Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 5

[Note: This has been on hiatus far too long. I've been meaning to get back to it, but life just kind of passes by. Either way, my intention is to get an entry a week or so. There's much story left to tell.]

The dream slowly drifted away, leaving only the faint traces of a strange scene. He couldn’t remember specifics, only setting and idea. His dreams were always like that.

A sold out theater. Movie, live show, it didn’t matter. He’d been sitting half way back, in the middle of the main section of seating, surrounded by strangers, friends, and family. He laughed in all the appropriate places, cried at all the right times. He was part of the crowd. But he was still alone.

On either side of him were empty seats, oppressive in their silence.

The fact that he wasn’t in an empty bed surprised him, cleared away the last, lingering mists of the lethargic dream state.

Dawn.

He turned and looked at her, sleeping peacefully, the hint of a smile on her face. The clock on the night stand behind her read 2:04.

He wanted to go back to sleep but knew it wouldn’t happen now. He’d never been good at falling asleep, at least not since Basic. And a life lived in secret, first running around jungles and deserts, always in enemy territory, then on the lam, constantly in danger, hadn’t helped. It had been useful, had saved his life on several occasions. He wasn’t ready to give that up, even if he was capable.

He looked at Dawn again. He didn’t understand her, probably couldn’t. She’d let him in. He’d put her in danger, probably in more ways than he would ever know. But she, too, had put him in danger. They'd found him when he decided to stay in one place. Even though that had ultimately been good he still felt trapped.

“You deserve better,” he whispered. She didn’t respond. “You need to find someone who’s actually able to stay with you.”

He rolled out of bed, pulled on the pair of jeans sitting on the floor, and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand on his side of the bed. He pulled Smith’s card out of the pocket of the jeans and snuck in to the living room. It was time to arrange a meeting, time to start moving again.

After he dialed the number he stared at the phone for a long while. It was a tougher decision than he’d realized. He knew he couldn’t stay, but suddenly realized he didn’t really want to go.

Still, he knew that in the end he had no choice. He pushed the call button.

The phone on the other end picked up on the second ring. “Smith.” It wasn’t the voice of someone awakened from sleep, but someone who was fully alert.

“I, uh…” he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d expected to leave a message on Smith’s voicemail. “This is, um, this is…Alex Simkins,” his own name sounded strange in his ears. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour.”

“I’m always awake at this hour,” Smith said. “I assume you’re calling to talk about the job.”

“Yes.”

“Be at my office at 9. We’ll talk then.”

“Your office, 9 am.”

“That’s what I said. Anything else?”

“No, not right now, Special Agent Smith.”

“If you get in to any trouble with law enforcement, just show them my card.”

The call cut off.

He flipped the phone closed, stared at it for a moment, then turned back towards the bedroom. Dawn was standing in the doorway, loosely wrapped in a robe, arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she was about to start sobbing.

“So I guess this is getting to be a thing with me,” she said.

“What?”

“The men in my life disappearing from my bed.”

“I…” he had no idea what to say, “I can’t explain it. But this is what I have to do.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She shook her head, then turned and walked back in to the darkness of her bedroom. “You’re just saying that to make your cowardice sound like bravery, you know.” The challenge seemed to come from the walls around him.

* * *

He’d passed through Chicago a few times before, so he knew enough to head in to the city with enough time to account for traffic. But 290 was almost completely empty when he got on. He knew it was a weekday, probably a Tuesday, but those distinctions really didn’t matter anymore. His life had been lacking those standard demarcations for so long that he had a hard time remembering half the time.

It looked to him like the rest of the world had taken on that same attitude. Five cars were headed in to the city when he got on the road. A few more trickled on to the highway as he got closer in, but he never had to drop the Acura’s speed below 65.

Closer in to the city the highway passed next to the tracks for the El trains. Almost no one waited on the platforms. The trains seemed empty. Police with dogs walked up and down the platforms. He caught a glimpse of a cop checking the ID of a commuter.

Traffic began to slow down as he got closer in to the city. Several police cars and a SWAT truck sat off to the side of the road, lights on. Something was going on. Something serious. They generally didn’t send SWAT to car accidents.

The situation rapidly became clear. There was a security checkpoint. Two big, concrete barriers had been set across the ramp to Lower Wacker, forcing traffic in to a choke point that passed beneath a building that stretched across the highway.

He rapidly corrected his assessment. It wasn’t a choke point, but a kill zone. Several second and third floor windows in the building had been broken out. The snouts of .50 cal machine guns poked in to the open air, covering the roadway.

Traffic from the other direction, however, wasn’t being blocked. Apparently they were worried about something getting in to the city but not concerned about what might get out. Rob thought about the collection of guns in the trunk of the RSX and briefly regretted bringing them with.

But there was no way to know. Besides, what was he supposed to do with them? He sure as hell couldn’t have left them at Dawn’s place.

