuck did my piece of shit son do now?”

“Breaking and entering downtown. Broke into several businesses.”

“This true?” he said, putting his face right up to Clyde’s. “What’s the matter boy, I don’t take good enough care of you, you have to keep humiliating me like this? Well, you gonna answer your old man?” Clyde started to speak when Miller hit him again. I watched with disgust, wanting to give Miller a lesson on real fatherhood. Miller grabbed his son by the arm and forcibly pulled him toward the back, motioning for me to follow. He led us down the walkway with the mess of cubicles on the left and a bank of interview rooms on the right. We stopped at the row where Reid’s desk was and Miller pushed his son up against the wall.

“Reid, come get your tramp here, I got family business to take care of.” I stood to Miller’s left as Reid got up and started walking down the row. There was a loud commotion as two officers hurrying around collided, one dropping their coffee mug. In the confusion, I heard a gunshot and a second later, I felt a gun pressing against my head. Miller fell forward clutching his back, screaming. A half-cuffed hand wrapped around my left side and pulled me tight.

My quick thought process decided to play along for fear he would discharge the weapon toward me, and give me away. He hid his skinny body behind my equally slender frame, using me as a human shield while holding the .38 firm against my skull and half cocking the weapon. He backed me against the wall as the other cops reacted and drew their weapons.

"Get the fuck back, or I'm gonna blow this bitch's brains all over the wall," he yelled as the officers took position cutting off his escape. "You piece of shit," he yelled toward his father who was lying on the ground trying frantically to rub away the pain caused by the round impacting his vest. “I’m not going to let you beat me anymore, you’re going to apologize or the broad gets it.” I was being used as a bargaining chip, uselessly trying to gain respect from a man who didn’t respect himself, much less have any to give. My heart was racing knowing I was in a really tight bind. Any shot or superhuman feat would forever give me away to a full office of police.

"There's no way out of this Clyde, let's be reasonable,” one of the officers said. Clyde instantly knew he was screwed, shooting his abusive father in the middle of his station. All attempts to talk to him failed. As I watched Reid retreat to the rear, Clyde backed me up further, hugging the wall and inching closer to the exit. Taking him out would be so easy, but doing so in a safe manner where no one could get hurt, or my secret be revealed was the challenge. The gun was half cocked and ready for a shorter trigger pull. A new officer arrived on scene, immediately taking charge of the situation.

"Clyde, Whithers here, you know me right? Let’s talk, I'm here to work with you. Tell me what you want."

"Put the guns down, put em down right now. I want my piece of shit dad to respect me." He tightened the gun against my temple, emphasizing his commitment to splattering my skull.

"Guys, lower your weapons," he said to the officers around him. They slowly complied and holstered their weapons as Clyde brought me up against a cabinet, shielding his 9 o'clock. With his left and back covered, he had only his front and right sides to worry about. To his 3 o'clock was a wall and bank of windows stretching to the far side of the room. There were no doors along the right side of the wall for any surprises to appear from and the only threats would come from straight ahead or from behind the cubicles near the windows. As Whithers negotiated with Clyde, I sensed a faint thought pattern in Clyde. I could almost feel his fear and could tell he was moments away from giving up in a bloodbath. My time was running out and I needed to make up my mind whether I wanted to stay hidden or come out of the closet. My inner self would be safe from the world knowing, but my alien nature would forever be made public. It was appealing to be known to the world, but I wasn't ready.

If I was sensing Clyde, maybe I could read Whithers. Concentrating I tried to get relaxed. A strange sensation permeated my head. Faint thoughts of the officers nearby started to take a scrambled form in my mind. I could hear bits and pieces as they prepared for a showdown. I focused as much of my attention as I could on Whithers. Slowly, the others faded away. It was just fragments, but something about the “flank left” kept popping up. There was nothing but a wide open area to my left. Instead, I figured he was referring to his left which was nothing but cubicles. Switching to infrared, I scanned the area. Sure enough there were at least three hot bodies crawling their way forward. They were going to ambush him where they could get a clear headshot. I slowly put my hands up as if cooperating, and began distracting him.

"Clyde, please don't kill me, please."

"Shut your hole bitch," he yelled out, addressing the officers while pushing the gun harder against my skull. "I'm gonna kill her."

"Clyde," I said, getting his attention, "don't you have someone that cares for you?" I asked him a question, trying to get him thinking just as Reid popped up in the firing position. Clyde reacted faster than anyone thought. He re-positioned his arm over my shoulder, pointing it at the hero cop while still using me as a shield, effectively protecting himself against all threats other than Reid. Reid struggled to get a firing solution as Clyde's gun was shifting to the right, slowing to an optimal firing position. I could hear the mechanics of the gun starting to react to the extra pressure applied on the trigger. The half-cocked hammer started to move back in slow motion. It was now or never. I reached up with both hands, my right grabbing the wrist a split second after my left hit the barrel of the handgun, pushing it far to the right, safely away from Reid, as the gun discharged. Clyde was stunned as I exerted force on his wrist, opening his hand so the weapon fell to the ground. Before it impacted I stopped it with my foot and focused my attention on his arm.

Safe, I grabbed the upper part of his wrist with my now free right hand and pushed his arm up, while facing to my right and stepping under his arm with my right foot first. Keeping a solid grip on his arm I pivoted with my hips, turning on the heels of my feet. The sudden rotation of my entire body gave me much leverage and the movement twisted his arm so that his thumb was now reversed and was pointing downward, forcing him into a bent over position. My left foot, which was behind me, was now my front facing foot after the 180 degree pivot. I sidestepped wide to the left behind Clyde's body, taking his twisted immobilized arm with me. The pain made him move in the direction I was pulling him, and once I sensed his momentum building, I stepped behind him further with my right foot and pivoted on the heel of my left foot while squatting and applying downward pressure on the nerve cluster in his wrist. To cheat, I applied extra force to get him to comply. He spun in a wide circular motion while dropping like a brick. He yelled as he hit the hard floor teeth first, breaking a few off. My left knee came down and dug deep into his armpit, while my right remained raised, bracing his arm. As I dropped my right knee I dragged the secure arm down the top of my upper leg toward the ground while spreading my knees apart, effectively stretching tightly across my kneecaps. Before I could do any more, an officer knelt down, pressing his own knee into Clyde's shoulder blade, thinking he was rendering him even more immobile than I already had him.

"You son of a bitch," one of the officers yelled as he struck the thug in the back. Whithers grabbed the abusive officer and pushed him aside.

"Asshole, he’s subdued, get the fuck out of the way." A dozen guns were pointed at the man's head while Whithers tightened the cuff already on his left hand hand, securing it while I kept the other hand firmly pinned to the ground. Whithers grabbed the short length of chain and took hold of the other cuff, priming it to rapidly secure the other hand. Not taking a chance, I opened the man's hand and grabbed the palm of his hand, squeezing his fingers together and rotating his wrist toward me, forcing it toward Whithers' other cuff. The ratchet sounded as Whithers tightened the cuffs to the point they were cutting off his circulation. The man finally secure, I released all grip on him and backed off. A hand reached down in front of my face. I looked up to see Reid offering to help me up. It wasn't necessary, but I accepted it any way, standing to find the department staring at me. The cops started clapping as Reid pulled me close and hugged me.

"That was by far the most amazing arrest I have ever seen in all my years of law enforcement,” Whithers said. Reid released me from his smothering hug and looked at me.

"Karen, my god, you...hell, thank you. That was-"

"-Kick ass, is that what you are trying to say Reid?" Someone blurted out.

---United States Embassy, Moscow---May 1, 1987

Megan sat at her small desk reading when there was a knock on her door.

“Just a moment,” she called out while she looked in the mirror and fixed her hair. She grabbed her purse and opened the door to a large bouquet of roses, “Aw, they're beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as my M&M, happy birthday baby,” Damien said, handing his daughter the roses.

“Thank you Daddy, come inside a sec while I put them in some water.”

“I feel like you are back in college, visiting you in your dorms. I would have thought they would have given you a little bigger apartment space.”

“I kinda like it. It forces me to simplify.” Megan finished setting her roses in a vase and grabbed her purse again, “are we going to the cafeteria or are you gonna venture out tonight?”

“It’s your birthday, anywhere you want?”

“I know a great place around the corner, they serve raw beef, you will love it?”

“Honey, I can’t stand going for sushi with your brother, and you want me to eat raw beef?”

“I’m kidding Daddy, it’s a western restaurant, they have steaks. Nothing us Texans would write home about, but, pretty good nonetheless. I want you to take me there.”

“Steak, now you’re talking.” The two exited the embassy and passed through the security gate, Megan saying goodbye to the cute Marine standing guard. They turned the corner and proceeded down the street, passing by some shops closed for the night. “It’s strange being outside, you sure it’s safe?”

“Very safe. We are being watched, but that’s a good thing. People on both sides know we are going out and will keep an eye on us. The Russians won’t let another thing happen to me.”

“I won’t let another thing happen to my baby girl. When are you going to come home and stop making your mother so worried?”

“Not tonight Daddy, we can talk about me settling down on any day other than today. I want to have a good night.” Tthe two stepped inside and were promptly greeted. Megan asked for a table in the very crude Russian she had picked up. The hostess ignored her and spoke in decent English, obviously well versed to accommodate the American traffic from the Embassy. He recognized her and promptly gave her priority seating, bumping several parties who had arrived before them. Megan and her father took a seat after handing the host their coats and got comfortable. After twenty minutes of enjoying their first drink and looking over the menu, they put their order in and relaxed, enjoying a quiet fancy father daughter date.

“When was the last time we went out like this, just the two of us?” Damien asked.

“Years, I think it was just before I told you I was switching careers.”

“Very sneaky too. Got a good meal in before you told your old man all that money he spent on med school was about to be washed down the drain and you wanted to go back to school and become a psychologist.” Megan had just completed her residency and wasn’t enjoying medicine as much as she thought. The long hours and difficulty dealing with patients dying prompted her to second guess her choice of careers. Since she was a little girl, she looked up to her father, and wanted to be a doctor like him, but she wasn’t quite feeling it. As she interacted with patients, she found she had a gift of listening and helping them deal with their illnesses mentally.

“It wasn’t that much longer of a road, I finished in four more years.”

“Then my baby decided she wanted to be an astronaut. Never got to see you much after that. I’m glad I can now.”

“Same here, I missed you.”

“You know, all that Med school was not a waste. I am extremely proud of you. Your field laparotomy was impressive. Opening Gene up as cleanly as you did with what you had and stitching him back up in the field was very very good work. I didn’t think you came out of your residency with so much experience, especially dealing with gunshot wounds.”

“I had my fair share, I just have a good memory, especially when it comes to procedures. After I snapped out of it, I was running on instinct. I wasn’t really thinking.”

“Surgeries are nothing instinctual. Some of it yes, but there is a lot of planning and studying that goes into preparing for a surgery. In your case, you didn’t have much to work with, and had you lost Gene, no one would have blamed you for not being able to save him.” Megan became really silent and turned her head. She curled her hand up and put her downward facing fingers up to her mouth as tears started to stream down her face. Damien got up and sat in the booth next to his daughter, and put his arms around her drawing her head on his chest. “Oh sweetie, it’s ok. Talk to me, what’s the matter?”

“What if Gene is like this because of me?”

“I just got done saying you weren’t the cause-” she shook her head back and fourth rapidly cutting off his sentence.

“No Daddy, it was me that caused him to get shot in the first place.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t shoot him, those terrorists did?”

“Yes, but if I had listened to their commands and not started freaking out, Gene wouldn’t have had to save me.” Damien was hearing the story for the first time and became uneasy at the thought of someone threatening his daughter.

“He saved you?” Megan grabbed the napkin and started wiping her face, her makeup getting all over the cloth napkin.

“I was so afraid, I wouldn’t stop screaming. The man put his gun to my head and started to pull the trigger when Gene attacked him. He lost the fight and the jerk shot him instead of me,” Damien squeezed her really tight.

“Oh honey, I didn’t know that’s what happened. Eugene saved my little girl and let her come back to me.”

“But if I hand’t become so scared, he wouldn't have tried shooting either of us. Gene would still be able to walk.”

“Honey, you don’t know that. You can’t blame yourself, everything happens for a reason, like they always said in church. Maybe there is some greater good that will come out of all this. Gene’s life is not over. He’s strong and his spirits are high. He will do just fine, it will take a little bit of time for him to adjust. You know that right?”

“Yes, I guess, I can’t help it though. Every night, I keep seeing him shoot Gene and every night I wake up feeling so guilty.”

“What if you kept silent, didn’t do anything wrong and they still shot him, you ever think of that? Stop beating yourself up, you should be proud of yourself. Tell you what, I was going to wait until after dinner, but I will give this to you right now to help you take your mind off this and put your thoughts back to what’s important, my little girl’s birthday,” Damien withdrew a small gift-wrapped box and handed it to her. “Happy birthday M&M.” Megan shook the box, knowing whatever was inside sparkled and was expensive and that her father never disappointed. She excused herself and went to the ladies room to clean up before returning in a better mood.”

“Thank you Daddy,” she said as she carefully peeled the paper away and opened the box. Inside was a silver chain with a cluster of diamonds, a large one in the center, “Oh wow, you remembered?”

“Thats the one you wanted right?”

“Yes, thank you.” Damien helped her put it around her neck and watched the diamonds sparkle.

“You are so beautiful, you know that? Intelligent and beautiful. You make me proud.”

“You’re the best dad a girl can have, I love you. I promise to come around more often when we go home.”

“I would like that, and so would your mom. Your sister is driving her up the wall.”

“Daddy, stop it, no gossip...ok, no gossip on my birthday,” Megan didn’t talk with her family about each other, but she and her dad had a special trust, and would ofter bend the rules to vent their frustrations.

“Sorry. Your mother tells me you are letting Ron and Summer stay at your place.”

“Yes, makes sense. They sold their house a little earlier than they thought. He won’t start his job in Osaka for a few months, so instead of renting, I am letting them stay there so they can save some money.”

“That’s nice of you. What about your friend?” Megan looked down and didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry, you two get into a fight?”

“Not really, it’s little difficult to talk about, frankly, and I really don’t want to think about it.” Instead they talked about old times, memories of her growing up. They continued to talk for hours, catching up on all the lost time between them, eventually heading back, where they sat in the Embassy lounge until midnight. She gave her dad a kiss on the cheek as he dropped her off at her apartment.

“Thank you Daddy, I had a wonderful night.”

“So did I, you have a good rest of the night and I will see you tomorrow. I love you, my little M&M.”

“Love you too Daddy.”

“Oh, do me a favor and promise me you won’t wear those outside the Embassy.” Megan reluctantly agreed, not really worried about being mugged, but she agreed to keep him happy.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

“I have a question,” Officer Dixon said raising his hand.

“What is it?” Sergeant Ferguson asked with a little hesitancy.

“She going to make us wear a blue skirt as well? Because it’s bad enough we have to waste a day having some broad teaching us shit we already know.”

“Dixon, put a sock in it, and knock off the sexist shit or I will have you on patrol wearing a pink armband with Hello Kitty on it like they do in Thailand. Karen has agreed to spend a few days teaching you sorry bunch of losers a thing or two about control holds, defense against weapons, and weapon retention. Two of us, and I won’t say who, are on a long vacation because one didn't know how to secure a prisoner and the other didn't know how to retain his weapon, letting his disgruntled son grab his duty weapon. If it weren’t for Karen here, we would have had to get into our finest dress blues to say our farewells to Reid here. So for the next few days, she knows more than you maggots, and you will show her respect. Everyone understand me?”

“YES SIR!” They all shouted.

“Good, now on the mats, you will address her as Sensei, which is Japanese for teacher. Karen Sensei has a second degree black belt and has studied for over ten years. I spent a couple years learning some of these techniques and they are very applicable out on the streets. So with no further adieu, everyone show your appreciation,” The crowd of off-duty officers gave me a moderately warm welcome. The female officers gave the loudest welcome, as this was their second class.

Reid approached me a week after the incident asking if I would be willing to teach the officers some Aikido techniques similar to the one I used against the dirtbag using me as a human shield. As part of my agreement, the female officers had to be included, and be allowed to have an all girls lesson prior. It was a really fun day working with them on the mats teaching them everything I knew. By the end of the day, their current inventory of control holds were even more effective, and they had an extended repertoire of new techniques.

“Dixon, right?” I asked, starting by addressing his question.

“Yes.”

“The hakama is a traditional Japanese pant worn by men. The Samurai used the excessively baggy pants to hide their foot movements during a duel. Yes, they do look like a skirt.” I thought to myself just how close to a skirt the hakama was, and how much time I spent wearing them. “In Aikido, they are part of our uniform, and a symbol of rank. A student who has received their black belt is given the honor of being allowed to wear them on the mats.”

“Doesn’t sound to honorable to me, dressing like a chick. I think I will stick with boxing,” he said, bringing all the male officers to a laugh. His buddy that was making some snide comments to me back in December gave him a high five.

“You, lawnmower,” I pointed at him. He was a large guy, easily 6’3” and lots of body mass. A good solid thickness of fat over muscle. He was not someone to screw with.

“Who me,” he asked in a slightly shocked voice, slowly connecting my choice of names, with his desire to give my nether regions a little shave.

“Yeah, you. Why don’t you come up here and help me out.,” The guys got wild and cheered him on.

“Go show her who’s boss Gutierrez,” He took a stance in front of me.

“You look really strong.”

“I can bench press 225 pounds. Could probably lift your skinny ass over my head.”

“I’m sure you can. Do me a favor, come over here and show me how strong you are. Grab my wrist with both hands and hold me as tight as you can.”

“This is going to be embarrassing, you know that don’t you?” he said to me as he grabbed my wrist.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few of the women I worked with last week tap the guys next to them, encouraging them to watch closely, knowing well what was about to happen. Gutierrez grabbed my left wrist with his right hand and grabbed my upper arm just above with his left. For the sake of the lesson, I didn’t let him get a solid grip as I wanted him to learn to react fast to a situation. I stepped back slightly getting off the line of attack while reaching up with my right hand and taking a grip on the knife edge of his right hand. By stepping back I broke his grip with his left hand. I pushed his right hand outward while keeping a firm grip, raising his arm high as I began to pivot and move in toward him.

He thought he would try and make up for his loss by raising his left hand and wrapping it around my neck, but I was too fast and had already ducked under his right arm and took position behind him. My thumb was applying pressure on the back of his downward facing hand while the rest of my right fingers remained in control of the knife edge of his hand. His left elbow was high in the air up near my face. I brought my left hand up and grabbed ahold of his open fingers, squeezing them together and pulling them toward my body, pinning his hand against my belt. It was only a split second and he immediately began to react by struggling. Staying within the realm of human force, I began applying pressure on the vulnerable hand and cut downward, inflicting intense pain on his nerves.

Gutierrez immediately hit the deck as it was the only direction he could move that wouldn’t cause intense pain. I torqued his wrist and dug his shoulder into the mat. He struggled, but my grip on him was firm and he couldn’t move. The guys watching were laughing at him. I put my left knee down low near his head while guiding his arm against my still raised right knee. Using my legs to lock his shoulder and stress his arm, I released my grip with my right and let my left take over while the knife edge of my right hand dug into into his elbow. Finally I dropped my right knee and tucked it tight into his armpit, leaving his shoulder blade in between my legs. Reid, on cue, rushed in and cuffed his wrist, while I maintained a tight inescapable control over the large officer. In seconds he was cuffed securely. While he laid on the ground swearing, his buddies continued laughing at him.

“Way to go lawnmower, eat that mat,” one called out, forever solidifying his new nickname as if he were a fighter pilot gaining his call sign.

“Way to go girl,” one of the female cops called out. Reid unlocked the cuffs around Gutierrez’s wrists and let him slowly get up. I stayed kneeling down as he stood up looking down at me with disbelief.

“Gutierrez, take a knee,” I commanded and he quickly complied. I bowed to him and slowly, he returned the courtsey. Turning to the other students, I addressed them.

“There is no shame in what we do here today. One by one, each of you will have a turn with the techniques I present. These are not intended to humiliate, but to save your life. Watch this scenario played out a different way.” Reid handed me a small holster with an orange rubber gun in it. I clipped it to the straps on my hakama and let Reid be my uke for this demonstration. I called one of the female officers up to help demonstrate. She pretended to be a second attacker going for my weapon while Reid attempted to neutralize my shooting hand. I modified the technique, stepping sideways protecting my weapon while putting Reid into a firm Sankyo hold. Instead of dropping him, I maneuvered his body as a shield in between me and officer Kelly, who was attempting to go after my weapon.

Once in control of the situation, I threw Reid instead of dropping him. Much to the shock of the class, he didn’t fall, but executed an impressive forward roll where he recovered and returned to a wobbling standing position. The week I spent with him teaching him proper ukemi allowed him to recover from the throw without injury, but in the streets, the attacker would have sustained injury impacting a hard floor. With Reid out of the picture, I turned my attention to Kelly, who lunged at me with a wooden knife. I demonstrated the same technique I used on the first thug in the alley behind Neiuport 23, only Kelly, experienced in Judo, was able to break her fall, landing safely on the mat, where I pinned her. When we were done, I bowed to her, Reid, and Gutierrez and let them return to sit with the crowd.

“Later we are going to practice this technique as well as several others where one or more persons might try to overpower you and take your weapon. Gutierrez used strength, while I used the attacker’s momentum, pressure points and my entire body to gain control. While the arms can have tremendous strength and be intimidating, even women with weaker physical strength can overpower the strongest men. You might ask why it is that you have a woman teaching you these techniques. Women start off learning Aikido with the supposed disadvantage of not having the strength. If you see what I did to Officer Kelly, she did not fly though the air because of my strength, but because of the momentum of her forward direction of travel. While keeping the knife in a safe direction, I secured her wrist, and directed it in the opposite direction. Her sudden movement through the air was her own defensive technique. I found myself in a situation just like this, only it was a live blade. Let’s just say he didn’t know how to fall like Kelly, and he suffered a broken wrist and shoulder.” An officer raised his hand. I pointed to him and after he gave his name, I allowed him to proceed.

“So you are saying we don’t need to be strong?”

“No, these techniques can be useful regardless of strength. One reason women do really well, is they,” I stopped and corrected myself, “we don’t have strength, so we start learning the techniques properly. Most of the men will waste a lot of time using strength instead of doing it the easy way. Those who really master their skills go back and relearn, pretending to be weak. I will say this, once you learn the right way, you can reintroduce your strength to compliment your proper technique. When you do, you can be very devastating. I myself have more strength, but I limit myself. In time, you can do the same. There is nothing mystical with what I am showing you, but all part of physics,”

I gave a brief lesson on the laws of motion and how the momentum of an object with considerable mass is not easy to stop and reverse direction. By leading that momentum, one can use the attacker’s energy against them. In a short time, their skepticism having a woman teaching them self defense rapidly faded, and they became enthusiastic. One by one throughout the day, they all approached and asked me how I would defend against certain types of attacks.

---United States Embassy, Moscow---

Eugene engaged the brakes on his chair and made sure the wheels were properly locked before beginning his routine. His gloved hands gripped the small armrests of the chair and began struggling to push himself up. Some feelings of pain had returned and the area where Megan had opened his abdomen hurt as he tightened his muscles. After about ten seconds of struggling, he completed his first push up and hovered over his chair, his arms supporting all his weight. Finally, he grew tired and lowered himself again, resting a moment, then tried again and again. After, he grabbed the dumbbells off the chair next to his bed and started a series of reps with the 15 pound weights. He was through his second set when Dr. McCormack knocked on the door.

"Come in," Gene called out.

"Eugene, I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"No not at all Doctor, just exercising, adding some bulk to these scrawny arms."

"Good, how is that coming along?"

"Slow, but I am determined. I've never been much of a quitter."

"I can see that, you have been making a lot of progress in the four months you have been with us."

"Getting there, hopefully I can get out of here soon. Getting tired of being cooped up in this hospital."

"Well, let's talk about that. I think if you can lift yourself consistently then I think we can let you have a private place until we can make other arrangements. I don't see why that can't happen by August, September at the latest."

"Another two months?"

"Don't worry, I think it is closer to a month. We just want to make sure you can handle yourself on your own. Of course you will have people watching you, I know one in particular."

"Doctor,” Gene said, stopping his curls and looking Damien in the eyes, “I ever tell you how amazing of a daughter you have?"

"Damien, son, call me Damien and yes, about a thousand times. She makes me proud and so do you. She told me what you did, and I just wanted to say thank you for keeping my baby safe. I can't imagine being in that situation, but had you not reacted with the speed and selflessness you did, my daughter would not be with us any more." Damien put his arm on his shoulder.

"Damien, I wish I could say it was me being heroic, but it really wasn't. I confess, it was more like I was trying to prove to myself I am not a coward. I'm sure Megan told you what happened up there?"

"Yes, she's my daughter, we talk about everything. She told me all about it, but whether you were out there to prove something, it doesn't matter. You used that failure to learn, and grow stronger. It's because of that, that you were able to muster up the courage, rising above your worst fears, all to keep Megan in this world. No matter what, you are my personal hero and I thank you. From me and my whole family, you are a much better man than that guy she was with. It's great to see some real men are left in this world." Damien opened his chart and switched subjects, going over Gene's latest lab results. After about ten minutes, Damien thanked him again and left him to continue his exercising.

---Bunker---

"Ashley honey, pick what you want for lunch." After a few minutes the young 11 year old returned from the pantry with a couple of cans of food. "Sweetie, don't carry so many at once. A little extra walking back and forth isn't going to kill you." Ashley ignored her mother, figuring she was half way there and it was pointless to turn around. She reached the kitchen and started stacking the cans on the counter. She was a second away from proving her mother wrong when one of the cans fell.

"Goddamn it, what did I tell you." Liz screamed at her daughter, giving in to her stress. Ashley, getting older, didn’t immediately start crying, but yelled back.

"Don’t you talk to your mother like that, you watch who you are talking to, you got that miss?” Ashley put on a large frown.

“I’m sorry,” she said through her sad face.

"Oh, honey, Mommy didn't mean to yell, come here." Ashley was starting to get a little taller and Liz found her height to be awkward. Too short to keep standing, yet too tall to squat to her level. Instead she pulled up a chair and sat down, pulling Ashley toward her. "Just listen to me when I tell you something ok, we can't just go to the store and buy these, understand?" She shook her head, acknowledging she did. After a brief make up session between mother and daughter, Liz reached down and grabbed the can that had landed upside down on the floor. It was slightly dented around the edges, but there was nothing leaking. As Liz picked it up, something caught her attention. She pulled it toward her for closer inspection. Below the expiration date, was a manufacture date. She read it over and over and over again hoping she was reading it wrong. The light blue stamp on the bottom of the can read Jan 12, 1887. ‘That can't be right.’

"Ash, do me a favor sweetie, can you go to your calendar and tell your mother what was the date we first started staying here. Ashley ran over to her wall and scanned through the dates she had written on it with her markers.

"October 17, 1986"

"Honey are you sure?"

"Yes Mommy, I positive. Why?"

"Nothing, just making sure this food is still good." It was a good lie for the time being, she needed to figure things out.

“And what’s the date today?” Ashley moved along the wall coming to the current month.

“July 17th I think.” Liz processed the dates in her head, concluding that it was either a misprint, or something else. To test her theories, she went to the supply closet and started going through all the cans one by one looking for dates.

---Later that day---

"Ashley, do your mother a favor and go to your room for a bit," she said with a commanding voice as the lights announced Dwayne's return. Liz sat on the chair in the kitchen with a couple cans of food sitting before her. She waited as Dwayne finished his routine and entered the small dining area.

"Hi Liz." She didn't respond. "What's the matter?"

"Why don't you come over here a moment." He set his bag down on the table and pulled up a seat.

"What's going on?"

"You tell me Dwayne," a chill ran up his spine as she spoke to him in a tone she never used with him. She got emotional, and sometimes lost it, but there was something about her voice that scared him.

"I don't know what you mean. You wanna help me out?" She pushed the two cans toward him. "What, you don't like spam and cream of mushroom soup?"

"No, not that at all, look at the dates." He looked at the labels that were partially burnt from his butane torch.

"There are no dates, the label is burnt where they must have been. They are still good if that's what you are worried about. Hell, I don't think Spam goes bad." He brought himself to a laugh until he realized her face was dead serious. He felt his face fluster and grow warm.

"Nah, Dwayne, not really worried about them being too old, but I am worried they are not ripe yet. You wanna explain to me how food manufactured after armageddon arrived in our possession?" Dwayne faked confusion and looked at the can again.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh cut it out, look on the bottom of the fucking can."

"Liz, no need to swear like that, just calm down. You never cussed like this. What's up with you lately?"

"What's up with me?" She repeated it again saying it louder the second time, "I'll tell you what the hell's the matter with me, living in this goddamn dungeon. So help me Dwayne, you better explain this shit right now. If there is something you're not telling me." She was yelling as he found the stamped manufacturing date under the can. He cursed himself silently for being so sloppy while she continued to carry on. She got in his face, keeping up the attack, preventing him from coming up with a good excuse for his blunder. Finally he snapped and threw the can of Spam across the room.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He screamed as he stood up, bringing himself to stand slightly over her. Liz instantly became afraid that she pushed him too far. Doubt started to seep into her mind, hoping she didn't make a mistake and falsely accuse him. "Liz, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Sit down, there's something I need to confess to you." A look of fear came over her as she sat down, a sobbing mess.

"What have you been hiding from me Dwayne? What's out there?" The split second she said those words, his mind began to formulate an idea.

"Liz, I haven't been honest with you, but the world above isn't quite what I have led you to believe. There are survivors, and there are some operations still running.”

“You telling me people are alive up there, that we are not alone? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He stopped and looked at Ashley’s door. Liz turned to look as well and saw the door cracked open. “Ashley, close that door right now and go to bed.”

“But I’m not tired Mom.”

“Ashley, mind your mother and shut that door right now.” Liz could hear her complaining to herself as she jumped onto the bed, causing the springs to squeak. She stood up and motioned for Dwayne to walk into the supply closet, where she closed the door and resumed the conversation. “So, why have you been lying to me?”

“Liz, I am looking out for you. It’s a frightening world up there. At first it wasn’t so bad, but as the sky grew dark, riots broke out. It was mass anarchy. People were killing for food, water, gas, weapons. You name it. Remember the way everyone was acting the day we came here? People were already shooting each other over a gallon of gas, or a pack of Ding Dongs. The military didn’t have time to control the people, before long, a large population of survivors dwindled to half. Some manufacturing continued for a few months, until people started getting sick from the radiation. They became mad and savagely attacked anyone for any reason.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me any of this?” Dwayne put his head down, pretending to get emotional, while he formulated the next round of fibs to get him out of this jam unscathed.

“I’m afraid Liz,” he said in a quiet voice that only Liz could hear, “I’m afraid of what’s out there. I hate going outside for fear I will run into someone who will kill me, or I will be forced to kill them. I didn’t mean to lie to you, but there is not a lot of hope for us. I didn’t want to steal that hope from you.”

“What you tell me is true?” He forced tears up as he sat down on the bags of rice in the corner, grabbing a bottle of whiskey as he sat. He took a long drink.

“Yes it’s all true. I wonder why we bother continuing. There’s not much to look forward to.” Dwayne handed her the bottle. His story was troubling, but if true, made her very afraid. She took a couple of long sips herself, coughing from the burn of the whiskey going down her throat.

“I want to go outside.” Dwayne, convinced he was in the clear, picked his head up.

“Liz, we are simply not going to have this discussion again.”

“No Dwayne, we are going to have this conversation. I want to see first hand what’s out there. I am tired of being cooped up in here.” He stood up.

“No Liz, we are not, it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t give a shit, you just got done saying there is nothing to live for, so screw it, let’s live on the edge.”

“Liz, I didn’t really mean that.” She looked at him with a serious stare.

“Well Dwayne, I mean it, I want out. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t give a shit about the radiation.” Dwayne reached up and started shaking her.

“Damn it Liz, get a grip, you can’t go out there.”

“Why not, you go out all the time, I just want to go outside the door, that’s all.”

“No Liz, I won’t risk it. You are not going outside, that’s final.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” Dwayne’s heart rate was climbing, he was losing control.

“Then I’m going outside right now. Just you fucking try and stop me.” Dwayne smacked her hard on the face. Liz covered her cheek in horror, feeling the warmth spread where his hand impacted.

“You sorry son of a bitch," she said as she kicked him hard between the legs. He doubled over and fell to his knees. Liz seized the moment and made for the front. She grabbed the suit off the hook and struggled to get it around her feet. She paused a moment and turned the wheel to open the large steel door before resuming her efforts to pull the suit up. She turned and saw Dwayne still hunched over, moving toward her.

“Stop Liz.”

“No, get away from me.” Ashley came running out of her room and grabbed ahold of Dwayne.

“Leave my mommy alone.”

“Ashley, stop it, I’m trying to stop your mom from leaving. She’s going to kill herself going out there,” Ashley turned and saw her mom was indeed planning to go outside and turned against her.

“No Mom, don’t go. Please don’t,” she said with a very worried voice. “Don’t leave me alone, I don’t want you to die out there.” Ashley grabbed ahold of Liz’s waist and held on tight. Dwayne came over and grabbed her wrists as she struggled back. Finally, he let go and put his arms around her.

“Ashley, tell your mother not to go out there. Help me out, she’s going crazy and won’t listen to me.” Ashley became a crying mess, tugging on Liz, begging her not to leave.

“Mommy, please. I’m afraid, I don’t want to lose you too. Don’t leave me alone.” The pleas of her daughter to not leave her orphaned sank deep into her heart. She no longer had a father, and the thought of her being raised alone by Dwayne was somehow deeply troubling.

“That a girl,” Dwayne said as Liz sat down on the cold concrete floor, reaching up and pulling Ashley close to her. She looked up at her.

“Ashley honey, I won’t leave you alone. I just couldn’t stand being in here anymore. Don’t worry, Mommy’s not going to leave.”

“I don’t want you to die like daddy.”

“I know you don’t. You’re such a treasure and I don’t want to leave you ever.”

---Karen and Reid---

“This is a pretty fancy place for a detective's salary, don’t you think?” I asked Reid as we sat at the bar waiting for a table. The first round of drinks on Reid’s dime arrived and we toasted although I had my necessary head start and downed four before he arrived. I needed to relax, but would need many more drinks before I got to that point where this impervious body could wind down. My nerves were shot, after spending the day debating this outing. I was a little scared going out alone for a nice dinner with Reid, although he insisted it was a long overdue thank you for all I have done for him. He was a good friend and I trusted him, but I was scared knowing, as all men do, that this body I now occupied was much to be desired.

Being alone in Reid’s company, on what felt like a date, was scary, but equally so, it was welcoming. Ever since April, Megan has eluded me. All calls to the Embassy have been ignored, and without ID, I can’t get inside to look for her. My loneliness has been overwhelming me, driving me mad, especially since I can’t sleep the time away. Having a buddy to talk to tonight was somehow comforting.

“Yes, it’s a little fancy, but you deserve it. I never got a chance to thank you for saving my ass amongst all the other things you have done for me. This little outing is simply the least I can do.”

“Thank you Reid, I really appreciate it, but I’ve told you many times that I don’t need recognition for what I do. I just do what needs to be done.”

“Karen, come on, deep down we all need recognition of some kind. Stop being so stubborn and just relax and let someone do something for you.”

“What about your girlfriend, won’t she mind you taking a strange woman out for a fancy dinner,” Reid started laughing.

“No, she doesn’t mind, she likes you.”

“What, I’ve never met her before, how does she know me so well?” Reid became silent and looked away.

“Uh oh, avoiding eye contact, someone’s guilty. Come on Reid, confess and I can talk to the DA about going easy on you,” Reid started laughing at my interrogation joke when he looked back at me. His face started projecting an oncoming serious conversation. He took a couple sips of his cocktail and looked me straight in the eye.

“Ok, but you can’t tell anyone, especially downtown.”

“Trish?” His eyes went wide as I made the connection.

“Damn detective, how did you figure that out?” he said, giving me an honorary detective title.

“I’ve had some suspicions for a while, but nothing solid.”

“Ok, I really wanna hear this, were we that obvious?”

“For starters, you treat her like hell in the station, but she keeps looking after you, defends you at times, and knows about your personal life. Other things, she seems to visit you quite often throughout the day. I’ve seen some winks you two have given each other.” The host came over and informed us our table was ready. Reid pulled a $10 bill out of his pocket and left it on the bar while I grabbed both of our drinks.

“Can I take your coat Ma’am?”

“Thank you,” I said, slipping my business coat off, not really enjoying the restrictive feel it had. I handed it to the host who took it to the wardrobe while we dined.

“You know, if you don’t mind me saying, you look really good all dressed up in a suit.”

“Thank you. Trying to look a little more professional. I can’t always wear jeans. Anyway, quit stalling, back to Trish. If you two are dating, why do you treat her like hell around the office?” I asked, recalling all the times he picked on her mistakes, his shouting matches with her.

“It’s just an act.”

“Sounds lame, why would you treat the person you love like that, regardless of the reason? What are you afraid of, that people will find out you two love each other?”

“It’s awkward working together, we want to keep it professional and besides it’s difficult for her being a woman.” He continued to talk while I scanned through the menu deciding what to order, trying to pick out what kind of steak I wanted.

“Trish told me about that, how she gives up her femininity in order to work without getting harassed, but is that really healthy. Isn’t that setting other female cops up to have to conform to being something they are not just to work as equals in law enforcement? Women aren’t going to break through that barrier if they have to try looking and acting like men in order to get respect.”

“I guess you are right, why can’t we just let you girls be girls. You and I both know you are just as capable of doing the job. Sure us guys are stronger than you ladies are, but you have been demonstrating that strength is not as important as skill and teamwork.”

“I recommend you quit being afraid of everyone and let your love be known.”

“How about you, you have someone you care about?”

“I do, but we can’t be together. Everyone else just doesn’t compare, so I found happiness being alone.” It was as good of a fib as I could come up with. Normally, I would have dodged the question entirely, but I was desperate for someone to talk to. I picked up my whiskey and took a long sip as the waiter came to take our order. We sat in silence a while after ordering before Reid spoke up.

“Karen, there are some things I need to talk to you about. Before I do, I want you to know that I very much want to find your family and I will do everything I can to help you.” His sudden change of voice started to worry me.

“I know you do. You have been remarkable in your diligent pursuit. I thank you very much for not giving up on them.”

“I don’t want to give up, but I might not have a choice.”

“Of course you do, you always have a choice. What do you mean,” I said, my voice getting a little elevated.

“Karen, my boss took a liking to my work - all thanks to you - and moved me to Homicide. Now this all happened back in April, and I was supposed to back out of your case, but after your little demonstration, I convinced them to let me work part time looking for Liz out of gratitude. We take care of each other, but we are reaching an impasse. They need me to be focused, to let go and hand everything over to Harris. You are going to be in good hands with him and I promise I will do what I can on the side.” I sucked down the rest of my drink and called the waiter over to order a double.”

“So that’s it? Took me out for a fancy dinner to say you are taking the money and running? I help you solve a few cases, you get recognized for it, now you are leaving me with an idiot who doesn’t care about my case?”

“Karen, come on, Homicide is where I should have been years ago until I screwed it up. I know what it’s like, trust me, I do, pushing all your dreams and aspirations aside to focus solely on finding the people you love.”

“I don’t have any aspirations, all I want is to find them. That is the driving force of my life. With all I’ve...Michael has done for the world, you would think someone on this fucking planet could show a little interest in finding his family. I thought you were it, that sole person who gave a shit. I guess you're no different.

“Look, I am not telling you I am giving up on you, I am just saying, I have to put a lot of attention into Homicide now. I might get in trouble for working on missing persons when I could be dealing with the deceased.” I got up and dropped a $10 bill on the table. “What are you doing, where are you going?”

“Reid, don’t get yourself in trouble over them. I think you have a great idea. It’s time I stop thinking of them as missing persons and face the fact that they are dead in a ditch somewhere and never coming back. Thank’s for the drink.” I stormed out without stopping to get my suit coat. He followed in pursuit, but I ran faster until I found a safe spot, hitting the clouds. As I lifted high into the sky I turned and watched him turn the corner to find me long gone.

---Gene’s Apartment United States Embassy, Moscow---July 28, 1987

Gene rolled his chair to the window and looked out over the river. It was a wonderful view; he had to push himself up a bit to get the full sight of the park below.

“What do you think Gene?” Megan asked, and he gave up and sat back down.

“It’s alright. I will have to manage.”

“They finished with the installations, so you are all set. The bathroom has all the support in order to get yourself cleaned up. The sinks and kitchen appliances have all been lowered, and I am always down the hall, you can call me anytime you need.”

“Thanks Megan, you have been a big help, I really appreciate it.”

“No I haven’t. This isn’t helping you.”

“Megan, we aren’t going to start this again are we?”

“Start what?”

“You carrying on about how this is all your fault?”

“It is my fault. We would all be home right now, and you still walking if I had kept my mouth shut.”

“Great, here we go.”

“I’m sorry Gene, I can’t stand seeing you like this. It hurts. It hurts because it was me that enslaved you to that chair.”

“You know what Megan, you used to be a very strong, intelligent woman with her head screwed on real tight. Now, I look at you and think how immature you are.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Megan, damn it, stop having pity for me. If you are, then go back home. I don’t want you here if you are going to come visit me every goddamn day feeling guilty for taking my legs. Snap the hell out of it. That asshole with the gun is the only one that caused this, not you, not me, not the makers of the gun, but that one man, the one who pulled the trigger. Me walking and me sitting forever in this chair was defined by that man’s decision to tighten his index finger. Now I could have been a chicken shit like up in space and watched him put a bullet through your pretty little face, or I could have sacrificed myself to let you live. I knew there was nothing I could do to overpower him and him shooting me was a sure thing, but my life was worth sacrificing to save you and if you are going to cheapen that sacrifice by living in a perpetual depression over the fact that my legs are nothing but dead lifeless meat, then get the hell out and leave me alone.” No longer able to take Gene screaming at her, Megan got up, grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

---Crystal Search---

"Damn it," I said aloud. I was starting to get frustrated flying all over the rural Midwest. Looking for a small cornfield in the middle of endless cornfields was starting to drive me insane. Everywhere I looked, the features looked the same. Vast flat land with squares of land tightly packed together like a giant crudely laid out chess board. This had to be my 100th flight over the area since returning from Russia. In my mind I could recall just what the landscape looked like, but none of the the ground before me appeared like my memory. Below me a small town rolled by and I began prepping for a landing. My male pride was holding me back, keeping me from achieving my goal. I knew I would need to suck it up and ask for directions. The pilot in me knew to go nowhere without a detailed flight plan, but the truth was, at first I enjoyed the challenge. It was something all my power couldn't achieve. It made me feel mortal and limited my actions. Truth is, I was wasting time, I needed that information, if anything to unlock something that could help me find them.

I touched down on the outskirts of town and proceeded into town on foot. It was a small quaint town, one where everyone knew each other. There were no malls, no mega grocery stores, just small mom and pop shops catering to the local folk and surrounding farms. The town was frozen in time from the mid 50's and hadn't evolved much beyond that period. A couple of small restaurants whose crude ventilation spewed pleasant smells of home cooked meals into the air. Beyond starving, I thought a bite to eat sounded good after finding what I was looking for in town. A nice burger while I read over the maps sounded good.

I ran into a couple of sheriff’s deputies sitting in their squad car eating sandwiches in between calls. The older of the two, who was sitting in the passenger seat, locked eyes with me and called out.

“Hey sweet thing, where did you come from? I know everyone in my town, and surely I would remember such a pretty face like yours.” He was in his fifties and a bit overweight. The three inverted chevrons on his uniform told me he was a sergeant and the younger one in the driver’s seat was likely a rookie. “Where ya headin love?”

He was making me sick as he was trying to hit on me, while his face was covered in tomato sauce. “Just trying to find a store where I could buy a map,” I replied.

“You don’t need a map, if you want to find a place in my town, you can ask me, I know every square inch of this place. Where is it you are trying to find, if it's love you came to the right place.”

“No thanks Sergeant.”

“Playin hard to get now are we?” He had no idea how hard it would be to get me. I decided to move on.

“Sorry, not interested.” As I turned to walk away I saw him look at me all funny and put his sandwich down, opening the car door. His trainee seemed to roll his eyes, knowing what was coming.

“How does a pretty little thing like yourself know these are Sergeant’s stripes unless you’ve been in trouble before? You walking my town and I don’t know about it?” he said as he closed the door. There was a drop of tomato sauce clutching tightly to the polyester tie that he would likely lick off later.