Even with traffic completely stopped the wait wasn’t long. There weren’t many cars and apparently the police weren’t requiring full searches.

An officer tapped on his window. He rolled it down and handed his license over.

“Alex Simkins,” the cop said, reading his ID. “What brings you in to the city today?” The question was delivered in a surprisingly pleasant tone.

“I have a meeting,” Rob replied, deciding not to take any chances. He flashed Smith’s card.

The cop’s eyes widened. He handed the ID back. “Well, then, you’re clear to go, sir.”

“Thanks, officer.” Rob decided to risk a question. “If I may ask, what’s going on?”

“I couldn’t tell you, sir,” the cop said. “I think you know the man to ask, though.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

“Have a pleasant day, sir.”

Rob tossed off a quick salute, rolled up his window, and drove in to Chicago.

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 4

"So what do we do now?" she asked quietly as she pulled in to the spot next to Rob's gifted Acura.

"What do we do about what?"

"You know," she turned the car off, "Us. Um, assuming there is an us to talk about."

"Well," he said, hitting the seat belt button and opening the door, "Since there is a you and a me, that technically means there's an us." He got out of the car.

"You know that's not what I mean," she replied, head popping up over the roof of the car. "You really can't be that dense, can you?"

He didn't respond immediately, far more focused on checking the RSX to make sure nothing had been disturbed. He'd left a small arsenal in a parking lot for a week, and even though it was hidden and the car didn't look like it had been disturbed he wanted to be sure. "No," he finally said, peering through the back window, "I'm not that dense. I just don't see what the big deal is here."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He looked back at her. She was standing behind her car, hands crossed over her chest, waiting. "This might not be the ideal way to start a relationship, but it's what we've got. Hell," he laughed, "This might be the most sensible beginning to a relationship I've had yet."

"That's pathetic."

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I've picked up my fair share of girls in bars. That's pathetic, really."

"So you're saying I'm better than a bar skank? Thanks. That's a high compliment."

He walked over to her and gently gripped her shoulders. "That's not what I'm saying at all, Dawn. I'm saying," he sighed, "Hell, I don't know what I'm saying. It's just that you're focused too much on the fact that this whole thing is pretty unconventional. I'm trying to say not to worry about it too much."

"Okay." She put her hand behind his head and pulled it down. "Thank you," she whispered right before their lips met.

"You're, uh, you're welcome?" he replied when he could finally speak again.

She laughed, then turned and lead him in to her building. "So am I allowed to ask you about your past now?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Yeah. I don't know that you'll like the answers, though."

"Try me."

"I enlisted right out of high school. There was nothing for me at home and no money for college, so it was the only way to escape from my shitty life." He stopped as she opened the door of her apartment.

"Keep talking," she said, pointing at the couch, "I'm hungry."

"What's on the menu?"

"I can make you anything you want as long as it's a turkey sandwich."

"Guess I'll take a turkey sandwich, then," he said, flopping down on the couch. "Anyway, I signed up, then I went for the Rangers as soon as I got the chance. I spent some time in Iraq and some time in Afghanistan. I got a reputation as the guy who worked the hardest, shot the straightest, and had the biggest pair in one of the most elite fighting units in the world. That got me some attention and I was given the chance to take a new, special assignment. I took it without asking too many questions. Turns out that Delta Force was knocking on my door."

"What's Delta Force?"

"It's one of the most elite special forces units in the world. If the United States needs someone killed or something destroyed and it has to be done with the minimum possible force and the maximum amount of deniability, Delta Force gets the job."

"Oh. So you were a good soldier, then?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So what happened?" she came out of the kitchen with two sandwiches on a plate.

"I was in some backwater town down in some backwater country where the United States officially had no military presence and, according to official records, I've never actually been."

"That's a neat trick."

"I know," he smiled. "Anyway, some local warlord was apparently getting small arms and ammo to nearby Al Qaeda cells in the area. They, in turn, were going to topple the America-friendly government, install the warlord as the supreme ruler, start perpetual Jihad and do all that junk. It was our job to make sure that this didn't happen."

"Logical."

"Indeed." He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "We went in at midnight. The warlord, his family, and some of his top lieutenants were in a walled compound at the center of a little town. We weren't officially there, so we had to get in and get out before any police or army units could respond and do it with the minimum possible collateral damage.

"Everything went smoothly until my buddy Garb and I hit one of the rooms. I went high, Garb went low. I swept the room and stopped when I found a young woman clutching two kids. If I'd tracked about three more feet I would have found the guy with the AK-74 hiding in the corner, ready to spray me with bullets."

"Wow."

Rob nodded. "Fortunately, Garb was more on top of it than I was. He dropped the bastard.