“Look, I am just passing through, and stopped to get a map, is that a crime?” I asked as the rookie rounded the front of the car with his hand on his service revolver as trained.

“Let me tell you something Miss, I determine what’s a crime in this town, not you, you understand me?” Now get up against the wall.” He grabbed my arm and turned me around. “Hands against the wall.”

Not wanting any trouble I reluctantly put my hands up. The fat slob of a cop began patting me down. I began to think this was his plan from the start once I wasn’t returning the interest in his powerful presence most other girls would have shown him.

“Well well well, what we got here? That’s a lot of maps you can buy with this kinda cash.” I had several one hundred dollar bills in my coat pocket and he found them.

“Since when is carrying cash illegal?” I retorted, feeling slightly vulnerable at the moment. Before he could say pig, I could dismantle this slob and his greenhorn rookie, but I did not want to attack a law enforcement officer.

“I’ll tell you when, when you are not carrying ID that makes me think you are doing one of two things, if not both. You are either selling drugs, or you are selling this amazing body of yours,” he said as he undid the strap sealing my overcoat. “What are you wearing an overcoat for in the middle of summer? Whatcha got under here?” He opened my coat making sure to feel around my body. He pulled the coat back and looked at me funny seeing me in a pair of jeans and a snug T-shirt. “Why don’t you have ID?”

“I don’t drive,” I replied.

The rookie chimed in as his superior continued to search me. “I thought you needed a map of the US, you're not walking cross country are you.”

“I’m taking a bus,” I said, improvising.

“Well if you’re taking a bus, what do you need a map for?” the Sergeant said, keeping the pressure up. He continued to look at my unkept haphazard fashion under my coat with a bit of confusion.

“Look deputies, I just want a map to mark the places I have been to along my trip. I’m not hooking or selling drugs. Do I look like a drug user to you?” I said as he moved his hands up and down my thighs searching for anything he could use as an excuse

“Sir, it’s obvious she is not on drugs, and most hookers don’t dress in T-shirts, jeans and overcoats. I recommend we let her go. All we can get her on is not having ID and that’s not worth the paperwork. I will finish up here, go back to the car and finish eating.”

The kid was quite a detective. I was half expecting his superior to blast into him, when he did exactly that and returned to the car.

“Yeah, you finish up here, I’m going to go eat.” Some balls he had talking to his Sergeant like that. I turned my head slightly to see him walking back to the car with his tie raised to his mouth.

“I’m sorry Miss, he is a little phobic when it comes to strangers from out of town. I hope he didn’t bother you too much. Can I get your name?” he asked as I turned to face him. He gazed into my blue eyes and smiled as if he were looking deep into my soul.

“Karen. My name is Karen,” I said as he wrote into his notepad. “Karen, you got a last name?”

“Karen Santucci,” The young rookie asked. He looked fresh out of the academy and looked about Kaaren’s age of about 20-22. His skin was a little darker than most, and he was very well built.

“Miss Santucci, can I ask where you are going?” He said continuing to ask questions.

“Nowhere in particular, just touring the Midwest before I head home."

“And may I ask where home is, Miss Santucci?”

“Houston, Texas,” I replied, getting annoyed at the questioning.

“Houston, very nice. Have you been the Space Center there?”

“Yeah, once or twice.”

“I would love to go there sometime. I have this thing for outer space. You think there’s other life out there? Maybe on Mars?”

“Look, I would like to talk astrophysics with you and the plausibility of life on other planets, but I have things to do, and so do you. Can we hurry this up?”

“You’re right Miss, I apologize.” This kid was too polite. It’s amazing he’s survived this long without getting eaten alive by the other deputies. “Do you have an address in Houston you can give me?”

“Are you going to mail something to me, look, I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t understand why you need all this information. I would like to be on my way, it’s getting late.”

“I understand, it is a lot, but since we did stop you I have to make a report, especially if you don’t have any identification. If something were to happen to you, there would be a record of your last whereabouts. It’s really dangerous not to have identification. When you get home, I recommend you getting a state issued ID card so that authorities can verify your identity.”

‘If only I had an identity, except I have no clue as to who I am any more,’ I thought to myself. “Sure, I will deputy-” I looked at the brass nameplate above his badge. -“Deputy J. Jones.”

“One last thing and I will let you know where you can get your map, deal?” He was rather nice, unlike his partner. I could see him rising high in this field and becoming a great cop. “Do you have anyone I can contact, any family, friends, you know in case of an emergency?” I figured he wouldn’t look me up, so to get rid of him, I dropped the only name I could, one that would likely get him to back off.

“Deputy, I don’t want anyone to know I was out here traveling, but if it would help, and you have any issues, you give my good friend Detective James Reid a call, I do some work for him at Houston PD Westside.”

“Detective James Reid huh, name sounds familiar. What do you do for him?”

“Sorry, not open for discussion. Look I am a very good citizen, but I am very private and don’t like anyone prying into my business. Now I appreciate you standing up for me with your boss. Seriously that was pretty courageous, but, he started harassing me. I didn’t do anything to warrant being stopped and questioned like this was a Soviet Police State or something.”

“Stand up for you? When did I do that?”

“When you told him to go back to the car and leave me alone.” He had a curious look on his face.

“Oh yeah, that,” he said, recalling that part of the conversation. “You know Miss, I am really good at reading people. You have been a little hard to figure out, but you know what, I know exactly how you feel. With all these people in the world, it still does get lonely and it’s nice to keep to myself too at times. Here’s my card, do me a favor and let me know you got where you were going safely. Now, lets get you that map, can I give you a ride?”

“Thank you, but I prefer to walk if you don’t mind,” I said, declining his invitation, not really wanting to sit behind the tub of lard that he got stuck with as a trainer.

“I understand. If you walk down this street a couple of blocks, there is a drugstore. They will have what you are looking for. Have a good day Miss and enjoy the rest of your journey.”

I thanked him and took off around the corner to get my map and get out of this hick town. After a couple minute walk I arrived at the Middleton Drug Store. About as generic of a name as you could get. It was a small little store unlike the bigger stores we have in California or Texas. This place was small, but still had variety.

“How can I help you, Miss?” an elderly clerk politely asked me, surprised to suddenly see someone standing in his store.

“I am looking for a map, can I buy one here?” The clerk looked as if he was in his 70’s but still had a thick head of hair that would make him the envy of many men who were going bald in their 30’s. What he had in hair seemed to be a compensation for his lack of teeth. Several of his lower teeth were missing, which likely kept him from enjoying the finer foods in life.

“Of course, come on in, get out of the heat young lady. I got lots of maps here for you.” I approached the counter where the old man set a box with a handwritten sign on the side that said “MAPS”

“What kind of a map could I get you Miss?” He said as his shaking hands unpacked a variety of maps and spread them out onto the counter. “I have city maps, county maps, state maps, world maps, treasure maps."

“I need a topographical map of the Midwest.”

“The Midwest, is that so?” He leaned over to me and asked, “Say, you’re not one of those meteor freaks are you?”

“A meteor freak? What’s that?”

“Almost a year ago, a region of the Midwest was riddled with meteor impacts.” He opened a large US map and showed me an area of the Midwest, tracing his trembling finger across the zone.” They say there were hundreds of impact sites along this longitude. Parts of Europe and Asia were hit as well but not as severely.”

“So what are these meteor freaks you talk about? You talking aliens?”

“There are rumors that something landed at one of these sites, but I don’t believe in that stuff. Meteor freaks are tourists, fortune hunters, scientists, and most of the time just crazy people who flood these areas looking for pieces of the heavens. It’s brought a lot of business to the area, but mostly the locals are getting tired of them.”

“You don’t happen to know where those sites are, do you?”

“Funny you should ask that, I have-” he paused as if in deep thought. He frantically searched through his box of maps, “Here we are. Seems like there’s a map for that,”
he handed me a sealed map with graphics of several blazing meteors streaking through the sky.

“Impact Zones of the Midwest,” it read on the cover. It was sealed, forcing one to purchase the map.

“I take it this is part of that tourist business,” I said, looking at the wrapping around it.

“A little steep too. Someone is making a pretty penny off it. They sell for $20.”

“Little steep, but I don’t mind. Let me take one, as well as one of these topographical maps,” I said, fishing through my pockets for my cash, suddenly wondering if the sheriff’s deputy put my money back. Sure enough the wad of bills in my pocket confirmed he wasn’t as much of a creep as I thought he was.

“Anything else you need young lady?”

“No thank you sir, you have been most helpful.”

“That will be $20 even. You can have this one for free, no one has ever come in looking for one. Might as well give it to someone who needs it,” he said, pointing to the topographical map. I handed him a $20 and thanked him, opening the maps on the counter and giving them a quick rundown.

“Do you know where the best spots are?” I asked as I looked over the impact zone map, committing it to memory.”

“Well this was a favorite location for tourists. It’s mostly been picked through, but you might get lucky.” Several of the locations had a little gun icon next to them.

“What does this mean?”

“Most of these impacts were on private farms. Some of the farmers have been known to shoot to scare trespassers away. Be careful, I wouldn’t want such a lovely lady like yourself shot over some rocks.”

“Oh, I will be ok, don’t worry about me.” I continued to look over the map and came across a site that was marked “Restricted.” It was the only impact zone on the map that was marked that way. “What about this site?”

“That’s near some small town in Kansas, I forget the name. Nothing super special there other than this site. Rumors say there was a landing there, but I think it was just a military plane that crashed. Anyway, the government took this guy’s farm and fenced it off. Can’t go near it.” I got excited as I compared the two maps, finally finding the spot on the topographical map. I lined up the streams on the map near the highway. The images from my memory started to fall into place and synchronize. A bit north was the hills, just beyond, another highway. Off to the east was the small town. Was this it, did I finally find it?

“Sorry, do you have a road map of the area?” I asked with great excitement.

“Sure do.” The old man opened the map out on the counter and pointed to the general area. After a moment of scanning I lined up the roads and identified the highway.

“Interstate 70,” I said aloud, tracing my finger north to where the other highway dipped slightly. It was the old US Hwy 40. That was it, ‘I finally found my crash site,’ I thought to myself as I scanned the maps, committing everything to memory. “Sir, I love ya, you’re the best. Go ahead and re-sell these, I got what I need.” I took off for the door and hurried to a safe part of town and lifted off, while re-securing my instrument cluster to my wrist. I made a few calculations and headed north to Kansas.

---The Cornfield---

The farmhouse to the north, right off the interstate, the streams to the west and the large
cornfields, everything lined up perfectly. I was hovering just above the fields I crashed into. The gouges in the Earth's soil were still there as was the dead corn crop from last year. The were no cars on the roads and no people in the area, making it a perfect time to safely touch down and start my search. I landed in the big clearing and searched the long trenches. There were little poles with numbered flags sticking a foot or so out of the ground. The flags were one of several different colors. Most of the impactors had a large quantity of flags that were white or grey. A few craters were littered with the same ratio, but also included small quantities of red, blue, yellow and green flags. The meaning of the color schemes evaded me for the time being, but I was able to speculate what they might mean, likely relating to the type of meteoroids that were recovered at the scene. I made my way over to the large crater I had found; it was completely empty. It was as if the government officials missed it, or someone already made off with the grand prize. The large tire tracks next to the crater gave the impression my latter conclusion was the correct one. I made my way back to where I remembered emerging from the corn and started walking back to the spot where I crashed.

After a short walk, I came to the impact crater, which was different from the rest. In the other field, the impacts were caused by eastward traveling objects, but the scar I etched was facing an angle leading one to conclude the object was traveling northwest. My first crash ever, recorded in a cornfield and protected by a chain link fence with barbed wire. There was a single blue flag sticking up out of the crater I had created. I sat and let the flag's presence sink in. The significance of the color codes on the flag became all too clear. The blue crystal I had been searching for all this time, was likely now in the hands of the government. I had just started to process the implications the blue crystal's discovery would have when I heard voices coming from the large clearing. As I tuned my hearing, I noticed a faint buzzing sound coming from nearby. On the ground nearby, I saw what looked like a claymore anti-personnel mine, but it was smaller and had a little red light beeping.

"Shit, time to go," I said to myself, realizing I had tripped an alarm. As I turned away from the alarm, something shiny in the dirt outside the crater caught my attention. It was small and gold in color. I knelt down as I heard the voices moving toward my position. I reached down and dug the small object out of the soil. It appeared to be a ring, a small gold ring like a wedding band. As I wiped the mud away, my hands began to tremble. A tear made its way to the surface and ran down my cheek. I stood there, uncaring about the rapidly approaching voices, staring down at my wedding band. Inside was the inscription Liz had etched proving it was indeed mine. Before I could start to ponder how it wound up here, a voice rang out.

"Up ahead!" I heard the sound of a weapon being cocked. "Don't move," the voice yelled from still a little way away. I didn't turn around, instead breaking off into a sprint through the corn away from them. Gunshots sounded as they opened fire.

"He's running!" one of them yelled, not catching on that it was a female taking them on a chase. I continued to slowly accelerate as I maneuvered between the rows of dead corn. Endless flocks of crows took to flight as the sound of jet fighters announced the presence of air support. Apparently an alien presence was suspected by the government to qualify for this kind of reaction. I stopped running and started flying low between the rows, making a sharp turn. Shifting my vision to infrared, I tried to pick up the fighter's heat signature. A single pair of white objects were flying in a low circular pattern. The corn flew by faster as I kept increasing speed. My dense body plowed through the chain link fence and almost collided with a red truck as I cross the road and into an adjacent field. After leaving the zone, I turned and went vertical, rising above the pair of F-16s still circling the field. I watched as they continued to search the rows of dead corn below them, likely communicating with whomever was on the ground and decided to shoot first and ask questions later. The made another pass before straightening out, breaking off their off their pattern and turning toward me. With my small size I was still beyond visual range, and had little time. My eyes locked onto the two birds, I flew sideway to the left to get out of their way. As I shifted my position, the two Falcons, adjusted their heading so that I was still directly to the 12 o’clock.

"Oh shit!" I said out loud, tuning my vision. "Shit, shit," my body was reflecting their radar, the waves bouncing off me and returning to their threat assessment display. The waves increased their frequency giving me a rough indication that their speed was increasing, rapidly approaching visual contact. Quickly, I turned and flew off in the opposite direction only to find more radar emissions coming from dead ahead. There was no time to maneuver. A Falcon banked hard to avoid collision, but it was too late My body collided with his port side wing, passing through with the same resistance as a paper banner had on a football team. An explosion erupted as fuel ignited as I passed through the F-16’s fully fueled wet wing. Unscathed other than my burning clothing, I turned and went vertical, making for the safety of high altitude, watching the pilot below eject clear of his crippled aircraft. The Falcon exploded into a massive fireball, engulfing a neighboring cornfield in flames.

I turned toward the west coast while continuing my ascent high above the range of any fighter or missile. As I flew toward my sanctuary in the mountains, I looked down at the dirt-covered gold ring and examined the band that Liz gave me on my wedding day. I read the all familiar inscription inside and kept replaying it over and over in my mind throughout my flight home.

---Megan’s Apartment, United States Embassy---August 3, 1987

Megan listened through the handset as the call connected as if making a local call home, yet her phone signal traveled through Europe, clear across the Atlantic and half way across the US. It rang four times before the soft cute voice of a young girl picked up.

“Moshi Moshi,” she said

“Is that my favorite niece?”

“Hi Aunt Megan? When are you coming home?”

“Oh, in a few weeks honey. Are you being good?”

“Yes,” she said in her cute little voice with a hint of accent in her English.

“Ok, well I will bring you some goodies from Russia when I come home ok?

“Can you bring me one of those dolls?” A male voice sounded scolding her. There was a harsh rustling sound as Ayumi and Ronan fought a fierce battle for control of the phone, but he finally won.

“Hey sis, how are you holding up?”

“Hi Ron. I’ve been better.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Leave it to you. To think I need someone to share my problems with, but time and time again, I am always coming to you.” Megan and her older brother always had a great relationship. He wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed, a former Marine, but he was simple and didn’t take crap from people. He had a no-nonsense policy similar tp hers. What he lacked in smarts, he made up for in wisdom. The family relied on him time and again to sort out problems each of the others brought to the table. His ability to offer wise counsel when she was growing up planted the earliest seeds into her being that would direct her to a career in psychology. After she began seeing patients, Megan often recommended some of Ron’s advice. Most of the time it was sound, and her patients who put it to use benefitted.

“Well sis, I am always here. How’s Dad dealing with the Russian cuisine?”

“I finally got him out on my birthday. You know, I just looked up with that sad look in my eyes and said “please daddy,” he was powerless.

“Hahaha, you girls have it easy. Ayumi does that to me all the time. How can us dads resist? I’m glad you were able to get him out and cultured a little. I can’t imagine going to another country for months and not go exploring.”

“We had a great night. I haven’t spent a lot of quality time with him over the last several years, so it was good to go out and not be bothered. He did say he will probably be coming home in a couple of weeks.”

“What about you? We all miss you and are worried about you. For some reason this whole thing has Mom more worried than your little joy ride to the stars.”

“Joy ride huh? You just watch it and remember who saved that hide of yours. How’s the house doing?”

“Great, I appreciate you letting us stay here. Beats renting for a few months until we move back to Japan. Ayumi and Natsuko love the spa out back.”

“What are you doing for hot water?”

“What do you mean, the heat works fine?”

“Really, it hasn’t worked since I bought the place.” She started to think that perhaps Michael fixed it without telling her. He had spent some of his free time putting his engineering skills to use and fixed the place up for her to show appreciation for letting him stay. “Have you talked to Karen?”

“No, not since April when Mom and I came to get your stuff. She was talking to us a little, then just walked out without saying goodbye. Left her key on the table next to the door, and that was it. Took everything with her. Is everything ok between you two?”

“I hope so. It’s mostly my problem, not hers, but I can’t talk about this one. I love you, but she...well I just can’t talk about it.”

“I understand, well I have to get Kitty Chan here to bed.”

“Ok, you two have a good night, say hi to Natsuko for me.”

“Sure, and sorry about Ayumi. She needs to learn a few manners. She knows better than that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She shouldn’t be asking for things. She has been enjoying this doll you have here. You know according to Natsuko, these Russian dolls actually originated in Japan. Anyway, we have been keeping it from her, but she wants one of her own.”

“I haven’t brought mine home yet.”

“Oh, right. We just thought it was yours. Has some kind of angel on the outside, and an astronaut on the inside, then there is some kind of note with writing inside in Russian,” Megan froze, her mind racing, thinking hard about what Ronan just told her. “Meg, you there?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m here, sorry. Total duh moment. Sorry I got that one a few years ago. My Friend Nikolai gave it to me. In fact, that is real important to me and should be in my office, can you do me a favor and put that on the shelf in my office and be sure to lock up?” Megan’s heart was beating faster. She knew Mitri met Kaaren, but was he able to see through her as well? “Ron, I have to get going, I will call you in a week. Say hi to everyone,” she said, hanging up right after Ron said his goodbye. Megan sat there in silence in her room thinking about the doll, as she picked up the phone and dialed another number.

"This is Holland," the voice said on the other side.

"Mr. Holland, it's Dr. McCormack,"

"Good morning Doctor, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Holland, I am wondering if you might be able to arrange a meeting with Nikolai. Is that something you can do?"

"Of course, I can make a few calls. How soon did you need to meet him?"

"As soon as you can, it's urgent."

"Can I ask what the nature of the meeting is?"

"It's a private matter," she said, not wanting to give any details and having decided it sounded better than saying it was personal."

"Ok, let me see what I can do, are you going to be around around lunch time, I should have an answer by then?"

"That quick huh? Yes I will be around. Thank you for your help."

"Sure, no problem," she hung up and leaned back in her chair in thought.

"So Mitri?” She said out loud, pausing briefly, “you got to meet Michael?"

To Be Continued....Episode 14 “Dwayne’s World”

Join my mailing list for announcements or send feedback, questions, editorial mistakes or comments to: [email protected]

by G.M. Shephard

Liz recounts to Ashley early memories of her and her father leading up to the day of his death and their arrival in the shelter. Meanwhile in Russia, Megan and Mitri establish a newfound friendship based on their shared knowledge of Michael and the powerful woman he has become. Megan seeks comfort as the two reminisce about their training days with Michael. Michael, out of options and alone with nothing but memories, begins to lose hope, while Reid conducting his own investigation, makes a shattering discovery.

Angel S:1 E:14 “Dwayne’s World”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Liz sat on the couch with her wedding band in her hand. She sat staring at it while Ashley slept with her head on Liz’s lap. It was a simple gold ring with a small hard to read inscription etched into the inside. She didn’t need to read the words; they were etched in her heart.

“Forever locked onto your heart.”

Ashley coughed and started to wake up. Liz put her hand on her forehead. She was still warm, but getting cooler.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” Several days ago Ashley started getting the sniffles, then it progressed to a sore throat. Quickly she started to get really cold and her temperature elevated to a a hundred and two degrees.

“Better, but I still have a headache. Can I have some more Tylenol?”

“Sweetie, you just took some a couple of hours ago. Wait a little. I know it’s miserable. Get some more rest.”

“I can’t sleep anymore,” she said, sitting up. She looked and saw her mother holding her ring, “Missing Daddy again?”

“Oh honey, I miss him every minute of every day.”

“So do I. I wish I could see him again.” Liz pulled her daughter close and hugged her.

“I know baby, he’s watching over us right now keeping us safe,”

“Mom, how did you and Daddy meet?” Liz stopped to think a moment. She knew very well how they met, but she wasn’t sure if she ever told Ashley about it.

“Sweetie, I never told you this story?”

“Maybe you did, but tell me again.”

“Well, let me see. Your father and I met in 1971, that was almost 18 years ago. He was just starting to fly fighter planes for the Air Force and was stationed near where Mommy grew up in Florida. I had just finished college and it was graduation day. Grandma was still alive and so happy to see me graduate. Oh, I wish you could have met her, you would have liked her very much. So, it’s a hot muggy day in May, we are wearing these stupid graduation gowns that made us all get really sweaty underneath. My friend’s brother who was in the Air Force came to the graduation to see his sister graduate. He liked me and invited me out on a date. I didn’t want to at first, but my friend said she didn’t mind. We went on a double date and both guys started to get very drunk. Her brother started to treat me really bad and wouldn’t leave me alone. We were at a restaurant sitting in a booth and they wouldn’t let me out. Then comes your dad. He was supposed to meet a different girl that night, but she never showed up, and he was just sitting in the restaurant by himself. He heard me arguing and saw that those that were bothering me were enlisted men in the Air Force. Since all pilots are officers, Daddy outranked these two jerks and came over to the table. At first they ignored him, but when he ordered them to leave us alone, they tried to fight him.

“Did they hurt him?”

“No, I can’t tell you just what he did, but in a very short time, he had them on the ground screaming like little girls.”

“What did Daddy do to them?”

“Your Dad knows some kind of karate or judo, or something like that. He twisted their arms so they couldn’t move. Whatever it was, it looked like it hurt a lot. In the end, he let them go as long as they left us alone. My friend went running after her brother to make sure he was okay and left me alone. Your Dad and I stayed out all night talking before he drove me home and escorted me back to my house. After that, we kept seeing each other as often as we could. On September 18, 1974, we got married just before he was stationed in California. Three years later I met the one person I love more than your Daddy.”

“Who was that?”

“You silly.” She kissed Ashley on her head and pulled her close as Ashley put her arms around her mother’s waist.

“I love you too Mom.”

“Do you feel well enough to get up?”

“Why?”

“Because, I want to show you something,” Liz stood up and reached her arms out, letting Ashley grab ahold of her neck. Liz straightened out a bit, pulling Ashley back up to a sitting position before stopping. “Ouch, that’s enough. Sorry honey, you are getting too big, Mommy can’t carry you anymore.” Ashley got up on her own, taking her blanket with her and following her mom into the bedroom. She sat on the bed, while Liz knelt down and pulled something from under the bed. Ashley watched while trying to keep warm as her mother withdrew a medium sized case, like a briefcase.

“Move over sweetie, I want to show you something,” Ashley moved to the corner of the bed and put her head against the wall as Liz sat on the other end, placing the case between them.

“What it that?”

Liz dialed the combination lock and opened the box.

“This, sweetie is what I call my memory box. Every little memory I have with your Daddy...and you, I keep in here.” Ashley immediately got interested and leaned closer, careful to turn her head away from her mom when she coughed. Liz started unpacking the box and setting the contents on the bed.

“Why do you have a bottle of wine in there?”

“This is from our wedding. See our names on the label and our wedding date? It’s probably not the best wine, but I am not keeping it to drink. Here, wanna see your dad in a skirt?” Ashley started giggling at the thought.

“That’s Daddy? He has long hair, and he has a blue skirt on.”

“Well not really, he was 17 in this picture, he had just got his black belt. Those are really very baggy pants.”

“He looks like a girl,” Liz stated laughing.

“Didn’t he? I used to tease him about it, and he would get upset. Here’s a picture of all three of us on the beach. Do you remember this trip? I think you were about 2 years old when we went to the beach in California.” She shook her head, admitting that she didn’t remember.

“Wow, pretty hot,” Ashley said, taking a picture out of the box. “Wow Mom, you look really good. I remember you and Dad going out this night.” Liz looked at the picture of her and Michael. He was in uniform, and she was in his favorite dress in her wardrobe.

“Oh, that one. I don’t like that dress much, but it was your Dad’s special night, and I wore it for him. We girls do that kind of stuff for the guys we love. One day you will know what I am talking about. This was a good night, almost five years ago. It was one of the last nights your Dad and I had where we got really dressed up and went out. It was a great year, no asteroid, everyone at NASA worried about nothing but launching more shuttles. Dad had already flown a couple of missions and they had a special Christmas party to celebrate. It was also the night I met Dwayne and Dr. Megan.”

“Tell me about it.”

---December 5, 1983---

Liz picked up the skewer out of the martini glass and popped the olive into her mouth and began chewing it, finally washing it down with her first sip of her martini. The condensation was soaking through her purple satin opera gloves. She wasn't entirely thrilled with the event, but she loved getting dressed up for classy dinners and parties, and this was quite a party. All the astronauts, support crew and significant others were in attendance at the annual holiday party.

"How does that taste ma'am?" The bartender asked.

"Great, it's perfect," Liz replied, slipping a couple of dollars into the tip jar.

"Thank you," he said as the bills fell to the bottom of the jar, "glad you like it. Let me know if you need anything else." He turned his attention to someone approaching the bar. "What can I get you chief?"

"Let me get a Bud, and a shot of tequila," a man about Michael's height said as he turned and locked eyes with Liz. He was wearing his formal dress uniform that resembled a tux, but had gold stripes on the sleeves and a gold cummerbund, the same as Michael's but with less decoration on his left breast. He was a little older, probably in his very early forties.

"Well hello there. Wow, you are incredibly beautiful and elegant," he said with his jaw dropped open. "Sorry I don't mean to be rude, but you are quite stunning."

"Why thank you," she said as she took another sip of her drink, "don't worry about it, I appreciate it. Are you a pilot?"

"Yes, how can you tell?"

"Well my husband has a very similar uniform," she said, trying to subtly tell him he didn't have a chance. The bartender handed him his drinks, and he took the shot right away.

"He is huh, and just who is your husband?" He saw her eyes move to the left and lock onto someone just as he heard a voice.

"Sorry Dwayne, Liz is mine." Michael stepped in and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Hey babe, sorry I got a little tied up talking to people." She handed him his cocktail and he took a sip.

"Liz, this is Dwayne Turner, Dwayne, my wife Liz." They shook hands as he looked at Michael.

"Naah, really? How did a loser like you score such an attractive woman?"

"Easy, I didn't score her, we were made for each other, it only took twenty something years for us to find each other. Liz and I have been together 9 years now.”

"Well, isn't that cute and sappy. I think you need to be wearing that gown if you are going to talk like that, hell it might even look good on you."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Michael said, ignoring his insult as Frankie Valli's "You're to Good to Be True" came on over the sound system. "Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to dance with my wife," Michael said, taking her gloved hand in a gentle grip and kissing it. "May I have this dance?"

"You can have them all, my love." Dwayne watched as the happy couple made their way to the dance floor. The entire time, he stared at Liz's ass swaying back and forth as Michael escorted her to the center. He watched in disdain as the couple stared into each other's souls and sang the lyrics to the song while holding each other tight.

"Lucky bastard," Dwayne said just before chugging the rest of his drink. "Hey bartender, give me a couple more shots and another brew?"

As Michael and Liz's dance came to a conclusion, Michael felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Bill Young, Chief Astronaut, standing behind him next to a young woman in her early thirties.

"Hi Bill."

"Michael, you having a good time I see? Is this the Mrs.?"

"Yes, you two never met? Liz, this is Bill Young, my direct boss. He's head of all us space jockeys. Bill, this is my wife Liz."

"Simply stunning, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. You're all he talks about." Liz laughed, knowing that wasn't a lie.

"And who is this that you are with?" Liz asked, making the unknown woman feel part of the conversation.

"Michael, I wanted you to meet Dr. Megan McCormack. Dr., this is Michael Owen." They exchanged greetings before Young continued. "The Doctor here is our latest addition to Astronaut Program and brings a background in Medicine and Psychology. Very very bright young lady. She graduated high school two years early and graduated Harvard Medical School in record time."

"That's quite impressive," Michael said upon hearing Megan's qualifications.

"Michael here piloted the second shuttle mission STS-2 and commanded STS-6. He's one of my top Astronauts. He came to us a Colonel from the Air Force where he flew fighters and those strange flying saucers over area 51. No seriously, you stick close to him and you will learn a lot.

“I would be happy to. Doctor, this is my wife Liz,” he said making sure to include her in the conversation. The two ladies introduced themselves before Liz turned to Michael.

“Excuse me a moment. Honey, they are going to be taking the group photos with us in about ten minutes. I’m going to run to the ladies room and freshen up a bit. I will meet you over there ok?”

“Ok love, see you in a few,” Michael said as they quickly kissed. The Doctor also excused herself and caught up with Liz leaving Michael alone.

---

"You look really amazing in that gown Liz," Megan said, "very classy. I can’t wait to see those photos. The one of you and Michael alone is going to be very special. I wish I could pull that kind of a look off, but I’m a little too nerdy."

"Don’t be silly, you look very beautiful,” Liz said, returning the compliment. “As for me, I personally can't wait to get home and take this off. Not a fan of this gown, but Michael bought it for me - he has this thing about red silky and shiny clothes and thinks they belong on me. Tonight is really all about him, and I love him, so I figured a few hours of misery won't be so bad. Next time if he likes it that much, he can wear it."

"Well that is very commendable to take care of your man like that. I think you two are very cute together. How long have you two been married?"

"We just had our nine year anniversary on September 21st."

"Nine years? Most military marriages usually fall apart long before."

"Nope, not us, we are still honeymooning and will likely grow old together," Liz said, taking a sip of her cocktail while staring at Michael off in the distance."

"You have kids?"

"Yes, we have a little girl, she's six now." Liz reached into her purse and grabbed her keychain with the attached photo frame, then handed it to Megan,"

"Is this her? Aw Liz she's so cute. What's her name?"

"That's Ashley, our little pride and joy. Very smart like her dad. Not sure where she got the blond hair from."

"I hope to meet her sometime."

"I would like that. Do you live in the area?"

"Yes, I just bought a place a couple of years ago, little east of Houston."

"How do you like Texas?"

"Love it, born and raised here." Liz was a little surprised.

"Really, you don't sound like it?"

"Oh, you give it time, you will hear it. My parents are pretty sophisticated and spoke proper English, but we kids absorbed a little of the local accent. How about you, where are you from?"

"Grew up in Florida, met Michael while he was stationed near my house. His dad was military and grew up moving around although he mostly calls himself a Californian. We lived there for a while before he joined NASA and we moved to Houston."

"You like the Lone Star State?"

"I don't fit in very well, you are the only Texan I seem to connect with. So what about you, you here with anyone?" Liz asked, trying to get to know her new friend.

"No, I am still single. Been too busy, and boys just make things complicated. Give it a couple of years and I will starting thinking about finding my knight in shining armor." Liz listened as her eye caught some kind of commotion at the far end of the banquet hall. There were a few people in military uniforms that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Several of Michael's bosses that she met tonight were leaving with the uniformed military personnel.

"You two still talking?" Michael said from behind, grabbing ahold of Liz's shoulders and giving her a little massage.

"Hey babe, what's going on over there?" Liz asked. Michael and Megan both looked around trying to find what Liz was talking about. Michael saw it first.

"I have no idea, something looks serious. We don't have anything up right now. I wonder what that’s all about. Stay here, let me go find out."

---September 14th, 1987 Moscow, Russia---

The matre d' escorted Megan through the restaurant toward a private dining area. The door was guarded by two large men in suits, men you did not want to find yourself on their bad side, assuming they had a good side.

"Doctor, follow me," one of the bodyguards said. He led her into the private area which was surprisingly large, a second dining area that had been closed off and reserved just for her and Nikolai. As soon as Nikolai saw her enter, he stood up and rushed over to finish escorting her, ordering his bodyguard outside.

"Megan, it's great to see you. I trust those two didn't scare you?"

"They look pretty frightening, where did you get them, the military?"

"Worse, Canadian hockey team." Megan started laughing, already feeling comfortable in Mitri's presence. "Here, let me take your coat." She handed him her coat as he helped her into the booth.

"This is quite a setup, Nikolai, thank you for arranging for us to get together."

"Of course, I was overjoyed when I got call you wanted to see me. We never had chance to get together with all craziness. How are you holding up? How is Eugene?"

"Eugene is getting stronger. For the most part his spirits are high, but I catch him when he is alone and I know he is taking it hard. Not easy to accept after you spent your life walking, to suddenly live confined to a wheelchair."

"I can't imagine. It was an incredible sacrifice he made, one that not many would do. How about you, how are you holding up?"

"I’m falling apart to tell you the truth. I’ve spent my whole life being the voice of reason to so many. The glue that keeps people together. I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I can’t glue myself together anymore. Not sure if that makes sense?”

“We are not supposed to work alone, but as a big team. That is not just true for cosmonauts, but all walks of life. Solving your own problems isn’t healthy. You might be a professional psychologist, but you still need one of your own. Like a cosmologist cutting their own hair, can’t be done that effectively.” Megan started busting up laughing.

“What did I say?”

“I’m sorry Nikolai, forgive me. Your English is great, but I think you meant to say cosmetologist.”

“Is this not what I said, yes?”

“No, you said cosmologist, like cosmonaut. Someone that studies the cosmos. Cosmetologist is one who cuts hair.”

“Oh...I always wondered about that. That is funny.”

“I’m sorry to move off topic, but your analogy is dead on. I shouldn’t be cutting my own hair.”

“So what’s been troubling you?” Mitri asked, sensing Megan had something to say but couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. He poured her a glass of wine, and then one for himself. She sucked it down and waited for a refill before starting.

“I have been beating myself up for causing Gene’s injury, but I know there is something deeper going on that I can't talk to anyone else about. You are the only one I can talk to."

"Why me? We are good friends, but how can I solve psychologist's problems, I am physicist - I got those correct right?"

"Yes," Megan said, allowing herself to laugh a little, not sure if he was continuing the humor, or very cautious not to make another embarrassing mistake with his English. "I
wanted to see you because," she paused and thought how to proceed, then attempted to start from scratch, "Nikolai, you and I are...what I am trying to say is-"

"My friend, I take it you want to talk about a friend of ours?" Megan nodded quickly, relieved he broke the ice so she wouldn't violate the trust Michael had in her had she been wrong. "I see. This is special friend we talk about right?" She nodded more.

"Yes.”

“She told me you knew, did she tell you about me?”

“No, I haven’t spoken with her since the incident.”

“So how do you know what I know?” Megan thought about the simple description of the doll in her house. An angel on the outside. Without ever laying eyes on it, she could envision the blond flowing wavy hair that often looked unkept atop Kaaren’s head. The bright radiant blue eyes that appeared to be illuminated from behind. Then, her brother began to describe plainly the astronaut underneath. Her doll, the astronaut being the outermost layer was detailed with her
name patch on the front and her unmistakable cute but geeky look. She pictured Michael’s face on the astronaut layer, his short crewcut and thick mustache that he would from time to time shave.

“There is a doll, similar to the one you gave me, but this one was very special. Mine was a memento of our time together, but the one I am curious about has a very special message.” Megan watched as he tensed up at what she was revealing to him.

“You saw?”

“No, my niece found it in my house and has been playing with it. Over the phone, my brother described it to me.”

“How would Matryoshka Doll wind up in your house?”

“Because, our friend has been living there. Nikolai, our friend is very dear to me. I do not openly talk of her to anyone, but I am intrigued by the metaphor our friend’s Matryoshka contained inside.”

“What about it?”

“I see. It seams we are in a stalemate. There is a struggle inside. I need help, but my profession forbids be from talking about my patients. More importantly, my loyalty to my friend silences my voice, cursing me to forever walk alone, the sole bearer of truth. Nikolai, please, I need your help. Somehow, you can see through this angelic being, seeing deep into the soul that pilots that incredible body.”

“Perhaps I see someone there, perhaps not, what do you see Doctor?”

“I can’t talk about that. She is a friend, but is also a patient, I can’t disclose what I think or know inside.”

“I see,” Mitri said, feeling the burden of breaking his silence first. “So what am I? Am I not a loyal friend too? Why do you come here expecting me to share?”

“Nikolai, the doll tells me you know something. I want to talk, but I can’t.” Megan got up feeling a little buzzed, “I am sorry to have bothered you, I thought...I don’t know what I was hoping to get from this meeting. Thank you for your time,” Nikolai stood up and tried to stop her, but she ignored him, working her way around the tables toward the exit.

“Megan, stop!” His loud voice stopped her in her tracks. She stood there holding her purse close to her chest with both arms wrapped around it as if holding a teddy bear. Her eyes remained fixed on the exit door, while Mitri continued. “It was him Megan. I don’t know how, but you are right, the Matryoshka is correct, inside the angel, Michael lives on. I like to think he came to Russia to see me,” Megan slowly turned and faced Nikolai, her face soaked in tears.

“He loves you. No one else he wanted to see again more than you. Yes Mitri, your instincts are correct, Michael and Karen are the same person,” He walked over to her and escorted her back to the table, giving her another drink, “I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything.”

“No apologies Doctor, you are a loyal friend. You are bound by oath, not easy to break, even when a friend is in trouble. Don’t forget that.” Nikolai held her hand and continued to speak, “I am loyal to you and to Michael, and from here on out, you and I have secret pact to keep Michael safe, my brother too.”

“He knows as well?”

“Only that she is not of this world, but does not know the man inside. He is a good man and will keep her safe.”

“How did you know who he was?” Megan asked. Mitri gave it a quick thought.

“I assume same as you. When one knows someone well enough, we can see through vales they hide behind.” He watched her silently as if deep in thought, “What is it you are thinking?”

“All our times together. From when I first met him at the party, to our early days of training. From the very beginning, we seemed as if we had always been friends, Liz too. He never once thought of me as anything but one of his team, and went out of his way to help me. Remember my first training flight with him. You were flying with Dwayne?”

“Oh how can I forget. Both trying hard to get us to toss cookies.”

---First Hop February, 1984---

"You all ready for this Doc?" Dr. McCormack was all strapped in and had a nervous look on her face, still she gave a positive thumbs up. "Good, we are going to do some basic flight maneuvers first, then we are going to get into the fun stuff. This button here in your hand, if you can't take the G-s press this button and it will let me know up front. It's strapped to your wrist so you shouldn't lose it. Any questions?"

"No, just a little scared."

"I know, it can be scary at first, that's why we are going to take it slow at first. Welcome to the big leagues Doc, you are going to do just fine. Remember, what we will be doing today is nothing in terms of the speed we will be doing in the shuttle. Just remember your training in the centrifuge and the briefing today and you will do fine. This will be a little different, as we will be changing direction, but remember those techniques and your G-suit will do the rest. If you're good, I might let you fly a little, how does that sound?"

"Sounds fun," McCormack said with half enthusiasm.

"Ok, lets get this show on the road."

"Michael!" He was half way down the ladder when she called. After climbing back up, she said, "you're not going easy on me because I'm a woman are you, because I don't want you to. Hit me with everything you got."

"No Doc, I'm not going easy on you because you are a woman, I'm going easy on you until your body finishes digesting that breakfast you ate. I don't want you puking all over my office."

“Your office?”

“Yeah, us pilots work in an office with the best damn view in the world.” I gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder before climbing down, then climbing into the pilot's seat of the T-38. NASA had a nice fleet of the trainer variant of the F-5 that had long since been retired as an active duty fighter craft. For training, they were perfect, agile and could reach speeds of about Mach 1.3. Flight crews helped me strap in while I brought up the plane's systems.

"This is Saint in Talon One, requesting take off instructions, over."

"Tower to Talon One, proceed to runway three and hold."

"Roger tower, proceeding to runway three." After switching the radio com off, Michael turned his head back to McCormack."

"Can you hear me Doc?"

"Yeah Michael, I hear you."

"Good, it will be a few minutes before we get clearance for take off," He warned her of the typical delays while he turned the aircraft down runway one where he would turn around and prep for take off. "Doc, you do a lot of flying in commercial planes?"

"I've had my share of air travel."

"Well the take off alone is a blast. I will let you know when we are about to take off."

"Saint, why did they call you Saint?"

"Saint's my Air Force call sign from when I flew better planes than this."

"How did you get the name?"

"The other pilots give you your call sign and you get stuck with it. Well they found out my Mom named me after St. Michael, the Arch Angel. You know him?"

"Irish Catholic, of course."

"Arch Angel was taken, so they started calling me Saint, and it stuck. Took a whole five minutes my first day."

"So, are you really a saint?"

"Most of the time, that's another reason why they call me that. They think I am a do gooder, a perfect little saint. But I got news for you Doc, after we land, you might think I'm the devil incarnate. Hold on, here we go." Michael said as he acknowledged the tower's permission to take off and started increasing throttle. He waited for the engines to start pushing on the locked wheels before releasing the brake. The plane lurched forward and Michael rapidly increased throttle. The plane zipped down the runway picking up speed until the plane had enough airflow over the wings for lift. Michael raised the throttle higher and pulled back on the stick bringing the nose up. The moment the plane cleared the runway, he raised the gear and took the bird into a steep climb. "Look behind you Doc," He shouted back to her. He watched her in the mirror looking around in amazement as the ground rapidly grew smaller below.

"Damn that was fun!" She yelled like a teenager.

"Ok, that was going up, going down is a little worse, but it's not bad once you get used to it. Ready?"

"Yes..I mean no," it was too late, Michael was already rolling the planed and pointed the nose toward the ground. She was screaming, but not with a sense of dread, rather from excitement. She started laughing as it was the only way to fight that feeling of your stomach wanting to invert itself and come up your throat. Most people experience this type of feeling on roller coasters, where the drop is usually done before your stomach overcomes the feeling. After several sudden dives, Megan learned the feelings were short-lived and the motion wasn’t as scary as she had always envisioned it to be.

"How you doing back there?"

"I love it, more, hit me with more."

"You're gonna regret that" Michael said as he pulled out of the dive and performed a series of barrel rolls ending with a loop.

"Yeeeehaw!" Megan's native Texan emerged as she cried out. He could tell she was a natural.

"Talon Two to Talon One, Saint old buddy, you copy?"

"Copy Gumby read you loud and clear. How's your GIB doing?"

"Looking pretty green and we have only taken off."

"What's a GIB?" Shephard asked, unsure of what Michael had just called him over the radio.

"Relax Shep, GIB means Guy in Back, it's what we call the person riding in the back seat. Don't you worry though, we will think of something truly tasteless to name you.

"Oh great, looking forward to it," she said with a sense of dread, worried she would forever get stuck with some stupid nickname. Collins pulled up alongside in tight formation. Looking in the rear view mirror at Michael’s "Girl in Back", Megan waved to Shephard and Collins.

"Gumby, ready for the first run?"

"Roger Saint, take lead." Michael began increasing throttle, no longer bothering with giving Megan any warnings. The pilots ran through a series of maneuvers, getting the two newbies used supersonic flight and higher g-forces. Every time Michael increased the complexity of the maneuvers, he kept expecting the little light up front to start glowing, announcing McCormack couldn't take it any more. The little bulb never illuminated, instead, her excitement continued to build. A loud grotesque sound poured through the radio then was quickly muffled.

"We have a winner!" Gumby yelled over the radio while bringing the plane to a stable cruising flight. "Shep, take your mask off."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's off. Oh shit, this is disgusting."

"How's your boy doing there Gumby?"

"Not so good Saint, he has something that looks like shepherd's pie all over his flight suit."

“Chunky or smooth?” McCormack tossed in, trying to fit in, bringing Gumby and Michael to a hard laugh.

“Doc, I do believe it’s the chunky kind. I think I can see some carrots in the rear view. What’s your prognosis?”

“Sounds like my dad's recipe,” she said.

“Thanks Doc for your support, I was just starting to like you,” Shephard finally said, “man this shit's disgusting.”

“Saint, permission to bring the good Doctor back to base,” Collins asked, recommending they end their little flight early since his mask was covered in vomit and not safe as it could cause choking.

“Good call Gumby, permission granted,” Michael said before calling the tower. “Talon One to Tower, Talon Two is heading back. Have a clean up crew with a hose and scrub brush meet them on tarmac.”

"Congrats doc, looks like you win," Michael called out.

"Not so fast Saint, you have two more contestants,” a voice said over the radio.

“Saint, is that Tuna I smell?” Collins asked over the radio.

“Afraid so. Welcome to the party Tuna,” Michael said.

“Who’s Tuna?” McCormack asked.”

“Tuna is Dwayne Turner’s callsign from back in the day. He’s been trying to get rid of that name, but he’s had no luck.”

“Why Tuna?”

“Some admin in my flight school had a thick accent,” Turner said, jumping in to tell the story before anyone else could, “and when he said Turner, it came out Tuna. Instantly I was tuna from that point on.” Megan was laughing at the short story.

“Don't listen to him, he's full of it,” He said over the radio, “I met a few of his fellow pilots when he flew for the 138th. They all say his story is a big steaming pile of BS. According to them, Tuna here, had a nice helping of...you guessed it tuna before going up on his first training flight. As you can guess, something else came up and it stunk up the cockpit so bad, his instructor chucked. He was lucky he had good pilot instincts, because that instructor tried everything to fail him. When he passed flight, he did the only thing he could to make sure Turner would never forget him. From then on, he was Tuna and damn, the other pilots were brutal. Open cans of tuna would randomly appear in his locker or under his bunk and stink the place up for days before he figured it out. To this day he can't stand the stuff.”

“You’re a crack-up Saint, you are very misinformed. Let’s see how you would like a cockpit full of Pink Freud's vomit covering your canopy.” He punched the throttle and took off, leaving them in his vapor trail.

“Pink Freud? Screw that, go get em Michael?”

“You sure you're up for-”

“Yes yes, punch it,” McCormack yelled. Michael throttled up and started dumping fuel engaging the after burner taking chase.

“Tuna, who’s riding piggyback with you?”

“Saint, got me an Ivan back here,” he said, purposely trying to piss Michael off more than his Russian passenger. “I bet you fifty bucks, your dame chucks first.”

---

“That was great, way to kick Tuna’s ass. Thought he was getting the best of you several times until you showed him who’s boss,” Megan said as she started undoing her restraints. Michael took her helmet from her and helped her get out of the back seat of the plane.

“In the end, we’re all on the same team Doc.”

“You’re right, but it’s still fun to compete a bit. When are we going up again?”

“Few hours. I'm impressed Doc, you handled yourself better than some of the male pilots on their first flight. You should be proud of yourself.”

“So when do I get a call sign?”

“Usually you gotta get your wings before you can have a call sign, but I think we can make an exception,” He said, helping her out of her harness.

“I take it you didn’t like Pink Freud. Personally I find it kinda funny, but since Dwayne thought if it, we will have to discount it.”

“I don’t know, love the band, so it’s not that bad other than his sexist rhetoric behind it. I might grow fond of it.”

“Hey Doc. Sorry to change the subject, but would you like meet my daughter?”

“Ashley? I would love to Michael, where is she?”

“She and Liz are supposed to be here to meet me for lunch before we go back up.”

“Aw, of course Michael, Liz showed me a picture of her? I bet she’s as adorable in person, has to be with parents like you and Liz.”

“She is, I wish I had more time to be there with her as she grows up. So much of what I do is to make sure she has that opportunity. I want to keep her a cute kid forever, but It’s my hope she will have the chance to grow up.”

“Liz is such a lucky woman, you are such a rare catch. You, Michael, are too good to be true.”

“Not really, I have my flaws, but thank you anyway.” He said, trying to be humble. Collins and Shephard pulled up in a jeep. Shephard looked as if he had been hosed off.

“You two need a ride?” he said as they pulled up alongside.

“After you doc,” Michael said as he motioned towards the jeep.

---

“How are my girls doing?” Michael said as planting a big kiss on each of their cheeks.

“We are good, we were at the mall for a while before coming over. Ashley got several new outfits for school.”

“You did huh? Spending Daddy’s hard earned money?” He said picking her up, “Not too much longer and daddy’s not going to be able to lift you up like this anymore.”

“So how did she do today?” Liz asked, referring to Megan’s first flight.

“The Doc, she was amazing, she had me pushing about the max G's I could pull in that plane and was able to take everything I threw at her. She is a natural. You should have seen Eugene, though."

“Chucked?”

“Yep.”

“You think he is cut out to be an astronaut?”

“Well time will tell, so far he has been doing remarkably well. It's normal for people to throw up on their first high G flight, so I won’t hold that against him.”

“Why are they choosing so many non astronauts for the mission? What is it you guys are going to be doing up there?” Michael was about to be in a tough situation, he hated lying to Liz, but had no choice.

“And you must be the adorable Ashley Owen?” McCormack said coming to my rescue. She saw Megan in her flight suit and saluted her as she got close, bringing the adults to a hard laugh. “Oh my god, that’s so cute,” she said, returning the salute.

“Ash, sweetie, this is someone daddy is working with. This is Dr. McCormack.” Ashley suddenly got shy and turned her head as Michael set her down.

“Nonsense,” Megan said, kneeling down, “You can call me Dr. Megan, okay? How old are you Ashley?” Ash turned and held her fingers up, “Seven huh? Such a big girl.”

“She keeps growing on us, pretty soon she’s going to be a teen, then she is going be a real handful for her father,” Liz added.

“No way, she will always be a kid to me,” Michael said, refusing to accept that she will one day, provided we succeed, grow up and outgrow her need for a daddy.”

“So Megan, how was your first flight, Michael here tells me you did great. Judging by the lack of stains on your flight suit, I take it he is not blowing smoke up my backside.”

“Not at all, I loved every minute of it. Quite an exhilarating experience if you ask me.”

“Just wait, that was only mach one. That was nothing compared to what we will do during lift off and re-entry,” Michael said, giving her a little taste into the future of things to come.

“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” Ashley said, clearly getting bored from the adults talking.

“There’s a vending machine over there, you mind if I take her and get something?” Megan offered, giving us the time alone. Liz gave her some change and the two took off.

”¨"No soda!" Liz yelled as the two ran off. “I really like her Michael. She’s a great addition to your team and there is no one else I would trust to look after you. Why don’t you invite her to lunch with us?”

“You don’t mind having her along?”

“Of course not, let’s go see if she’s free,” Michael stood side by side with Liz, putting his arm around her and began walking to the vending machines.

---Megan and Mitri, Present Day---

“It is good you were able to connect with his family. Any luck finding them?” He asked with a concerned voice.

“Last I heard, they are still missing. No one has a clue.” Megan recounted all they had done so far to find them and the endless pursuit Michael had been going through.

“It is too bad. All that power, and he still powerless. He needs you Megan, you know you need go to him?”

“Yes, we was always there for me. He never once looked down on me for being a woman, or you and Igor for once being an enemy. He was always open to all. Remember the
night where Igor and Dwayne got into it?

“How can I forget?”

---Commodore Lounge, Florida---

"Michael tells me you started seeing someone. Another astronaut?" Liz asked Megan while they sat in a comfy lounge booth. The teams had flown to Florida earlier in the month for a month long series of training at Kennedy. Liz had decided to take Ashley to Florida where she had grown up and then surprise her dad for his birthday.

"He did huh?" Megan replied, not really surprised that Michael shared that information with Liz.

"Of course, we tell each other everything. Don't worry, I won't blab it to the rest of the world."

"Thanks. It's really not that big of a deal, but I am really busy with training and I don't want people talking. I can be all serious and little play, but if I screw up, they will point the finger and claim it's my emotions for him clouding my judgement. It's lame really how they treat us women. The guys could have all the fun they want, screw up constantly and no one will question it. Sucks being a woman in this world."

"Yes, it's very hard at times, but think about it Megan, you are one of the few American women to go into space, that's huge," Liz said, reminding her just how many milestones they have made since the dawn of time. "So you gonna tell me about him?"

"Well, he's not an astronaut yet, he's currently about five months into the training program. Pretty good guy. I gave a talk at one of his classes and we started chatting after. We went out a few times and that was it. Been together about two months now." Megan started to look around the lounge. "Where's Ashley by the way?" Liz sat up and looked along the back wall and started smiling.

"She’s with her dad and Nikolai. They are in the booth at the end, where she's keeping them entertained."

"One of these days I am going to have to get me a little bundle of joy of my own," Megan said, sneaking a peek at Ashley and Michael together. "He's a really good dad, really rare in men these days. Most don't pay much attention to their kids when they finally get home, especially the girls. So sad, because we look up to our daddies and think the world of them. The relationship between Michael and Ashley reminds me a lot of me and my dad. We have a very close relationship, likely from our similar personalities. Calls me his M&M and I won’t let anyone else use it, it belongs exclusively to him."

"That’s cute. Your initials right?”

“Yes, that and when I was four I stuck an M&M up my nose. I tried to get it out, but it kept moving further up. Kept it there for hours before I finally told my Dad. He just laughed and helped me get it out.”

“Thats quite a funny story, when Ashley was-.” Liz was interrupted by the sight, out of the corner of her eye, of someone suddenly standing near the edge of their table. She opened a menu and started to speak when she looked up to see a tall woman with short blonde hair wearing a military uniform."

"Excuse me Ma'am, I don't mean to interrupt," Liz, with a little disappointment, set the menu back down and looked up at her, giving her a friendly welcoming smile.

"Don't worry about it, can I help you with something?"

"Thank you,” she turned to Megan, “Dr. McCormack right?"

"Yes, that's correct, do I know you?" Megan asked the strange woman as she struggled to recall who she was.

"No, we have not met. I'm Captain Julie Jordan, US Air Force. I am very honored to meet you Doctor, you’re quite an inspiration, being one of the few women in space."

"Thank you very much, although I kinda got a lucky break. Pleased to meet you Captain Jordan. What do you do in the Air Force?" Megan asked.

"I’m an Aviator."

"Really? What do you fly?"

"Fighter planes," she said, being vague.

"And you think I'm inspiring? I didn't know they were allowing women in fighter planes. I think I should be inspired by you.” Megan turned and held her hand out toward Liz. “Captain Jordan, this is Liz Owen, her husband is former Air Force and just took me up on my first flight not too long ago."

"Owen, as in Colonel Owen?"

“My one and only,” Liz said, realizing she might have come across as being possessive.

“I’m supposed to meet some others from my squadron here. Turns out the boys in my squadron, the few who still fly, came by to visit your husband while he is in here at Kennedy. I think your husband flew in my Squadron out of Eglin in Florida.” Liz got excited and turned her attention to Jordan.

“Julie, right? Mind if I call you Julie?”

“Of course,” she said, shaking hands. Megan sat on the other side thankful the attention was directed anywhere but toward her.

“Megan, you mind if Julie here joins us a few?”

“Sure,” Megan moved over letting Jordan sit down with them, adjusting her uniform as she squeezed into the booth.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said, glad she quickly found some company other than the guys in her squadron whom she followed along just to fit in. She knew they would be upset to find her here waiting for them, but she didn’t care.

“So Julie, you fly with the 150...um-”

“-second, the 152nd,” she said, helping Liz out.

“Yes, that’s it. It’s been a while. The Reapers right?”

“That’s correct.”

“How long have you been flying with them?”

“About two years. It’s brutal. The few of us girls have to put up with a ton of crap, but being able to fly through the clouds with twin jets strapped to my ass is so worth it.”

“What’s your call sign?” Megan asked.

“Hollywood,” she said with her head hung a little low.

“That’s a pretty cool name, usually they can be a little crude. You are pretty attractive. What, do they think you are some kind of Hollywood star?”

“I loved the name, until I found out why they call me that. See the guys call their planes their office-”

“-Yeah, Michael told me about that when we went up the first time. Office with the best view right?”

“Very good Dr. McCormack. Only they call my plane the “Box office,” Megan put her hand up to her mouth as she gasped.

“Aww, that’s terrible, men can be such assholes.”

“I don’t get it,” Liz said.

“Honey, it’s yet another, on the long list of words men use in place of saying “vagina”. Guess for some reason that can’t just use the clinical name and have to defile us,” Liz expressed her dissatisfaction as Ashley appeared at the table and cut off Jordan as she began to speak.

“Mommy, I’m hungry?” Liz turned to her daughter and patted her head.

“Ashley honey, be polite, don’t interrupt the adults. Say you're sorry to Ms Jordan here. She turned and said a cute apology before turning back to her mom to repeat her demands for sustenance, “Come on, sit next to mommy. What do you want to eat?” Ashley crawled under the table and sat in between her mom and Megan.

“Hi Ashley,” Megan said, giving her a hug, you done visiting with your Daddy?”

“Him and that man are talking weird. I can’t understand them,” Megan and Liz started laughing knowing what she was talking about while Jordan, a little lost, only chuckled.

“That’s Russian that your Daddy is speaking," Megan said, explaining to Ashley what it was she was hearing. "Mr. Mitri is from Russia and Daddy knows how to talk like him. You should ask your Daddy to teach you.” She didn’t speak, but showed a sense of displeasure about learning a new language, picking up a menu and asking Megan for her help reading it. The women continued to talk, enjoying their evening while Michael was enjoying his surprise visit with some old friends. Liz kept looking at the booth hoping the guys in Jordan’s squadron would leave so that she could introduce her to Michael. They appeared to be getting ready to hit the next bar when Ashley called out.

“Hi Dwayne,” she said waving across the table

“Hey there kiddo,” he said, stopping and turning toward the table more interested in Liz’s presence than Ashley's. “Hi Liz, good to see you.” He turned to Megan, “Pink Freud,” greeting her as well with a hint of drunkenness in his voice. Liz forced herself to be friendly and acknowledged his presence.

“Hi Dwayne,” she said in a dry voice with little emotion behind it.

"What do we have here?" Dwayne sized her up, studying her uniform and decorations. He saw the wings on her left breast. "Nah, really? They finally let you girls fly? What do they have you flying, cargo planes?"

"She's a fighter pilot Dwayne." He gave her a look with serious disbelief showing in his facial expressions.

"That right?"

"Yes," Julie said.

"Dwayne, you flew in the Navy right?" Liz asked, uncertain if that was correct.

"No, I was Air Force. You are thinking of Collins," Liz expressed her apology for mixing the two up, "So what do you fly Captain...Jordan?" He added her name after reading off her brass nameplate.

"15s."

"No shit? That a lot of power for a young lass like yourself to handle. Careful putting that mascara on at mach 2." Liz could see her displeasure, but she resisted saying something either from professional respect or she was just immune to the sexist banter.

"Dwayne, don't be an sexists asshole. I think it's great they are allowing Women to fly," Liz stepped in, saying what she knew Jordan was thinking. Ashley's jaw dropped upon hearing her mother swear and Liz quickly apologized to her daughter. Julie shifted in the booth upon seeing Megan return and allowed her to sit down.

"Hey McCormack, I have a question for you?" Dwayne, being somewhat polite, said.

"What do you want Turner?"

"You published some papers on psychology and space exploration right?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"I would like to read them, that's all. It's relevant to projects I have worked on, mind telling me where I can read them and perhaps pick your brain sometime?"

"Dwayne, we're all busy these days, I don't have a lot of time to talk about much unless it's regarding our current mission," she said, trying to blow him off. He thought about how long they would be in space during the mission and quickly adjusted his approach."

"Well, lets say it is relevant." Megan was getting annoyed that he was taking up her free time and conceded to get rid of him.

"Dwayne, hit me up on Wednesday, I will see what I can do, right now I would like to get back to the conversation we were having and enjoy the little free time that I have.”

“Sure, Wednesday then.” He turned to Liz and caught a final glimpse of her, studying all the features that made him ripe with envy. He gave her cleavage, peeking out from her low cut top, a long gaze before making eye contact and giving her a quick wink before leaving to join the others.

---

“Excuse us Commander, Comrade Mitri and I go to bar,” Igor said, getting up from the booth with Nikolai trailing. As the two walked off, Michael saw as Liz approached with a tall woman trailing behind her.

“Hey love,” Michael said as Liz came and stood at his side, “just in time, I was about to get lonely."

“Michael, I want you to meet someone. This is Captain Julie Jordan. She’s a pilot with your old fighter squadron.” Michael, excited, quickly got up from the table and greeted her. Surprised by her hight, he looked up, making eye contact with her.

“No kidding, you fly with the 152nd? Colonel. Owen, pleasure to meet you Captain.” Michael and Jordan went through all the formalities of the introductions before proceeding with a conversation. He scooted back into the booth with Liz taking a seat next to her husband, while Jordan pulled up a chair and sat at the edge of the table.

“How long have you been flying Captain?”

“Been flying since I was 14 Sir. My pops flew F-4s in Vietnam and after the war used to take me up. He taught me how to fly. Joined the Air Force and persisted through flight school. Got my wings and flew cargo planes before advancing to E-3’s. Then, my dream shot came through after a senator made a push to give us girls a shot.”

“I take it you have the F-15C?”

“Yes, our entire fleet are 15Cs, we completed the transition from the A variant about three years ago and now I am hearing rumors of a new variant in the works. By far one of the best fighters in the air,” she said, starting to rant about her experiences in the cockpit. The two talked for quite a while, sharing stories while Michael gave her an abundance of advice. “Thank you Sir, I am very grateful for your help. I have had to figure a lot of things out on my own. As you can tell, it’s still a guy’s world and they don’t want me around. Seems like they are more interested in seeing me fail than succeed.” Jordan declined to make this great conversation about her bad experiences and let him use his imagination. He was a true gentlemen and treated her with respect without ever thinking of her as anything other than one of the guys. She wished her squadron had at least one like him.

“Well Captain, we are just going to have to make you that much better. I have to go up on Tuesday. I think I might be able to pull a few favors and find me an Eagle rental instead of the T-38. What would you say if I can have you tag along, see if we can give you a few pointers?”

“You would do that for me Sir?” Liz leaned in close putting her arm around her husband.

“Honey, that’s so sweet of you for helping her out. Can you really arrange that?”

“I don’t see why not, I still have a few good friends in the Air Force who would gladly do things for me.” Michael turned to Jordan, “If it works out, your commanding officer will pass down your orders to report to the Airfield at 0700. How does that sound?” She nodded with enthusiasm as some commotion caught Michaels attention. He turned his head toward the bar and found Dwayne arguing with Igor. Michael quickly got up and rushed over before the situation got out of hand.

“Fuck you, you commie bastard,” Dwayne said, cussing at Igor.

“It is just joke, no need get upset,” Igor said, trying to calm the situation down. Dwayne ignored him and gave him a hard push, knocking him to the ground. Mitri helped his friend up and turned toward Dwayne, fists clenching.

“Come on Ivan, wanna go a couple rounds?” Before there was a change of escalation, Michael calmly stepped in between them.

“Go away Owen, this isn’t any of your business.”

“What’s this all about Dwayne?” Michael said, trying to be calm and defuse Dwayne by getting him to talk. Dwayne’s fists were in a fighting pose ready to strike. Michael, seeing that Dwayne was drunk and on edge, adjusted his footing and calmly raised his hands to his waist and opened his fingers wide to show he wasn’t going to fight back, “Dwayne, talk to me. Igor is both of our responsibilities, he’s going to be part of one team or the other.”

“Fucking ruskie gave me a shot with nothing but water from a can of tuna. Almost puked.” Those watching the standoff unfolding who knew the story started laughing, while Michael restrained every part of himself to keep the situation under control. “Get out of my way Saint, or I am going to drop you before I knock his head off.

“Dwayne, what do you like to drink? I prefer Jack, myself. Do you know the place they make it is a dry county, you can’t even drink there?” Dwayne was getting confused as Michael was talking to him as if they were just shooting the breeze sitting at the bar. His mind couldn’t process the rage flowing through him and Michael's casual conversation at the same time.

“Tequila, I like tequila,” Dwayne said, answering Michael’s question and starting to converse and release his aggression.

“Oh man, that’s good stuff too. Not that crap grain alcohol, but a good tequila. Doesn’t Texas have some great tequilas. I know a pretty good place not far from my house, they have about eighty different types of tequila. Wanna go sometime?” Dwayne lowered his hands, “tell you what, lets see how good Florida’s is before and we can compare when we get home.” Michael gently put his hand on Dwayne’s shoulder and led him to the bar where he ordered a round of drinks for the two. Megan watched in amazement how quickly Michael neutralized him. He sat there, uncaring how much of an ass Dwayne could be, drinking with him until his rival passed out and Davis drove him home.

“You have to admit, that was pretty funny, tuna water?” Megan said as her and Liz approached.

“Yes it was, remind me to put in an accommodation into Yeltsov’s file.”

“Honey that was very brave of you, I thought you were going to use your Aikido on him,” Liz said knowing full well what her husband was capable of.

“I did, use Aikido. Who says it has to be physical?” The words stuck with Megan as she drove back to her hotel. When she got inside she began taking frantic notes of the night’s even’t while they were still fresh in her head before going to bed.

---Megan and Mitri, Present Day---

Megan finish recounting her part of the story to Mitri.

“He had that way with people. He was calm and collected, and regardless of who the person was, he went out of his way to make sure he could do something for them, like he did with Jordan. Ended up doing exactly what he promised her. You know, that night is what made me realize that Michael was the one for the mission.”

---Panel Interview for A-Team Command, June 1985---

“Colonel Owen, thank you for joining us,” Thompson said as he greeted me and led into the room where several others were waiting.

“Thank you Sir.”

“Owen, you of course know Bill Young, Chief Astronaut, George Kuntz, Director of Missions Operations, Dr. McCormack, and you may have met James Biggs, NASA Administrator to the President. To his left is General Payton Chief military advisor to the President, and finally Beregovoi, head of the Yuri Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center of the Soviet Union.” He finished the introductions that were more of a formality than an actual introduction, as many of them I already worked closely with on a day to day basis.

“Owen,” Biggs said, starting the hearing, “I must say, we are very impressed with your record. You are a little young, but you are top notch in your class and your performance has exceeded our best expectations.”

“Thank you sir, ever since I was young I wanted to fly. Every aircraft I mastered left me wanting to go higher and higher. It’s been a real honor to be an astronaut.”

“We can see you enjoy what you do,” Young said. “Owen, we called you in here today for a couple reasons. I’m sure you are aware of the enormous pressure we have regarding the success of this mission, but in the aftermath, the United States and the Soviet Union look to form a long-lasting relationship. While the politics may continue to be a little rough here and there, our scientific partnership is expected to continue long into the future. This mission will be the first joint US/Soviet mission in space. It’s important that our two countries have a tight working relationship on the ground and in space. This is why we have asked you to come in. Mr. Beregovoi is going to ask you a series of questions, please answer any questions truthfully.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Colonel Owen,” he began in Russian, taking me aback for a quick second, “I understand you are quite fluent in Russian, is this so?”

“Yes sir, I have over four years studying Russian. I am not fluent, but I hope to be some day.”

“Very good, have you been to the Soviet Union?”

“No Sir, one day perhaps. I look forward to the day I get the opportunity.”

“I hope you come for a visit soon and see our space center near Moscow.”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“I understand you and our cosmonauts have a very good relationship. They have reported to me that you are very welcoming and eager to work with them. Is this so?”

“Yes, Mitri and Yeltsov are fine physicists and cosmonauts. We spend much time together during our time off, learning more and more about each other’s culture. Mitri has been a great language coach, and much of my near-fluency comes from him.”

“That is good to hear. Tell me, Colonel, you flew for the Air Force before coming to NASA, what did you fly during your time there?” I got a little nervous, and looked at the others on the panel.

“Colonel, you may answer his questions.”

“Sir, I, um-”

“-It’s Colonel, we know what he is asking, you are authorized to answer his questions. He has clearance from the Pentagon,” General Payton answered.

“Sir, I flew a variety of aircraft from fighters to...well sir,” I stopped and looked on for a final approval, “spy planes.”

“Yes, I have seen your records. Tell me, why did you want to spy on our country?”

“I really didn’t want to. I first and foremost wanted to fly the fastest and highest-flying aircraft known to man. The politics behind our two countries' standoff was secondary to my love for flying. Because of my experience, I became fairly well versed in Russian culture, and because of that, my passion for your people grew. This is mainly the reason why your men and I are such good friends.”

“Very good Colonel. That will be all for right now.”

---Dr. McCormack's Analysis---

The panel waited until Michael was out of the room, chatting a few to make sure he was out of earshot before proceeding.

"Let's begin shall we?" Kuntz said, beginning the meeting. He opened his personnel file and began speaking. "Commander Dwayne Turner, Retired from the Air Force in 1968. He began his career with NASA in 1972 after completing his Masters Degree in Engineering. Completed Astronaut training in 1974 and began working on advanced life support systems for the Shuttle program.

"Dr. McCormack, if you will please present your analysis. Dr. McCormack here has spent many hours training with both teams, and closely observing and evaluating team dynamics. Doctor?"

"Thank you. As Kuntz said, I have had the pleasure of working closely with both teams and have found both team leaders to be exceptional candidates on many levels ranging from experience, education, and contributions to furthering the space program by their design work. Many on this panel have thoroughly vetted both Turner and Owen in these regards, so I will not spend a lot of time on that.

My main goals were to develop psychological profiles for all prospective candidates for command of A-team especially Turner and Owen." McCormack distributed file folders to each of the members of the panel. "Shuttle missions typically last seven days. Even short duration missions are in critical need of superior leadership. Since Operation THOR will have a much longer duration, this will be even more critical. As part of our preliminary tests, we subjected several test groups to confined environments for three month durations. One test group of seven astronauts began an isolated, self sustained stay within a small research facility where they were monitored 24/7 and the only communication with the outside world was through radio communication, simulating their isolation. The carefully selected A and B groups of mixed race and gender both encountered altercations between residents within the first week of isolation. It began with petty arguments over use of certain resources, and continued to regress into larger scale incidents, some of which involved physical confrontations." Megan paused to turn her page, then took a sip of water to clear her throat before continuing. "In the aftermath of the test, extensive analysis by myself and others on the team found ineffective leadership to be a strong contributing factor to the decline of society within the test environment."

"Modifications were made to the leadership, work and rest schedules were created to keep a group busy while the other enjoyed leisure time. The working crew was given a variety of daily tasks and study time. Here we introduced a private room where one could communicate with family and a trained psychologist to help reduce tension. Our second round produced much more favorable results and the group's collective goals were met with a 75% completion factor with only two subjects unable to continue for the full duration.

"Phase three. With the help or our Soviet friends, we were able to conduct a similar experiment, but for obvious reasons, with a small group of five. Quick side note, we prefer odd numbered groups as there is always one person who could break a tie and add balance to the group. Back to phase three, for this experiment, the five subjects live on board the Mir Space station for 3 months implementing all lessons learned from previous experiments. The added isolation factor of actually being in space and knowing there was no one on the other side of the walls added tension, but collective goal achievement increased to 83%.

It is the belief of myself and my colleagues that highly effective leadership as well as the addition of a trained, onsite professional therapist is essential to this mission."

"Very good Doctor. Please continue with your analysis of both of our commanders," Young said.

"First I will address Dwayne Turner. Turner in my observation is a risk. He is highly intelligent and very good at solving problems on the fly as well as adapting to sudden changes. These are exceptional traits in a leader on a mission such as THOR. He also has spent much of his career working on environments that created the conditions we study. Overall his leadership skills are in the top percentile of effectiveness. He has a good relationship with his crew. However, when we mixed up that crew, non crew members had a hard time getting along with him and thus were less likely to respond to his leadership. It was also evident, that his cool demeanor was not consistent, at times a different person would emerge during high stress situations. When cornered, his temper could escalate. In addition, he is highly competitive and has a strong desire to be recognized for his achievements. When encountering others superior to him or one who fails to acknowledge his success, he could get mildly aggressive-"

"-Doctor, let me interrupt?" General Payton said, "what you are describing, sounds like every normal male on the planet. I don't know if you realize, but most of our early pioneers into space, from test pilots to the ones making their first trips into space had rather large egos. It's almost a requirement. You need men with a certain attitude if you are going to strap a rocket to their ass."

"General, I completely agree with you, but we are not talking about a race to the moon so we can prove how studly we are to the rest of the world, we are racing against the clock to prevent the extinction of the human race. It's going to take thousands of people's minds and painstaking work to stop this thing, but one man's ego can lead to the death of several billion lives. Yes, we need men with balls, but we need someone who won't let his ego interfere with the mission." Payton, put in his place, quietly sat down. Several of the other panel members conversed among themselves.

"Doctor," the President's advisor said, "I agree with what you have to say, there is much at risk. Can you please tell me just how you think Turner can cause a mission disaster. Clearly he is quite a professional and has established himself well, rising high in the astronaut ranks, for him to get shot down so easily,"

"Another point of agreement. Let's be clear, all these men we talk about today are the very best, well deserving of the effort this panel slaves through to make sure their decades of hard work have been exhaustively considered before making our final decision. I do not have ill feelings toward anyone, this is not a witch hunt. This is to sift through millions of diamonds to find that one nearly perfect stone that will represent the entire world, leading our team in stopping the Icarus."

"To answer the question, it is my professional opinion that while Turner can bring his age, background and skills to the mission, he has a couple of serious flaws that make him...not dangerous, but certainly worthy of looking at other options first. Right up front, Turner has a hero complex. This mission is all about him, his motives are deeply rooted in a need to prove himself to someone.”

“Doctor,” Mr. Beregovoi called out.

“Yes, Mr. Beregovoi.”

“Forgive me Doctor, English not best in world. Can you please comment on two mens’ interaction with my cosmonauts?”

“Of course, this by far is most troubling, and my number one reason to recommend Commander Owen over Turner. Turner has shown on many occasions to be unfriendly, even hostile toward our two Russian physicists. As you know, these men will be part of either team and have been cross training to assist Dr. Shephard with the planting of the devices. Both have flawless performance records and are a stunning example of the Soviet Space Program. Mr. Beregovoi, we are proud to have them as part of our crew. Their work on the Deliverance’s nuclear capability is remarkable.”

“Thank you Doctor, we expect best from cosmonauts.”

“Precisely, which is why I recommend we do the same. We simply can’t afford an incident when so much is at stake, including all the progress our two countries have made in such a short time. The United States and the Soviet Union are rapidly forming a solid relationship. Two once opposing super powers, now close allies, but in Turner’s world, there is still a cold war playing out in his head.” George Kuntz stood up and addressed the panel.

“Very good Doctor. Let’s take a ten minute recess and then we will have Dr. McCormack present her case for Commander Owen.

---Megan and Mitri, Present Day---

“So, you had major part in his selection?”

“Yes, we needed to find a compatible crew. At first I was going through training to get to know all of you, but it was quickly decided that I should be part of the actual team. It
was part of my job to get close to everyone. With the exception of the Eugene episode, we made a pretty good team.

“You know Michael needs you. He is alone and I might have scared him off,” Nikolai said, wondering why Michael never called him after returning.

“I don’t think he knows. He left my house and left the Matryoshka behind. It’s possible he is a little frightened. He has had a hard time adjusting as Kaaren.”

“I imagine, and don’t take this wrong way, a man becoming a woman would not be easy change.” Megan sat and pondered that comment a moment before replying.

“That, but there is also the alien part of him that also causes him trouble. I won’t tell you, because, I want for him to confide his troubles. He can use a strong man in his life, one who is not after his body, but can be friends with the soul inside. A little male bonding could be good for him.” Her mind began to drift thinking of her feelings of guilt for leaving Michael alone to grieve. No one there for him except Reid. But Reid only knows Karen, not the man inside, not the alien he hides from the world.

She knew her time was rapidly approaching where she would have to come to grips with her problems and return to her friend because right now, she imagined his heart was being torn apart. Her slipped into a deep trance as she recalled a memory, one when her friends were happy together. Instead of speaking out loud so Mitri could hear, she kept to herself, replaying the scene for only her to cherish.

---September 20, 1985---

Liz tore off a piece of paper from the note pad hanging on the refrigerator door. The phone book was still open on the dinner table. She traced with her finger down the list until she found the Hotel’s listing.

“You ready babe?” Michael said, walking down the hall with their suitcases in hand. “I want to get ahead of the traffic.”

“I’ll be there in just a moment,” she said as she scribbled the last couple of phone numbers on the paper. “Here Megan, this is the hotel in Galveston where we will be staying. This is the restaurant we will be at tonight and tomorrow night. Here are the house keys and I wrote the code for the garage door in case you lock yourself out. If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Liz, you two don’t worry, go have an unforgettable weekend, Ashley and I will be just fine,” Megan said as Ashley ran over to her mother.

“Hey sweetie, you going to be a good girl for Dr. Megan?” She nodded yes, but with a little sadness in her eyes. Liz and Michael had never left her alone for an entire weekend and she was a little scared about them leaving her.

“When are you coming back?” she said with a cute but worried voice.

“Ash honey, Mommy and I are just going away for the weekend. Dr. Megan has some really fun things planned for you two. You be good for her, she is being really nice using her last weekend off to watch you.”

“Michael, don’t worry about it, it’s going to be all play for me. Go, get out of here you two, have a great anniversary.”

“Megan, thank you again. You sure you’re ok not spending this weekend with Brad?”

“We will be fine, you two have been together a long time, you deserve a good weekend together.”

“Thank you Megan, I can’t tell you what that means to us. Michael and I really appreciate you doing this for us.”

“It’s my pleasure, now shoo. We are going to be fine. You have my pager number in case we are out.” Liz reached down and gave her daughter a long kiss and hug as Michael walked back in from putting the luggage in the car.

“Let’s go, the engine's running,” Michael said, growing impatient. Ashley let go of her mom and ran over to her dad. Michael picked his daughter up with a little strain and sat her on his shoulders. He put his thumbs out and she grabbed ahold. She started giggling as he started making airplane sounds.

“This is the tower, you are clear for takeoff.” Ashley moved his thumbs around and he started moving forward as if she were controlling her dad. They ran out through the front door, Michael careful to duck at the doorframe. Liz and Megan laughed and followed them outside. “Eject, eject, eject,” Michael yelled three times as he pulled her off his shoulders and dropped her into the driver’s seat of his Porsche. It was a hot September weekend, the perfect weather and vacation spot for driving around with the top down.

“Ash, say good bye to your Daddy,” Michael said, opening the door. Ashley stood on the seat, stretching her arms out so Michael could pick her up. He kissed her and said goodbye again, turning her around and setting her down on the grass. He was shaking her hair when he heard the engine start revving. Michael turned in time to see Liz shut the driver’s side door.

“What are you doing Liz?”

“What does it look like, I’m driving? Hop in and let’s get going,” she commanded as she adjusted the mirrors. Michael ran around and hopped in the passenger side without opening the door.

“Bye bye Mommy bye Daddy,” Ashley was waving as Liz adjusted the clutch and put the car in reverse.

“Bye Ashley, be a good girl for Mommy and we will bring you something back. Megan, thank you again.” They both waved as Liz pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the street.

“Ok Ashley, whattya say we go have fun, what do you want to do? Anything you want.”

“Shopping, let’s go shopping.” Megan started laughing.

“You’re the boss, shopping it is? Go get changed, we leave in twenty minutes.”

---Owen Cabin, Big Bear California, Present Day---

The light from the roaring fire in the fire pit behind the cabin flickered off the surface of my ring. I held the wedding band to my eyes examining every scratch in the gold. It was a plain shiny ring with rounded edges, Liz’s gift and a symbol of our love that I had never taken off since she slipped in on my finger that hot Saturday in 1974 were we committed our lives to each other. As I recalled my memories of our wedding, I thought about Kaaren. ‘When did she take me ring off?’ So much happened in that short time we spent together on her ship, I never thought to take it from her. I silently thanked Kaaren for thinking to give me one of my most treasured possessions.

As happy as I was at the moment, my heart sank as my thoughts suddenly shifted to our anniversary coming up. A dull pain started to form inside as I thought of spending the day without her. Since my short night out with Reid, my mind had been constantly thinking of accepting that they were dead. There was simply no more leads to examine, and it wasn’t fair to hold Reid back, keeping him from achieving success for my own selfish reasons.

“Damn it Megan, I need you right now. I don’t want to let them go, but I have to. Face it Michael, their dead,” before my body’s easier susceptibility to emotion kicked in, I shifted back to my most recent memory, my final time I spent alone with my wife...

---September 21, 1985---

The roaring of the waves crashing on the beach partially interrupted our conversation at regular intervals. It was a dark moonless night with a warm September breeze in the air. Liz, easily cold, still had a sweater over her bathing suit. There were few people on the beach leaving Liz and I to enjoy a peaceful late night for our last moments together before I left. With launch a few weeks away, stress levels were increasing and for the sake of the mission we were given time to relax, with the understanding that there will be lots of studying and training while en route during our long journey.

"Where is it?" Liz asked. I looked up and followed the elliptical plane, finding Jupiter with little difficulty.

"See Jupiter, the big bright object that isn't twinkling?" I said as I leaned close, putting my head on hers and allowing her to look down the length of my arm.

"Yes, I see it." Slowly my hand moved to the right and stopped.

"Great. Now look slightly to the right and down, see the small white object next to that twinkling star?"

"Yes, is that it?"

"That's it. In about five or so months, I will be on the surface of the meatball," I said using Ashley's name for the Icarus. Ashley, upon seeing a picture, said it looked like a
giant meatball and we all quickly started using that word, anything to add a little humor to the situation.

"Michael my love, I'm scared. I'm afraid you won't come back." We lay down on the towel, pulling each other close and looked deep into each other's eyes. Her hand lifted up and caressed my face.

"Sweetie, I'm scared too. It's far too soon for for us to be apart, but as much as I fear leaving you, I'm afraid of failing and what it would mean."

"Are you confident you can succeed?"

"All the data says we can. I'm just glad I don't have to put my trust in someone else going in my place. I know I could achieve success."

"I don't know how I am going to get through the next year until you come back into my arms. What am I going to do without you?" I drew myself closer to my wife until my chest was touching hers. I ran my hand softly down her back, stopping briefly to grab ahold of her bikini strap, teasing her that I was going to untie it.

“Tell you what babe, this weekend, let’s not talk about what we are going to do without each other, instead, let’s just think about all the things we are going to spend this weekend doing with each other.”

“Now you’re talking commander,” she said, rolling onto her back and pulling me on top of her. You gonna show me some of those docking maneuvers of yours?” Liz said, getting a little dirty. Her bright red hair, now barely illuminated by the street lights off in the distance, was spread out on the warm sand. She looked up at me while I hovered over her, slowly lowering myself, kissing her forehead, then moving lower and lower planting tiny kisses all over her face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around my topless body just as I pressed my lips against hers, tasting the faint remnant of her lipstick that had survived our evening swim. Our tongues met while I moved my hand down to remove her top. After a brief fight with the thin strings holding her bikini in place, I pulled the small patches of metallic purple spandex and tossed it aside, freeing her breasts.

Always a little paranoid with public displays of affection, she briefly robbed me of our moment of passion to make sure we were alone. Satisfied, she resumed kissing me harder while I cupped her breast. Liz expressed her first signs of approval by letting out a soft moan as I gently rubbed her right nipple with my fingers. Her passion began building when I ceased kissing her lips and instead used my tongue to lick her other nipple. She ran her fingers through my hair while enjoying the pleasurable impulses slowly spreading throughout her body. I rubbed myself up against her thigh trying to relieve my own growing stimulation.

“Oh Michael,” she started to say while sensing my own frustration and reached down inside my trunks. For a moment I closed my eyes, enjoying the pleasure of her soft touch. My breathing increased while Liz’s need for satisfaction grew even stronger, causing her to arch her body. My hand left her breast and traveled down her stomach, softly tickling her as I drew closer to her bikini. Each of my fingers fumbled with peeling away her bottoms when my eyelids turned from black to red. Sensing a sudden change, I opened my eyes to find Liz and I bathed in bright light. Startled, Liz frantically withdrew her hand and grabbed her sweater and pulled it closed, hiding her breasts.

“You two love struck teenagers wanna get off my beach and go find a hotel, or am I going to bust you for public indecency?” a voice called out. I peered up and stared directly into the bulb of the man’s flashlight. I quickly got up and shielded my face. The man moved the beam toward Liz who was now wrapped in the blanket. With the light no longer shining directly into my eyes, I was able to make out a faint silhouette of a police officer on foot.

“I’m sorry officer, we will get going.” He shone the light back in my face not caring that he was seriously ruining my night vision.

“Don’t you look a little old to be screwing on the my beach? You on drugs son?”

“No sir, I don’t touch drugs. My wife and I are going to be apart for over a year, this is our last weekend together.”

“You military?”

“No sir, not anymore.” He moved closer and studied me a little more thoroughly.

“You’re that astronaut right? The one going up after the Asteroid? Mike Owen isn’t that it?”

“Michael,” I said, correcting him. “Yes sir, that’s me.” He pulled out his ticket pad from a pocket in his back upper thigh and opened it up. “You citing us sir?”

“Citing you, hell no, wondering if you would autograph my ticket book, then I thought I would let you two finish what you started. Hell, if anyone comes near you, I will shoot them. ” Liz, now fully dressed, emerged from the blanket and stood next to me while I took ahold of his ticket book.

“Thank you officer, I think we will just head back to the hotel.”

“Can’t say I ever gave someone my autograph before. Where would you like me to sign, Officer?”

“Reid, Daniel Reid. Anywhere on that ticket please. Oh man, my cousin’s gonna shit when I show him this. He thinks he’s all hot for pulling over Danny Quaid and getting his
autograph.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” I said, not able to place the name.

“He was in that movie, the “Right Stuff” played-”

“Right, now I remember. Played Gordon Cooper. Great guy, I’ve met him several times,” I finished scribbling my first autograph on the officer’s pad and thanked him. He turned and excitedly ran across the sand back to his car.

“Well that was new,” I said, turning to Liz.

“You know, I just realized, I have a celebrity now for a husband? I say screw the hotel, this beach belongs to us tonight.” She reached up and started kissing me while pulling me back down onto the blanket.

“Oh baby, I love you,” I said as I undid her bikini top again.

---Goodbyes---

Tears were flowing her Liz’s eyes as well as mine. Ashley held tight onto my leg while I stroked her hair.

“Liz, in my office, on my desk are some instructions for you. Make sure you go through them and remember what we talked about. Everything is going to be fine, but just in case...Liz, look at me.” She reluctantly looked up at me, staring straight into my eyes. “Promise me you will go through everything I left you.”

“I will,” she said, bringing relief. It was so hard to prepare and talk to her about the possibility that I would not return and if we failed, the death of the human race would soon follow.

“Don’t cry my love, it will only make it harder.” It was a useless to think she would stop the moment I said that. This final moment embracing each other would become our most difficult goodbye. We stood in the clean room with the other families here to see the rest of our crew. While launch was a week away, contact with the outside world would end tonight, and we would spend our final week on Earth in quarantine to make sure none of us became sick prior to launch. From this point forward, it would be telephone calls or on the other side of a glass enclosure as if we were prisoners receiving visitors.

“Michael darling, I can’t stand the thought this is the last time we will ever get to hug you and kiss you. I know you will be back, I just do, but in the back of my mind, I can’t help but worry.”

“I know. Liz, ever since I met you, you have made each and every day of my life worth living. I want so many more of those days with you, but if today is our last, then I can honestly say it was the best life a man can have.” Before another wave spilled down her cheeks, I drew her toward me and kissed her on her lips, savoring every sensation, committing it to memory to take into space with me. Several technicians began announcing final call, alerting us that it was time to let them go. Liz continued to stand there with her eyes closed, pretending she was still kissing me as I knelt down to Ashley’s level.

“Ash, I need you to take care of your mommy for me. Be very strong for her, she is going to need you. I don’t have to tell you to be good, you already make your dad proud.”

“Don’t go,” she said as her face distorted, trying to fight back the feelings of sadness my absence was going to cause.

“Oh Ash honey, I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Daddy’s going to miss you very much, but I promise I will try and come back as soon as possible, and then I will never leave you again.” They announced again as I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her, “I love you Ash.”

“I love you too Daddy.” Liz squatted down so we were both at our daughter’s height.

“Ashley, let’s give daddy a quick double double, he has to get going. I leaned in as Ashley and Liz took opposite cheeks and started giving a series of kisses, building up frequency in sync before finishing off with one long loud wet kiss.

“Thank you you two,” I said before planting a final kiss on each of their lips. I stood and slowly walked backward waving goodbye, watching them waving back.

“Goodbye, I love you Daddy I always will!”

“I love you too,” I called out, disappearing through the door where I found Sean and Megan, who also were emotional wrecks.

“Ok you two, we got work to do,” I said, hoping a little work could distract us from the emotional drain of saying farewell to those in life we cherished the most.

---Megan and Mitri, Present Day---

It was getting late and Megan knew she needed to get back to the Embassy, still she had so much more to say.

“Nikolai, thank you for meeting with me tonight. I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is to have someone I can trust to share my innermost feelings with regarding our friend,” she raised her glass and toasted him one last time.

“It is late my friend, come, Nikolai will walk you home, make sure you get home safe,” he grabbed her coat and helped her out of the booth like a gentleman, “I too am happy for our friendship. Many months I wondered alone with no one to talk to about miracle in space. All this time it was good friend...no, best friend looking out for us. I wish I could help him.”

“Nikolai, you have. You helped me see things clearly. Most of which I already knew, I just couldn’t talk about them to anyone. Now that my mind is clear, and the weight off my shoulders, I can return to him. I just hope he will accept me,” Nikolai’s two body guards fell in a short distance behind him as he held the door open for Megan and lead her outside.

“Do not worry about our friend. As you say, I know soul deep down inside. He loves you and will not stay angry. Tell him to visit me and if needs anything, I am here for him,” they stopped at the entrance to the Embassy and gave their final hugs goodbye.

----

Megan returned to her room and got undressed, taking a quick shower before getting comfortable. Her buzz was wearing off and she figured work tomorrow could be put off for a while, so she poured a tall glass of vodka, got herself drunk and prepared to bring back many memories. Megan placed the headphones around her ears and adjusted the volume before hitting play. She sat ready in front of the video monitor, organizing her legal pad while waiting for the bars and tone to pass. The bars faded and were replaced by a split screen image, the left from Mission control, the right being the video feed from the Deliverance. Her face came up on the right before she saw her mom and dad. She sat and watched, just enjoying listening to her parents, remembering her conversation with them en route back to Earth. NASA making it possible to regularly communicate with their families back home was the highlight of their day when a call came through. Any face, any voice was welcome as long as it was different. She loved most of the crew, but seeing and hearing them every day was growing tiring to the point a personal call from Charles Manson would be enjoyable if it meant a break from the norm. She watched until her parents said goodbye and left before hitting fast forward, not wanting to see Brad step up next. How he was able to stand there with her parents as if nothing was amiss was beyond her.

A date and time stamp appeared. Finally she was at the Owen calls. It had taken almost a month since she put in the request for the tapes from NASA to be sent through the channels to the Embassy. Megan had put off working on her paper detailing the effects she and the other crew encountered while confined together. She still didn't have much heart to start writing, but she forced herself to begin compiling her data before getting back to the United States. She sat and watched through each and every conversation Michael had with Liz and Ashley. There was a clear decline in Liz's spirits as time progressed. She reached the second to last call between her friends and paused while she poured another glass of vodka, mixing in a little fruit juice. Megan curled up her legs, placing her feet on the edge of the chair, sitting in an almost fetal position. She hit play on the remote and wrapped her arms about her folded legs, waiting for the image to come up and the memories to return.

---Deliverance Interior October 1st, 1986---

"Deliverance, this is Houston, come in over," the radio broke the silence filling the cabin at the moment. It had been about about ten months without experiencing nights and days, but never the less, the crew kept to a schedule and slept at certain times. Collins, Mitri, and Yeltsov were asleep strapped into their sleep sacks and affixed to the wall where they slept in what looked like a standing position. Michael sat strapped into his seat on the flight deck and ran through a systems check while Shephard, still shaken up from Pendleton's death, sat in the lab staring at his samples, not getting much work accomplished. McCormack had just finished checking in on him when the radio chirped to life.

"Deliverance, go ahead Houston," McCormack, on duty at the moment, answered back.

"Hey Pink Freud, I have a collect call from a couple of pretty girls down here. You accept the charges?"

"That depends if it's a red head and an adorable nine year old blond?"

"Ten, she's ten now," Dwayne corrected over the radio."

"Of course, how could I forget, it was just three months ago." Megan went over to the video array and turned on the systems." Houston, let me see if Saint's free, stand by."

"Roger." Megan pulled herself up through the opening in the floor leading to the flight deck and peeked her head through. Michael was strapped into the pilot's seat with a notebook in hand.

"Hey Michael, Liz is calling, can you talk?"

"Yeah, tell them I will be about ten minutes. Finishing a systems check right now. Go ahead and say hi if you want."

"Thanks, I would enjoy that. Ten minutes you say?"

"Yeah, about that." Megan pushed herself back down and moved towards her monitoring station.

"Houston, Saint's finishing up on some work, ETA about 10 minutes. We're doing a VC?

"Yes, a VC, Ashley has a few things she wants to show him."

"Roger Houston, stand by, establishing a feed right now." The bank of small CRT monitors came to life along with the larger color screen. On the patch panel, Megan switched the feed from the camera array to the incoming signal from the long range communications dish directly above the flight deck on the outer fuselage. Color bars appeared with a generic black box with "NASA" in white lettering generated over the bars. On the smaller black and white monitors she saw a duplicate of the feed she was receiving, and next to that, she saw nothing but black. Reaching over, she turned the video camera on and after a moment, her image appeared on the second black and white screen. Next she muted the radio and spoke into the mic on the video feed so there wouldn't be an echo.

"Houston, do you read, over?" She waited for her voice to traverse the distance to reach the private video conference room next to Mission Control, then waited for the reply to return. The round trip, she calculated, took about 14 seconds. At the height of their mission, the delay was taking up to 13 seconds one way. She could tell they were getting closer to home.

"Deliverance, I read you. Audio and video looks good. Sending picture now." A second later the color bars disappeared only to be replaced with Turner's face."

"Copy, I see you." She wasn't a huge fan of Dwayne, but after spending almost a year with the same six faces, she was more than happy to see his face lighting up her monitor.

"Hey Megan, I am going to let you talk to Liz a few while we wait on Owen."

"Thanks Turner," she said as he moved out of the way of the camera's field of view. Liz moved in, taking his place in the limelight. She looked worn and tired, her hair a little unkept. Michael wouldn't notice her lack of care for her hair, but as a woman, Megan picked up on it. She also knew from her professional experience that Liz was having a gradually tougher time dealing with her husband's absence. "Hi Liz, great to see you. How are you doing? You holding up ok?" She watched as Liz looked off screen and waved, likely to Dwayne as he left the room, giving her a little privacy.

"Hi Megan. I am doing so so. Hanging in there." Megan reached over and plugged in the headphones, then slid them on her head so that Liz's words wouldn't be heard throughout the cabin.

"You look a little tired."

"I am, I haven't been sleeping that well the last couple of weeks."

"I can imagine it's been a difficult couple of weeks for you. We are on our way home though and should be back by November. Have you been taking anything to help you sleep?"

"No, not really into taking medication."

"That seems reasonable, but I want you to be able to function, and if you can't sleep, you will eventually get worn out. How is Ashley?" It was about 14 seconds later when I saw Ashley's dusty blond hair appear in the bottom of the screen. At the sound of Megan's inquiry, Ashley stood on her tiptoes and the upper half of her face became visible.

"Hi Dr. Megan," she said, waving.

"Oh my are you getting tall, and even cuter. How are you Ashley?"

"I'm good. Where's daddy?"

"He will be here in a few minutes." They continued to talk when Ashley started giggling. Megan was slightly confused at first until she looked in the monitor of her outgoing video feed and saw Michael floating behind her with his hands next to his neck acting like gills. pretending to be a fish. A smile came to Liz's face, although Megan wasn't sure if it was Michael, or Ashley's cute giggle that was bringing a happy look to Liz. Either way, it was good to see her smile and was glad Michael's first image would be a smiling wife staring back at him.

"Well you two, I am going to let you have some time together. Ashley, you keep taking good care of your mommy ok, She needs you."

"I will. Bye bye Dr. Megan."

"Bye sweetie." They waved to each other as Liz took up the full screen again. "Liz, it was good talking to you. You take care, and if you need to talk, you let someone know ok. You hang in there and we will be back soon."

"Megan, thank you for being so good to us. Most of all thank you for looking after Michael. I couldn't trust his care to anyone better than you."

"Awe Liz, that's so sweet of you. You have a great man, Liz, and I will keep taking good care of him until you two are together again." Michael leaned in and interrupted.

"Hey babe, how's my love doing?" Before the delayed audio and video returned, Megan passed the headphones to Michael. He put them on while she unstrapped herself from the small fold out seat and moved out of the way so Michael could sit down. The five seconds he had left before her voice came back seemed to take an eternity. It was Ashley's voice that returned first, cutting her mother off from answering.

"Daddy!" Megan watched as a big smile lit up on Michael's face.

"Ash Sweetie, how's daddy's little girl?" She kept talking, still after a year she was not used to the time it took for the signal to come back. Liz backed off and graciously let Ashley enjoy the first fruits of the conversation, waiting patiently for her turn to spend with her husband.

---Bunker, Present Day---

Liz was careful to put the contents of her memory box neatly back where she kept them, while trying to avoid waking Ashley. She was grateful she stopped that horrible day back in October and went back for her box of treasured memories. It wasn’t essential for her survival, but to survive emotionally, she couldn’t live without it. Liz allowed herself for the first time in months to think back to the day when everything changed, her whole life as she knew it was taken from her. It was the day her world ended...

---It’s the End of the World as We Know It---

There was a knock at the door. Liz was curled up on her chair near the phone waiting for Dwayne to call as he did every couple days during the critical phases. Panic began to build as she envisioned what she would find on the other side of the door. Reluctantly, she opened the door to find Dwayne standing on her front porch.

"Dwayne, what are you doing here?" He didn't answer, instead standing there in silence. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth as tears started running down her face.

"No, please no."

"I'm sorry Liz,” he started to say, pausing to take her into his comforting embrace, “there was an accident, and Michael," he stopped as she started wailing. He tightened his arms letting her cry and scream for a couple minutes before he retracted. Looking into her eyes he said," Liz, you have to listen to me, I know this is a bad time, but there's more. We screwed up, there is going to be an impact and there is nothing we can do to stop it. I was lucky to get out, but they locked down JSC. The government isn’t going to tell the public, they don’t want a panic on their hands. The Icarus is going to hit us."

"I don't care, let it hit."

"Liz, don't talk like that. I have to get you and Ashley to safety, you can't give up, not on your daughter."

"There is no place for us to go, I might as well just let the end come."

"I have a place Liz, it can support us for a couple of years, but we have to go right away."

"Mommy, whats the matter? Why are you crying?" Ashley said, seeing her mother talking to Dwayne.

"Come on Liz, snap out of it, don't you give up. What can I do to help you get packed?" She wasn't responding. Dwayne shook her. "Ashley, go start packing right now, we have to leave.”
”¨“Why where are we going, why is Mommy crying?”

“Ashley, just do as I say, I don’t have time to tell you. Hurry! Start getting your clothes together. Something warm and comfortable.” Ashley listened and ran into her room to begin packing. Liz was curled up in a ball on the floor crying harder than she had ever done before. “Liz, you need to listen to me. I know you didn’t want to hear this, but people are already starting to panic, we have to get to safety before the mass public hits the streets. Liz, damn it, help me out, we have to leave.” Ashley approached.

“Dwayne, can you get the suitcases down for us? I can’t reach them.”
”¨“Sure, Ashley, take care of your Mom for a moment. Where do you keep them?”

“Daddy keeps them in the garage up on the shelf.”

“Ok, hold on, let me get them for you.” Dwayne left, leaving the mother and daughter alone.

“Mommy, what’s the matter, why are you crying?” Liz reached out and pulled her close. Ashley didn’t understand what was happening, but she began feeling her mother’s sorrow and started to cry along with her.

“Oh Ashley, I’m sorry honey, I have to tell you something, but Dwayne’s right, we have to leave. I need you to listen to me and I promise I will tell you later, but right now I need you to be strong for me.” Dwayne walked back in carrying the suitcases as Ashley helped her mother stand up.

“Liz what can I do to help you?” Liz waited until Ashley was out of the room.

“Nothing, just don’t tell her that her father is dead, I will tell her when we get settled.” She barely finished the sentence as a new stream of tears surfaced. “He’s really gone?”

“Oh my god Liz, I’m so sorry,” he saidm holding her as she spilled her sorrow into his comforting embrace. She looked up and saw Ashley down the hall peeking halfway out of her bedroom door watching them. Her face was covered in an equally proportional amount of tears and Liz knew that Ashley was too smart to keep the truth from her. She didn’t want to tell her now, but delaying it was only going to make it sting more. She was ten years old, too mature to keep her father’s death a secret for any length of time.

“Dwayne, can you leave us be for a moment, I have to tell her right now. If I am going to uproot her, she deserves to know at this very moment.”

“Liz, we have to hurry,” he didn’t stay and argue, but went out into the garage while the two talked.

“Mommy, what’s happening. Is everything ok? Did something happen to Daddy?” Liz knelt down and looked her daughter in the eyes.

“Honey, I really need you to help me right now by being a very strong girl, can you do that for me?” She shook her head in agreement. “Ok, we are going to Dwayne’s because the asteroid is going to hit us and if we don’t leave now we might not have a chance later. When we get to Dwayne’s,” Liz stopped, lost for words. She watched as Ashley’s face started to fall apart knowing what was coming next.”

“No, no.”

“Oh my dear sweet girl, Mommy’s so sorry,” she said, putting Ashley’s head on her chest. “I’m sorry Ash, Daddy’s gone.” After what seemed like an eternity, the two eventually got up and began packing while Dwayne recommended things to take and what to leave behind. Ashley grabbed her books off the shelf and threw them into the suitcase as well as her backpack along with her pads of paper and pens. Dwayne helped carry the bags out to his jeep while Liz went to the kitchen.

“Liz, don’t worry about food, my place if fully stocked, we will be just fine. If you forget anything I can come back, I just need to get you two to safety.” Liz listened and began locking up, confident she had everything essential. They were about to leave when she screamed, begging Dwayne to stop. She ran into the house and came back a minute later carrying what looked like a large brown leather briefcase. She tossed it in the back and jumped in the Jeep. She watched as the symbol of her happiness, the home she and Michael created together vanished from her life, where it would soon be destroyed.

---Seeking Shelter---

“Reports are filling in, the NASA’s Johnson Space Center, home of Mission Control here in Houston Texas, has been placed on lockdown. All communication to and from the center as well as personnel traffic has ceased. This has been leading to speculation that Operation THOR may have suffered a serious...make that a fatal error and an impact by the Icarus is immanent,” the reporter’s voice said, alerting the public that NASA might have failed to stop Armageddon. “Several sources have called in to say that they have run their own trajectory analysis of the Icarus and have concluded, last week’s detonation has not moved it off course.” Liz reached over and turned the radio off, not wanting to hear any more.

“I can’t believe those bastards aren’t going to tell the public. How are they going to get away with this?” Liz said. “Then again, in a few days, no one will be around to care. Asshole government.”

“Liz, I am going to stop at the store, and get a few supplies. We are going to have to live underground for about two years until the air clears, so if there is anything you need, get it now.” They pulled up to a large department store near the outskirts of town. The parking lot was starting to fill up with RVs and pickup trucks. Whole families were running inside, each with a shopping cart in hand.

“Ashley,” she was silent and didn’t reply. Liz turned around and looked at her curled up in a ball lying down on the back seat next to the suitcases. Liz reached back and took her daughter's hand. “Ashley sweetie, did you hear Dwayne, we are going inside. I need you to stay right next to me at all times. Do not leave my side no matter what, you understand?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Ok, be a good girl and I will get you a bunch of books to read.” Call it a bribe, or Liz knowing she was going to need a lot of entertainment, it didn’t faze her. Ashley didn’t seem to care and reflected the same level of disinterest in living that Liz had swirling inside. Perhaps it was better to just die with everyone else. After a quick painless event, the three could be at peace, all reunited together walking in eternity.

Liz filled up the cart with items she knew she and Ashley were going to need before taking her daughter to pick out anything she wanted.

“Don’t worry about picking and choosing. If you want it, throw it in the cart.” Ashley pulled various books off the shelf, doing as her mother said, loading the cart without stopping to see if if the book would interest her. She did the same with some board games, leaving the toys behind. The three re-grouped at the cashier where Dwayne paid for both in cash after the store announced it was not taking checks for fear they would be robbed by insufficient funds not backing the promissory note.

Before leaving town, Dwayne stopped to fill up at a gas station. Liz took Ashley to the bathroom while he began filling his Jeep. After stocking up on some sweets and drinks, they came back out to see that a growing line was forming of people waiting to get gas. A fight erupted over whose turn it was and both drivers exited their cars and began cussing at each other. Liz grabbed Ashley, standing in between her and the argument so her daughter couldn’t see the misbehavior of people who were tossing their humanity aside in face of their destruction and turning to their carnal animal-like instincts, where survival was more important than morality. She listened as the fight escalated into an ugly situation, looking up in time to watch the two men draw firearms and began dueling it out as if they had been transported to the back to the old west. Liz, horrified, screamed at her daughter as Dwayne jumped into the Jeep.

”¨“Ashley, get down and stay down.” She closed her door not a second before Dwayne hit the gas and tore off.

---A New Home---

“Is this where you live?” Liz asked as Dwayne turned onto the dirt road.

“Yes, this is my ranch,” he said as he pulled to a stop next to a small concrete structure. “Come on let me show you around.” Liz woke Ashley, who had fallen asleep, and helped her out of the Jeep. She looked around, locking her eyes on the two story home.

“Is that were we are going to stay?” Dwayne turned in the direction she was looking.

“I’m afraid not, it won’t keep us safe. The air won’t be breathable, and there is a possibility of radioactive elements spreading into the atmosphere. In a couple of weeks, the sun won’t shine, and temperatures will drop to freezing. This is where we are staying,” he said, pointing to the concrete shack. He could see Liz’s heart sink and her eyes well up.

“I don’t think I can do this Dwayne.”

“It’s not what it seems, lets me show you around. The shelter is quite spacious.” He opened a pair of wooden doors before pointing out the shack. “This structure is the hub of our life support. There are filters for treating the water and oxygen, all personal improvements on the designs used on the Deliverance. Those have been supporting seven people for a year with very limited resources. I have a lake behind my house that we can draw water from. There are diesel powered power generators as well as solar arrays on top of the house. Come on, let me show you what’s below, you are going to find it’s very cozy.

Dwayne led them down the stairs, cautioning them to be careful on the steep steps leading them below, where they stood before a large steel door.

“This is a two part door that serves as an air lock, keeping all the good clean air inside and the harmful stuff out. If radiation is a factor, there is shielding around the structure to keep us safe.”

“Do you think there will be radioactive...what do you call it?”

“Fallout? Quite possible. Shephard reported finding higher than normal levels while they were on the Icarus. So what degree, we don’t know, but at least I am prepared.”

“Dwayne, why do you have this? Did you not believe in the mission. Did you not believe in Michael?” He opened the last door and stepped inside to a flashing red light. He hit the switch on the door to turn it off.

“That light will let us know that someone is outside and coming down the steps. I have some protection so I will be able to leave the shelter from time to time.”

“You didn’t answer me?”

“Liz, I was part of that mission, I believed in it as well as Michael. He was the best there was to lead that team. It took a long time to admit that, but it’s true. Still, one can’t put all their eggs in one basket.”

“So you built a bomb shelter?”

“Actually I was working on this for many years. I do some consulting work on the side for a company researching means by which we can live on the moon and maybe one day on the surface of Mars. Too bad I will never get to see that happen. Most of this, as well as the biospheres I will be setting up, are all in the final experimental phases. If it works, I might be able to start producing fresh produce within small little enclosed environments.” He could tell she wasn’t really interested so he led them to the main living room. Liz, expecting to see some kind of prison-like environment, was surprised to find what looked like a well-furnished apartment, complete with a couple of sofas, a coffee table, a small kitchen and dining area.

“Well it’s not home, but I was expecting worse.”

“I’m scared,” Ashley finally said.

“I know Ashley, but I tell you what, how would you like your own room?” She didn’t reply, but Dwayne continued anyway. “I can sleep on the couch, you can have the room on the right. Liz, you take the one on the left. The beds are fairly comfortable, and I have plenty of blankets. We will have to be sparing with the heaters, as they take a lot of amps to run, so dress warm. Follow me, let me show you the supply room.” Ashley curled up on the couch while her mother followed Dwayne into the supply room behind the main entryway. He turned the light on and again, Liz was very surprised. In the back of her mind she felt like she was voluntarily following him into a dark evil dungeon with chains on the walls and torture devices. Instead, it had everything she could imagine they would need.

“Dwayne, I don’t know what to say,”

“Nothing Liz, you don’t have to say anything. I would he more than honored to share my place with you and Ashley. If you wish, consider this your home for the next two years.”

“Two years?” she said with a worry on her voice.

“Yes Liz, I know it’s an eternity, but we will make it. Now pay attention, I have plenty of canned goods and freeze-dried meals. Lots of rice and wheat. This is the first aid station,” he said, pointing to a shelf with a large orange box and various bottles of medication. “This is basically a small pharmacy complete with some prescription medication for emergencies.”

“How did you get all this? Where did you get the money to pay for all this?”

“It’s mostly grant money. I have started some of the research and got some funding though the company I work with. I was planning on leaving NASA when Michael returned and was going to take a full time job as head of research, but it doesn’t look like that is going to happen now.”

“So all this was for an experiment? Was someone going to live here for a couple of years to see if it would all work?”

“Yes, fortunately for me and now you two, we have everything we are going to need.” Liz turned away and leaned her head to the shelf containing tools, lanterns fuel, and ammunition.

“So, we are test subjects?”

“No Liz, you are my guests.”

“Why, I thought you hated Michael? Why are you being so nice to us?”

“Liz, he gave his life for all of us, it’s the least thing I can do is pay him back by keeping the two he loves the most safe. Yes, we didn’t get along, but it was my pride that got in the way. I was an asshole to him. Maybe one day you will forgive me since I never had the chance to tell him I am sorry. It will be my penance to take care of you and Ashley in his place. I know I can never come close to being the hero he was to you and I won’t even try, just know you are safe with me.” She reached out and hugged him, letting another set of tears fall from her face.
”¨“Thank you Dwayne, I know if he could see you now, I know that he would forgive you. You came through in the end and he would be proud to call you a friend.”

“Perhaps, but that’s not important. I plan to be there in any way you need, even if it's to offer you my shoulder to mourn on for two years. Now, let me go over some security procedures with you, then I will bring all your stuff down here and let you get settled. You tell me what you two want, and I will go out get us one hell of a last feast before we seal this place up.”

---Gum Island Airfield, Dayton Texas, Present Day---

Dwayne kept trying to concentrate on the engine, but his mind nervously kept trailing off. His fingers were wet with black oil from loosening the cap. The engine on his Cessna had been recently tuned up and the rest of his plane was in good working order. It was a good little plane, but very slow and boring after all the aircraft he had flown. Part of him wished he wouldn’t have landed himself in the mess he had, he could still be with NASA and possibly be going up again within a year. All that changed after the simplest of lies, one he couldn’t break from, part because he loves the world he now lives in, one where he is everything the Michael’s family, that they needed.

---Judgement Passes Over, October 19th, 1986---

“Turner, where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry sir, I um...I-”
”¨“Save it, I will deal with you later, get with Davis and he will bring you up to speed.”

“What is the estimated time of impact?”

“What, have you been in the shitter the last 24 hours? There isn’t going to be an impact.” Dwayne looked around and noticed no one was tense, they were all lounging around, smoking cigars. Everyone seemed at peace, like we succeeded.

“What do you mean there isn’t going to be an impact?”

“Turner,” the flight surgeon said while watching his monitor, noticing that the heart rates of the astronauts were escalating except for three deceased crew, “while you were MIA, we had a visitation. Some little green guys came and saved the day.”

“Green guys? I don’t get it, is this some kind of a joke?”

“No joke loser, you missed the action," someone else called out. "Icarus is heading away from Earth and the crew is in stable orbit.”

“Bullshit, you guys screwing with me?” Turner said, trying to grasp all the confusing data his brain was trying to process. Davis came over and stood next to his friend.

“Dwayne, my friend, follow me.” Davis led him to a small windowed room filled with blackboards where quick brainstorming sessions could take place while still being able to monitor the mission.

“What’s all this talk about the Icarus missing us, they fucking with me?”

“Dwayne, you honestly think they would be screwing with you like that if it were still going to hit? You know Frank, he wouldn’t be this calm if there was still a danger. Look around, everyone is enjoying themselves.” The truth started to sink in.

“So what happened?”

“Truthfully? We have no clue. Sometime about 10 hours after we lost contact, communication with the Deliverance was restored. The crew was talking nonsense at first, claiming Owen was outside-”

“-He’s dead, that’s impossible.”

“We know, you saw it, he flatlined several hours after he was ejected. I don’t know who they were talking about, but someone outside was coding messages to the crew.”

“What kind of messages?”

“Dwayne, it was morse code. I understood it, someone was communicating to them.”

“Bull, sounds like they were going crazy up there and Sean coded the message himself.”

“That’s what we all thought...until the Deliverance changed course despite an inoperable RCS and wound up in Orbit. Then something wonderful happened the-”

“-this still sounds like a joke, I can’t believe any of this,” Dwayne said, thinking everything through in his mind.

“I know, but reports came sometime later from ground based observation posts. Some flying saucer appeared - a really massive one too, larger than the Icarus - and pulled the asteroid off course.”

“Come on, this is starting to sound like you guys were watching too much science fiction, you talking aliens and tractor beams now? What is it, Owen or Aliens?”

“Look Dwayne, I know it’s unbelievable, but you have to read the data. It’s all there. Something intervened and judgement day has passed over us. Mankind has once again received salvation.” Davis looked out the window to see people scrambling to their stations and picking up their phones. He opened the door and could hear the chaos ensuing.

---Deceit---

Dwayne turned off the highway and down the country road toward his home. He stepped on the accelerator and increased speed, knowing there were few sheriff patrols in his neck of the woods. He was excited to get back and tell Liz the news. He was full of doubt that what his good friend was telling him was the truth, but the data didn’t indeed lie, nor does an orbiter mysteriously wind up parked at the end of a runway. Just what was it that saved the day? Was it an alien, an angel, or just blind luck? Whatever it was, they wouldn’t have to suffer living in his shelter. Liz could go home to mourn, likely withdrawing from the world. It pained him to think of her going through the rest of her life without Michael, and Ashley not having a father to watch her grow into a mature woman. Dwayne knew that Liz would never marry again and that there was no way Liz would choose to be with him. Michael was now gone, and Liz was alone, but he knew there wasn’t anything likable about him, nothing Liz would find attractive after her soul mate’s departure from this world.

He stepped hard on the brakes, bringing his Jeep to a screeching halt at the entrance to the shelter and jumped out of the vehicle. His heart was pounding as he slid down the stairs and opened the door.

“Liz,” he shouted as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, “Liz, where are you?” He looked throughout the living room before finding her in the doorway of the bedroom. He was about to talk when she came running toward him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Dwayne, oh my god Dwayne, I was so scared you wouldn't return. Please don't leave us." Ashley approached and put her arms around his waist, enjoying the safety of his presence. "Dwayne you're our hero," Liz said. He started to open his mouth to tell her the news when her words struck his heart. He could feel the warmth of her neediness penetrate the area he was most vulnerable. “Liz,” he began to speak as she looked deep into his eyes. Dwayne paused a moment.

“What is it Dwayne?” Dwayne stood, unable to speak as his mind fought itself over what his next words were going to be.

“Liz, it's devastating,” he said, forcing a tear for form. “The impact did more damage than we thought.” Dwayne continued to hold on to her as she collapsed. “I’m going to keep you safe Liz,” he didn’t know why he just lied to her, but he knew he enjoyed finally being someone’s hero especially being Elizabeth Owen’s personal hero.

---Star City, Russia, Present Day---

Shephard was busy directing the delivery personnel using his English to Russian dictionary. They were moving in large crates stenciled with phrases like “Sensitive equipment, handle with care,” “Warning Dangerous Contents DO NOT OPEN,” “Authorized Personnel Only.” He was getting stressed out at not being able to properly direct the movers when Catryn or “Cat”, as she liked to be called, finally arrived. Cat, an American research assistant who was half Russian and spoke the language well, was hired to assist.

“Sorry Dr. Shephard for being a little late, the subway was very crowded,” she said, immediately apologizing.

“Hi Cat, don’t worry about it. Do me a favor and tell these guys to set that up in the main lab. You have that floor plan we worked on yesterday?”

“Yes Doctor, you want me to have them set everything up according to that?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m so glad you are here,” he said, rolling himself into his office where he poured himself a fresh thermos of coffee from his personal coffee maker and screwed the cap tight before placing it on his lap. Gene wheeled himself to his desk, placing the thermos next to his notepads. Movement at the doorway caught his eye. He took a moment to process the information in his brain and looked up to see Megan standing there.

“Well well well, this is an unexpected surprise, I’m so happy you decided to come for a visit.”

“Hello Gene, mind if I come in?”

“Mind, why would I mind? Please come in, shut the door. Can I get you something?”

“Thank you, some coffee would be great, but let me, I can get it myself,” Gene would have fought her, wanting to prove he wasn’t a useless cripple, but he wanted to avoid any
unnecessary conflict just as the person he cared very deeply for finally came back into his life.

“I’ve missed you Megan. I was afraid I scared you off and you returned to the US.”

“Well that’s why I am here Gene. First off, thank you for yelling at me that day. It took a lot of spine - no pun intended - for you to put me in my place. I was being a selfish bitch and yes you were very correct, I was cheapening your actions. It’s very complicated, but I see that event much clearer now.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sorry too, perhaps I said a few things I shouldn’t have.”

“No, you didn’t. You said exactly what I needed to hear. I never had a chance to deal with all that happened in the last couple of years. Our friend’s deaths, our near death experience and Brad leaving me, all those I swept under the carpet and buried. The night of the banquet forced all that to the surface. As tough as I was, it was too much to handle and I couldn’t run any longer from my feelings. I pushed a lot of people away including you.”

“Megan, you didn’t push me away, nor did I want you to leave, but I really needed your strength. I had no idea you had so much under the hood you hadn’t dealt with. I hope there is something I can do.” A loud rap on the door sounded, followed by the door being slightly propped open.

“Yes Cat, what is it?” She opened the door and walked in with a large envelope.

“Excuse me, Doctor, this just arrived for you.” She crossed the room and handed Gene the envelope. He looked it over, recognizing the Houston Texas address.

“No shit, really?” he said as he tore into the parcel. Inside was a letter and an envelope. Gene focused on the letter.
Dear Dr. Shephard,
I was pained to learn of your injury, but quite relieved to know you are rapidly recovering. It is my understanding that you are establishing a research facility and I felt inspired to, without reservation, contribute to your project as well as your continued recovery. Please find the enclosed check, a long overdue bonus for all you have done for me. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I can be of further assistance financially.
Your Friend, Clinton J. Millbourne II
Gene’s hands trembled as he withdrew the check from the envelope and read the sum.

“Oh my god, this can’t be. What a miracle,”

“Gene, what is it?”

“Remember that guy I did consulting for, that oil tycoon, Millbourne?”

“Yeah, the jerk?”

“Well, not anymore, he just donated $250 million.” Megan’s jaw hit the floor. She read the letter that Gene handed her several times. It became immediately clear where the
source of Clint’s inspiration came from.

“Gene, this is really great news. What a miracle indeed.”

“Well, can I take you out for dinner, I’m buying.”

"I would enjoy that, but Gene...I'm not here to make amends and pick up where we left off."

"You are leaving?"

"I'm sorry Gene, I want to stay by your side and help you build your dream, but there is something I have to do and I need to return to the United States right away. I will be back sometime, but for now, I have to go home."

"Hey, I get it. It's ok Megan, I'm choosing to stay here for now, but I can't expect you too as well, especially if it's out of guilt. You and I are and always will be friends. I know we didn't start that way, but people change. Know that I am always here for you. Now, where do you want to go for dinner tonight?"

---September 15, 1987 Houston Police Department Westside---

Reid jumped about ten feet as a file landed harshly on his desk producing a loud snapping sound. He looked up to see Harris standing over him with a furious look.

“You taking stuff out of the Owen file again?”

“What are you talking about?” Reid pretended to not know what Harris was talking about.

“Don’t play stupid with me, the phone records are gone. You’re the only one who gives a shit about this case, so where are they?” Reid, caught, opened his drawer and withdrew the phone records he had pulled out of the file to complete photocopying the entire case file. “So, you did go in there again. Tell you what, let’s go talk to the Serge, because I am tired of you going through my cases.

“Well if you would approach the cases with a little more enthusiasm, I wouldn’t have to touch them. Instead, you sit around with your thumb up your ass.”

“Hey, fuck you. The Owen case was mine before it was yours. The only thing productive you did with the case was start banging the sister.” Reid snapped and gave Harris a hard push.

“I’m not banging Karen you asshole.” Harris got real close and put his face in Reid’s.

“Yeah, just you go ahead and do that again.”

“Hey, you two assholes mind telling me what the hell is going on in my department?” Whithers said as he approached the two bickering detectives. These kinds of disputes where nothing new, but for the sake of morale needed to be stopped immediately.

“Reid’s been conducting his own investigation of the Owen case. Caught him red handed with some of my case files.”

“Both of you, in my office right now,” he yelled. As the three entered Whithers closed the door a little louder than normal.

“This true Reid, you working on that damn case again when you are supposed to be working for me?” he said, cutting to the chase.

“Well, Harris wasn’t taking the case seriously. I told him several times to follow up on some leads, and he didn’t.” Whithers turned to Harris.

“Reid here telling me the truth?”

“Yes,” Reid started to smile from his easy victory when Whithers started yelling.
Ӭ
“Ferguson is Harris’s superior not you. You don’t get to tell Harris how to handle his case. If he doesn’t want to do shit with it, and personally I don’t blame him, that’s between him and Ferguson. You got your dream job, in exchange you let this case go.” Harris was gloating now, enjoying Reid getting a much deserved bitch session. “What the fuck are you smiling at? I’m not even close to dealing with you yet. Wipe that goddamn grin off that ugly face of yours before I knock you senseless.”

“Sorry sir,” was all he could say.

“Reid, you mind sharing just what this ground breaking lead you have here is?”

“Sir, I have been after him to follow up on some phone calls from Johnson.”

“Phone calls, that’s your big break? Are you getting private lessons on the mat with this broad, is that why you can’t let go?”

“No sir, I am not, she’s almost twenty years younger than me.”

“Oh blow it out your ass Reid, I’m thirty years her senior and I would still do her.” Reid was getting pissed how they were all disrespecting Karen. “Harris, get the hell out of my office, I will deal with you later.” Harris got up and left, slamming the door shut. Whithers started to calm down.

“Reid, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to suggest you two were hitting the sack. I know what she did for you and all of us. It’s reasonable for you to feel obligated to the person that is responsible for you still breathing.”

“Sir, I just want to see this case solved. I have this strong hunch that there is something more going on. I don’t get why everyone is okay with this man’s family going missing. After what he did for us, it pisses me off that this has been a one man investigation from early on.”

“I understand that Reid, but I can’t have you running around acting like this is your department. I need you. We have work to do and I can’t have you distracted, otherwise bad guys get away. Tell you what, you go home, take a few days vacation and I will cover for you. I am going to turn a blind eye and you follow up on anything you have pending on the Owen case. You come back to me Monday morning, and I don’t ever want to see you touch that case again? Do we have a deal?”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“Don’t thank me. I am doing this because that Man up there deserves every bit of effort we can give him, and you are the only one who will give it to him. If it weren’t for him, I would be suspending you right now. Now get out and go find something Harris can use.”

“What about the case file?”

“Use that copy you made that is sitting in your drawer. Now get the hell out of my office,” he said, screaming as loud as he could. Reid rushed out of the office and back to his desk, hoping not to waste any time he had left.

---Mission Control, Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center, Houston Texas---

"I'm sorry Detective, but Mr. Thompson is not on site at the moment, is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, if you can. I understand this place was put into lockdown sometime around Oct, 17th. Can you tell me what that means in terms of protocol?"

"Sure. Sometimes during critical failures, we want to have a chance to analyze the data before releasing any inaccurate data to the public. All communications in and out are cut off, and no one can leave."

"All communication?"

"There are some secure lines out of the building, but those are only for talking to other agencies and government.”

"Well I have a phone record that shows a call by this number was made after the lockdown. I have tried calling it, but it appears it's been disconnected. Do you recognize this extension?"

"That looks to me like one of the personnel lines. Let me see." She pulled up a phone directory out of her drawer and opened to the personnel section. She traced her fingers down the list until she stopped. Here, it was the old line for the family care services department. That was headed up by-"

"-Susan Phillips. When did she leave?"

"About a week before, if I recall. Still that line would have been cut off."

"Are there any cameras in there?"

"Oh no, not at all. The area is full of private family counseling centers...well frankly, there is no security threat there."

"Well, in that case, you wouldn't mind if I take a look around there will you?"

"I don't see what you would find, but I can take you over." Helen lead Reid to the appropriate department and announced to the staff who he was.

"Where was Susan's desk?"

"Back here, let me show you. We eliminated her position and consolidated her tasks to other staff. As you can see, her office is still empty. In fact she hasn't bothered showing up to get her stuff. It's all boxed up waiting for her. Feel free to take a look through it, we frankly don't care."

"You really are a nice big family aren't you?"

"Kinda hard to like her after what she did to Megan. Quite the tramp," she said with a little bitterness as Reid opened the boxes and began looking through her stuff. Reid withdrew a small stack of photos and began going through them. It was mostly Polaroids of her and the other office girls out dancing. One had Megan in the photo, dressed rather nicely and dancing away with another woman.

"I'm sorry Detective, do you have anything else for me, I have to finish a few things before leaving?"

"Wow, pretty hot there," Reid said as he came to a group photo of the astronauts and their wives or dates. It looked like a formal occasion. "In the red, that's Liz and Michael next to her."

"Quite an investigator. Yes, that's the Owens."

"She's kinda tall?" he said, looking at her standing over her husband. In fact most of the girls were a bit taller or equal to their man's hight.

"Tall? Oh, no, they are all wearing pretty high heels. They were all joking around that night. No, the men are just short." Reid looked at the men, all about the same height.

"Short?"

"Yeah, we called them, the "Short Stuff". Typically astronauts can be no taller than 6'2" due to the shuttle's lack of space and size of the space suits. THOR was a little different. We had to pack that craft with extra supplies, and extra shielding."

"Shielding?"

"Most shuttle missions are within Earth's Magnetic field. This field deflects all the harmful solar radiation that would otherwise kill all life on Earth. Everything from the Sun we need to sustain life passes through, while the radiation is deflected out. This mission took the crew for a very extended stay beyond that field. If it weren't for the extra shielding, they wouldn't have made it back. Because of the limited space, this mission called for shorter astronauts."

"The Short Stuff, that's pretty funny. How tall was Michael?"

"I think he was right at the limit of 5'8". In fact, I think they all were. They might have squeezed an inch or two in depending on skill set, but they were all around 5'8"." Reid thought about that. 5'8", why was that bugging him?

"That should be enough, you mind if I hold on to these?"

"As far as I am concerned, they are all yours"

"Thank you for your time ma'am." Helen escorted Reid to the main lobby where he exited the building and went back to his truck. The 5'8" thing was starting to really bother him. He pulled the case notes out and looked them over and over.

"The damn ladder, son of a bitch," he said, looking at the photo again, "SON OF A BITCH." Reid ran back into the building. The security guard saw him come back in in a hurry.

“Forget something Detective?”

“Yes, can you call Helen back for me, I have a couple of questions I forgot to ask.”

“Sure,” he said as he picked up the phone and dialed. After a few rings he put the phone down.

“Sorry Detective, she is not at her desk.”

“What about Thompson, is he back yet?” The guard acknowledged he was indeed back and called for him. After a short wait, Thompson was at the door to escort him back to his office.

“Mr. Thompson, I found this photo among Susan’s personal belongings.” He looked at it.

“Yes, that was our Christmas party back in '83. The shuttle program was booming, had several successful missions and we decided to have a huge Christmas party to celebrate."

“Who is this? This guy right here.”

“Turner? That's Dwayne Turner. He and Owen were top on our list, both having commanded shuttle missions, and both with impressive backgrounds and extensive flight time. In the end, Owen was given command of the A-Team and Turner was commander of B-Team.”

“What are the two teams?”

“It would be a mighty shame if you put one through years of intense training, and a day before heading out into deep space to blow up a hunk of rock, your main guy gets sick or is killed in a training accident,” Thompson explained as plainly as possible. “Instead, we train two or more teams at the same time. As training progresses, we eventually evaluate the two teams, and pick the better team, sometimes exchanging crew members.”

“Why did Owen get command?”

“Both were good. I personally liked Turner for his age, but that was deceiving. You don’t always get maturity with age. Owen was a bit younger, but very intelligent, likable, good leadership, cool under fire and didn’t have the ego Turner had. There was also the international aspect to the decision.”

“Mixed company with the Soviets?”

“Exactly. It was the first time in history that we were working extensively with the Soviet Union on a joint mission. This was very critical for the success of the mission as the Soviets designed much of the Deliverance’s power plants. It was only natural to have chief engineers on board. Our crews were in part chosen for their compatibility with the Russians. Turner was ok, but he didn’t get along very well, while Owen, on the other hand, spoke pretty solid Russian, and got along with the Russians, better than most of the Americans. In the end, that was the deciding factor. If WWIII erupted on that ship, the whole planet would be doomed, we simply couldn't take the risk.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“So what is your interest in Turner?” Thompson asked.

“I have never seen him before. Never interviewed him.”

“Well he turned in his resignation about two weeks after the crew returned to Earth. In fact is was the day of Owen’s funeral, he came to DC for a day, gave me the news, and left early the next morning. Took a job with BioTech Labs and works mostly from his ranch home about 60 miles from here.” Reid looked over his notes.

“B-Team, what do they do when the A-Team leaves Orbit?”

“I’m the flight director and I oversee all safety and critical aspects of the mission. I have flight control operators monitoring every second of the mission. There are seven astronauts in space, but thousands of support crew on the ground working with them. Instead of having all of them barking orders to the crew, everything passes through the Capsule Communicator. His job is to relay all voice traffic to the crew. Since Apollo, we use other astronauts with actual flight experience, or members of the B-Team. Turner and his pilot served as main CAPCOM during the critical phases and rotated shifts with one other astronaut not on either team.”

“Do you know if he had any interaction with Mrs. Owen?”

“Sure, several times a week. She and Ashley would come by for regular video calls to Commander Owen. In fact all the families would come by and say hi to their loved ones far away. Since Turner and Davis were the intermediaries, they had a lot of contact.”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to Davis before. When was the last time they called Mr. Owen?”

“I would say it was sometime a week before Oct 18th. That was the last time we saw them. You know Dr. McCormack has a copy of those tapes right now. She is doing some research for upcoming projects. Most of that is privileged, but in light of the situation, I say have at it. All you would do is get a court order any way. Might as well save you the trouble.”

“You mind giving the Doctor a call and letting her know I might be stopping by?”

“Of course. Anything else I can do?”

“No, that will be all.” Reid turned to leave and paused. “Oh, one more thing," Reid said, scratching his head," you have an address for Turner?”

---

Reid turned onto the dirt road and travelled toward the house at the end. There was a lot of open property and some strange looking structures off in the distance. He pulled up to the two story house. It looked like a farmhouse with a nice front deck for sitting outside and enjoying the hot summer nights. Reid got out of his truck and looked around. No one appeared to be home, but he proceeded to the front door anyway. After a few minutes of knocking, it became clear no one was home, so he turned to have a look around. Reid turned to go back to his car when the structures caught his attention and piqued his curiosity. There appeared to be some kind of enclosure, large white inflatable looking structures that said BioTech Labs on the side. He approached, careful not to slip in the mud puddles that littered the ground after the fresh rain the other day. Reid peered inside the window and saw rows and shelves of plants, many bearing fruit and or vegetables.

“It looks like some kind of greenhouse,” he said aloud. Thompson said he did work from home a lot. Reid wondered just what his job was all about. BioTech? Why would one give up being an astronaut to work with inflatable structures? He reached the front door. There was a sign that read: “Pressurized environment.” He looked inside the window and it appeared there was a second door on the other side. After a moment of debating, he thought he better not open the door. He turned and left, finding a small concrete structure across the path. He drove up and stood next to a wooden door leading to a tornado shelter.

“Strange, we don’t get tornados in this part of Texas,” Reid said aloud as he fished his car keys out of his pocket. The keys caught on something and he lost his grip on them, letting them fall into the puddle.

“Shit,” he said as he squatted, reaching into the muddy water. As he fished the keys out, he began to look at the footprints. The one by the puddle was very crude, but it got his attention. Tracing the prints beyond the thick mud, he found other prints and examined them. Carefully so he didn’t step in the tracks, he went back to the truck and got his case file again. He opened to the forensics report on the prints at the Owen house, looking at the photographs for a few minutes before concluding they were similar. Reid grabbed a small bag and the file, returning to one of the prints. Inside he found a small tape measure and took a measurement of the print. It was a match. Next he set the photo next to the actual print, and all the markings were the same, even a little missing tread on the left heel.

“Son of a bitch, this guy was there.” Reid started to get excited following the prints around. There was heavy traffic leading to the house and the wooden doors. On his way over, he stopped at the truck and put his case file and tool bag back. Reid unsnapped his 4 D Cell Mag Light from the clips installed in the roll bar on the inside of his truck and walked toward the wooden doors. After fiddling for a few, the wood plank blocking the door was removed. He threw it aside and carefully proceeded down the short hall before coming to a steel door.

He spun the wheel to open the door and found a dark space below. He shined his flashlight and found a set of steep steps leading down to another door. As he proceeded downward, he found a light switch on the wall and turned on the lights. Carefully descending, he arrived at the next door, another hard steel door with a large wheel, this one locked with a chain and padlock. After a moment fiddling with his lock pick, the lock popped open and he tossed the chain aside. The wheel spun easily and eventually freed the door. As he started to prop it open, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked, sounded. He drew his 9mm and called out.

"Police, I am coming in. Don't shoot alright."

"I don't believe you, go away," a woman's voice replied.

"Ma'am, I am Detective Reid. I am going to reach through the door and show you my ID. Nothing funny, I just want you to see I am not lying to you, OK." Reid produced his badge and slipped it through the door. After a short pause...

"How do I know you didn't take this off a dead body? I think you are lying to me." Her statements confused Reid. What was she talking about?

"Look, I am not going to hurt you, I am just looking for some people."

"Who are you looking for?"

"I am looking for Elizabeth Owen and her daughter." A girl's voice sounded.

"Mom, what's going on, who is that?"

"Quiet Ash, go back to where you are supposed to be." Reid heard the name Ash. His heart skipped a beat. Was this really them? He tried a new tactic.

"Liz, I am not lying to you, please open the door. You are safe, no one is going to harm you. I am going to take you home. Can I come in?"

"There is no home, everything is gone, there is nothing up there for us."

"I don't understand, your home isn't gone, I was just there the other day. What do you mean it's gone?"

"You couldn't have been there, everything is destroyed." Reid thought she was acting very strange and talking nonsense.

"Tell me, why is it destroyed?"

"Are you stupid or something, the asteroid, the goddamn asteroid destroyed everything. We are safe down here."

'What did that bastard do to them, have they been down here this entire time hiding from an apocalypse that never arrived?' He thought long and hard. "Liz, I don't know how to tell you this, but the Earth is safe, your Michael succeeded. If you don't believe me, come outside and see for yourself, It’s a bright sunny day out." There was a long erie silence followed by an increasing sobbing, then finally anger.

"No, no, oh my god no!" She started crying out loud and the sound of the shotgun hitting the floor indicated it was safe to open the door. Inside, a small frail looking red headed woman was backing into the corner and sliding down the wall, coming to a sitting position on the concrete. Reid stepped through the door and walked over to her.

"Elizabeth, we have been looking all over for you. He looked up to see Ashley standing in the doorway. "You must be Ashley?" She ignored him and ran over to her mother, hugging her and holding her tight.

"Elizabeth, you two are going to be alright. I am going to call for help." He holstered his weapon and reached for his radio.

"162 to dispatch, come in over." After a second a voice came back over the radio. The voice was interrupted by the sound of a large handgun being cocked behind him." Ashley and Liz started screaming at the figure behind him.

"Nice and easy put the radio down, then very carefully put that gun on the floor."

"Dwayne, it's too late, you aren't going to get away with it. We are on to you, now lets not make things worse by kidnapping a police office."

"Dispatch to 162, come in over. 162, what's your 20?"

"On to me huh? Doesn't sound like you told them where you were going did you?" he said, reaching into Reid's holster and taking hold of his duty weapon. Dwayne stuffed the Beretta into his pants and dug the barrel of the .357 into Reid's back. Reid knew he screwed up. He had been told to back off this case and to leave it to Harris, but he was in too deep. He didn't want to get in trouble, so he didn't tell anyone where he was going. In his defense, he didn't think he needed to. He just wanted to question Dwayne and never considered him a suspect until he saw the boot prints. It was blind luck that he stumbled upon Liz and Ashley. All he was going on, was that Dwayne was one of the last few people who saw the two alive. Now he would likely die down here along with Liz and her daughter. Dwayne would panic and lock them up down here, or kill them. He couldn't let that happen. The gun was right in his middle back. Reid started asking Dwayne questions to distract him while he ran through the techniques Karen taught him.

“Twist and pivot quickly holding the right hand out to push the gun out of the way using your whole body. When the left hand comes around, grab ahold of his wrist, and pivot again applying torque on the hand making sure to keep the gun barrel pointed in a safe direction.” he thought, recalling her instructions. He slowly moved, getting Dwayne's gun to point away from Liz and Ashley. His heart started beating faster as he prepared.

"Dwayne, I know you care for these two girls very much, you don't really want anything to happen to them do you?" Dwayne began speaking when Reid executed his plan. Everything happened exactly as he had done a hundred times, his muscle memory kicked in, applying the technique running purely on instinct. While safely out of the way, Dwayne fired, the round exited the barrel where it traveled into the kitchen. With no time to fully process what was happening, Reid began the final part of the maneuver, careful as he held onto Dwayne’s hand twisting it into an unnatural position, making sure to keep the barrel pointed away from his body.

By the time Dwayne figured out what was happening, a searing pain traveled up his arm forcing him to move quickly in the only direction where the pain would stop. Liz watched him flying though the air where he landed hard on the concrete. He was disarmed and on the ground struggling as Reid tried maneuvering Dwayne into a secure hold. Reid thought about Karen's teachings on strength vs technique and stopped using strength, instead applying pressure on Dwayne's wrist. Dwayne immediately started to yell as Reid’s grip caused pain on the nerves in his wrist. Dwayne complied with the pain and relaxed allowing Reid to get his arm into position to cuff him. As he withdrew his cuffs, he heard Liz cussing like a mad woman.

"You fucking bastard, you fucking bastard. Die you miserable son of a bitch." She appeared with the shotgun and pointed it at Dwayne's head while saliva sprayed from her mouth as she continued to cuss.

"Liz no!" Reid yelled, releasing his grip and lunging for the shotgun, pushing it out of the way just as she pulled the trigger. A loud discharge of gas suddenly expanding bounced off the concrete walls, deafening everyone in the room. Reid fought with her for possession of the shotgun, while her screams produced muffled sounds to his ringing ears. After a brief moment, he took the shotgun from her and saw Dwayne at the other end of the entryway. He was standing across the small area near the door, reaching for Reid's 9mm Beretta in his waistband. Reid pointed the 12 gauge at him.

"It's all over Dwayne, don't do it." Dwayne didn't listen and slowly withdrew the weapon. Reid chambered a new round and raised the shotgun, pointing at Dwayne's chest.

"You can't hurt me, he said, turning the 9mm toward Reid."

'A police assisted suicide. It was just as well, it would save everyone a lot of headache,' Reid thought to himself as he discharged the weapon into Dwayne's center body mass. Dwayne stood frozen, not moving. Slowly he took a step forward as if stumbling forward, emerging from the smoke clutching his chest. Reid watched as the look of horror on Dwayne's face faded, slowly replaced with a grin, then a large smile. He began laughing as he stepped forward. Reid, confused, reloaded and fired again, and again. He fired all seven remaining rounds, and none of them were having an effect on Dwayne. Liz and Ashley were plugging their ears, still screaming from the gunfire. Reid’s ears were throbbing from the repeated gunshots without hearing protection. Dwayne lowered the weapon and fired, putting a round into the meaty part of Reid's thigh. Reid instantly collapsed clutching his leg and dropped the empty shotgun. Dwayne turned to Liz and pulled the plugs out of his ears, hearing Reid moaning from his wound.

"You don't think I would be that stupid to let you point a shotgun with live rounds at me every day now do you?" he said as he hit her hard across the face with Reid's gun.

To Be Continued....Episode 15 “Season One Finale - The Hero and the Terror Part 1”

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by G.M. Shephard

Dwayne flees with Ashley leaving Liz and Reid trapped in the bunker with time running out. Michael terribly alone, having finally given up, celebrates his anniversary by drinking away his pain and dressing up in his wife's clothes.

Angel S:1 E:15 Season One Finale “The Hero and the Terror Part I”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Reid slowly opened his eyes and looked around his environment. A constant throbbing in his leg and ringing ears quickly brought him back to reality and reminded him where he was. He tried to move his left hand but quickly found it was handcuffed to something that was tugging back. There was a faint sound of a voice. He turned his head to see Liz next to him tugging on the handcuff. She was saying something to him, but he was still having a hard time hearing. It was worse than standing for hours in the front row of a rock concert. Reid got himself into a sitting position and laid his back against the wall. He cringed from the pain in his upper thigh.

He inspected the wound caused by the high velocity, low energy round that had penetrated his upper thigh. The entrance wound was toward the outer edge and appeared to have passed cleanly through the leg. He was lucky, it didn’t look as if the hollow point had a chance to mushroom, thus saving him from severe muscle damage. Still, it hurt like a son of a bitch. He looked back up at Liz whose faint voice was hard to make out. Focusing on her lips and concentrating on what sounds he could make out, he was able to understand her. She was yelling at him for ignoring her.

“Liz, calm down,” he said in an elevated voice, “I can’t hear you that well. My ears are ringing, I still can’t hear. I need you to slow down and help me, OK.” Liz now understood his lack of response to her voice and settled down. Reid looked at his hand and found he was cuffed to her right wrist. His cuffs were strung through a solid metal thermostat and he knew they weren’t going anywhere. He tugged and tugged, but nothing budged other the little Liz was giving him at the expense of her comfort.

“DON”T BOTHER, IT WON’T BUDGE,” she yelled. He understood and nodded. ‘HOW IS YOUR LEG?”

“It hurts like hell, but I will be alright. Did you wrap it?” She gave a quick thumbs up instead of yelling. “Where is he, is he around?” She shook her head no, happy he asked a yes or no question as a follow-up. Once he left that door, he could be anywhere. She wondered all the places he had been over the past year, while she thought he was in his greenhouse or some other bunker. How could she have been this stupid she thought. She was played for a complete fool and she bought it, hook, line and sinker. Liz started crying, thinking of the life her stupidity robbed Ashley of. This entire time, they thought they were the sole survivors in the area, when in fact, life as normal was happening above them. Worse, she was home free, but her anger turned wrath overturned the edge they finally had over Dwayne. Still, Reid would have been better off letting her kill Dwayne.

“I’m so goddamn stupid.”

“Liz, you’re not stupid,” Reid said, able to piece together words he could make out.” We were standing on the edge of an apocalypse. It was logical to seek safety. You were lied to by an evil man with a very dark heart. Please Liz, this isn’t your fault, don’t let this get to you.

“What about Michael? You said he succeeded. Please don’t tell me Dwayne lied about him, and he has been searching for me this entire time. Please don’t. Oh, God Michael, I’m sorry.” She really started breaking down at the dreadful thought she conjured up in her mind.

“I didn’t catch that Liz, what about Michael succeeding?” She struggled to say it again, then he finally understood.

“Liz, I’m so sorry, but that part was true. Michael is gone. I’m really sorry you have to find that out this way. He reached his right hand over to take her left. He caressed it, doing the best he could under the circumstances to comfort her. “They did succeed though, somehow the asteroid moved off course and passed by. There was some emergency and he left the ship to save his crew, but -” he stopped thinking it wasn’t a good time to tell her how her husband died.

“Please, I need to know. Don’t hold back. I would know by now if I weren't so damn stupid. Please tell me.”

“Ok, I am sure you will be privileged to more detailed information if we can make it out of here, but from what the public has been told, a piece of the asteroid hit him and ejected him away from the ship. The ship was badly damaged and they couldn’t go after him. He saved the other four who, by some divine miracle, returned to earth.

“Four, there were a total of seven?”

“Yes, the military guy and one of the Russians were killed. The rest have returned. You know Dr. McCormack?”

“Megan? Yes, very well, we are good friends. You telling me she’s alive?”

“Yes, I am here because she and your sister-in-law haven’t given up on you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Back the hell up, my who?” He didn’t catch that last sentence, “Who did you say was helping Megan?”

“Your sister-in-law, Karen,” he replied.

“Buster, I don’t have a sister-in-law. Both Michael and I are only children. I have no idea who you are talking about.”

“You don’t know a Karen Santucci? She is Michael’s half sister from his mom’s side.”

“I don’t know where you are getting this information from, but his mom left him a long time ago.”

“Well Dr. McCormack seems to know her well, in fact she has some remarkable skills that really helped me find you.”

“Look Reid, I am really confused right now, so please don’t talk about people I don’t know. I am just figuring out everything I have known for the last year has been a lie. The one thing I want to be a lie right now is that Michael is dead, and his death seems to be the only bit of truth that asshole has been feeding me. Some mystery sister? Don’t mention her again, in fact keep her away from me and my daughter. Did it ever fucking occur to you detective, that she was some poor bastard kid that Michael’s bitch of a mother probably had and has come out of the woodwork seeking fame and money from a brother she never gave a shit about?”

“I’m sorry Liz. Honestly, I don’t know who she is. She and the Doctor came into the station to file a missing persons. McCormack was in space at the time, and we never even questioned her motives. We just assumed her friend was just as good and decent as she was. I will find out who she is, but she cares for you and Ashley very much, it just seemed like she has known you two for a while now.” Reid paused in thought, “Ashley, where is she?”

“Dipshit has her locked up in the bedroom next to us. I think she’s asleep, don’t wake her, I need to think.”

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

Trish walked along the row of offices with her morning coffee when a loud noise startled her. Scared out of her wits she turned in time to see a small Hacky Sack fall from the window of Whithers' office. Her first response was out of anger and she looked up at him expecting him and several others to be laughing. Instead, he was on the phone and waving frantically to get her attention. As soon as they made eye contact, he stopped signaling and began waving her inside. She opened the door and timidly walked inside, closing the door behind her.

"Yes sir, you want to see me," he held up his hand while he continued to yell at someone on the phone. He finally slammed the phone back on the hook and looked at Trish with a very serious look.

"Where the hell is Reid?" Trish shrugged her shoulders.

"How should I know?"

"Mendoza, do I look like a beat cop to you?"

"Sir?"

"Don't bullshit me right now, I'm a senior detective if that placard on my door wasn't obvious, it's my job to use my keen senses to uncover bullshit. Hell, it didn't take much to figure out you and Reid have been shacking up, so don't stand there and pretend you don't know what the fuck I am talking about and answer my goddamn question."

"Sorry sir, I haven't talked to him since yesterday morning."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, just that he was going to check something out. He was pretty vague. Why, what's going on?"

"He didn't show up this morning like he was supposed to. A dispatch relay out near Dayton received a faint radio call from a 162 reporting in, then silence. No trace of him."

"What about the transponder in his shop?" Mendoza said using Houston PD slang referring to their vehicles.

"No good, his shop is in the motor pool. Must have taken his truck."

"Well sir...we...we-"

"-Spit it out Mendoza, what is it?"

"We were supposed to go out last night, but he never picked me up. I called his house several times, but no answer."

"Ok, I am going to let your boss know I'm borrowing you for a while, head over to his house and see if he's there. If he's sick or hung over tell him to get his ass in, I don't care how shitty he feels."

"Yes sir," Trish said, making for the door.

"And Mendoza, keep it quiet."

"Sure thing Sarge, you mind doing the same for us?" she said, tossing the Hacky Sack back at him.

---Bunker---

“Wake up you two,” Dwayne said, repeatedly smacking Reid on the cheek. Reid awoke suddenly, wanting to fight, until he saw Dwayne's 9mm pointed at him. Liz woke up and started cussing at him.

“You bastard, I hope you rot in hell.” Liz said spitting at him

“Liz, I very well might, I know I deserve it, but you and the Lone Ranger over there aren’t going to get the satisfaction. He pointed the gun at her while he withdrew his Smith & Wesson .357 and pointed it at Reid. Liz cringed, afraid that her life was about to end.

“Do it you miserable asshole, kill us. I would rather us die and be with Michael again, than live after what you did to us,” she said, screaming.

“Liz, you don’t understand, I don’t want to kill you. You know I love you, but I can’t have you screwing up my plans. Since that first day, I knew we would reach this point, it was unavoidable that this day was coming. Ever since you found that can, I’ve been planning my escape. Never thought I would have to give you up so soon, but it is here. I have-”

Reid interrupted him. “-You’re sick. You kept Liz and the girl in here for a year, taking advantage of her fragile state. Her husband gave his life for you and you conned her into being...I don’t even want to know what you were getting from her. You sir, are one very fucked up individual. I have seen some of the worst criminals, but you Dwayne, there is a special place in hell that they are renovating just for your arrival. You couldn’t have what Michael had, because he is really that much better than you are.”

“You are completely correct, I am, but that doesn’t mean I am going to stick around. I have made all the arrangements, and I am going to deprive you of my worthless self soon enough. I will go away, and by the time you get out of here, I will be long gone. Now you two are going to be in here a few days, and if you want to be comfortable, you listen to me, otherwise, you can stay like that.” Dwayne produced a handcuff key from his green Alpha Jacket and tossed it to Liz. He cocked the .357 and pointed it at Reid.” None of that Aikido crap, you hear me?

Now, Liz, I want you to un-cuff yourself, and cuff the detective’s other hand around the thermostat. She quickly did as she was told. He put the gun in his waistband and, while keeping Reid’s 9mm trained on her, tossed her a length of chain, a couple of padlocks and a second pair of handcuffs he bought at the local gun store.

“What the hell are you doing, you can’t leave us here.” Ashley was suddenly awake and started yelling to be let out of the room.

“Ashley honey,” Liz yelled through the wall, "Mommy’s here. I know you’re afraid, but I need you to stop banging on the wall.”

“I want out, let me out,” she screamed.

“What are you going to do with my daughter?” Liz had a growing concern he was going to take her.

“She will be fine, if you listen to me. Now secure that chain to the thermostat and then lock the other end to those cuffs. Secure them around your own wrists, and then you are going to do the same for the detective here. When you are done, use the other end of the key to engage the double locks so they don’t tighten on you while I am gone.” After she finished locking Reid into place, Dwayne backed up beyond the length of chain. “Now give me the key.” After she tossed it back to him, Dwayne walked to the front of the bunker and fiddled around with some kind of device. He bent over and gave the large blue object a couple of good tugs, ensuring it was tight. He walked out of sight and they could hear the door closing behind him.

---

“Those were some pretty fancy moves back there Detective,” Liz said trying to break the erie silence. “How long have you been studying that.”

“Oh, about five months or so.”

“Pretty impressive for such a short time. So what made you start learning? Something all you cops do?”

“I learned how to fight and some other basic control holds, but it was actually, your...I mean Karen that has been teaching us-”

“-Her again? Look Detective, I don’t want to hear about her,” Liz said cutting him off.

“Liz, I admit I really don’t know her like I thought I did, but she saved my life. This bum and a detective wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for her. In many ways that’s true. If it weren’t for her diligence, the police and FBI would have thrown in the towel long ago.”

“Why did they give up on us?”

“You two left, leaving really nothing behind. It was almost as if some alien beamed you aboard their ship one night and took off. After a while, it seamed as if you left on your own accord and didn’t want to be found. I tell you, I would have never in a million years put it together that you had been duped by this asshole that the earth above had been leveled. You mean you haven’t been above in about a year?”

“No, he always talked about high levels of radiation in the air, and he had this suit to keep him safe when he went out. What the hell did I know. It was a very believable to me, but in the end, I was stupid. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yeah, I know, I feel a little violated myself, but it’s really my fault, I just never thought to check her out. Still, she acts as if she’s known you and Ashley forever and refused to stop looking. Perhaps she connected with Michael before he left, and he never said anything?”

“No, Michael and I don’t keep secrets, I would have been the first person he called had some mystery sister showed up. Well Reid, if we get out of here, the first thing I want you to do...first thing after you are done hanging dipshit out to dry, is checking her out.

“James, my name is James and you can count on it.”

---

Whithers brought his car to a stop on Reid’s drive way. He grabbed his flashlight and made his way to the front door. There were no lights on inside other than the one in the front living room. Whithers knocked several times anyways.

“Reid! Reid, I’m coming in,” he quickly picked the lock and entered scanning the house with the bright beam of his flashlight. The place looked as empty as Mendoza found it yesterday. A foul odor of something dying in the trash can led the detective to conclude he hadn’t been home in days.

“Where the hell are you Reid?”

---

“What about the girl Dwayne?”

“Here is how it’s going to work, Ashley is coming with me.”

“NO!, no don’t take my baby from me, please don’t take her,” Liz started yelling at him. She could hear Ashley crying and banging on the door.

“Dwayne you are only making things worse, you cross state lines with a minor, and you are going to find yourself in a huge federal manhunt.”

“Well I won’t be in the US that long anyway. Ashley and I are going to make a few flights in my plane to unknown destinations. At some point, I will leave her somewhere safe. In my house, there is the number of where she will be. That person has nothing to do with this, but rest assured, they will look after her until you are able to get out of here.”

“They will stop you before you can fly out.”

“Now Detective, lets cut the crap, you and I both know no one knows where you are, and no one ever will.” He picked up a ball of string and threw it to Liz. “At the end if this string is a 5 gallon water bottle that’s been frozen and secured to the other end of the room. You can’t pull that bottle over to you, and will have to wait for the ice to melt. When it does, the keys to the cuffs attached to the other end of the string will be free. Simply pull them to you and you can unlock yourselves. No I won’t lock the door so when you are free from the cuffs, you can escape. I have rigged a heater and calculated you will be down here about three to four days before you can leave. By the time the Detective starts a trace, I will be gone, never to be seen again. I left plenty of food and drinks, so you will be fine until the ice melts.”

Dwayne walked out of the room toward Ashley’s. Liz could hear him unlock the door.

“Get away from me,” Ashley yelled at him.

“Dwayne, you don’t need her. You said yourself you have plenty of time to get away, what do you need to take the girl for?” Reid said, trying to reason with him. Dwayne didn’t respond and continued struggling with Ashley.

“Ouch, you're hurting me you jerk.”

“Stop it right now. Listen to me, or I will tie you up. Do you want to be tied up?” There was silence for a moment. “Well if you don’t, then stop fighting me. Now put on this jacket, hat and sunglasses.” Liz held her hand up listening carefully at the exchange happening in the other room while Reid, his hearing still recovering, had a hard time following the conversation. “Ashley, if you promise to be good, I will let you say goodbye to your mother until you see her again. You promise me?” They appeared at the door, Dwayne keeping a firm grip on Ashley’s upper arm.

“Dwayne, please don’t take her,” Liz begged.

“Quiet, or we leave right now.” Liz immediately become silent wanting one last moment with her daughter. He held onto her jacket and inched her close to Liz’s maximum reach with her chain. “Hurry, you got one minute.” Liz got up and hurried toward her while Dwayne pulled his jacket aside to show Reid his .357. “You stay right where you are Detective.”

“Ashley sweetie, don’t cry. You are going to be okay. Dwayne isn’t going to hurt you and in a few days I’m going to see you again.” He held her just within reach, letting them only touch hands. “Be a good girl for mommy ok?”

“I’m scared, I don’t want to leave you.”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t want to leave you either. Mommy’s sorry. I really am. I love you baby.” Liz tightened her grip on Ashley’s hand as Dwayne began pulling her back.

“No, don’t let him take me Mom, please help me, help.” She started screeching loudly as Dwayne dragged her out of the bunker for the first time in a year.

“We will find you Dwayne, I will make it my lifelong quest. I will find you and bring you to justice.” Reid got up and started yelling at Dwayne as they heard the big steel door closing, leaving them alone.”

---

“Any luck?” Whithers asked pulling up opposite along side Mendoza’s cruiser. She was parked in her hole, her hidden place where she could park and her supervisors wouldn’t see her parked, doing nothing.

“No, nothing, I went by last night, and he wasn’t there. He hasn’t been home in several days,”

“It’s not like him to not check in, I think something is wrong. You think he found something?” Mendoza asked.

“On this case? Don’t be silly. You make it sound like he uncovered some major conspiracy. Might have just thrown in the towel, but a major break through, no way.”

“Jeez Lieutenant, I hope you are right on that one. Hey if you don’t mind, I am going to go see if Karen has heard from him.

“Ok, sounds good, keep me posted,” Mendoza threw her car into gear and raced down the alley way towards the Owen Residence.

---

My hand fumbled with the cassette as I fed it into the tape deck in my Porsche. As the music started I leaned back and stretched across the closed jump seats in the back with my feet hanging over the driver side just behind the door. The grey smoke of the Cuban cigar permeated my garage. It was a pleasant sweet tasting tobacco well worth the two minute trip to Cuba to pick up. I reached behind me and flicked the ashes while taking a good chug of whiskey straight from the signature 750ml square bottle. Half the rich amber colored liquid remained in my third bottle. Tingling feelings in my toes and arms indicated the booze was starting to affect my body and relax my nerves. The mix tape I made for Liz before departing rolled, playing Van Morrison’s Moondance.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
  
And all the nights magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with you, my love?

“Baby, I want one more moondance with you. Just one more. I’m not ready to let you go.” I added after singing the last of the lyrics. I continued to listen and sing along until I heard a voice approaching.

“Hope you're not planning on driving?” Trish said as she walked up the driveway. I turned and looked at her. She was in uniform and showed off that authoritative presence of an on duty officer. Her sudden appearance startled me. I fought to sit up and straighten my posture hoping she didn’t hear me talking out loud.

“Hi Trish, want a paper cup?” I said, offering her the bottle.

“Can’t, I’m working. Maybe later. I see you are picking up our slang.”

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” She walked into the garage and scanned the cherry red convertible Porsche I was sitting in while the radio continued to play.

“Pretty nice ride 911 SC?”

“Pretty sexy isn’t she?” I said, admiring my car.

“Quite. She your’s?”

“No, this sexy girl belongs to Michael.”

“Well I think he would want you to have it,” she said, running her fingers along the side.

“Yeah,” I thought out loud, “he would, wouldn’t he?”

“You take her out before?”

“No. No license. You might pull me over and bust me.” I took a long hard drag on my cigar before letting it linger a few and then blowing the carbon smoke out my nose.

“Damn woman, you’re not supposed to inhale those things. Gonna put hair on your chest.”

“That sounds great, you think it really works, growing a hairy chest like the guys? You ever wish you were a man Mendoza?”

“Are you ok?”

“Answer me, you ever wish you could be one of the guys. Nobody give two shits about what you look like. If people constantly want nothing more than to screw you, that’s a good thing.” She looked me over, carefully studying me.

“I’m sure everyone of us has wondered what being the other sex is like. Sure, being a guy would have it’s advantages. Hell, can’t tell you how envious I get of the others after drinking too much coffee and having to take all this shit off to take a leak,” she said pointing to her belt. “Would be nice to pull over and pee on a tree somewhere.”

“I can pee on a tree,” I said giggling.

“Well, I bet that’s an interesting talent you have. I really don’t want to know the details. Look Karen, what’s happening to you?” She motioned toward the door. I curled my feet up and made some space. She opened the door and hopped up on the back of the seat.

“I’m lonely, my friend left me and my wi...my brother’s family is gone. I’ve been starting to think that we will never find them.

“Aww honey, I’m sorry.” I took another long tug of the whiskey, spilling a little on my shirt. “You should go easy on that stuff, you are going to get sick.”

“Did you come here to lecture me occifer, or is there something you want?”

“Karen, have you heard from Reid?”

“Nah, not since July.”

“You haven’t talked to him since running out on him? Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical? You sitting here in a drunken rut over your friend Megan walking out on you, yet, here you are alone while another friend who has been getting his ass in the sling for working on your case even though you turned your back on him.” I started to get pissed off at her questioning my actions.

“Well who the hell asked him. I told him to stop risking his career for them. In fact, when you see him, tell him to drop the case for me. I’m through. I don’t care anymore about anything, just find me a hole to crawl into for the next ten years.” Trish got annoyed and jumped out of the car. Her weight shook the small sports car as the left shocks were freed from the force she exerted.

“Karen, I would love to tell him that, but no one knows where he is. He didn’t come in two days ago, and no one can reach him.” I sat up and became serious, concentrating so that I could focus through my buzz.

“What do you mean? Where did he go?”

“Don’t know, he and Whithers got into it about four days ago.”

“He didn’t come into work today. No one know’s where he is.”

“Oh, I get it, someone goes missing, and you guys all sit around for a few weeks to make sure they are really missing. Then, by the time you spring into action, they are dead, or long gone. One of you coppers goes missing for a few hours, and we release the dogs, get the birds in the air, and pull every officer off of their day off.”

“Karen, what’s happening to you?”

“I already told you. My life sucks, it’s not worth living anymore.”

“Life isn’t easy Karen. It’s not all fun and games. Good things happen to bad people, while bad things happen to good people. I have seen a lot of shit on the streets. You’re not the only one who has lost those they love. I had to tell a ten year old girl that a drunk driver swerved into oncoming traffic and killed her parents and her baby brother. I was a rookie back then, fresh out of the academy. The worst part is the asshole survived, and she had to spend many years in and out of foster care, doing drugs trying to figure out why her family had to go instead of him. Back in June, she passed her Bar exam and is on her way to becoming a young attorney. She makes me really proud to be her mom. It was a tough road and I adopted her in her mid teens, but she found comfort with me. She stabilized and I got her cleaned up. It wasn’t the most ideal life for her, but we look back and think how truly blessed we are to have each other. Our journey started off tragic, but now we can’t imagine life having played out any other way.” A voice poured through Trish’s radio.

“All units, priority one. All units, priority one 10-31 in progress Mercury Savings 2600 Hackett St.. Suspects armed and dangerous, proceed with caution.” Trish started running for her car without saying a word. I stumbled out of my car trying to give chase, but my motor functions were slower than I thought. She peeled out with lights and sirens blaring, speeding down the street. I tripped and fell face first on the pavement, cracking the concrete and shattering the bottle of whiskey.

“Shit,” I said, watching my drink leak all over the driveway. I turned and saw my neighbor standing on his driveway in the fading light staring at me.

“What the hell you looking at?” He didn’t reply but continued to stare.

“Oh screw it,” I said as I turned around and went back to my car, stopping to get a new bottle from the case sitting in my garage.

---

“Liz. I’m not feeling so hot,” Reid said, as he curled up on the ground pulling the blanket up around his neck. An hour ago they turned the heater on to keep warm.

“What’s the matter James?”

“Feel feverish, I think the wound is infected.” Liz crawled over to him and pulled the blanket aside. There was a coaster sized rusted brown stain of dried blood on the bandage where the entrance wound was on his thigh.

“Let me take a look at it,” Liz fought with the handcuffs trying to move them into a comfortable position so she could work. She untied the knot, keeping the bandage in place, and slowly unwrapped it. Reid grinned from the pain as she struggled to peel the last of the gauze away from the wound, the dried blood having bonded the dressing to the injury.

“Oh, son of a bitch,” he yelled out loud. “Shit that hurt.”

“Sorry.” As she looked at the wound, it started to bleed a little. “I don’t see anything. You know what I should be looking for?”

“Yellow puss, blackness, strong stinky cheese smells.” Liz cringed at the descriptions.

“No nothing like that, looks fine to me. Maybe you are just catching a cold.”

“Hopefully that’s all it is. It’s not going to be good if this starts getting infected.” Liz crawled over to the small stack of supplies Dwayne left them. She hadn’t eaten much since just before Reid found her a couple of days ago. She found some cans of Spaghetti O’s, and some dried goods. Nothing looked appetizing to her. Liz found several liter bottles of water and realized her mouth was very dry. She opened a bottle and began drinking, then offered some to Reid.

“Thanks. Is there anything to eat?”

“Nothing exciting. Then again you haven’t been eating this shit for the past year so maybe you won’t mind. That asshole was probably going topside and having dinner at a nice five star restaurant while feeding us this crap. I wish you would have let me kill him. It would have been justified.

“Maybe, no one would doubt that, but would you be able to live with yourself?” She didn’t reply, instead she excavated a half buried bottle of whiskey with a little less than half remaining. She didn’t hesitate, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before offering it to Reid. He pushed himself up off the ground and took the bottle from her.

“Thank you. You know, I should use some of this to clean the wound.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Very much, but it’s better than losing the leg. You think you can help me out and redress it?

“Sure,” Liz dug up the basic first aid and began prepping the fresh dressing while Reid started drinking.

“You want some more?” he said, handing the bottle back to her, but she refused.

“You need it.” He looked at the label briefly before taking another long sip, waiting for the calm feelings to start. “So detective, what made you persist looking for us when everyone else gave up? You have some kind of desire to be some kind of hero?”

“No, it was something personal.” He recounted the story of his sister, how he felt powerless to find her.

“So you thought you can have some kind of peace by finding us? Did it work?”

“It’s not that, I just didn’t want to leave someone alone in their search for those they love.” Reid realized he was touching on on a forbidden topic again. Before she could resist, he switched it up a bit. “You know, I have a cousin who found you and Michael on a beach a couple of years ago?” Liz’s head shot up.

“Wait, that was your cousin? Oh my god, I remember that now. His name was Reid...um-”

“-still is Reid. Daniel Reid. Talked about that night for a long time. Still tells the story.”

“I bet,” she said, thinking back to that night. They made love all night. A couple of times on the beach, then they went back to the hotel where they continued for hours, enjoying being in each others arms in between. It was such a lovely night. A tear dripped quickly down her face. “That was our last night together. I saw him a few times before he left, but that was the last night he and I spent together.

“Liz, I’m so sorry. From what I have heard, he sounds like quite a man.”

“He was. You wanna see a picture of him and I that night?”

“I would love to,” Without hesitating, she crawled over to the bed and pulled her case out and opened it. She began unpacking it and placing the contents on the ground. The folders and envelopes of photos slid all over the floor concealing the cold impersonal concrete. Finally she found the photo and brought it over to Reid. ”This is my last picture of him."

“That’s a good picture of him. Most of what I have really seen are those press release photos where he is posing in his space suit or jump suit. Found a few in the house of you two together, but this is a good picture.”

“Thanks,” she said, noticing the blood dripping down his leg.

“You feel ready to get this wrapped up?” He pointed both thumbs up in the air.

“Let’s do it,” Reid said as Liz took the bottle, turned him to his side and without warning him, started pouring the bourbon onto the wound.

---

Dwayne finished fueling up the plane from the tanks he had waiting at the field. They were miles away from any civilization and completely secluded. He had flown his boss out to the site the company had purchased very cheaply a couple of years ago. A family, who bought the land but never developed it except for a small shack, panicked after the announcement of the asteroid. BioTech snagged the land after the family bit at the first measly offer they gave them. They left to dig in somewhere, not knowing the company would have paid ten times the amount. This was going to be the site of the first large scale biosphere test. When complete seven men and women would enter and live there for two years, living solely off what they could produce inside.

He looked across the field, sad that he wouldn’t get to see his work become reality. Not only would his expertise be lost when he went into hiding, but so would the recent sums of grant money that were transferred into his work accounts. No one would check until after the news broke about his involvement. By that time, he would have moved the money to offshore accounts where he could access them from anywhere in the world.

Dwayne walked to the door and opened it up. Ashley was sleeping, having tired herself out from crying and was lying down across the back seats.

“Ashley, wake up. Come on, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Leave me alone.” Dwayne grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Ok, you going to stay in the plane then by yourself?”

“Yes?”

“Ok, there is no one around for miles. In about 20 minutes, this place is going to get very dark and lots of animals are going to come out. See that shack all the way over there. That’s where I am going to be if you get scared. I only have one flashlight and I need it, so if you get lost, just start yelling and I will come find you.” Dwayne watched as she got up and started looking around, finding that Dwayne wasn’t lying to her. He smiled as she quickly got out of the plane.

“Did you change your mind?” She shook her head but remained silent. “Okay, let’s go. I am going to make some dinner, and then we are going to get some rest. We have another long stretch tomorrow and I want to leave early.”

---

“Did you exchange, A walk on part in a war, for a lead role in a cage?,” I sang along with David Gilmour’s voice pouring through the Porsche’s sound system. “Hey Pink Fraud,” I paused laughing at my new name for the one I used to call a friend. “That’s right, you’re a fraud. Turn tail and run leaving your friend alone in this goddamn cage."

“Liz, how I wish, how I wish you were here,” I continued to sing loudly, hating the soft feminine voice filling the garage. I tilted my head back getting lost in the song. A box in the rafters caught my attention. My eyes made out the writing on the side of the box as I stood up staring at my family film archive. I fiddled with the ladder for a few minutes before remembering I could float up and grab it. After bringing it down, I set it on the ground and began looking through the contents. There were about a dozen or so 8mm film reels and the projector. I packed the box back up, loaded a couple of bottles on top of the box and went inside the house.

---

Liz finished recounting to Reid the events that led to her winding up here in the bunker. From the early calls where Dwayne suddenly changed, becoming more friendly and offering to help her out while Michael was away, to him supposedly saving her and Ashley, to her first doubts.

"I had a suspicion he had a thing for me. Wouldn't put it past that asshole to have engineered this whole thing from day one."

"Things like this aren't uncommon, but far from being a textbook case. They are few and far between. Most of the time it's women being kidnapped and scared into being some kind of sex slave, afraid if she doesn't comply, he will hurt her family. Years go by and they become dependent on the prick, even going as far as defending him in court. This case, this is unique."

"Great, look forward to hearing about the Dwayne Turner Syndrome, where some guy becomes so obsessed with someone, he keeps her in a bunker and pretends the world ended."

"How about Ashley, he didn't abuse her did he?"

"No, not at all. He didn't have any interest in her, just with me." She grew very silent as she started to think about the times she slept with him. Reid saw her face change and knew Liz was carrying a major burden.

"Liz, I am going to ask you a question, not to get personal, but as a detective. You don't have to answer me if you don-"

"-No, he didn't," she said interrupting, "Not forcibly, anyways. He just guilted me into it. I thought he was risking his life for us. Seriously, Ashley and I had nothing to give, nothing to offer him, so I gave him," she stopped mid sentence and started yelling. At first Reid tried to get her to calm down, but instead let her vent. She stood up and started kicking anything she could find.

"Goddamn it. I'm such a stupid woman. I let this jerk take my life and my daughter's. Oh God Michael, please forgive me. I cheated on you. All that we had is dishonored by an infidelity with a man who hated the best man in the world." Liz knelt down next to her box and stared at the images. All the memories, now painful to recall, were on display. She couldn't take the guilty feelings she was had as the saw Michael staring at her from the image on the floor.

"Don't look at me, Michael, I'm a whore. I don't deserve you. Please don't look at me."

"Liz, Michael is gone, you weren't unfaithful to him. You were fragile and that creep took advantage of you. Anyone would have done the same thing, don't let it get to you." she began scooping up all the photos and memorabilia and tossed them in the box haphazardly, not stopping to give it the care she always showed it. She slammed the box shut while photos were still hanging out around the edges. She didn't bother with the locks, instead she just stood up and arced her foot back before letting it fly. A moment before her foot hit the case she herd Reid yell out.

"STOP!" Her foot impacted, sending the case sailing across the floor. “Liz, no.” As the case slid further back toward the corner, she watched in horror as her freedom instantly vanishing before her eyes. The string leading to the keys pulled taut, the spool, now mixed in with her memories, strained and snapped. The thin cord seemed to float in the air and hover a moment before springing backward and collecting where the case had come to a stop.

"Oh god no! No, no, no. What the fuck did I just do?" she said and she lifted her hands to her head, fingers wide open and wrapping around her skull. She was too busy stashing the photos back into the box, she never saw that she grabbed the spool by accident. She ran over to the string and began pulling on it, hoping the ice had melted already, but the lack of resistance told her otherwise. The severed end of the cord finally reached her trembling hands to which she immediately ran as far as her bindings allowed her to go. The other end of the string was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh god, I just killed us."

---

My body was recovering, but I was still having difficulty walking straight. I set the box on the flood and cracked open a new bottle, guzzling the whiskey before turning to the box. I pulled the projector out and placed it on a tray table and began setting up the screen. My fingers had difficulty feeding the film strip through the loops, but eventually get it working. The lights off, my bottle in hand, I began my night with the ticking of the projector rolling in the back of the room. The first images appeared, from our wedding day. It was a simple wedding, only my closest friends and my Dad there to celebrate me committing to the love of my life. I sat and watched, changing reels every twenty minutes. By the eighth reel feeding the film through all the wheels was almost impossible.

After a five minute battle with my head starting to spin, the lamp came on and started projecting a backward image of Ashley at two years old wearing a little purple bathing suit with a flower sewn onto the left shoulder strap. She was covered in sand as she sat filling a bucket with a cheap plastic shovel while Liz helped her prepare the first part of the castle. We were so happy then. My eyes were seeing double, but somehow I felt myself transcend the camera and I felt as if I was right there on the beach again during that hot July afternoon in California.

It was as if every detail my brain ever recorded was suddenly pulled out of the vault and loaded back into the main projector. Every sight, every scent, every decibel was being recalled for me to relive. I was at the height of my experience when a loud pop sounded and the room went dark. “FFFuckk!" I mumbled out loud. The lamp after all these years picked this moment to pop, robbing me of the opportunity to be reunited with my family. Pissed off at my stroke of bad luck, I kicked the folding dinner tray that I used to set the projector projector on. The film projector went sailing across the room, shattering on the wall and disintegrating into a thousand debris fragments, producing a loud crashing sound that likely woke the neighbors up. I stumbled to find the light switch, laughing as I tripped over coffee table, destroying the cheap piece of furniture in the process. I laughed as I struggle to get back on my feet, spilling my drink all over the floor. As I stood up, the sound of the phone ringing echoed throughout the room. I stumbled over to where the phone was mounted in the kitchen and and answered in a drunk voice.

"Go ahead Houston," I said, joking.

"Karen?"

"Wrong number, can I take a message and I will have her call you.?"

"Michael, it's me Megan."

“Whaaatzuuuuup Doooc! What blings you suddenly black into my life? Stopped having fun in that fancy Embassy and thought we could pick up where we left off after you ditched me?”

"Michael, I know I left you alone, but I'm back home. I want to see you, there are things I need to say to you."

"Well I don't want to see you. Liz and I are celebrating our anniversary together. We're having a great time without you."

"Michael, you found her?"

"Yeah I founder her,” I said as I looked at her photo on the wall reaching up and pulling the frame off the hook, “all that searching for that fucking crystal, and she was here hanging on my wall the entire time. We’re having one last anniversary together and tomorrow I am going to bury her and Ash. Time to accept they're never coming back.” I fought back the emotion and continued, “I just want one more night with her."

"I'm sorry Michael. I forgot today was your anniversary, I should have been there for you."

"What the hell did I do to you? I'm so alone and you left me for another jerk."

"Gene and are are friends Michael, nothing more. And no, you didn't do anything. It was me. I was being very stupid and selfish. It's complicated, but I am going to come over in the morning and tell you about it. I don't expect you to forgive me. Let me come over and after I will help you lay them to rest if that's what you want.”

“Whatever you slay Doc,” I said in a very slurry voice. A sudden feeling that I had been oblivious to came to my attention and started to well up inside me. In an instant my lower body started sending warning signals to my brain that I was in desperate need to purge the high quantity of liquid poison from my body.

“Heyy Doc, I have to go, time to drain the lizard. Wait! Shit I forgot, I don’t have a lizard any more. Some alien bitch ran off with my Johnson. What do you chicks slay when you gotta pee like an acehorse?” I started simultaneously laughing at both my crude joke and my inability to talk properly.

“Michael, go lie down and get some sleep. Have a good night and I will see you in the morning.”

She hung up and after a few seconds of crossing my long slender legs, desperately trying to keep my bladder from bursting, I gave up trying to put the handset back on the cradle and left it on the counter. I ran to the bathroom reaching down my pants trying to find my penis in order to pinch it shut before the dam broke. In my drunken daze I frantically searched everywhere for it, before my bladder finally gave out. The warm urine ran down my legs, soaking into my pajama bottoms and eventually creating a puddle on the tile floor. After fighting the stream for a few seconds I released my muscles, letting the urine flow freely, just basking in the warm wet feeling.

My pants were around my ankles and soaked in urine. Without stopping to pull them back up, I stumbled toward the bedroom, dragging my pants down the hallway, leaving a wet trail behind. My head was still spinning, but slowly recovering. I collapsed on the edge of the bed, sitting down with my pajama pants sill around my ankles. My bare ass, still slightly wet from the urine, was on the bedspread. Reaching down, I struggled to pull my pants off from around my feet. The smell of the urine was repulsing me and I stopped fighting and kicked them off, sending them across the room where they hit the closet door. I fell onto my back, legs spread wide open, laughing in hysterics from the sight of the pajama bottoms hitting the mirror, leaving a large wet spot on the glassy surface.

The ceiling was twisting in the faint light. Losing control of my vision, my eyes shifted between the different wavelengths. Closing my eyes, I fought to restore my vision back to visible light. I turned away from the ceiling and found myself face to face with a picture of Liz and I together at the Christmas party on my nightstand. My drunk hand reached up and struggled to get ahold of the frame. She was so beautiful that night. My eyes welled up as I tried to fight back the tears. I wanted to be with them so badly. “Anything, if I have to live forever in this body, I will. I will hate it, but I will if you can just give them back to me.” With all my will and determination I sat up again. Still on the edge of the bed, I stared at the picture.

In the mirrored door of the closet, a bottomless Kaaren was staring back at me. Her legs were wide open in an inviting pose. “Go away you bitch, you ruined my life. Why did you make me this way? I don’t want this body, I don't want it anymore. You took everything from me, everything I love. I fucking hate you,” I yelled as I threw the photo of Liz I at her image. The mirror shattered, sending thousands of glass shards all over the wood floor.

---

Liz was drunk. After saving the bottle for all these years, she found her pain was too great to get through the night sober. She peeled away the foil on the wine bottle and pushed the cork in with a pen from her box. She read the label on the bottle and checked it with the date on Reid’s watch. It was their anniversary.

“Michael, I miss you so much. I don’t care what Reid says, even though you are gone, I still feel unfaithful to you. Unfaithful, and I failed to protect your daughter. Please, please forgive me. I was weak and alone and needed someone to keep me from hurting. He meant nothing to me, I swear to you, it’s you I have always wanted, no one else. In a few days my love, I will be dead, punishment for all my failures as a wife and mother. Please forgive this miserable abomination of a woman. Please, I want to be with you again.” her head was spinning and the tears were rolling down her face, dripping on the photos and smudging the paper. “Why, why did this have to happen to us? Why did you have to leave me?” she said, picking up a photo of her and Michael out of the box.” She put the photo down and looked in the mirror on the lid of the case. Her face staring back was a complete mess. “I love you, I always have, and I always will. Happy anniversary my love.”

---

Looking up, I noticed Liz’s wardrobe was on display where the mirrored door was. All her fancy clothes that Trish and I went though were hanging up, wondering where their owner is. Curiously, I stood up and stumbled to the closet, my feet stepping on the glass without being harmed. My light-sensitive eyes shifted in and out of focus as I looked over the vast wardrobe. As I scanned the contents of the closet, the images blurred as my brain took longer than usual to process the information my eyes were feeding it, as if I were taking a photograph with a long shutter speed. All the colorful blouses, dresses, and skirts Liz loved to wear were arrayed before me.

I stood there half naked, recalling all the memories I had of my wife. Each and every piece of clothing had a memory attached to it, a place we went to together, a special moment we shared, they were all somehow recorded on the fabrics of her clothes. My hazy mind recalled the Christmas party from 1983 as my hand slid a coat aside, revealing the long red satin gown she wore that night. She was so beautiful that night. It was a special evening, one of the last events we dressed formally for before our world was turned upside down. That night, there was no impending doom, no rush to save mankind. Sure we were still under intense training, but nothing threatening the planet. We had no worries, and enjoyed each other’s company as if our lives would go on forever together.

I took the dress out and hooked it on the bar so it draped facing me. She didn’t like wearing red, and didn’t like the dress much, but she knew I loved it, and wore it with pride to please me that special night. ‘She was such a lovely woman,’ I thought as a fresh set of tears started flowing down my cheeks. “Oh Liz, I miss you so much. Where are you? Where did you go? Are you alive or are you dead? I wish I could see you again, just once."

"I would give anything if I could have one last moment with you. I love you. Please answer me." I lifted the garment to my nose, taking in a deep breath. My sense of smell could pick out traces of her natural scents left behind. The fragrances of her perfume were mixed in, bringing her to life. I held the clothing to my face and used it to wipe the tears from my face. It was so silky smooth like a baby's skin and felt great between my fingers. I imagined her inside the gown again, my hands rubbing up and down, feeling every curve and contour of her body.

Without hesitation, I reached up with one hand and tore my Air Force shirt off my body, throwing it on the ground. I stood there naked and still drunk, my face a complete mess, my vision still blurry, occasionally shifting between wavelengths. After unhooking the hanger from the bar, I held the gown up to the light briefly before taking if off the hanger. I fiddled around trying to line up the gown so the boob holders were in the right place before I reached my arms up through the bottom, wiggling into the soft fabric.

I swayed my hips back and forth working the gown down my body, pulling and yanking here and there before it finally felt right on me. The top hung down, exposing Kaaren’s perfect-looking breasts. I struggled a bit more trying to find the loop and pulled it up over my head, fighting with my thick mess of hair. The straps felt awkward against my breasts and took a little adjustment before I felt like the gown was on right.

I stared at my image in the unbroken mirror on the other sliding door. The light glistened off the satin, creating a stark contrast between the highlights and the shadows. In my drunken state, I found myself becoming very attracted to Kaaren’s image staring back at me. Instead of hating her, I was starting to like her, I was starting to feel like her. Suddenly I felt beautiful, and was enjoying the feeling. A part of my rational consciousness that remained unaffected by all the sour mash in my stomach felt shame wearing my wife’s clothing, but the drunk part of me took over and I wanted more.

I scoured the closet looking for other things to wear. In the drawers I found what was left of her stockings, panties, and bras. I fiddled with the softness of the nylon panty hose and decided to try them on as well. My feet stepped into the nylon tubes and I fought to pull them up my leg. I got frustrated and pulled too hard, tearing them with my super strength. I fell backward on the bed laughing. I ripped the torn panyhose off my long silky smooth legs and started from scratch.

This time I tried to remember how she always put them on. My mind thought back to our Sunday mornings where our schedules aligned and we were getting dressed at the same time. She always used to keep them rolled up, sticking her toes in and then rolling them up her legs. I fought my vision and tried to control my actions, slowing down and taking my time. Little by little the silky feeling crept higher and higher up my legs until I let go, snapping the elastic around my waist. Admiring the fruits of my struggle in the mirror, I rubbed my legs together, enjoying the electrical sensations.

“More, oh god more,” I said out loud, wondering what was going through my head. I picked up a pair of her panties and sniffed them, picking up her scent. I bent over and slid them up my legs, not really caring that my sequence of dressing was a little reversed. With the panties snug around my hips, I turned back to the closet looking for more things of hers I could put on.

Next I found the long purple cocktail gloves she also wore that night. It was her compromise for the night. I loved red, but Liz had a thing for purple. Although I found the red and purple to be a little strange color combination, she some how pulled it off and looked amazing. One after the other I slid them on, enjoying the encasing feeling they had on my fingers and arms. After another glance in the mirror I started to get hot as the image staring back at me was stimulating my male desires and somehow, in my drunken state, was also triggering my dormant female ones. It became addicting.

Every piece of clothing was like taking yet another shot of whiskey. I couldn’t control my urges as I rebuilt the image of Liz from that night. Next I found a bra and tried to put it on over the red gown, struggling with the snaps in the back until my strength ripped the bra in half. The room was full of the sound of my laughter as I grabbed another and tried again, this time putting it on backward, not really thinking very straight anymore. Her expensive white fur coat I bought her with my dad’s money hung in the closet. I put the coat on, savoring the soft fur around my neck, my hands traveling up and down the length of the fur.

More, I wanted more. Along the top shelf were all of Liz’s shoes. It seemed like she had fifty pairs of shoes for every one of mine. There were stacks of boxes rising all the way to the ceiling. Effortlessly, without needing a step stool, I pulled boxes off the shelf, dropping many of them where they burst open, spilling their high-heeled contents all over the glass-covered floor. I went through about twenty or so boxes before finding the red high-heeled shoes she had on that night. I forced my feet into the leather shoes and buckled the little straps around my ankles. They were a tight fit, but weren’t uncomfortable. For a moment I sat on the bed getting used to the curvature of my feet in the shoes, sitting still while waiting for my head to take a brief break from spinning. Slowly, I pushed myself up, momentarily forgetting I could fly, and fought to keep my balance.

“Shit, now I am really tall." For the first time, I could see the thick dust layers on the top shelves of the bookcases as I stood taller than my previous body by eight or nine inches. I tried taking my first step over to the mirror to see the fully reconstructed wardrobe Liz wore for me that night so long ago. My first step wobbled as I brought the heel down first as I would normally walk. I quickly found out that’s not the way to walk in this ridiculous footwear. Sure they looked great, but why women voluntarily choose to torment their feet on a daily basis was beyond me. My second step was a repeat of the first, as if I were trying the same thing, and expecting a completely different result. I slowly approached the mirror and came to a stop.

“Liz,” I said as I stood up straight and admired my reconstruction of one of my favorite images of my wife staring back at me. I shifted my weight to the back of the shoes. The wobbled and the there was a loud snap as the left heel suddenly broke, causing me to lose my balance and fall hard to my left. Before I could react and hover, my head hit the oak dresser along the window, causing a deafening sound. My dense head hit the hard oak and bounced off. What would have been a fatal head wound to others caused a minor sensation in my head. An electrical impulse traveled from my head and made its way down my body.

I started laughing, looking back at the mirror. I was on all fours with Kaaren’s nice ass sticking up in the air, while frantically trying to stand. The strange feeling continued to flow though my body, then returned to my head. My vision started shifting all over the place. An intense dizzy spell overcame by head.

“Damn, I must have hit my head harder than I thought,” I said as my vision shifted from infrared back to radio. The dizzy feeling grew more intense as I tried to concentrate, bringing my vision back to normal visible light. I fought and fought before everything went bright white.

“Well that’s new,” I said, alarmed at what I was seeing. Scared, I panned around the room, seeing nothing by white light. The opaque white started to become a cloudy translucence, allowing me to see again. My eyes blinked several times trying to clear my vision. Little by little it continued to clear, but something was different. I was no longer in my bedroom. I was on the floor of some strange room. I tried to look around, but couldn’t move my head. I began to panic as I found myself without control of my bodily movements. After a struggle, I calmed down and paid attention to what I was seeing.

The electrical impulses continued to surge through me as I focused on the image before me. In front of me was what looked like an opened suitcase and a pair of hands appeared before me, holding a photo of Liz and I sitting on the beach together on our last anniversary. The more I looked at the box, the more I recognized it. There were photos of Liz, Ashley and I taped to the lid around a mirror. All I could see in the mirror was the back side of the photo and part of the hands. Something metallic and shiny was just out of sight but reflecting light into the mirror. I tried to reach out, but my hands wouldn’t move, it was as if I was looking through someone else’s eyes and not my own. I had no control and could only see wherever the eyes looked. The sensations started to fade as did the image just as the figure put her face in the mirror. The final image I saw before the image faded and my drunkenness overtook me, was Liz’s beautiful face covered in tears staring back at me.

“No! Come back, please come back,” I yelled as my eyes closed, the alcohol finally overtaking my brain and shutting down my conscienceless.

---Morning---

Megan used the code on the keypad that Liz gave her to open the garage door. She entered in through the garage door past the washer and dryer and into the main family room where a complete disaster had struck the house. It was as if the Tasmanian Devil tore through the place in the middle of the night.

“Holy shit Michael,” she said as she surveyed the living room a bit further to find empty Jack Daniel’s bottles all over the floor, a shattered coffee table, parts of a film projector and a hole in he back wall among other things. Her heart sank knowing it was a bad night for him and worse, he had to go through it alone. She continued checking the front of the house but found no sign of him. She made her way down the hallway, stopping in the bathroom. It reeked of urine and upon further inspection she found a huge puddle in front of the sink. “Bad girl.” Megan said, laughing at her own joke.

She made her way to the bedroom door expecting to find him sound asleep in the bed. Instead the tall blond woman was sprawled on the floor wearing a red silk gown that was bunched up to her upper thighs. Her right knee was high in the air while the foot was planted flat on the ground; her other leg was spread wide and angled to the left. She was wearing her panties outside of her torn stockings and had it not been for that would have been on display for anyone who entered to see. She laughed briefly before a sad look overtook her face, looking at her friend with sorrow.

“Oh Michael. I’m so sorry. Life isn’t supposed to be this hard.”

Megan grabbed a blanket off the bed and covered her friend with it. Ignoring all safety, she squatted down before him, avoiding the broken glass. She removed the broken shoe from his foot and then removed the other, tossing them aside. She knew startling him while he slept could be fatal if he suddenly awoke and didn’t have control of his speed or strength. Nevertheless, she knelt beside her friend, running her fingers through Kaaren’s thick golden hair. She traced her hand down along the side of Kaaren’s face, touching the soft alien cheek. She was stunningly beautiful and had very smooth perfect skin. It felt so soft, yet it could deflect bullets without blemish.

Megan noticed a silver chain around her neck for the first time and carefully pulled the hidden end out from between her breasts. Secured to the chain was a gold wedding band, one made for a man’s finger. She immediately identified it as Michaels. As she examined the ring, Kaaren’s eyes flickered and came to life, slowly opening like a flower sprouting in response to the first rays of the Sun. Her radiant blue eyes sparkled as they tried to focus.

“Good morning sunshine.” Megan said looking down at Michael. “How do you feel?” It took another few moments for him to come around. He turned his head away from Megan,

“What are you doing here?” Michael asked, sitting on the fence between wanting her company and chasing her off.

“Michael, I came over because I have some things to talk to you about, but mostly because I care about you.”

“Really? Haven’t really shown me much affection the last five months.” Michael sat up and felt the surging pain rush through his alien head, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Pain, oh man I have a hell of a headache.”

“I’m sorry, hangovers are never fun, especially after drinking an entire case of whiskey.” Megan sounded as if she were disappointed and scolding me for a reckless night.

“Surprisingly, I am rather enjoying the pain. I feel alive again, miserable, but human.”

“I never thought anyone would enjoy that feeling,” Megan said.

“You should try living where you can’t feel pain. I’ve gotten fairly used to it, but I do go crazy at times. Right now though, I feel like a million bucks.”

She laughed, “Well you certainly don’t look it. If you insist, I guess you won’t be needing this?” She held up a large styrofoam DK Donut’s cup emitting the aroma of my morning coffee. Michael sat up and took the cup into his hands. Megan kept her hands on the cup, helping him take the first couple of sips. “We gotta get you out of that coat before you spill coffee on it.

“Oh, god, what the hell am I wearing? What the heck did I do last night?” He looked down at the strange wardrobe then glances around the room seeing the broken mirror and furniture. “Holy shit, what a night.”

“You should see the living room and bathroom.”

“That bad huh?”

“Looks like you had a raging house party last night," she said, offering her hand and standing up. “Come on lets get you to the kitchen, I brought you something to eat.” Megan helped her friend walk down the hall laughing a little inside at the wardrobe Michael was wearing, “Little lesson about girl’s clothing Michael, these puppies are supposed to go on the inside,” she said as she grabbed the bras I had haphazardly put on, and unsnapped them.

“Yeah, well those are difficult to take off, let along put on while wasted so give me a break.”

“Is that the gown Liz wore the night I met her?

“Yes it is. I am taking this off, I can’t believe I got that drunk last night that I started dressing up in my wife’s clothing.”

“By dressing up like her. You thought you could see her again?”

“Maybe. Kinda stupid huh? It was the booze talking.” I peeled off the purple gloves and set them on the counter where Megan grabbed them and neatly folded them up. “You know come to think of it, I have this vague memory that I had a dream about her.”

“You had a dream? Michael, that’s an improvement. Most people don’t dream when they are passed out. Your mind basically takes a hike while you reboot. You, you hardly sleep and never dream, then you get drunk, pass out and I find you sound asleep. It’s going to start costing you a small fortune to sleep every night with the amount you have to drink.” Megan began spreading bagels out on the table and said, “can you remember the dream?”

“Not much, It was as if I was her. I was looking through her memory box.”

“Her what!”

“Her memory box, that’s what she calls it.”

“What’s her memory box?” Megan asked afraid of the answer.

“It’s a suit case, say yea big,” I stretched my arms out, “she has every little memory of us together in there. Everything from movie tickets to receipts, flowers, photos. She was going through it, and I saw a quick glimpse of her face in the mirror. It was the most lifelike dream I ever had.”

“Give me a few days, and I will unpack that for you. Lots of symbolism there. The memories, the sadness. Oh Michael, I know how much you miss her. The grieving is going to be hard for a while, for Ashley too. The worst part is just not knowing what happened to them. In time your heart will heal.”

---

Reid woke up before Liz. Beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead. He was hot, and had a pounding headache. He was afraid of dying down here, chained up and starving to death, but the reality was setting in, he would die from an infection before starvation got him. The wound needed treating but it wasn’t looking that bad yet. Still, he needed to find a way out of here. He looked around and found little he could use.

He noticed the case next to Liz and crawled over to it. Inside were stacks of photographs and other items. He sifted through it looking for something he could use. He looked at Liz sleeping a moment before withdrawing some cards Michael had written her for her birthday and anniversary. He knew he was violating her privacy, but the intimate connection they shared was unlike anything he ever encountered before. Michael was one hell of a man, but he had his sensitive side. He was a complete romantic and utterly adored his wife, treasuring imperfection she might have had. Reid read through half of one of the card’s intimate messages before guilt started overwhelming him, violating Liz’s most personal of treasures. He put the card down and continued looking.

His eyes found a small white box with a logo from a florist on the top buried under some cards. Reid took it out of the case and opened it up. Inside was a red boutonnière, all dried up and long since faded after many years of storage. He was about to close it up and put it back when he quickly grabbed it and pulled it out, stabbing his finger on the large pin driven through the stem.

“I love you,” he yelled as the blood started pooling around the small pinprick. “Liz, wake up, I think I found a way out. LIZ!” She opened her eyes and pushed herself up off the ground.

“What?”

“Help me, I think we can get out of here,” he said as he took the pin and rested it on the edge of the case. He closed the lid on it and started bending the pin so the tip had a 90 degree angle on it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making a handcuff key. The pin might be strong enough to turn the locking mechanism.”

“Hurry.”

“Liz, I know you are excited, but I am not doing very well, and I need you to calm down. Don’t rush me, because if I break this we are screwed.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault we are stuck like this. I know I killed us Reid.” He stopped and looked at her.

“Liz, it’s not your fault, not the reason you are down here, the reason he got away from me, nor the reason he took Ashley, or breaking the string. He is the one that caused all this pain, not you. The string was a complete accident, I could have done the same thing, but if we give in to our shame, we will indeed kill ourselves. Now, can you do me a favor, and let’s use our brains to find a way out of here. Think of Ashley, we need to save her. Can you do that for her?” Liz, sobbing, shook her head in agreement. “Good, I knew you were strong.”

“I want my daughter back, and that creep to pay. Ashley can’t lose both parents, not yet.”

“That’s the spirit. don’t worry, if we get out of here, I will make sure of it. Hey we might get lucky, Ashley might be able to call for help,” Reid said, trying to comfort her while he worked the lock. His fingers just couldn’t get a strong enough grip on the bulb to be able to twist the pin. He tried bending the other end to give him a little leverage, but it was no use.

“Fuck!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Prick had us double lock them. I don’t think I can jimmy the lock. I’ll keep trying, but I think we are going to have to try something else.”

“What else is there?” Reid looked around, finding the empty whiskey bottle. He took the blanket and wrapped it around the bottle, “what are you doing Reid?” Without warning he hit the bottle hard against the concrete, hearing the muffled sound of the glass shattering. He unwrapped it and withdrew the neck with a large knife edge.

“Ok Liz, here’s what I need you to do,” she looked at him with great concern, “I want you to help me cut my thumbs off,” she shook her head violently.

“No, please no, I can’t do that to you. Please don’t make me.”

“Liz, it’s all we have left. I am going to die if I don’t get help soon. I can slip out of the handcuffs, and still have fingers to get the keys.” She kept shaking her head in refusal. “Then we are both going to die and we won’t be able to help Ashley.

She got up and started tugging on the chain. HELP, SOMEONE HELP US!” She became hysterical as she tugged and tugged on the chain keeping her permanently bound to the thermostat tightly bolted to the concrete.

“HELP, PLEASE GOD, SOMEONE HELP US.”

---

“Feel better?” Megan asked as she cleared the table. I sat feeling ridiculous in the red gown, but I felt too sick and tired to take it off.

“Much better," I said looking down, staring deep into my half-eaten breakfast. "Megan, why did you leave me? I know you think everything is my fault, but I think that's a bullshit excuse. How could you pin all that on me and then abandon me like that? I appreciate you coming over and checking on me, but really? You think you can just waltz back into my life as if Russia never happened?"

"Michael, I know I let you down. I was being stupid and I knew I wasn’t being a good friend. It took a while, but I realized that I needed to let go of the guilt and anger I was harboring.”

"So, what changed your mind?"

"Mitri, we had a long talk, and he helped me see past my selfishness." My eyes locked onto hers as she casually told me she spoke with Mitri.

"What did you tell him about me? You didn't tell him who I am did you?"

"No Michael, he already knows who you are." I sat confused as she reached down to the side of the table and picked up a bag. She withdrew the box that Mitri had given me. “Michael, did you see this? Did you see what was inside?"

"Yeah some lame doll with an angel on it."

"Inside of that?" I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what she was talking about as she opened the box. "Are you telling me, this expert in all things Russian, you don't know what these are?"

"No, don't really care. I'm not a chick and I don't need a doll to play with."

"Michael, this isn't what you think. Mitri was afraid to tell you, so he sent you a little message. These are nesting dolls. The outer doll opens up to reveal another inside, and another and another. Why don't you open this and see what's inside?"

"What message? What are you telling me doc?" I said, taking the doll in my hands and examining it. The thin line around the shoulders led me to where the parts separated. The wood was snug, but offered little resistance as I twisted the head and removed the top. Inside I saw a man's face and little else until I withdrew the second doll. After examining it for a moment, my hands started trembling as I understood the message. My head shot up and caught Megan looking at me with a large smile on her face. "How? How did he figure me out?” I said, looking at the astronaut. “The dinner and vodka, he was sharing that with me, not Kaaren. We were both pretending I was the alien I claimed to be, but the entire time he was drinking with me, it was Michael he saw."

"Yes, he did see you, just as I did," she said as I opened the next layer to find only a small piece of paper inside with writing in Russian. I slowly read the writing, pausing once in a while to recall the Russian characters.

"Commander,

It is with great joy to know that my friend is alive and well, living among us. I look forward to continuing the friendship I so greatly cherish and it is my sincere hope you will be able to confide in me as your trustworthy comrade. My door will always be open, the Vodka on the table, ready and waiting for our next language lesson. I have much to teach you about conjugating past tense verbs. I only taught you the masculine form, I see I need to teach you the feminine form. Until then my friend.

Nikolai”

“Well, what did it say?” she asked as I set the paper down.”

“I guess my Russian wasn’t as good as I thought. Well, good for a man, but not for a woman. Your sister-in-law picked that as well with my Japanese. Guess women have a different way of saying certain things in different languages.”

“You are going to find that those who know you really well will see Michael inside regardless of the technicalities of linguistics. Each one of us is unique, and all that we love about Michael is still with us.”

“Well I miss the other part. God, I really hate this body,” I said, looking down at what I was wearing.” Now I know why Liz hated this gown so much, so restrictive, just like my body.”

“But you can do amazing things Michael, things you wouldn’t have-”

“-enough, I don’t want to hear about how awesome it is to fly and deflect bullets. This body is so fucking amazing? Bullshit, there's one thing I want it so much to do, and it seems like they forgot to include that feature. And just so help me if you start trying to convince me that being a chick is so wonderful. It’s not. Live a couple days as a man Megan, and you will realize being a woman sucks. I am sick and tired of assholes treating me like I’m a stupid broad just because I don’t have a cock. I’ve built components of the Space Shuttle, I know its systems inside and out, but I go to a hardware store and they treat me like I’m a dumb shit. Sometimes I can hear their voices in their heads, all they want to do is screw my brains out-”

“-Michael, I know how you must feel-”

“-No Megan, you don’t have any goddamn clue. You think you’re so shittin smart? You understand human emotion? Well, this isn’t human emotion, it’s that goddamn alien bitch that’s driving me mad. I can’t feel, I can’t sleep, I’m quick to anger, and I get all emotional like a chick. I hate her, I hate her, I hate every thing about her. She took everything from me and left me with this ridiculous ogre of a body. The one person I thought would always be there turned her back on me and left me to grieve all alone. Oh god, I’m so alone,” I said as the rage rapidly faded, leaving me crying loudly. I fell to me knees, my hands on my reddened face. Through my hands I saw the shape of her body heat approach and kneel down next to me. Without fear, she took me into her arms and held me tight, letting me expel my pain.

“Michael, I was a horrible friend to you. I should have never said the things I did. You did everything you could to save us, and you succeeded. Back then I was hurting very much inside and buried my feelings. Almost dying in space, thinking I lost you, Brad cheating on me, your wife and daughter, both friends of mine, missing. I sucked it all up for you and I cracked. I snapped hard after watching a man almost put a bullet through me and then taking Gene’s legs from him. I couldn’t deal with it anymore and instead of talking to you, I ran. I pushed you away. If you never forgive me, I understand, but you need to know how much I love you.” I continued to cry as she confessed her shortcomings. No longer did I want to push her away, instead, I held her tightly.

“I will never leave you again. You can be assured that I will stand by you through your darkest moments. I know today is one of them and if you want to lay them to rest, know that I will help you dig their graves.” I shook my head, finally lifting it out of my palms.

“I’m not ready. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want to look anymore, but I can’t bury two empty coffins, not like the one that has my name on it in Arlington.”

“Ok Michael, then we will wait to see what we can find. Until then, let’s get you cleaned up and out of these clothes ok?” I did feel disgusting and felt in desperate need of a good long shower.

“Good idea. I need to hit the head, and hopefully the shower will help this hangover. I’m already starting to hate the feeling.”

“Can you wait a few minutes, you left a little mess in there.”

“What did I do?”

“Well, lets just say, if you do it again, I am going to stick your nose in it and hit you with a newspaper,” she said, laughing as she stood up and stopping behind me. I could feel her breath as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around me, crisscrossing her hands just above my breasts. Her head brushed up against the side of mine.

“I so sorry Michael, for leaving you. It is my sincerest hope that you and I can be best friends again. Know I will alway love you no matter what you throw at me. My life belongs to you.” She kissed me on my forehead and turned to leave.

“Megan,” she stopped as I turned around in the chair, “I’m sorry too.”

“What for?”

“For letting this body get to me. What I said earlier is true, there is a great power I wield, and it’s hard to keep it restrained. Sometimes I’ve been an asshole to people just because I know I can. Like Clint, the power I had over him was intoxicating, as much as he deserved it. My ego was never that enlarged, but now? Now I can let it get the better of me. I’ve been channeling it in a more productive manner, but before Russia, I did a lot of showing off. This body has changed the person inside. I’m sorry because I do feel guilt for Gene. You were right in the hotel, I might be invincible and think I can do anything, but there are always consequences. Other’s can get hurt in my place, just like you. So, you were partially right. Your feelings weren’t entirely unjustified, and I hope one day, Gene can forgive me.”

“So you thought strong-arming Clint to give up a bunch of money was going to fix that?” I was surprised at her knowledge of Clint’s donation.

“No Megan. It’s not what you think. I merely gave some subtle hints that Gene needed help, but he did so out of compassion, not because he was afraid of me. He’s a rather fragile man. I started by breaking him, but now, I am slowly rebuilding him to be a man and what it means to have a family that loves you. I will tell you the story sometime, I think Ms. Pink Freud would be proud of me.”

“I’m always proud of you. Now, go take those clothes off and throw them in the laundry room, while I get the bathroom cleaned up for you.” While I waited for her to clean up the mess in the bathroom, I cleaned up the glass in the bedroom and put the shoeboxes back in place. The damage I caused last night wasn’t bad, but the house needed some cleaning and some minor repair work.

After she finished, I closed the door to the bathroom and fully stripped naked. I stood a moment in front of the mirror staring at Kaaren, resenting her and wishing she would have made me something else. She wanted me to use this body in the limited time she gave it to me, to do good. Use it to help people, bring them together, so that this world could be a better place. Yet, I have done little good. My dysphoria, my self loathing has left me paralyzed where I spend all my time wishing to be free, to be me.

“The steam from the shower fogged up the mirror and hid her image from view allowing me to concentrate on cleaning myself up. After brushing my teeth, getting the foul taste of last night’s whiskey off my tongue, I sat on the ground of our large shower, naked and curled up, letting the water run over my head. My brain shifted thoughts away from my pain and recalled the dream from last night. Over and over I tried to reassemble it, resurrecting the images. The images were so real, but strange. What was it that made me think of that box of hers like that? Why did I suddenly dream of Liz’s box of memories? I knew she kept every memento from our lives together. To me, her collection was her own journal, one without words and I always treated it as such, never prying. I can’t say I really know the contents that well, but somehow in my dream, the contents were very detailed.

“Megan!” I yelled from the shower. After a few seconds, there was a knock then the door opened.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Hey Megan, can you do me a favor and look under our bed on Liz’s side. That box I saw in my dream last night, she keeps it under there. It’s a leather bound case like a large suitcase.”

“Sure. I think that is such a cute idea she had, keeping all those treasured memories of you and her together. I left you a fresh towel and something for you to wear until your clothes are dry.”

“Thanks,” I said as she closed the door. I became excited about looking through her case and started scrubbing my body down. As I reached down to scrub my legs, something caught my attention. Several blond colored hairs I never noticed before were growing above Kaaren’s nether region.

“Well shit, how come I never noticed those before?” I found my razor on the holder in the shower. “Goodbye!” I said as I dragged the razor across the hairs. After several strokes, the hairs were still there, the razor wasn’t cutting them. “Damn.” Cussing, I dropped the razor and resorting to plucking them out with my fingernails. With a little effort the hair popped out at the root. I held the small hair in front of me examining it when the door opened.

“Michael!” I frantically shifted, covering up and tossing the hair aside before she could see me. I slipped and fell backward, hitting my head on the tile, making a loud noise. “Michael, you ok?”

“Fine, you mind knocking?”

“Excuse me. I was just in here a minute ago. What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing?”

“Sure, I bet. Listen, the case isn’t there.”

“It’s on the left side of the bed, did you look there?”

“Yes Michael, I don’t need a PhD in Psychology to know what side of the bed the woman sleeps on. There are some pretty clear territory markers on your nightstands that gave me the clue. Anyway, it’s not there.”

“Ok, I will be right out.” She shut the door and I stood up and finished rinsing off. After a few minutes of rinsing the shampoo out of my hair I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower to find a fresh towel and a long white cotton dress.

“Seriously?” I said as I started drying my body off. “Megan, can you get me something else to wear, I’ve had my fill of girl clothes for the day. Whatever I did last night, I was not in my right mind, so don’t start thinking that was some new trend.”

“Oh come on Michael, give me a break. There's nothing else in here for you to wear. Just put it on for a few while your pants are still drying. It’s only you and I, and I already saw you in a dress today, what's the big deal?”

“I don’t want to, that’s why?”

“Really, you seemed to be having fun dressing up last night.”

“I was drunk, and I was wearing my wife’s clothes for other reasons.”

“Well you can stay in there until your clothes are dry, or you can man up and come look for Liz’s case.”

“Oh screw it,” I thought, picking up the dress looking at it. It was pure white and I didn’t remember Liz ever owning it. I held it up to my body and let it unfold. It was long and ran down to my feet, while the top was cut high around the neckline and had short sleeves. The fabric was a soft white cotton and looked incredibly comfortable although I didn’t have much desire to wear it even in the privacy of my own home. Still, finding that that was the case trumped my male pride so I decided to suck it up.

“All right, at least it’s not pink,” I said out loud.

“That a boy, it’s not so bad. You’re lucky you didn’t grow up a girl, some of the dresses my mom put me in when I was a kid were awful. I should show you pictures some day. They had these giant puffy sleeves and ribbons all over them.”

“Yeah, real lucky indeed,” I said through the door as I fiddled with the dress, trying to align it so my knockers fit properly in the cups sewn into the top of the dress. It was a bit of a tight fit as Kaaren was a little more endowed than Liz. Finished, I looked in the mirror, my hair dripping wet. The top of the dress was getting all soaked from the water still running down my long hair.

'Not too shabby, and yes quite comfortable too. Come on Michael, it’s not that bad, quit being such a wuss,' I said quietly to myself. “Hey Megan, how do you do that Hindu wrap?” Her cute laugh penetrated the wall.

“Come out and I will show you. Hindu wrap, god Michael that’s hilarious.” I opened the door and she was standing there like Liz would in front of the dressing room, waiting to see how I looked in clothes we were shopping for.

“Well look at you, not so bad is it. I’m proud of you Michael, not for wearing this, just for having some courage. Hell you might find you like it.” As she was talking, my body started feeling strange. The somewhat familiar tingling sensations started developing in my head, overriding the remaining pain from my hangover. The electrical like charges started making their way down my body and returned, hitting my head and causing me to get dizzy. I clutched the door frame and leaned against it.

“Michael, what’s the matter?” she asked, clearly seeing something different. “Are you okay?” My vision started shifting uncontrollably and began turning all white as if I just flew into a cloud. Everywhere I turned I saw nothing but white. Megan’s voice started fading out only to be replaced by the sounds of a woman screaming. My heartbeat accelerated as I began panicking. The screams got louder just as I appeared to emerge on the other side of the cloud. I was no longer in my house, but appeared to be in a dimly lit room surrounded by concrete walls. A pair of hands handcuffed together appeared before me, tugging on a chain, desperate to free themselves.

“Help, somebody help us. Please somebody hear us.” The voice called out as she tugged on the chain that was attached to a thermostat. Occasionally she would turn her head and look out a door that led into a larger open room with more concrete walls. I was trying to figure out just what I was seeing when the image started to fade. I could feel a pair of hands gripping my upper arms and slowly, as I passed through the cloud again, I emerged staring at Megan’s face.

“Michael, what’s going on, talk to me.” Truth was I had no idea, but as I thought about it, I had a sudden realization.

“Shit, that was no dream,” I sad aloud. Was I really seeing through my wife’s eyes, and now hearing her voice? What was causing it? I hit my head again, maybe that was triggering the hallucinations. I continued to think rapidly, processing the information as Megan was trying to break through my trance. I was completely ignoring her, not quite sure what to make of everything. I’m invincible, shower tile isn’t going to hurt my head, hell cannon fire didn’t do shit to me. The only thing different was...what else happened last night. I closed my eyes trying to recall the images from the night before. I saw the projector, all the alcohol, the shattered mirror, and then I saw myself standing in Liz’s clothes, my image reflecting back at me.

“Her clothes,” I said aloud, “I was wearing her clothes, and I’m wearing them now.”

“Michael what are you talking about?” I broke out of her grip and ran down the hallway taking the dress off, throwing it on the ground and running stark naked the rest of the way.

"Jeez Michael, you're such a wuss." Frantically I started pulling Liz's clothes out of the closet and tossing them on the bed. Megan came into the room and watched as I sifted through her wardrobe. I grabbed the first thing I could find, a skimpy purple and pink dress. Quickly I slipped it on, tugging on the end to pull it the skirt down as low as it would go. I turned to the wall just as the electrical impulses started again. After a second or two of transition, I was seeing and hearing everything as if I was now in her body. She was on the ground, apparently worn out from fighting. Her legs were curled up to her chest and her handcuffed arms were now wrapped around her shins. She looked to the side and the corner of the box appeared just as the image started to fade again. I stripped, tossing the dress to the side, and grabbed a purple floral knee length dress and slipped it on, waiting for the sensations to return.

"Ok, I'm confused, now after a year of you resisting women’s clothing, today, you suddenly want to play dress up?"

"Shh, Shut up" I said crudely, trying to concentrate on the wall. One by one the images returned for a little while, allowing me to see through Liz's point of view. She was looking through the box and picked up a picture of Ash.

“You fucking bastard, give me my daughter back. Give me my baby back, please!”

“Oh god no. No!” I said as the image faded again, “Not Ash.” Who the hell was Liz talking about. I pushed past Megan and ran into Ashley’s room, grabbing clothing out of her closet and finding something I could use. There was no way I was going to get any of this stuff to fit. I found one of her sweaters and stretched it over my head, the empty sleeves dangling where my ears were. I turned to see Megan looking at me with a look of disapproval just as a new image appeared. All I could see was a pair of folded jacket sleeves. Ashley was looking down at her lap and all I could make out was she was in some kind of vehicle. I tried to listen, but only heard a muffled humming sound.

"Come on, come on, look around for daddy." The image started fading again, leaving me staring at Megan who continued to watch my strange behavior.

"Ok Michael, you are really starting to scare me, or you just dove off the diving board of sanity into the crazy pool." With a fresh piece of clothing, the image came back, this time stronger. I heard a voice and a stranger’s hand came into view handing Ashley a thermos. Ashley refused it and continued to look at her lap.

“Come on, drink a little something, we still have another hour to go,” the man’s voice said. She turned away and looked out to her right. It was bright and the light took a second to adjust. As it did the image faded.

“Michael, please talk to me, what are you doing, what’s going on?” The image came back, this time very strong as I put one of her favorite shirts on over my head.

“Ash, be a good girl for daddy and look around so I can see.” The vision came back and she was looking out the window. Off in the distance was the ocean. The view was from a really high vantage point and I realized she was in an aircraft. “Ash, look at the man, who’s flying, come on, help me out.” As if hearing me, she turned her head. I stood ready with another piece of clothing, but the image didn’t fade. Her point of view stared at his hand with the thermos.

“That a girl, we are going to be landing soon, ok?” the stranger said as Ashley’s eyes traced up the man’s arm and looked directly in his face. There, looking through my daughter’s eyes, the face of Dwayne Turner was staring back at me. My blood started to boil as the final image faded. I could suddenly hear Megan’s voice as the sounds of the aircraft faded. She was shaking me and yelling at me to share what was happening with her.

“Damn it Michael, what the hell is going on, snap out of it and talk to me. Instead I reached up and put my arms around her and hugged her so hard I could hear her back cracking slightly. Quickly I released my grip, grabbed the side of her head and pulled her toward me, planting a long hard kiss on her lips. Her eyes opened wide not sure what the sudden kiss was all about.

“Oh Megan, I love you.” A huge smile lit up on my face as I thought things through.

“Megan...They’re alive."

To Be Continued....Episode 16 Season One Finale “The Hero and The Terror Part II”

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by G.M. Shephard

Michael, now able to see his wife and daughter through an unknown power, assumes the identity of Angel in order to stop Dwayne and save the two he loves. The exciting conclusion to Season One of Angel.

Angel S:1 E:16 Season One Finale “The Hero and the Terror Part II”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright  © 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

---

Acknowledgments

Back in August of 2012, I began writing my first ideas that had been occupying my mind for years. Looking back to that night, seated in front of my computer when I began typing “Angel’s” first couple words, I never thought it would become something to so many people. After several revisions I finally reached the point, the big defining moment where I hovered my mouse over the submit button for hours before finally gaining the courage. The story posted, and I waited in utter fear. Then, one at a time, reviews started popping up, emails began flowing in. The readers enjoyed the Pilot and wanted more.

What began as a simple way to express my inner feelings, soon reached others who wanted an escape from this world, even if temporary. Angel grew into something more and I found myself writing not only for me, but a rapidly expanding fan base. As a first time writer, I can’t say enough how much you all mean to me. You have been there for me with your words of encouragement, offers to help with the editing, death threats for Dwayne, and demands for a length of rope after leaving all of you on one to many cliff hangers.

Now, safely pulled up over the edge, we are about to embark on the final stretch of the journey. I would like to take a brief moment to thank several key people who volunteered many long hours of their own time to help Angel be the success it has. Jeff, my personal Perry White, my editor in chief who has gone above and beyond for me. Your hard work is very much appreciated. Kitty, also a dedicated editor has also spent many hours fixing my horrible typos and grammar. Both have evolved from volunteer help to close personal friends of whom I value their friendship.

Erin, Sephrena, Piper and anyone else I might not have named, who run and maintain Big Closet. Your site has become my main home for Angel as well as future stories as the community you have built has become family to me.

All of my fans. From those that chat with me on-line, to the regular reviewers to the casual silent reader. I love you all.

Finally, to the love of my life. Thank you for standing by my side all these years and believing in me. I love you.

---

Angel Season One Finale “The Hero and the Terror Part II”

...“Damn it Michael, what the hell is going on, snap out of it and talk to me. Instead I reached up and put my arms around her and hugged her so hard I could hear her back cracking slightly. Quickly I released my grip, grabbed the side of her head and pulled her toward me, planting a long hard kiss on her lips. Her eyes opened wide not sure what the sudden kiss was all about.

“Oh Megan, I love you.” A huge smile lit up on my face as I thought things through,
“Megan...They’re alive."

“What do you mean? How do-”

“-MEGAN THEY’RE ALIVE.” I lifted my hands into the air and looked up. “Thank you Kaaren, you're the best. Woo hoo! They’re alive.” I turned and grabbed her shoulders. “I’ve seen them, they’re not dead, she didn’t run off on me.”

"You saw them? How?"

"I don't know. Something strange starts happening when I put on their clothing. It's like I can see through their eyes.

“Psychometry!” She said with her authoritative knowledge. Megan, while working on her masters in Psychology, spent time learning about hypnosis and also studied ESP and other paranormal abilities that people claimed they had.

“What the hell is that? - Wait, never mind Doc, later. I have to find them, they're in trouble. Dwayne has them. He's in a plane right now with Ashley and Liz is chained up somewhere.”

“Dwayne? You mean Turner?" She thought long and hard about him, finally having an epiphany. "Son of a bitch, he's had them all this time."

"I don't know. I have to find Liz, she's in serious trouble and Ash," my heart sank, "Ash, I can't let that bastard hurt her." Megan came close and put her arms around me.

"Michael, I am really happy for you. This is the best news ever, but let's be careful, these might not be current images. They could be from past events. I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"I'm not so sure. I think you're mistaken, and what I’m seeing are current images. She was looking through her box last night. It was our anniversary and she was mourning me. I saw her face, she was crying."

"Maybe you're right, but she could have done that at any time." Her doubt was getting to me. I finally had my first solid bit of hope in a year, and she was trying to take it from me.

"Megan, take off your blouse," I commanded.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't argue, take it off. I want to prove this is the present that I am seeing. You are my control subject. If I'm right, I should be able to see through your eyes in real time." Megan reluctantly began unbuttoning her light yellow blouse and stripped down to her bra. She handed me the top as I stripped off Liz's purple dress, leaving myself naked in front of her. "Don't say it," I said, sensing she was thinking about how amazing Kaaren's body was. I put the blouse on and stepped into my office, closing the door and leaving her outside just as the white cloud started to appear. A second later, I was standing outside the door looking though her eyes.

"Well Michael, is it working?"

"Yes, I'm looking through your eyes. Turn around and hold up some fingers," I watched as her point of view shifted to face the hallway wall. Megan held up her hand displaying seven fingers. "Left thumb and index, all five on the right." She changed it up. "Four, right and left index and middle."

"You're not cheating with that x-ray vision of yours?"

"Thermal, and no. The heat from your body is blocking your hands, it doesn't work like that. Left pinky, right ring." She turned around and opened the door.

"Ok, enough, you were right. Now what are we going to do?"

"I have to find out where they are. Dwayne can be just about anywhere, but maybe if I can get some of his clothes, I can see his plane's instruments and figure out his position. Ash isn't helping much."

"Sounds good, you know where he lives?"

"No, do you?" She thought long and hard, then looked at me.

"No, but a quick call to NASA and I can find out.”

"Do it, I will be right back," I said as I started running down the hall to the bedroom.

"Michael, my shirt please?" After taking her shirt off I quickly threw the white dress on over my body and returned to the living room.

"Here," she took the shirt from my hand, "I will be back in five."

"Where are you going?"

"Gotta go to my cabin and get something."

---

Megan nervously tapped her foot repeatedly while waiting on hold. It was the third time being placed on hold and Frank wasn't answering. She hung up and dialed a couple of other numbers with the same results.

"Damn it, where the hell is everyone?" She hung up and dialed 411. After a couple of rings the operator picked up.

"City and name listing please," she said without a shred of politeness in her voice.

"Try Houston, looking for a listing for Dwayne Turner.

"One moment...I have a listing for 17 listings Wayne Turner."

"No, Dwayne. Delta, whiskey, alpha, yankee, november echo, got that sweetheart? Megan rolled the alpha codes off, proud they were still fresh in her mind after a year.

"Yeah, what are you military or something?"

"Just get me the listings, this is an emergency."

"Ok, I have ten listings for a Dwayne - with a "D" - Turner in Houston and surrounding towns."

"Let me have all of them, addresses too."

"I'm sorry, I can only provide one listing at a time, you will have to call back." Megan started getting pissed off at the regulations that simply made no logical sense.

"Come on, this is a life or death emergency, don't jerk me around."

"Ma'am, if this is an emergency, then dial 911 for your local police." She was starting to drive her nuts.

"Please cut me some slack, this is Dr. McCormack, you know, the Astronaut?" Megan felt great shame dropping her celebrity status to twist someone's arm, but considering the circumstances she felt justified.

"Just a moment." There was a pause followed by a new voice picking up. "This is Kristen, I am the supervisor. I would be happy to help you Doctor. I am terribly sorry about that. Let me get the information you need." Megan let out a sigh of relief as a sudden gust of wind blew through the back door.

"Jeez," she said as Michael's sudden presence in the room startled her. Kaaren's blond hair was a shaggy mess.

Megan listened and started writing each of the addresses down, struggling to avoid making mistakes. After asking several times for the supervisor to repeat the address, Michael took the phone from her.

"Sorry ma'am, can you please repeat that for me, I am going to take the information." Michael stood there listening as she read each of the listings.

"That's it, is there anything else I can do for the Doctor?" Megan got back on the phone.

"Kristen, thank you very much for your help. Look up my office listing and leave me your information and I will send you something for your troubles."

"No need Doctor, you've all ready done enough, thank you very much." As Megan expressed her final appreciation before hanging up, she watched Michael transfer all the addresses from his memory to a piece of paper with lightning speed.

"Great job, Doc," Michael said as he started to analyze the different listings.

"See anything?" Megan watched as he crossed off a couple of addresses right off the bat.

“Bad areas of town, I know he doesn’t live there.” Michael opened the drawer to his desk and withdrew a spiral bound book and tossed it on his desk next to the pad. He opened to the back and began poring over the index, then started flipping through the pages. Megan watched as pages of maps shuffled by. “Nope,” Michael said, finding the street and moving on in an instant, boggling Megan’s mind.

“You really can read that fast?”

“Yes, and I’m getting faster all the time,” he said, paging through to the next map, finding the grid, then scratching off another address.”

“What criteria are you using for eliminating the addresses?” Megan wondered what was going through Michael’s head.

“He’s got a large property. I remember him talking about owning a bunch of land. Never said where.” Megan started to think. He had approached her a couple of years ago about that project he was working on.

“Michael, stop.”

“What? Don’t interrupt me.”

“No, none of these addresses are them, he didn’t live in Houston. He had a ranch somewhere outside.” Michael threw the Thomas Guide across the room in a fit of anger.

“God damn it. We’re wasting time.” Michael, still in his wife’s white dress, paced back and forth his office.

“Michael, settle down, we are going to find them, but if we let ourselves get stressed out, we won’t be able to help them. Now let me see that Commander take charge and handle tough situations like I know you can.”

“This isn’t some stupid mission Doc, this is my wife and kid’s lives we are talking about.”

“Bullshit Michael, the whole god damn mission was about their lives. The two lives on this planet you wanted to save most were theirs. You are in that body because of them. I know you didn’t choose to become Kaaren for anyone else on the planet, so calm down, and let’s work this problem as if we were back on board.” Michael fell silent, Megan’s words going straight to the heart. He started to gain control of his emotions and take command of the situation.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I never used to act like this. Like I said, this body has been screwing with my emotions more lately. Sometimes it’s hard to control. It’s scary at times, how easily I get upset, or take my anger out on people. That includes you. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to apologize, let’s just concentrate on finding them. Can you still see them?” Michael left and returned a moment later with one of Liz’s jackets on. He stood there for a minute as if in a trance, staring at the wall.

“Nothing, she is laying down on her side. She is looking through a door leading to an open area. She is just lying there, not moving. Damn it, I gotta find her.”

“Ok, we will. Tell me, describe the room she’s in.”

“It’s cold, slightly dark. No personality. All the walls, the floor even, it’s all concrete. It’s like my bunk…” Michael paused deep in thought. “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“It’s just like my dad’s bomb shelter under my cabin.” At that moment, something popped into Megan’s head.

“Michael, I think I know where she is.”

---The Bunker---

“Liz,” Reid said, pulling himself over to her. He slid up alongside of her and fiddled with his chain, sliding his arms around her. Since she calmed down and stopped pulling on her chains, she fell into a deep depression and refused to talk. As he wrapped his bound hands around her, picking her head off the concrete, she remained motionless, her eyes fixed on a single spot in the room. Tears were dripping down her face, but she didn’t whimper. Reid caressed her hair trying to comfort her, but she didn’t respond. He looked at her bound wrists and saw they were bleeding from her struggles.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” She sniffled a few times and then started to break down again.

“Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? Ashley, what the hell did she do? I’m never going to see her again. Both of her parents have been taken from her. Why? She was a good kid, better than any mother could ask for. Her whole life was ahead of her and I failed her. I delivered her into that terror’s hands.”

---Owen’s Family House---

“Remember that party in Florida? It was your birthday and everyone was there? Well, Dwayne approached me, interested in some of the work I had done. I tried blowing him off, but agreed to hear him out later in the week. He told me that he was doing some side work for a company, working on environments that could sustain an eco-system, completely self sufficient, for deep space colonization.”

“What did he need your help with?”

The company had plans to conduct a two year test with actual test subjects living in the environment to see if it would work. He needed my background in selecting a compatible crew as I did for our mission.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was too busy of course. I didn’t have any spare time to think about anything other than THOR.”

“So, what does all this mean?”

“He gave me some materials to go through, it might have something we can use?”

“Where?”

“My house,” I grabbed the black case I brought back from the cabin and laid it on the desk. There were two large combination padlocks securing the case shut. I didn’t waste time with unlocking them, instead I squeezed the lock in my hand, the metal crushing until the latch broke free. I repeated the same thing on the second lock and tossed both away, “Michael, what is that?” Megan said with a concerned look, “you’re not going to shot him are you?” I opened the case, Megan waiting in suspense, curious as to what I had stored in there. The light glistened off the white metallic surface. It was clean and neatly folded in the main compartment. There were two foam cutouts on each side where I stored both of the remaining crystals. I reached in and pulled the suit out, letting the length of the alien garment unfold and fall to the ground. Megan’s eyes were fixated on the white single piece suit.

“Wow, Michael, is that Kaaren’s suit?”

“Yes,” I said as I stripped off Liz’s dress, completely naked in front of my friend, without a care in the world. Carefully, I stepped into the legs and guided my feet into the attached boots before pulling the suit up around my wide hips. With the lower half of my body covered, I reached in one arm at a time and fed my hands through the sleeves, pulling the upper half up and around my shoulders. I turned around, facing away from Megan’s view as I shifted Kaaren’s breasts inside the proper place before pressing the button. As the suit started to seal shut, I turned to face Megan again.

“Today, Dwayne is going to meet Angel in all her glory.”

---MOK99---

Dwayne brought the plane to a slow taxi along the runway heading toward the fuel station.

“Ashley, we are stopping for fuel. Now listen to me, I will take you to the bathroom and then get something to eat before we take off again. I want you to be good. If you say anything, anything at all to get me in trouble, remember, I won’t tell them where your mother is. You don’t want to kill your mommy do you?” She was quiet and didn’t say anything, “well?”

“No,” she finally said.

“Good, keep your mouth shut and in a couple of days you can see her again.” She stayed in the plane while he fueled up and checked the engine, making sure all fluids were at peak levels. Ashley sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, head down, her posture unchanged since the moment Dwayne first put her in the plane. She wanted to yell and scream for help, but was afraid of what would happen to her mother. Deep down Ashley was terrified, especially she was deeply afraid of heights and didn't like flying.

She looked up and saw Dwayne close the door to the engine and wipe the grease off his hands with a dirty red rag. He put his tool box back into the back of the plane and motioned for Ashely to get out of the plane.

"Not a word you hear me miss?"

"I'm scared, I don't want to fly anymore."

"Ashley, we have one more two hour flight, then you are done. You can be comfortable in the front seat, or you can lay down in the back tied up. What do you want?" Ashley started crying, making Dwayne very nervous.

"Stop it right now, otherwise we are going to leave and you can pee your pants."

"I want my mommy you creep." Dwayne pushed her back into the plane and pulled out a rope from his jacket. Ashley saw he was serious and started pleading with him.

"No, don't. I'll be good. I'm sorry, I'll be good." He set the rope on the dash and pointed his finger at Ashley's face.

"This is the last time you disobey me. Do it again, and I won't listen to your apologies. You understand me?" She shook her head in agreement. "Good, now I am going to let you go to the bathroom." He pulled her from the plane, holding tightly to her upper arm and escorting her to the back of the little fuel shack on the desolate air field. The attendant came by with the total for his fill up. Dwayne withdrew two one hundred dollar bills and handed them to the cashier. He thought a second and withdrew a third. "Here, keep the change." The kid's face lit up.

"Thank you sir, I really appreciate it. Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, just get back inside and go back to your book. You've been a great help." The kid thanked him again and ran back inside as Ashley came out of the bathroom. He looked inside to make sure she didn't leave any signs behind. Confident that she was behaving, Dwayne loaded her into the plane and fired up the engine. In a couple of minutes, they were airborne yet again, making their way toward the next stop on his flight plan.

---Owen’s Family House---

"I can't fly with you Megan," Michael said with stress in his voice.

"Why not, you've flown with Mitri?"

"I'm visible to radar. I think they've been tracking me and if I get jumped again, you can get killed."

"What are you talking about?" Michael recounted the encounter with the F-16s as quickly as he could.

"The only way I can avoid fighters is to fly fast. With you on my back, I can fly about one hundred miles an hour maybe more. Tell me what I am looking for and I will go to the house and pick it up." Megan started to detach her house key from the key ring.

"It's in my office somewhere. It's a large white binder with what looks like a large white dome on the cover. I forget the name of the company."

"Ok, I am heading over now." Michael pulled his gauge cluster from his coat and strapped it to his wrist and locked it tight. Megan reached into the case and withdrew one of the crystals, watching the light sparkling off the perfectly clear glass.

"Are these the crystals Michael?" There was no answer. She turned to look around the office, but found she was alone. "Michael?" After concluding he had left her alone, she went back to looking at the alien artifacts in his case. She pulled up his chair and took a seat, pulling the desk lamp over to get a closer look. "Amazing," Megan said, noticing dense clusters of imperfections inside the glass. She turned and started opening the drawers of his desk, finding what she was looking for. She withdrew a large magnifying glass from the top drawer and began scanning the clear crystal up close. At closer inspection, the imperfections seemed intentional and appeared to have some kind of pattern to them. A harsh bell sounded next to her, startling her. Michael's phone was ringing. She hesitated a second then answered.

"Hello?"

"Megan, I don't see it? You sure it's in your office?" She remembered having looked through it casually, reading a few details so that she could convince Dwayne she actually read through it.

“It’s gotta be there? I remember seeing it somewhere since we returned.”

“Well it’s not here,” she could tell he was getting frustrated. There was a rustle with the phone, then all she could hear was ambient noise. She tried calling for him with no response. After a minute he returned.

“Found it.”

“Oh thank god, where was it?”

“The only room it should be in. Anything Dwayne has authored should be listed as light bathroom reading.”

“Oh shit,” Megan exclaimed, covering her face in embarrassment.

“Yeah, exactly.” She heard the sound of pages rustling. “BioTech Labs? There is a Houston Address and phone number.”

“Great, give me the number.” Michael read it off to her as she wrote it down on the pad with all the Dwayne Turners in the Houston area. “Bad news guys, your name’s about to become mud.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I’m going to call this-”

“-Hey Megan, this radio here in your suitcase, is that the one from Russia?”

“Yeah, I was going to give it to my brother.” The line disconnected. “Jeez Michael, you think a quick goodbye wouldn’t be too much to ask.” Megan picked up the handset and dialed the phone number. It rang three times before someone finally picked up and spoke with a rather bored dry monotone voice.

“BioTech, how can I direct your call?”

“Yes, I’m trying to get an address for a Dwayne Turner, can you help me out?”

“Sorry, I can’t give out employee information.”

“This is Dr. McCormack, Mr. Turner and I are former co-workers at NASA.” There was a sigh coming through the phone at the same time she heard Michael return.

“Yeah, and I’m Mary Poppins.” The line went dead.

“Damn it, she hung up on me.” Megan redialed the number.

“BioTech, how can I direct your call?”

“Listen toots, get your boss on the phone right now. I’m with NASA and I have a large investor with me trying to get to a meeting with Turner. If you don’t put that goddamn nail file down right now and help us get to Turner’s place, he is walking away with a large sum of money. You can either get yourself a finder’s fee, or your ass fired. You got me?” For a moment there was nothing but silence, then another sigh.

“Hold please,” Michael sat the book and Megan’s radio on his desk, then opened the middle drawer. She impatiently waited on hold while she watched him sift through the contents and withdraw a rubber band. Megan held her hand out and signaled for him to give it to her.

“Come here,” Megan said, “turn around.”

“What?”

“Let me fix it for you. Give me the band.”

“You don’t even know what I-”

“-Your hair, it’s driving you mad right?” He shook his head and she just motioned with her hand again. He reluctantly dropped it in her hand and sat in the chair.

“This is Benson,” a voice came on over the phone. Megan shifted the handset while she began pulling Kaaren’s thick blonde hair back in a tight bunch.

“Hi, Mr. Benson, this is Dr. Megan McCormack. Mr. Turner and I worked together at NASA-”

“-Right, I know who you are. Finally found an interest in what we are doing here?” She bunched up the rubber band and started pulling Kaaren’s hair through, keeping it as tightly bound together as possible before releasing the band.

“Yes, I have always had an interest, but it’s never been the right time for me. With my schedule clear, I thought I would talk to Dwayne about coming on board. I have a partner that is interested in an investment opportunity. We were supposed to meet with Dwayne at his place, but I lost his address.

“Investor? How much we talking?”

“Look Mr. Benson, we are already late, and my partner here is a busy man, can you help me out and Dwayne will fill you in later?”

"Of course, let me get that for you."

---

"Dayton?" I said while adjusting the throat mike around my neck, then securing the radio in the back pouch on the belt that held the crystals.

"Yes, 1159 Deer Trail, Dayton Texas. He said it's off the 90 and Farmer’s Market 1413. With the radio secure, I opened the Thomas Guide and searched for his street, relieved this edition covered surrounding areas. I committed the map to my memory and put another one of Ashley's shirts on my head. A moment later the white cloud passed and I was watching through her eyes. She was still in the plane, but it appeared as if they were on the ground moving pretty fast. At first I began to wonder where they were landing, then the plane suddenly lifted off the ground and began gaining altitude. The dense lush green tree line disappeared below, allowing me to see off to the horizon. Ashley looked down, showing me a rural landscape with several scattered lakes. The image began fading, returning me back to my office. I became aware of Megan's raspy voice coming through the radio earpiece.

"Radio Check, you copy Saint?" I squinted as the screeching sound from the feedback hurt my sensitive hearing. After moving to the far side of the room, I pressed the talk button on my neck.

"Roger Doc, read you loud and clear." Megan held up her thumb signaling that she could hear fine. "Ok, I'm leaving, Dwayne just took off. He must have stopped somewhere and is leaving again. I gotta find him before it's too late. My little girl is scared to death."

“Okay, that sounds good, but lets stop for a quick second and talk about what you are about to do.”

“I don’t have time. Fucking bastard, I'm gonna rip his heart out. How could he have done this to them and me. That asshole gave a eulogy at my funeral, and probably had them locked up at the same time? Why the fuck would someone do that? Jeez Megan, we knew this guy. He was a jerk, but he wan't a sick evil bastard?"

"No Michael, Dwayne had his shortcomings, but he didn't seem like the type. But you have to realize that there are some deep-seated issues in people that they keep hidden from the world. Now I want you to stop and clear your head. Breathe and mediate, pray, just do something, anything and calm yourself down. This isn’t Russia, you don’t want to get them killed because you rushed into an unfamiliar situation again. Do you understand me?”

"I didn't rush into anything in Russia Megan. We gonna start talking about that crap again?"

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just want you to be the calm leader I always knew you as, and think rationally before acting. Don't let this body define who you are. My friend Michael," she pushed her index finger into my chest, "the one inside is what defines this body. Understand? You have to learn how to control Kaaren's emotions. I don't want you hurting or killing people just because you can get away with it." The ghosts of Tolkechev and the several others who I killed with absolute ease came back to haunt me. It took months to bury the pain and I knew it would be a matter of time before it resurfaced to torment me.

"Ok. Thank you, you're right."

“Ok Doc, you’re the doc. What do you have in mind?”

---To the Rescue---

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I yelled out loud as the wind howled between us. My vision, detecting radio sources, scanned through the thick cloud layer that rolled into the Houston area mid morning. Below, endless sources of radiation emitted from communications towers, giving me a simple view of the city as I traveled east, concealed in the clouds.

“Damn Michael, how come you never took me up before? This is out of this world.” Megan had a huge smile on her face as we continued to accelerate over 175 mph. I had made her wear my old helmet with my call sign painted on the side along with a cheesy picture of St. Michael casting the devil into hell.

“I’m wasting time, I could have been there already.”

“Michael, if Liz is there, she’s going to need a familiar face.”

“What if she’s not there. I can’t keep carting you around?” The radio signals died down, marking the outer edges of the city. Smaller radio signals inching along directed me to a highway.

“We’re in a moderate clearing, I see the 90 below.” With Megan navigating, I restored back to visible and checked my position against my compass. We were right on track, speeding along the highway into the rural outskirts of town. I brought up the vivid images of the map within my mind, trying to align the streets below until I found the offramp leading to Dwayne’s street.

“There it is.”

“Where?”

“See the white structures? Those are the small test biospheres from the plans he gave you.”

“Yeah, I see them, why are you passing them?”

“In case they are tracking us right now, I don’t want to land right over his house. I'm going to loop around and come in low under the radar.” After a short diversion, I descended to two hundred feet and flew along the tree line as far from the road as possible. Behind his house was a small lake filled with green murky water. Megan reached out and touched the dirty water as I descended further skimming just over the surface before slowing to a stop behind the house. I carefully set her down and helped her take my helmet off. My ears could pick up the increased rhythm of both of our heartbeats. The excitement was starting to overwhelm me.

“LIZ!” I called out, “LIZ.” We were utterly alone without a soul around. Dense clusters of trees shielded the property from the view of passing vehicles.

“LIZ,” Megan joined in while trying the front door. “Michael, can you open the door for me, I’m going to check the house."

“Stand back,” I said as I stood in front of the single door. I wasted no time trying to be careful and kicked in the door as hard as I could, splintering the hard oak. The debris hadn’t settled when Megan rushed in calling out.

“Shh. Megan, be quiet for a moment,” I calmed down and focused my hearing, listening. The sounds of small critters scurrying around the property began to register in my ears, but nothing else. No sounds resembling a human. No whimpering, no crying, no more pleas for help. If she were here, she was silent. I turned Megan around and unzipped the backpack she had on, withdrawing one of Liz’s sweaters. A moment after putting it on, the vision returned. She was still in the same position as she was in earlier, her eyes flipped 90 degrees, looking straight down the hallway. I could hear her sniffling, the calming moments after a hard cry. The image faded, leaving me with nothing.

“I only have a few more,” she said as I tossed the sweater back to her. I ran over to the white structures and peered through the condensation on the frosted windows. Inside were rows of plants of varying variety set up on tables and shelves running down the length of the structure. In the front was a set of double doors with a pressurization warning in big red letters. I forced open the first door, then kicked in the second. As the air suddenly escaped, it produced a loud violent sound that startled Megan, who was trying to open the garage door.

My ears began to pick up subtle hissing sounds long after the last of the air escaped. There was a distinct sucking and blowing sound simultaneously sending audio signals to my alien brain. On the tables were some gardening tools as well as bags of small boxes with BioTech’s name was all over the packing materials.

“What do you see?”

“This bastard did it.”

“What?”

“He had a small stable environment before I destroyed it. If all this was grown inside, then he succeeded where others have failed. No one’s been able to keep an artificial, self sustaining ecosystem going long term.”

“They all fall apart?”

“Yes, it’s too bad, this guy could have been top dog for once in his life-” I froze, holding my hand up.

“What is it?”

“Shh,” I focused harder on the hissing, tracing it to a two large tubes at the base of the habitat. Along with the airflow and fan, I began picking up new noises. There was a rustling of metal and my heart skipped a beat. It was the unmistakable sound of a chain.

“Hello?” My emotions erupted as if someone squeezed my heart, forcing all the joy up and out through my eyes. I fought the tears back as I heard it again.

“Hello? Is someone out there?” I quickly ran outside to the other side of the wall where the tubes were coming into the habitat from underground. My strong hands ripped a single tube from its housing and pulled it up out of the ground. The dirt fell away as the black tube rose high, stretching across the driveway to a large debris pile. Several trees that had been cut down leaned against the piles of junk on the other side. Megan watched as I traced the tube through the scattered branches lying on the ground. As I drew close, the sharp details of a wooden door peeked out. I kicked away the branches to find what looked like a cellar door.

Megan was standing next to me holding a shirt out.

“I don’t need it. Oh god Megan, I found her.” I hugged her hard, “thank you, thank you.”

“Later my friend, go to her, she’s waiting for you.” I grabbed the shirt and wiped the tears from my face, then pulled the band from my hair before turning and ripping the door open. “I’ll be outside, call me on the radio.” Her voice, loud and clear, passed through my ears without her words registering. The sole focus of my attention was seeing my wife again. Liz’s faint inquires toward the outside world became loud desperate screams for help as she concluded the noises announced the presence of potential rescue.

I stood before the large steel door and debated tearing it out of the concrete frame before deciding on leaving minimal evidence of my presence behind. Air rushed out as I severed the seal the door provided and swung the heavy door open. Carrying through the air was the sound of my wife’s voice. I called out to her, choking up in the process.

“Liz,” I called out.

"Back here. Help," she called out to me, not caring who it was as long as it meant her freedom. I cleared the entryway and found myself on the other end of the long concrete hallway that I had seen through her eyes. There were no time dilation effects from my super fast movement, yet the world seemed to pass slowly around me as my eyes locked into the struggling red headed woman whom I had committed my life to. Her face had a look of confusion, not knowing who it was that was coming to her rescue. She was at the end of her chain, and her head was barely clearing the doorway, her bound arms were out of view. My excitement rapidly disappeared and fear overtook me. Instead of rushing over to her, I slowly inched myself forward, suddenly afraid of her rejecting me.

"What are you doing? Hurry, help me." I snapped out of it and ran down the length of the hall, maneuvering around some contraption on the ground.

"Liz," I said, finally standing before her. She stared up at me, tears of joy streaming from her face knowing her freedom was seconds away. My hands gently reached out and took hold of the handcuffs.

"Quick, there's a key in that water bot-" she stopped mid-sentence, feeling the force binding her wrists together suddenly give way, no match for my strength. The chain keeping her prisoner hit the ground, making a loud rattling noise while I pried the ratchets apart and discarded the cuffs as if they were made of foil. She was about to ask how I accomplished such a feat, when I wrapped my arms around her. Far from being able to feel her warmth, I felt my body temperature increase as I savored her body in my arms again.

"It's ok Liz, you're safe. Everything is going to be alright." After an embrace that lasted an eternity, I released my grip, moving back slightly while reaching up with one hand and softly catching the tears racing down her cheek.

"Who are you?" she asked. I paused a moment, forming in my mind the words I crafted, the ones I rehearsed in my mind millions of times as early as the moment Kaaren ejected me from her ship.

"Liz, my name is-"

"-Karen?" I heard a weak inquiry from the side. As soon as the voice spoke, movement in my peripheral vision confirmed that we weren't alone. I abandoned my words, looking to my left and finding myself face to face with Reid. "How did you find us?" A look of disappointment was now showing on Liz's face. I became confused and scared standing in front of my friend, happy that he somehow found her, but afraid of what he told her. Afraid of him knowing I wasn't who I said I was. In a panic, I pressed the button on my neck.

"Doc, get down here." My fingers hadn't begun to release the button when the first sounds of footsteps began echoing throughout the concrete prison.

"You are the mysterious sister?" He had told her, and she knew my cover was crap and now it was obvious so did Reid. I didn't have a choice.

"No, I am not Michael's sister." I turned to Reid, "I'm sorry Reid." I turned back and went for broke. "Liz, my name is Kaaren. I am a friend. Michael has sent me to watch over you." Liz turned her head, seeing Megan approaching through the dark hallway. Megan paused, watching the rapidly crumbling grand reunion. She didn't say anything, but gave an approving nod, inviting me to proceed.

"It's ok Liz." Megan spoke up, holding her hand up to convey her trust in me so that Liz would know it was safe to confide in me. She looked briefly at me, then at Reid, confused as to who to believe.

"Liz," I said, "I am a friend from far far away. I am the one who saved the Earth from the asteroid and I am also the one who," Megan nodded further approval as both Liz and I turned to her, "I am the one who also saved him."

"What? What are you saying?" she said with the sound of skepticism in her voice.

"What I am telling you, it that your husband is alive." Megan stood at her side and took my fragile wife into her embrace as she started to weep.

"No. Please stop. I can't take it anymore. Will someone please make up their minds, I'm so confused," Liz said, yelling, grabbing Megan and clutching onto the security of her trustworthy presence.

"Liz, I'm here, it's ok. I know this is difficult to hear. Listen to me, you know me, you trust me right? You know I would not lie to you?" She nodded her buried face up and down and let out a muffled yes into Megan's shoulder. "What Kaaren is telling you is true, Michael is alive." As she spoke those words, she caught her first sight of Reid sitting against the wall watching the drama unfold. I gave her a reassuring nod that it was ok to say more.

"Where is he, why isn't he here?"

"Liz, it's very complicated and I'm going to help you understand, but for right now, Michael is on his way to help save Kaaren's home planet. She chose him to help her people, while she accomplished what we couldn't do. Kaaren saved him. She saved all of us on the Deliverance, as well as the whole planet. Today, it’s your turn, but we need to act quickly if she is to go after Dwayne and rescue Ashley.

"Liz, help me, where is he taking Ash?" All of her doubt was cast aside the moment she realized there was hope in saving her daughter.

"I don't know, he is taking her somewhere in his plane."

"I know, do you know where he is taking her?"

"Somewhere out of the country," Reid said. "He left some instructions for us in the house for when we escaped." I left Liz with Megan while I ran over to him, kneeling next to him. I took his handcuffs and removed them from his wrists. Sweat was beading down his head and I could tell he was weak.

"You ok Reid?"

"That asshole shot me in the leg with my own gun," he said, moving the blanket away, revealing the bandaged wound. "So, you are an alien?"

"Megan, get over here, he's injured." She hurried over, Liz following. "Yes, Reid. Forgive me, but I couldn't tell you who I really was."

"How long ago did this happen?" Megan said, interrupting our exchange. "Hell, I don't know. Three, maybe four days ago. Lost track of time." She finished unwrapping the bandages and examined the wound.

"Yeah, it's infected, we gotta get you treated right way. 9mm?"

"Pretty good,"

"Yeah, getting a lot of gunshot wound experience lately. Don't worry, you are going to be fine, but we have to get you to a hospital." She turned to me, "Kaaren, can you get him topside, while I help Liz?" Without hesitation I picked him up, put him over my shoulder and carried him out of the shelter, flying up the staircase. As we reached the top, I watched as Megan held tightly onto Liz, who was shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight she had grown accustomed to living without for the last year.

"Where did he say he was leaving Ashley's whereabouts?" I asked as I set him down on Dwayne's couch in the living room.

"I don't know, try the kitchen." Liz followed as I started searching, quickly finding a handwritten note on the countertop next to the phone. All the note said was “Ashley, 954-555-1212.” I grabbed the phone and dialed, after a couple of rings an elderly woman answered.

“Hi Honey, did you land already?”

“Sorry," slightly sickened at the thought of someone calling Dwayne 'Honey', "not your honey. Who is this?”

“You’re calling me, who is this?”

“You know a Dwayne Turner?”

“Of course, he’s my son.”

"He left this number for us to call,"

“Why, did something happen to him?” She sounded concerned while I thought to myself how I was going to give her a real reason to be concerned about the trash she called a son.

“No. Can you please tell me where you are?”

“Why, who is this?” Reid took the phone out of my hand.

“Back off Miss, official police business,” he said jokingly, while putting the phone to his ear, “This is detective Reid with Houston PD, Ma’am, can you please give me your whereabouts?” He listened while searching for something to write with. “West Hollywood? Where is he meeting you?...North Perry Airstrip? Ok, thank you,” Reid said, hanging up the phone. “He’s flying to Hollywood, should be landing in about 30 minutes.”

“I’m going after him,” I said, turning to head out the front door.

“What are you, crazy? He will be long gone, let me get LAPD on the phone and we can meet him at the airport.”

“Do it, but I am going after him anyway,” I said as I went outside, Liz following me.

“What are you going to do?”

“Liz, I’m going to bring Ash back home, trust me. I'm not going to let anything happen to her."

"You're really real? This isn't some trick, because I really don't know what to believe any more. How can I be sure that what you say is true?" I paused a moment thinking how to proceed. Everything Megan told me to say to Liz I wanted to throw out the window, and just tell her the truth, that the woman standing before her was indeed an alien, but an alien that contained her husbands spirit. Michael’s body was far away, but we were soul mates, drawn together by our intangible essence, not by our outer appearance. Inside, I was still the man she fell in love with, the same person she was mourning the other night. Her eyes were still squinting, getting used to their first sunlight in a year, as she gazed up at me, tears flowing. I gently put my hand on the side of her head, caressing her dirty red hair.

"Liz, Michael wanted me to give something to you,” my suit expanded and opened after pressing the button on the collar. I reached behind my neck finding the clasp of the gold chain. After struggling for a moment I unhooked it and removed it from my neck clasping it together again before withdrawing the rest of the chain hidden between my breasts.

"Michael never took this off his finger since you placed it there 13 years ago. He wanted you to hold on to it, and when he returns, he wants you slip it back onto his finger." I took her hand into mine and turned it, watching as she opened it. Holding the chain I lowered my wedding ring into her palm, the chain slowly piling on top. She closed her hand around it and gently squeezed with both hands. Tears continued to flow, but this time, a faint hint of her pretty smile appeared.

"Liz I'm going to bring her back to you, I promise you. You have to trust me.” With that I lifted up into the air, watching her stare with amazement as I defied the laws of physics. My eyes left hers, instead looking into the big blue expanse above and I began preparing to accelerate when Megan burst out the door screaming for me to stop.

---

“Dispatch, what’s your emergency?”

“Dispatch, this is 162, officer needs assistance. Requesting a bus ASAP to 1159 Deer Trail in Dayton,” Reid said, calling for a ambulance.

“Reid, where the hell have you been? We have a major situation and we need all hands on deck,” the voice on the other side came back.

“No time, I have a gunshot wound to the leg and need you to get Los Angeles PD on the horn. Tell them to have a welcoming committee at a North Perry-” Megan was tapping him.

“I didn’t catch that, please repeat,” the dispatcher replied.

“Hold on,” he lowered the phone and acknowledged Megan, “what?”

“954 is Florida, that's a Florida area code. Miami I believe. Brad use to take me down there.”

“Who? Never mind," he said, switching back to the handset. "Scratch that, get Miami Dade on the phone. Need to meet a plane at North Perry. Look for a plane registered to a Dwayne Turner.”

“Roger,” the dispatcher paused a moment. “Reid, Whithers is in ICU and likely won’t make it. He was hit two days ago during a bank robbery. He was a first responder and they lit his car up with automatic fire. Didn’t have a chance. Diaz and Myers were killed as well.”

“Shit,” Reid said, starting to feel really weak.

“What’s this business in Florida all about?”

“I found them, I found the Owens. Turner’s got the little girl and is going to make a run out of the country.” Megan darted out the front door as she watched Michael lifting up off the ground.

“Stop, don’t go, wait!” Michael stopped and looked down at Megan. “Florida, he’s going to Florida. 954 is Hollywood, Florida, not California." Michael paused, hovering a few feet off the ground. "Wait a moment or two, Reid is on the phone with the police.” A couple of minutes later, Reid was limping outside. Liz and Megan were looking up in the air. As he cleared the overhang, he saw Kaaren floating in the air above them with the late morning sun behind her. Upon seeing him, she came to a landing.

“North Perry is about 8 miles west of Hollywood Beach. Turner is in a Cessna 172 Skyhawk, N Number MOK99.”

“Great, thank you,” she said. "Reid, you did it, you found them. Don't forget, today, you are the real hero, never forget that," Kaaren said as she lifted up again. Megan, who had run back inside, quickly re-emerged holding a leather jacket.

“Kaaren, here," she said, tossing Dwayne's jacket she found hanging in the front entryway. "I hope you don’t mind the foul stench.”

"Thanks, I will have to pinch my nose shut," she said, catching it and in a quick flash disappearing into the clouds. Reid collapsed and fell to the ground. Both of the women rushed to help him.

“That's quite a friend you got there Doc.”

“She sure is. Look Reid, your buddies are going to be here in a minute, are we going to be telling different stories as to what happened, or are we going to agree on something right now?”

Reid thought long and hard. He considered who Karen or Kaaren really was and what she could do. The possibilities were now endless for him with her as an unofficial partner. He turned and looked up at Megan. “I’m game, what did you have in mind as far as a story is concerned?”

---Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner---

Dwayne checked his heading and fuel. The Cessna had a little over a quarter of a tank left. He would refuel at North Perry, where he first learned to fly, and then continue a normal flight plan. It was close to where he grew up and his mom still lived in the house she and his dad bought. She didn’t know anything other than he needed her to watch a friend's kid for a few days until she came to pick her up. She didn’t question the reason, she was excited that Dwayne finally had someone in his life, a possible girlfriend with whom he was serious with. By the time she found out, he would be long gone, dead, or living in exile for the rest of his life.

It was a perfect plan, and foolproof. That cop and Liz would be down there another couple of days, by then he would have made it to Central America. He began setting up his escape plan a few months ago. All was set, his money was transferred to offshore accounts that couldn’t be touched. He had a new identity waiting for him and a few procedures planned to alter his appearance. A little pain under the knife, and Dwayne Turner would cease to exist. There was nothing to stop him. By they time anyone figured it out, he would be history.

“Tower, this is Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner, on final approach, requesting permission to land.”

“Roger, Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner, you are cleared for landing on runway two.”

“Ok, Ashley, you have been a great kid. I am going to let you out, and you are going to go with my mom. In a couple of days, your mother will come get you, OK?” She didn’t say a word. Dwayne lowered the flaps and lowered his airspeed in preparation for landing. The runway was dead ahead and drawing closer. He had skipped a stopping point to make up some time and was going to be landing about twenty minutes early. The landscape below began changing as lush green fields became buildings, then green again. The plane was less then a hundred feet off the ground when Ashley saw the runway appear below her. She continued to watch so that the dreaded moment the airplane hit the ground wouldn’t startle her. A stream of cars turned on to the runway and started riding alongside the plane.

“Police cars!” Ashley said, “lots of police cars.” Dwayne momentarily took his eyes off the instruments and looked around the runway. He began to panic at the sight developing before him on the tarmac. Up ahead, there were a couple dozen black and whites driving out along the runway with their lights flashing. A police helicopter and at least one news helicopter were hovering overhead.

“Oh shit, how did they find me, there is no way they could have got free this quickly. No, no,” he said as he pulled back on the yoke and raised his flaps, knowing without a doubt in his mind that the welcoming crew was for him.

“Let me go, you jerk,” Ashley said as she started crying, watching the police passing by as Dwayne aborted his landing, increasing his throttle and gaining altitude.

“Tower to Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner, you are ordered to land your aircraft. I repeat, you are ordered to land your aircraft immediately.” Sweat was beading down his forehead. He was caught and had no way out. He turned the aircraft toward the ocean knowing it was suicide, hell, homicide.

‘Come on, don’t take the chicken way out, you couldn’t kill Liz, and you certainly aren’t going to be able to kill Ashley.’ he thought to himself as the ATC operator kept ordering him down.

“Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner Turner, this is Agent Sanchez, FBI. Come on Dwayne, land the aircraft and we can talk about this. You don’t have the fuel. Look at that little girl in the seat next to you, are you really going to crash that plane with her in it? Come on, you were a good guy with NASA, I don’t believe you are a killer. Land the plane, and we will take into account your record.” Dwayne was thinking hard about his choices. He could attempt to make a run for Key West, and glide part of the way. He could ditch in the ocean, land and get arrested, or he could crash the plane, killing both of them.

“Turner, a pair of F-15s are en route to escort you to Miami International. Do you copy?”

---Harris---

Dispatch to 143. Come in 143." Harris sat in his unmarked sedan sipping his lousy coffee, watching the house across the street, waiting for his boy to leave. The no good punk he would love to lock up, but knew he had information, something he could use to find these bastard cop killers.

"143, go ahead dispatch."

"Switch to channel 16, and stand by." Harris reached out for the channel selector dial.

"Roger, switching to 16, over." He twisted the dial and announced that he was on the new channel.

"Harris, relief is on the way, proceed to Astro. Fox Two is standing by to airlift you to Dayton."

"Dayton? I'm in the middle of a stakeout, what the fuck is in Dayton?"

"Harris, Reid is in trouble. He's with Elizabeth Owen." Harris didn't waste a second. He fired up the engine and peeled out down the street, flipping his light and sirens on the moment he turned the corner. "A NASA astronaut by the name of Dwayne Turner has been holding them captive at his ranch in Dayton. He shot Reid and is fleeing by airplane with the girl. We have Miami Dade PD en route to meet his plane."

"Roger Dispatch, tell Fox Two to stand by, ETA ten minutes. What’s Reid’s condition?"

“Stable. Took a gunshot to the upper thigh. He’s been locked up with Liz for about four days and an infection has set in. He’s being airlifted to St. Luke’s for treatment.”

“What about Mrs. Owen?”

“She is being transported as well for injuries, and malnourishment.” Harris beeped his horn at the car in front of him. The traffic was backing up and the cars were hesitant to move out of their place in line, even for a law enforcement vehicle.

“If they’re heading to Houston, why am I going to Dayton?”

“You have to take control of the crime scene. The guy had them locked in a bomb shelter for a whole year. Supposedly convinced them the end of the world happened.” Harris jumped out of the car, fuming at the news. He stormed over to the driver of the car stopped dead in front of him. Inside were a couple of teenagers with long hair rocking out to some obnoxious heavy metal. The passenger saw Harris approach and turned the music down.

“This piece of shit work?” The kid nodded his head. “You see my fucking lights?” He nodded again. “So, you are sitting with your thumb up your ass to piss me off?” This time he shook his head no. “If by the time I get back in my car, you haven’t pulled over, I’m going to have you charged with every goddamn thing I can find a reason for and then some.” Harris didn’t even begin to start turning when the kid started pulling over. He pulled forward and purposely sideswiped the kid’s car before switching channels and reporting a hit and run, giving the description of the driver along with the make and model of his car.

“Next time you’ll pull over for an emergency vehicle now, won’t you asshole?” he said out loud as he began accelerating.

---Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner---

Ashley sat with her arms still folded, keeping to herself. Dwayne had tried repeatedly to engage her in conversation. He turned the radio off, no longer listening to the police trying to convince him to land. She completely ignored him and took off her headset so the sound of the engine drowned his voice out. He tried handing her some beef jerky, but she turned her head and looked out the window on the lower half of the door. She watched the ocean below, little tiny ships bouncing in the waves, with the reflection of the Sun sparkling off the crystal clear water. As she started to turn her head, something caught her eye and prompted her to quickly turn back. At first she didn't believe what she was seeing, until she closed her eyes and looked again. The angel was still there. She was pretty and had long blonde hair blowing around in the wind. The angel had her finger up to her lips signaling to be quiet. Ashley became frightened, but somehow, there was something peaceful, something trustworthy about her. She tried to see the rest of her body, checking to make sure it wasn't a trick, but she was unable to see past the door.

The angel started making strange gestures around her waist with both her hands as if she were touching an invisible belt and taking it off. After several times, it clicked that she was trying to get her to take off her seatbelt. Ashley, afraid, quickly shook her head back and forth in a fit of refusal. She was scared to death of heights and was terrified of falling. The angel turned sideways and kept flying in the same direction as the plane. She watched as the heavenly being outside the plane started making funny faces and put her hands up to her neck flapping in and out like they were gills on a fish. Immediately Ashley recalled her daddy doing the same thing in the spaceship, pretending he was a fish. Here, this angel was doing the same thing. Ashley giggled briefly and the angel’s face lit up into a huge smile, laughing back.

“What are you laughing at Ashley? What do you see out there?” Ashley ignored him and kept watching the angel. She gestured again to keep quiet and flew under the plane. Dwayne checked his instruments before looking to the right to see what it was that Ashley was looking at. Ashley turned to see Dwayne leaning over in time to watch the angel approach Dwayne’s side of the plane. She gestured again to remove her seat belt and this time Ashley complied.

“Ashley, what are you doing, put that back on right now.” She threw the belt far to the right so he couldn’t reach. “Do as I say, put that belt on right now miss.”

“No, go to hell Dwayne,” she said with a big smile on her face. Dwayne raised his hand to hit her when the window on his door suddenly shattered. Ashley watched with amusement as the shattering of the glass scared Dwayne. Wind blew into the aircraft, spraying broken glass all over Dwayne. He turned to see a large hole and began looking around the cockpit for the object that broke his window. Dwayne looked between him and the door, peering down trying to find something that broke his window. The feeling of the air getting sucked out increased, but came from a new direction. He felt the cool air blowing over his face toward the right side of the plane. It was then that he heard the increased noise in the cabin and heard the wind from the outside rushing by the aircraft. He sat up to see what the new source of the noise was as the right side door slammed shut.

“Ashley, what the-” He paused and looked around the cabin not seeing her. “Ashley, get back up here.” There was no response. “Ashley, don’t make me come back there.” He flipped on the autopilot and unbuckled his seatbelt before turning around to look in the back. Dwayne found the back seats and the floor empty. He paused a moment, becoming very frightened. She was nowhere to be seen. He frantically called out while looking under the seats.

“Ashely! Oh god no,” he said with an unsettling feeling creeping up his stomach. The right side door was slightly open and a loud thumping sound was beating against the side of the aircraft. Dwayne put his knee on the passenger seat and carefully checked the door, finding that the seatbelt was half outside the aircraft and preventing the door from fully closing. A panic filled his body from the sudden horror that Ashley fell from the aircraft. The images of her screaming to her untimely death from his stupidity overwhelmed him. A sour feeling in his stomach increased, and his saliva felt warm as he kept swallowing, afraid of what was coming. The image of Ashley’s body hitting the ocean at terminal velocity triggered his gag reflex, and his stomach contents rushed to the surface.

---

“It’s okay Ash, I’ve got you,” I said, holding on to her tightly as we fell away from the plane. We fell several hundred feet in a shallow dive before I leveled out. “Ash sweetie, are you okay?”

“Yes, but I’m scared,” I held on to my daughter, in part holding her tight so she wouldn’t fall, and hugging every square inch of her, happy to have her in my arms again.

“It’s OK Ash, I got you, we’re not falling, we’re flying, just like your daddy, only better.” I slowed to a halt and brought us to a hover over the ocean to let her see that we were not falling. “See, we are standing still.” It was hard for her to grasp in the wide expanse that we weren’t moving. I slowly began descending to a lower altitude, hoping to quickly calm her nerves, still holding her tightly. I rubbed my hand through her hair and lifted it to my nose, taking in the smell of her dirty hair. It was still surreal, holding my daughter once again in my arms after such a long time. Tears started pouring down my face as my emotions took hold.

“Why are you crying?” Ashley asked.

“Because sweetie, I am so happy I finally found you.”

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of your daddy's, he sent me to find you and protect you," I said as I watched Dwayne's plane flying further into the distance, making its way out of US airspace. I couldn't let him get away, so instead of our long trip back to Texas, I turned and headed to Miami.

---

"Ash," I said, kneeling down next to her, "I have to go stop Dwayne so he can't hurt anyone ever again. I have to leave you here while I go after him. Can you stay up here for a little bit?" We were on the roof of a high-rise in downtown Miami. I bent part of the door frame so that no one would be able to open the door. Still, she was afraid and shook her head no.

"I don't want to be alone, I'm scared."

"I know you are, come here." I hugged her tightly. "I can fly really fast, but not with you. If I take you back home, it's going to take a while. By then, Dwayne will get away. You are very safe up here. No one can come up here and hurt you. Just stay by the door here, and I will be back very soon." I took my radio off and gave it to her. "Nothing can hurt me, so you have nothing to worry about. I promise I will be back as soon as I can. Remember Dr. Megan?" She shook her head yes. "Good, because she has the other radio and is with your mommy right now. When we get close, you can talk to them. You hold on to this, but don't worry you won't need to use it. Can you do me a big favor and be a big girl and wait for me Ash?"

"Only my daddy calls me Ash."

"You are so cute, you know that?"

"You look like an angel."

"I do, don’t I? My name is Kaaren, I'm from up there in outer space," I said, pointing to the sky. "Can I tell you a secret?" She nodded her head up and down rapidly. "Your daddy is still alive, and one day you can see him again.”

"Dwayne said he was dead."

"Well, Dwayne's a big jerk, that's why I need to stop him and make him pay for what he did to you and your mommy. I understand if you want me to take you back right now. I know you're scared Ashley."

"You can call me Ash, it's ok. Go get him, I can wait for a little while. You will be back right?" I shook her hair and gave her a big hug.

"I promised your daddy that I will protect you no matter what. You stay put, and I will be right back soon, then I will bring you back home to be with your mother," I told her as I lifted up, waving goodbye. She had a huge smile on her face as she watched me start flying high into the air. Ash waved frantically, confident that I would be back as promised.

---

It was the fastest I had ever flown in the atmosphere. My body began glowing from the friction at the low altitude. The glow faded as I reached about 60,000 feet and came to a stop near the Keys. I concentrated with Dwayne’s jacket on, and his point of view returned. It was a clear day with few scattered clouds, still Dwayne, a highly skilled pilot, flew by instruments. I tuned into his point of view wishing I could see deep into his heart and understand why he did what he did. The man who gave a eulogy at my funeral stole my family from me, keeping them prisoner. Every aspect of my humanity was locked in a fierce battle to control the rage flowing through my alien veins.

Dwayne stared at his instrument panel. He was flying at ten thousand feet, heading 210 degrees south-southwest with a rapidly diminishing fuel level. Dwayne turned his head to the left and through his eyes I saw an F-15 Strike Eagle flying just above stall in order to keep pace with the slow-moving Cessna. I shifted to radio as I quickly descended, looking for the Eagle’s radar emissions.

The F-15’s pulse-Doppler radar was sophisticated and could track multiple targets at different altitudes at the same time. Carefully tuning my vision to the frequency range of the Eagle's target acquisition range, I scanned the area. There were two Eagles positioned just behind the Cessna, somewhere half way between the Florida coast and the Keys.

"Think Michael," I said out loud, "I want Dwayne all to myself."

I descended and picked up speed, rapidly approaching the rear of the fighters, staying behind their radar. As I drew close I increased my speed; time began to slow down. My eyes rapidly scanned the markings of the aircraft. They were 152nd.

“They were 152nd? What the hell are my Reapers doing following Dwayne?” I said out loud, wondering why the typical Air Guard wasn’t in pursuit. The planes approached as I made a second ID pass, reading the names below the canopies before speeding away.

“No shit, small world my friend,” I said after discovering one of the drivers to be Hollywood riding along with a Major L. “Noodles” Caparelli. I laughed quickly at his name before returning to a serious brainstorming session about how to get rid of these two escorts. I couldn’t take out their planes, especially Jordan’s. Not an acceptable solution, it might be all the excuse the brass needed to get her out of the cockpit. Besides, I could accidentally kill her. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin her career, but what if I could help it, and draw the Eagles away from Dwayne at the same time.

“All right Jordan, let’s show them what a woman can do in the cockpit. Let’s put these boys to shame,” I said, gaining altitude and speeding ahead of them, stopping twenty miles out beyond visual range. “I’m here, come get me,” I said while hovering within the scope of their radar. I began a series of acrobatics, flying in large loops, sudden dives, and fast steep climbs, all hoping to draw their attention toward an unknown contact within US airspace. I kept at it for a few minutes, but there was no reaction.

"Come on, protocol requires that you investigate a threat, leave the damn plane alone and come after me. I know you can see me.” After closing in, I realized they were still following Turner. One Eagle scissoring behind, the other moving to the starboard side of Dwayne’s plane.

“Damn it Hollywood, engage me damn it. I know you would love to ram your heaters up his ass, but a threat to the US overrides that target.” It made no sense that Turner would be a higher priority. I shifted vision modes to see if their radar was on. The waves appeared in my vision and were traveling toward me from the Eagles and a strong source coming from behind.

“AWACS,” I said, turning to hone in on its source. The waves were emitting from the E-3 miles away, but instead of reflecting back, I realized all the radar waves were being absorbed or passing by me. The signal wasn't returning to the source. The Eagle's target acquisition and fire control systems couldn’t see me. It was almost as if I were suddenly invisible. How? My last dogfight over Kansas, they kept tracking me. I was able to outfly them, but other aircraft kept intercepting near my target destination until I went above their max ceiling.

"What the hell is different, how come they can't see me?" I said while checking my alititude. As I stared at my gauge cluster, my eyes left the gift Megan gave me and began trailing up my arm. With the exception of my head and hands, my body was completely encased in Kaaren’s suit.

"No. It can’t be. Really?" Was her suit rendering me invisible to radar? Was there a reason after all for her wearing this suit?

"Well Kaaren, let's experiment," I said, not sure if I was talking to my alien friend, or myself. I pulled Dwayne’s jacket off and threw it away. Next I pressed the button on my neck to open the suit. It started expanding and I realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. Kaaren's breasts drooped slightly as the support of the suit gave way. My upper body was fully exposed as I lowered the suit, and quickly, I tied the sleeves around my waist to keep my suit from falling completely off my body. I then refocused my vision, tuning to the right frequency.

"Son of a bitch," I said as I saw the radar waves bouncing back to the fighters and E-3.

---

Captain "Hollywood" Jordan was struggling to keep the F-15 from stalling. ‘Jeez Tuna, you’re flying slower than an old woman drives.' Jordan and Caparelli started scissoring Turner, zigzagging back and forth, allowing her to pick up a little speed and still keep the Cessna in front of her Eagle. He was being an asshole, knowing he could fly slower than the Eagle’s minimum speed and conserve fuel at the same time. The two planes were essentially swerving wide to the right, then banking and swerving to the left, then repeating in order to stay behind. "Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner. Come on Tuna, land your aircraft immediately. Dwayne, this is Hollywood, listen to me, don’t be stupid. Land that aircraft and let Owen's daughter go." It was no use, he was not responding and not changing course. She noticed the hole in the door's window and wondered if he was injured.

"Miami Tower, this is Reaper Two come in, over?"

"Roger Reaper Two, go ahead."

Miami Tower, Mike Oscar Kilo Niner Niner, is not responding and maintaining a steady heading 210 south-southwest fifty five miles out from Key West. Aircraft appears to be damaged. Starboard door's window looks like someone hit a baseball through it. Pilot might be injured. Please advise."

"Reaper Two, do you have a visual on the girl? Over."

"Standby tower," Hollywood replied, shifting her fighter and pulling up along the starboard side of the Cessna. She looked left, scanning the aircraft for signs of a passenger.

"Miami Tower, negative visual on the girl. She is either in the back, or not in the aircraft." Jordan increased her altitude slightly to get a glimpse into the back seat, but was unable to see much,

"Reaper Two, maintain present heading. Keep target in sight, do not, I repeat, do not engage."

"Affirmative, maintaining present heading." As she finished acknowledging her orders, the threat radar burst into life. A faint bogey suddenly appeared out of nowhere and began dancing around her radar display. "Shit, that's moving fast." Jordan double-checked the data pouring into the threat display before switching to a secure channel.

"Reaper One, Eagle Control, contact, fast moving bogey, angels 15, vectoring 080 rapidly changing course. Speed 545 knots. Confirm my bogey, over." Jordan watched the bogey on her radar screen while she waited for the E-3 Sentry AWACS to verify her data.

"Eagle Control to Reaper One, roger your contact, left 220 for the bogey, speed increased to 575 knots, angels 12. Disengage current target, ID bogey vectoring 080, signal buster, repeat, signal buster. Alert aircraft scrambling, ETA, 10 minutes."

"Roger vectoring to 080, out." Caparelli said, retaking lead now that he was in pursuit of a worthy adversary. The two Eagles rose high above the Cessna, avoiding leaving the plane in their jet wash before throttling up and engaging their afterburners.

“Hollywood, watch my six, stay alert,” Noodles ordered over the radio.

“Roger, I got your six. Damn this thing is fast, you ever see anything like this before?”

“Negative. Whatever this is, it’s something new.”

“Russian?” Hollywood offered her best guess as to the bogey’s origin. Their work with propulsion systems could have very well made its way to fighter aircraft, but why would one come this close to US airspace in light of the progress the two countries have made.

"Holy shit,” Noodles yelled through the radio, “the bogey just stopped.” With the bogey now stationary both Eagles rapidly closed in on it.

"Thirty seconds to visual contact, bogey 0 knots, angels 12...Fuck, what the hell is this thing? Bogey accelerated to 412 knots, angels 25...28...32." Noodles in a panic relayed the rapidly changing altitude in 1,000 foot increments. This was impossible, there is nothing that can travel that fast and come to a sudden stop, then go vertical like that...Nothing.

"Eagle Control to Reaper One and Two, weapons free, repeat, weapons free." Jordan's hand's quickly shook as she processed the order.

‘This shit just got real,’ she said to herself as she was about to engage her first live target, an unidentified contact.

"Request verification, weapons free," Noodles said as he took his Eagle vertical after the mystery bogey invading his airspace.

"Eagle Eye, to Reaper One, repeat, engage and destroy target." They now had their orders verified three times, that was enough to clear them should they accidentally shoot down a friendly. Jordan was on the edge of her seat, she had never heard of such orders given without visual ID of the aircraft.

"Eagle Eye, do you have visual ID of the bogey?" she asked for further clarification.

"Reaper Two, engage goddamnit."

Jordan flipped the switch to bring up the master arm on her weapon stores, trailing close behind Noodles. She selected an AIM-7M semi active radar guided missile and loaded the target into her fire control computer, locking onto the target. As soon as she did, the target suddenly reversed direction at 35,000 feet and was rapidly descending. Noodles didn’t react in time and overshot, trying desperately to compensate, but Jordan for some reason anticipated the change, watching the contact slow briefly before reversing. It was enough of a warning that the bogey wasn’t going to stay on the current path. She ignored Noodles and instinctually rolled the aircraft and while inverted, brought her nose up, putting the Eagle into a steep dive. She throttled up and sucked hard on her oxygen, flexing her abdominal muscles as the bladders around her abs and upper legs inflated within her G-suit, preventing blood from pooling in the lower part of her body and thus robbing her brain of oxygen. The world around her started to turn slightly gray and her vision narrowed slightly as the blood traveling to her brain was temporarily reduced by the excessive g-forces. Completing her turn, she continued her dive, accelerating after the bogey just beyond visual range. She closed in and could only make out a faint dot padlocked in her sights. The tone sounded as she gained a valid lock and before the target could change course, she fired.

"Reaper Two, Fox One," Jordan said over the radio announcing her launch of the AIM-7M toward the target. She kept diving toward the bogey so that her radar continued to paint the target for the Sparrow, guiding it until it impacted the bogey.

"Shit!" Jordan yelled as the target suddenly changed course, pulling a hard 90 degree turn. She throttled up while clenching her ab muscles, pulling back on the stick, taking the Eagle into a steep turn. She increased throttle further, stressing the aircraft to its limits just as her vision began narrowing.

“Over speed, over speed, over speed,” Bitching Betty, the F-15’s in-flight computer, began warning her of excessive strain on the aircraft. The bogey remained just outside the steep angle of attack she was able to achieve. She watched as the Sparrow came close to impact, but ended up missing.

“Shit. Negative impact,” she reported, her first weapon launch at a live target having ended in a miss.

“God damn it Hollywood, get your ass behind me,” Noodles yelled. Jordan reluctantly obeyed orders and resumed her position behind her Major. She maneuvered in behind his six, resuming her cover, making sure the bogey didn’t slip in behind him and acquire a firing solution on Caparelli.

“I got him,” Noodles padlocked the bogey, the tone of his lock sounding through the cockpit, “Reaper One, Fox One.” The AIM-7 launched, leaving a trail of smoke. The moment the Sparrow cleared his fighter, the bogey took another sharp turn, this time to the right. Noodles banked hard right after it, keeping the radar painting the faint target. Without warning, the bogey reversed direction. Caparelli’s vision was starting to turn grey, the world’s vivid colors rapidly fading as he tried to follow suit and keep his missile on the target. He continued to clench his muscles and breathe rapidly as his vision narrowed, only a small area directly in front of him remaining visible. He was a couple of seconds away from G-LOC but refused to give up.

“Get out of the way, I have a shot,” Jordan yelled, keeping up with the bogey’s movements. She watched as Caparelli’s Sparrow went wide, missing the target, while she still had it in her sights. Still beyond visual range, the contact began a large but tight sweeping left circle. Hollywood was still following Noodles when his Eagle suddenly leveled. Collision alarms sounded from Caparelli’s sudden change of flight.

“Son of a bitch,” with lightning reflexes she pulled her fighter into a climb, avoiding his Eagle. As she rose high, she looked low and to the left for the bogey, “Noodles?” Jordan tried to get him on the radio.

“Eagle Control, Reaper Two. Reaper One appears to have G-LOCed, please advise, over.” She brought her fighter around, performing a high yo-yo maneuver, intercepting the bogey from a high vantage point. She glanced below as his Eagle began diving and spinning out of control.

“Reaper Two, pursue hostile,” Jordan continued engaging, while wondering who the true hostile was. As far as she was concerned, she was ordered to disregard rules of engagement and fire on an unknown aircraft that so far did nothing but violate US airspace and take them for a wild ride. She banked her Eagle, building energy as she brought her nose down, lining up with the bogey, completing its long circular sweep. The unknown craft, still beyond the range where she could visually ID the contact, appeared directly ahead in her radar. Her fighter, diving with a steep attack angle, gained valid lock.

“Reaper Two, Fox One,” Jordan’s second Sparrow was seconds into its launch as the Bogey again reversed direction into a tight right turn. “This thing is being a pain in the ass,” she yelled while keeping pace with the turn, still tolerating the continuous strain of the high G maneuvers. She announced a third AIM-7 launch while still struggling to keep the second on the target. Her ECM light lit up.

“Reaper Three Fox One,” a voice called out over the radio, followed by a fourth launch by Reaper Four.

“This bitch is mine,” Splinter yelled out as he and Waffle arrived on scene. Jordan’s second missile missed, but she continued struggling to get her Eagle to follow the bogey’s incredible maneuverability, still remaining just outside the range of her radar. Finally she had the edge she needed as the contact came head-to-head with her reinforcement’s ordinance. The craft suddenly stopped, allowing her to catch up and paint the target. Jordan grew excited as she counted down the final couple of seconds leading to her first kill. A small fireball erupted and a suddenly expanding cloud of smoke engulfed the area where the faint white speck was. Moments later, Splinter and Waffle’s Sparrows passed through the cloud and exploded.

“Bingo!” Jordan yelled, claiming victory.

---

“Woooohooo. Hot damn this is fun,” I said, accelerating as I went vertical. “They must be pissing their flight suits right now.”

Dogfighting in this body was a thrill. My situational awareness beat the pants off the most advanced fighter. I could keep my eyes locked on target and fly in any direction, including backwards. No effects of G-Forces let me turn on a dime, while traveling several times the speed of sound. It almost took the fun out of it, but the freedom I felt was something no one else would ever experience.

I watched Hollywood and her flight lead go ballistic, taking chase after me as I approached 30,000 ft. A narrow wave started emitting from the Eagle and I knew at once, they were locking on to my half naked body. ‘Gonna be time to cover up soon,’ I thought as I reversed direction by ceasing thrust from my feet, and expelled the energy from my head. For a brief second, I was truly weightless and my breasts bounced as my direction changed. I cupped them as I picked up speed.

“That a girl,” I said excitedly as I watched Noodles miss my change of direction and overshoot, while Hollywood kept pace with my sudden maneuver. She rolled the craft early and began turning toward me. I had already descended to 20,000 when she re-acquired lock and fired. The missile raced toward me while I continued my descent.

“All right girl, try keeping me padlocked,” I said as if coaching her through the radio during our training hop a couple of years ago. I pulled a hard turn, trying desperately to guess where her limitations began, unable to feel the effects of Earth’s gravity multiplied. During our training flight I was amazed at her natural ability to withstand slightly higher G-forces than what most of us guys were able to handle. I didn’t doubt for a minute that the ego-driven male pilots made sure to denigrate her natural ability for fear they would be found inferior to female pilots instead of finding a way for both the men and women to bring their own set of advantages to the team and work in tandem.

The missile drew close as I flew forward, while keeping my eyes constantly locked on the inbound AIM-7. The E-3 was undoubtedly tracking every move I was making and although I could easily outrun the missile, it was my goal to demonstrate her effectiveness as a fighter pilot. Finally give her the chance to shine. ‘Not just yet though,’ I thought as I tightened my turn, allowing the Sparrow to overshoot.

Noodles’ Eagle resumed pursuit while Jordan broke off the attack and formed up behind him.

“Didn’t want anything to do with Dwayne, but you’ll be damned if a woman’s getting the glory of engaging a UFO, is that the game we’re playing?” I imagined the bullshit going on over the radio. “Follow this, jerk,” I said as he lit me up and fired. His missile was rapidly approaching as I led him through a series of tight runs and rolls, forcing him to the edge of his tolerance. The Sparrow went straight, missing me as I reversed a final time, taking him into a large sweeping pattern. Jordan, trailing close behind his lead, suddenly broke off high and right, climbing high.

“Shit,” I said, tracking Noodle’s Eagle beginning a dive while Jordan continued to climb and began turning toward me, building up energy. “Angels 28,” I said, reading off my current altitude of 28,000. If Noodles didn’t have control, he wasn’t going to have enough time before he hit the drink.

Jordan came around as expected, angling her nose down and firing. Her radar had me locked, lighting up a path for her missile. She wasn’t playing any more and fired a second missile as I tightened my turn again. I was watching her radar when the world in the radio spectrum started to violently strobe, completely engulfing my vision with noise that nearly erased the signature of the Eagle’s radar.

“Crap,” I yelled as I searched for the E-3. It was no use, the area was completely blanketed with electronic jamming. There were seconds left and I was prevented from trying to filter out the Sentry’s highly advanced electronic countermeasures. Instead, my eyes shifted to infrared to lock into the missile's exhaust while I completed my turn. Distracted by the AWACS’ electronic assistance, I lost sight of the troubled F-15 and began a sweep of the area, coming face to face with two inbound missiles originating from other aircraft.

“Shit,” seconds away from impact and I was caught in the middle. Moving at an accelerated speed, everything began to slow down as I struggled to feed my arms back into the sleeves of Kaaren’s suit. It began sealing up when Jordan’s second missile flew below me and exploded. The warhead, which is between the engine and the guidance system in the front, consisted of long flexible metal rods that explode and expand into a circular pattern meant to inflict maximum damage to the air frame. The shockwave did more to faze me than the rods themselves. The second Sparrow from the reinforcing fighter group arrived and exploded, sending rods and debris into my face.

There was no pain or damage done, but particles worked their way into the ducts in my eyes. For a brief moment, I couldn’t see from the smoke in my eyes. The heat from the fireball blinded my IR vision and the continuing jamming prevented me from seeing in radar. I had little time to make a break for it but was completely blinded in all three of my vision modes. My mind cleared, releasing all signals controlling my flight and I began to fall like a brick. Once I determined which way was down, I turned in the direction of the ocean below and accelerated toward the water, hitting the surface seconds later. The salt water soothed my eyes and cleared the carbon from the cornea, allowing me to see again.

I broke the surface and waded in the water, fighting hard to keep my dense body afloat while searching for Noodles. He was in a 230Ëš downward path, rolling out of control. With no more need to hold back my full capability, I took off after him as quick as I could, once again invisible to radar.

---

“Eagle control, Reaper Two, negative contact. Target destroyed, repeat target destroyed.”

“Reaper Two, vector to 310. Texaco is standing by for refuel. Maintain radio silence and await further orders.”

“Roger, Reaper Two vectoring to 310 for refuel. Any signs of Reaper One?” She waited a moment before repeating. Eagle Control was not responding to her transmissions. An uneasy feeling creeped up and overwhelmed her as she adjusted her course, while checking her fuel levels. The high of her hot shit performance was rapidly plummeting as she began to fear she screwed up somehow. It was odd to her that she would be removed from the combat zone so quickly. She switched off her mike and engaged her autopilot before taking in deep breaths trying to calm her nerves.

“Come on Julie babe, you did it. You got a solid kill,” she said to herself, in a desperate attempt to quell the negative feelings surging through her. Her entire career was built around knowing she was a superb pilot, but forced to constantly live in doubt as she received no love from those on her team. As she continued to convince herself that she did everything right, something else crept into her consciousness. There was an intense feeling of Déjá  vu racing through her mind. All of a sudden, the inferior thoughts vanished, leaving behind eerie feelings that much of that dogfight played out once before, in a different life.

“What the hell was that?” she said out loud while hearing the radio chatter reporting a positive chute deployment.

---

Dwayne glanced down at the roadways, finding them clear of police traffic. The fighters were gone, and the runway at Sugar Loaf Shores about 25 miles ahead. He was going to make it. A quick refuel, and he could hop back into the air before the police arrive. It won’t be a clean get away, but he knew some people in Central America, he still had a chance. Dwayne clenched the yoke, his anxiety building. He desperately wanted this whole thing to be over, but deep down he knew he would be lucky if he was able to get away with it.

The smell in the back of his plane returned as did the images of the poor innocent child plunging to her death from his plane. Panic began to build knowing that they were going to hunt him down, no matter where he went. She killed a child, shot a police officer and imprisoned the wife of an international hero.

Dwayne was starting to feel a little uneasy and needed something to drink. He turned to his right looking around between the seats for his thermos and found it had shifted. It was slightly out of reach so he unbuckled his his harness allowing him that extra few inches. There was still about half a thermos full left of luke warm coffee, but he would take anything at this point, especially if it would help erase the foul taste in his mouth. His hands shook as he unscrewed the cup and poured a small serving before closing the seal and tossing it on the seat next to him.

Dwayne put the cup to his lips and began drinking as he shifted back to a forward facing direction. As he did, he spilled the coffee all over himself dropping the cup from his hand as the image outside the plane startled him. He screamed at the sight of the figure, who suddenly appeared out of no where, and was now sitting casually, indian style on the hood of his plane.

“Ok Dwayne, it’s a dream. Calm down,” he lifted his aviator glasses and closed his eyes, rubbing them with his clenched fists before opening them again to find she was still there staring at him. As fast as lightning, she stretched her long legs out and burst through the plexiglass windshield, kicking him hard in the chest. The vicious attack knocked the wind out of him, while a harsh warm wash from the prop poured into the cabin. The sudden change in the airplane’s aerodynamics forced him to compensate for the new drag. As his fought with the plane, the strange figure righted herself next to him.

“You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you,” she cussed as she began striking him, jabbing him hard in the side. It felt as if she were punching him with knuckle dusters.

“Stop!” She ignored him knocking his hand off the yoke and driving a hard hit to his upper chest.

“Stop? I’m not going to stop you miserable piece of trash,” she reached up and grabbed his throat squeezing tight. Dwayne did everything to fight her off, but she was incredibly strong and resisting all of his attacks. He reached with his left hand and unholstered his .357 and quickly pointed it at her mid section and fired. There was a defining sound filling the cabin piercing his half covered ears. He re-cocked the gun as she continued to squeeze the life out of him. The gun discharged a second time, a point blank shot to her midsection. Before he could register that she was unharmed from the round, a searing pain shot through his leg. The powerful round ricocheted off of something and struck him in the knee cap.

“That’s for Reid, you scum.”

---

The life was rapidly fading from Dwayne’s face as I finally came to my senses and took control of my Rage. Megan’s voice of reason began forcing my hand to loosen around Dwayne’s neck before he expired. His throat now clear, he began sucking in precious oxygen while I sat back on the passenger seat and began strapping myself in. I checked our heading and banked to the left back out towards the ocean using the right side set of redundant controls.

I watched as he clutched his bleeding knee with one hand, the bone knee cap all but gone, while his trembling right hand nervously pointed his .357 at me.

“Go on, shoot. You can’t hurt me,” I said grabbing the barrel of the gun and placing it to my forehead. I locked his hand to the pistol and cocked the hammer back, “come on, don’t be a sissy, go for it.”

“You’re crazy,” was all he could say as I pulled the trigger discharging the handgun point blank into my dense forehead. I angled the gun so that the bullet ricocheted off my head and away from Dwayne. A loud sound immediately followed the explosion as the bouncing bullet struck the prop. Terror began to form on his face knowing his game had finally come to an end with no possibility for escape. I took the gun away from him crushing the solid steel frame in my weak looking hand. His eyes went wide, marveling at yet another of my wonders.

“Who are you?” he yelled over the sound of the prop just as the engine cut out, the prop coming to a quick halt. The aircraft began losing it’s lift leaving us in a gentle glide some 7,000 feet over the clear blue tropical waters.

“A messenger. Michael sends his regards and wanted me to remind you that Liz doesn’t belong to you. Today, is judgement day,” I said to him while trying to formulate in my mind just what that meant.

'What the hell are you doing Michael?‘ I said to myself, ‘I can't kill again.’ Dwayne deserves to die for the life he took from Liz and Ash, but I can't cross that line, not with a vengeful heart. Still, justice needed to be served, I had to deal with him, but what options did I have. He would certainly squeal about me, so turning him over to the authorities was out of the question. Nothing shy of killing him seemed satisfying...except one. I thought long and hard, yes, very fitting indeed,' I thought.

"Jeez Tuna, you chuck again?" I said taunting him.

"Fuck you, who the fuck are you? How do you know that name?" His only defense was to get angry and belligerent with me. In infrared, I could see his body heat increasing as fear took hold.

"Dwayne, how's your g-force suppression techniques these days?" I asked him as pulled back on the yoke and took the Cessna into a climb. Increasing speed. Dwayne, confused kept looking back and forth between me and the stationary prop. "A 172's don't not exceed speed is 167 knots. I personally think it can withstand more. What do you say we find out?" I said to him while watching the airspeed indicator increase. Using my own body to propel the aircraft I began a series of strenuous maneuvers taking the Cessna beyond what the frame was able to handle. The look on his face was priceless as I took the plane into a vertical climb high above the Cessna’s maximum ceiling where the oxygen started to grow thin.

"You're insane." He yelled trying keep from passing out at the high altitude. "You're gonna get us killed."

"No Dwayne, just you.” Violent sounds started echoing throughout the cabin from the strain the speed and G-forces I was applying to the airframe. As Dwayne was slowly passing out, the right wing finally gave out and snapped.

"Yaaawhooo! Holy shit this is fun, isn't it Tuna? I looked over and Dwayne was out, finally passed out. I reached over and un-buckled his seat belt grabbing a hold of his arm. Releasing my lift, the Earth’s gravity took ahold of the plane and it started to fall. With a tight grip on sleeping beauty, I kicked the door off the plane and unbuckled my own harness. We were a few hundred feet from impacting when I pulled him from the plane and flew low along the surface of the ocean, heading back to Miami.

---Owen’s Family House---

"This is Mendoza," Trish said over the phone as I finished putting one of Liz's long white dress and my suit and crystals back in the case and hidden in a large oversized purse of Liz’s.

"Trish, Karen here, I have Ashley. Send someone over to the Owen Residence right away and keep it quiet."

"What do you mean, she's over at the house? I thought she was on the plane."

"What plane? I just got home and found her here. She said Dwayne locked her in her room before leaving somewhere. Where is that bastard by the way?"

"From the reports, that bastard is dead. Looks like he ditched his plane in the ocean. So far all they have found is wreckage. I imagine they will spend a whole five minutes before calling that search off." I didn't respond, instead, I hung up the phone and turned to my daughter.

"Ok Ash, listen to me. The police are on the way, you are going to see Mommy again real soon. They police are going to ask a lot of questions. Remember what we talked about. Let your mother speak for you, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to."

"Ok."

"Now, what's my name?" I asked putting her through a series of test questions.

"Aunt Karen." she replied with surprising conviction.

"Great, who am I?"

"Daddy's sister."

"How did you get here?"

"Dwayne brought me here yesterday and locked me in my room. You found me just a few minutes ago."

"Oh my God Ash, I can't believe I found you. Come here,” I said stretching my arms open wide taking her into my loving embrace, “I am never going to let anything bad happen to you ever again. Your daddy loves you very much and wanted me to be your friend until he gets back. How does that sound?" Instead of replying, she put her arms around me and started crying. I spent ten minutes alone with Ash savoring every moment until finally the sound of cars pulling up on the drive way made it to my ears and I knew the calvary had arrived..

"They're here, and so is your mother," I told her as I could see her approaching through her point of view, connected through the vibes on her clothes. I opened the door and saw Liz break down at the sight of her daughter. She started running towards us with her arms outstretched.

"Ashley!" Ash took off towards her. The two met in the middle, Liz falling to her knees and began kissing every inch of our daughter while the officers watched. They embraced as if they had been apart for years, "Ashley, my sweet girl, I never thought I would see you again," Mendoza's cruiser pulled up with Megan in the front seat. I stood to the side watching in silence wishing Michael was between them joining in on the reunion.

"You did it Michael," Megan said in a soft whisper so only I could hear, "I'm so happy for you. You know you have the prettiest smile on your face right now."

"Still, I'm sad," I said as we walked out onto the grass away from the scene, "I want to tell them. They are so close, yet they feel light years away."

"I know you do, but they are very fragile right now. Liz has been lied to, she's very confused. Right now she looks happy, but in a couple days, things are going to get really bad for her. She is going to blame herself. Believe me, I know what she is going to go through. It's going to take her a while to sort it all out, but I made you a promise, and I am going be there for all of you. Give it time, and when the veil is lifted, we can tell them who you really are inside. For now, you have to trust my experience. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I said with a low hanging head.

"Look at me," she waited until I looked her in the eyes, "are you going to trust me?"

"Of course. I always have."

"Good," She lowered her voice, "Dwayne?"

"Gonna take care of that right now,"

"He's not dead? Where is he?" She continued to speak in a very low voice.

"The Cabin."

"What are you going to do with him?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"Michael?" She said in a disappointed sound in her whisper.

"Hey, trust me. You can do that right?" Liz and Ashley started to walk over to us. Mendoza stood from a distance and watched over all of us.

"Kaaren, thank you, thank you so much. I’m still having a hard time believing what is really real, but having my little girl back in my arms is a start,” I reached out and gently took hold of my ring, now around her neck.

“Michael loves you two very much and wishes he could be here with you. He gave me a message for you,” she looked up at me with curiosity, “he said, when the world was safe along with you two, to let you know to have your pot roast waiting for him, when he returns. Not sure what that means, but he said you would know,” Liz reached out and hugged me laughing through her pain.

“You’re really real aren’t you? Pot roast. That was Michael’s code that the mission was a success. He wouldn’t be able to tell me over the radio, so he devised a secret dialog to let me know it was safe and he was on his way home to us. By then, he was sick of the freeze dried foods and wanted nothing more than his favorite dish waiting for him on the dinner table.”

“Oh,” I said pretending to be ignorant of it’s meaning, “well, he will be a little delayed, but, yes you two are finally safe.”

‘Liz, I’m right here in front of you,’ I said to myself standing on the edge once again scared of revealing myself.

“Liz, I’m going to leave you with Megan. I know she is a good friend of you, Ashley and Michael. If you are willing, she is going to help you two get through this. You and Ash take all the time you need. I will be close watching over you and when you are ready for me, I will be here."

"Thank you for understanding. I don't know you, but thank you for never giving up on us. Michael would be proud to know just how loyal you were to him.”

"Goodbye Liz," I turned and bent down to Ashley's level, "Ash, you take care of your mom ok, she is going to need you to be strong for her, promise me?"

"Yes. When can we see you again?"

"That's up for your mommy to decide, you listen to her, and hopefully sometime soon. I have to get going. You stay sweet."

"Bye Aunt Karen," I waved and turned to leave, walking off into the setting sun.

---

Mother and daughter held on to each other as they walked back toward the police car. They watched as Karen walked off into the distance. For Liz, it was so surreal. For months, she built images of a ruined wasteland where they stood. Instead, life seemed better than they had left it. There was no more worry of doom. Life seemed to have continued as if it didn't care that they were missing. She knew the night would be long. A health checkup at the hospital, maybe a day of rest, followed by endless statements to the police. She dreaded the endless slew of stupid questions the media would barrage them with.

"Why is she so sad?" Ashley asked.

"Because she has a family too," Megan said. "She has a little daughter like you that is far away and she misses them. Perhaps when your mommy says it's ok, you can be her friend, I know she would really like that.

"Isn't she already our friend?"

"Yes, indeed she is," Megan answered, knowing just how true that was.

Liz asked, "Where is she going?"

Megan turned to Liz and said, "She has some trash back at her place that she needs to take out before it stinks everything up."

---St. Luke’s Hospital, Houston Texas---

Reid was laying on his side, his freshly operated thigh sticking up in the air off. He was still groggy from the drugs, but fought to keep awake, watching the news report for the second time...

...“In a startling turn of events, the missing family of Astronaut Michael Owen, the late commander of the Deliverance has been found. It had been almost a month shy of the first anniversary of his death when lead detective James Reid of the Houston Police Department found them. We turn live to our correspondents on the scene.”

“That’s right Phil, Elizabeth Owen and her daughter Ashley Owen were found thanks to the brave heroics of Detective James Reid. Reid had been working on the case since November of last year and had been diligent in searching for the missing family of the late Commander Owen. According to the police, Mrs. Owen and her daughter were being held prisoner by this man, Dwayne Turner, also an astronaut on Project THOR.” The image on the TV shifted to a scene just outside the bunker.

“We take you live right now to the place where the Owens had been living during the course of the last year.” A reporter and cameraman walked through the vacant remains of the bunker.

“That’s right, behind me might look like a warm cozy two bedroom apartment, but in reality, it’s a concrete dungeon, one with chains, and cold concrete walls. The alleged kidnapper had taken them and kept them locked up, sometime chained up, throughout the course of the year. The mother and daughter survived on canned food rations and had no contact with the outside world until around 10 am this morning when Officer Reid, who had been shot by Turner and locked up with Mrs. Owen, managed to pick the lock to the handcuffs and call for assistance.”

“Stupid shit media,” Reid said from his hospital bed. “They weren’t chained up the entire year. I swear Doctor, the people who report the news are complete morons. Would be nice to see them actually tell the truth.”

“Get some rest Detective, you are going to need it,” Megan said, looking over his charts. “Damn lucky, a little more time, and you would have lost that leg. You’re gonna be off it a while, but when you need to get back in shape, I know one hell of a good physical therapist.

“How are Liz and Ashley doing?”

"They’re fine, they are going to spend the night here and have some tests run to make sure they are in good health. It’s going to be a long road ahead, but-”

“-Shh, hold on Doc, this is my favorite part,” Reid said, interrupting as the News continued the developing story.

“We now go to our partners in Miami, who have some developments as to how the story concluded around 3pm Eastern time.

“Yes Phil, Turner attempted to flee the country in his private Cessna. According to his flight plan, he was supposed to stop at this airfield behind me, where his mother, Diane Turner, was scheduled to pick up Ashley Owen. When police arrived on scene, Turner abandoned his landing and made a run for the Florida Keys. It was a tense 45 minutes where Air Force fighters attempted to divert him to Miami International. At some point all fighters broke off their pursuit and some twenty minutes later, Turner's plane disappeared from radar. Witnesses on Key West reported that they saw the plane disintegrate in the air and then crash about about a mile off shore. Coast Guard Search and Rescue found pieces of the wreckage, but no survivors were found. All seemed dim for Ashley Owen until a phone call to the police in Houston reported that Turner had locked her in the family home, leaving her behind. At some time around 5pm, both mother and daughter we re-united to watch their first sunset in over a year. This is Colleen Baker, Instant News Miami, back to you.”

“Thank you Colleen. According to officials at NASA, Turner had resigned back in October to take a position with a company called BioTech Labs in Houston. NASA refused any further comments, and officials at BioTech Labs were unable to be reached.”

“Coming up, Houston PD has released new information and is asking for the public's help in finding the suspects wanted in connection to the shootings of three Houston Police officers. Later, do you believe in angels? We will talk with a family who is convinced a beautiful angel saved them after their car drove off the road and down a steep embankment as well as several others who have been reporting strange divine sightings.”

---Cast out of Heaven---

My hand forced Dwayne into a sitting position on a snow-covered fallen tree. He sat in the cold freshly fallen snow, shivering, wearing nothing but his flight suit and flight jacket, his hands still secured behind his back and a blindfold draped over his eyes.

“I have a problem Dwayne, I hope you can help me, you see, I can’t feel hot or cold. It kinda sucks, not being able to sense differences in temperature like you can. A cold snowy morning in the mountains and a hot day at the beach feel the same. I kinda miss what it’s like. Tell me, and be honest, is it cold out?” It was kind of a stupid question, his teeth chattering could be heard for miles. He tried talking while I pulled the blindfold off.

“Whwhwha what are you you gon gonna do do to me? Where are we?” I teased him, putting my warm hands on his face, moving them around, keeping him from a constant warmth before reaching behind him and snapping the frozen steel bar that was bent around his wrists. I squatted next to him and put his freezing hands into the warmth of mine, restoring the circulation. As I massaged his hands, I spoke to him.

“You know Dwayne, it’s amazing what jealousy does to a person, don’t you agree? The entire time you two knew each other you envied Michael. You wanted his wife, his daughter, just about everything he had, you had a lust for. You couldn’t stand being second, could you? You wanted Michael’s life so bad, you were willing to steal whatever was left of him. You know, you could have probably gotten Liz to love you, by just being a man to her. Really protecting her. You didn’t need to keep her prisoner in a cold dark cave, cut off from the world. No, you had to be a monster to her. I may not be able to feel hot and cold temperatures, but I can feel the warmth of one’s heart. You Dwayne, your heart is ice cold. It’s bitter and black, without a shred of remorse. I know, I have been searching your heart for something that would convince me that you are human. You are twisted and evil. There in not a human in this world that could stop me from killing you, and the thought has crossed my mind, but inside this alien body, I have a human soul, one that feels, and has compassion.” I let go of his hands, robbing him of my warmth. He quickly plunged them into his pockets to keep his bare skin out of the harsh chill.

“I never meant for it to-”

“-Shhh!” I said, holding my finger to his lips, “I know Dwayne, I know. It is partially my fault. Had I not stopped the asteroid, and saved the whole planet, your heroics might have been noble. You had no way of knowing I would descend out of the heavens and cause the apocalypse to pass over humanity. But, your heroics were a sham, you were happy that Michael was finally out of your way, and your desire to keep Liz and Ashley safe turned into a nightmare for them as you imprisoned them in your little dungeon, feeding off their desperate need for a man in their life. It’s sad how much you wanted to be him, but you came nowhere close. You wanted to be the hero, the one drifting helplessly in space. You know what his final thoughts were? He was remorseful that the world was going to die, including his family, because he failed. He tried his best, and in the end, gave up his life to save his crew. Unlike you, he is compassionate, loving, and is willing to put others first. You? You’re full of pride. You wanted nothing to be number one, but now, nothing but a lost fallen soul void of repentance.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing, you are free to leave,” I said, pointing to the endless snowy landscape. “I will not kill you. In fact, I am going to spare you from the American justice system. You wanted to disappear and start a new life. Well I am going to help you do just that. These papers will help you get started with your new life,” I said as I put the small bundle in his jacket pocket. “Before I let you go, I want to tell you a little something that Michael told me. You could have been number one. You had everything it took, but in your heart you had hate. You hated Michael, and you hated the Russians. It’s a shame, had you learned to like them, things would be different for you right now. It’s too bad really, they are really nice people when you commit to learning all about them. It’s a shame you never learned how to speak Russian. It would have made your life so much easier.” I paused, letting it sink in a moment.

“Isn’t that right Comrade Colonel?” I called out in Russian to the figure in the background. Sergei, stood in the snow, bundled in his cold weather uniform, sporting his new rank of Colonel. He took the last drag of his cigarette and pitched it into the snow. Dwayne turned to see the Russian officer behind him being joined by several soldiers with assault rifles and packs of vicious dogs.

“What is American Pilot doing out here?” Dwayne became very frightened, suddenly figuring out where he was.

“No, you bitch. Don’t leave me here you miserable fucking whore.” Sergei punched him hard in the mouth splitting his lip. Dwayne fell over and struggled to get back up with his blown out knee.

“Not nice thing to say to my comrade. From now on, you don’t speak,” he said as he hit Dwayne again. Dwayne went to fight back when one of the guards fired his AK-47 into the air. Dwayne immediately backed down. The other soldiers surrounded him and bound his wrists.

“Enjoy what's left of your summer here in camp Kolyma. Winter is a few months away and it’s expected to be in the record lows, but hey, what do I know about such things.” I walked up close to him. He was trembling in a state of terror, knowing full well the stories of those who managed to emerge from Kolyma, the Soviet’s most notorious hard labor camp. I hope you liked living in that little bunker of yours. That’s a five star resort compared to where you will likely die. Goodbye Dwayne,” I gave Sergei a nod. He in turn gave his men a similar nod, signaling them to began striking Dwayne into submission before dragging him to the awaiting truck.

“Congratulations on your promotion Comrade Colonel. I trust, you will keep to our agreement?”

“It has all been arranged my friend. He is no longer your concern, your secret is safe as is Michael’s family. NASA will suffer only little embarrassment. Now, be at peace, you have people back home waiting to see you. Go to them and we will take care of him.”

“Thank you. Please give this to Nikolai, and tell him I will be by to see him next week,” I said, handing Sergei a small envelope.

“Go!” I turned, walking into the snow, ignoring Dwayne’s cries. As I vanished into the fog away from Sergei's men, I lifted up into the sky, passing through the dense cloud layer, picking up speed. Higher and higher I went, watching the clouds grow smaller and smaller. As the air started growing thinner, I took in a deep breath before accelerating out into space, traveling far beyond the planet until the Earth appeared as small as it did that fateful day. Countering the inertia effects, I came to a stop and stared at the beautiful sight before me. I had come full circle. Today was the first day of the rest of my new life.

“Well Kaaren, had someone asked me a year ago, where I saw myself in a year, I would have never guessed what you put me through. It’s been a bumpy ride, and I have spent much time hating you. Today, I love you. All this would have been impossible had you not found this poor excuse for an astronaut drifting in front of your ship. My family is alive and safe because of you. I only wish you are having as much success in your mission as I have had with mine. Thank you for the gifts you have given me, and for the purpose I have found in the body I now occupy. There is not a day that goes by where I hope that crystal starts glowing, but until that time when you return for me, I will use everything this mind and body has, to serve my fellow humans. Until we meet again.” I turned toward the blue and green sphere before me and thought of the family that was home, waiting for me to return to them. My neurons started sending signals to various parts of my body to expel the vast stores of radiation, propelling me toward the Earth.

END OF SEASON ONE

Angel will return June of 2013. Stay Tuned for other stories by G.M. Shephard until then.

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