"It, uh, it shook me up a little bit. But I figured I'd shrug it off. I hesitated once, I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"About six months later we were in Africa, acting as military advisers to some insurgent group. Me and Garb and a couple other guys were riding herd on a group of guys who were making a quick attack on an ammo dump. They fucked it up real bad and we ended up in a running firefight against some militia unit."

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them hard. "I, uh," he opened his eyes again and sighed heavily. "I came around a corner and found a couple of kids. They couldn't have been more than 12 and I swear they were smaller than the AK-47s they had pointed at me."

"I just stopped." He looked down at the couch and bit his lower lip. "All I could see were kids. It was like they weren't carrying AKs. They were just fucking kids. I forgot my job, I forgot my training, I forgot that they could kill me. And then one pulled the trigger."

He waved his hand over his right shoulder. "The shots went wide. That was when my training kicked in. The kid was tiny, probably didn't get enough food, and the gun's kick nearly knocked him over. I put three rounds in to his buddy, then killed the first kid. Then I turned around.

"Garb was there. He'd been following me, watching my back. He'd come around the corner at the wrong time. One of the kid's bullets hit him in the elbow, the next blew his jaw off, and the third took off the top of his head."

Rob chewed on his lower lip for a moment, blinking back tears. "I had to carry my best friend back to camp, bleeding all over my uniform. Then I accompanied the body back to the States. I had to stand there and lie to his mother and his wife about where we'd been and how he'd died. Admitting we'd been in Nowhere, Africa destabilizing some pissant government for the enduring glory of Uncle Sam would have been bad PR."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He shook his head. "It just pisses me off. I was watching some commercial right before the funeral. Some fucking organization or another had trucked out the mother of a soldier who died in Iraq so she could beg people to keep fighting over there to make sure her son hadn't died in vain. I stood up and shouted, 'Samuel Joseph Garber died in vain, you stupid shit. Shut the fuck up!' then stormed out of the room.

"Garb's brother followed me out of the room. He had this look like he was going to beat the shit out of me for daring to say such a thing. I told him that if he really wanted to honor his brother's memory he'd best think about what sort of insane system justifies the death of one person by sending in another one to die.

"Then, just to add insult to injury, that damn church that protests at all the military funerals showed up. That motorcycle group that protests the protesters showed up, too. Then the media showed up and it was just this big circus. I had to stand in front of that casket, next to Garb's wife and mother and father with some dipshit screeching about god hating fags outside and cameras waiting to capture all the grief for the six o'clock news." He sighed.

"I just couldn't take it any more. I was given leave and recommended for psychiatric evaluation. But I just disappeared. The government couldn't let a guy with my skills and knowledge run free, so they chased pretty hard. I stayed one step ahead until, well, until you."

"Oh." She squeezed his knee. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It had to happen eventually. And I guess it worked out. That Smith guy didn't want to lock me up, he wanted to offer me a job."

"Are you going to take it?"

"Hell, no."

"Good," she smiled, "Stay here with me."

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 3

Rob shuffled out of Smith's office and followed Agent Cline down the hallway. She paused at a door, pushing it slightly open. "For what it's worth," she said, "I hope you join up. We need someone like you right now."

"I'll think about it," he said, holding up Smith's card for her to see. "I've got the direct line to call and everything."

"Call it. But, uh, tell her first."

"Tell who?"

Cline pushed the door open all the way.

"Oh."

Rob stepped through the door in to a small reception area. Dawn was sitting across the room, arms crossed, elbows at her knees, tapping her feet impatiently. She was looking down at the floor.

For a moment he considered turning around and walking back out the door. He couldn't face, well, anything. He cleared his throat, quietly.

"Uh, Dawn?"

She looked up, startled. Then a smile shot across her face and she was up, flying across the floor and in to his arms. "Rob," she said, voice muffled by his shoulder, "Oh, god, I thought you were in so much trouble."

"I, uh, I was." He squeezed her tight. "I'm so sorry. Y'know, for, um, for this."

"It's okay," she said. "That Smith guy explained everything to me."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"Even that my name's not really Rob?"

She took a step back and clasped his hands, then pulled them to her chest. "He told me everything that wasn't classified and that he knew. I figured out that there might have been a reason for you to lie about your name."

"Oh."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think Rob suits you much better than Alex, anyway," she flashed a toothy grin, then kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm starting to think so, too."

"Just promise me one thing."

"Shoot."

"You'll tell me about Alexander Simkins someday, too."

"I was about to when the goons showed up."

She threw her arms around his neck. "I've been convinced that's what you were going to do for the last two weeks."

Before he could offer a response she pulled his head down and kissed him long and hard.

* * *

Her car was parked outside the federal building. They headed out to the suburbs in a strange, mobile room ruled by silence and intimacy.

"So, uh, you're really okay with this?" he finally asked.

"With what?"

"Me not being who I say I am, the whole government showing up at your door thing, you know, this?"

She took a deep, staccato breath. "I'm a little weirded out," she told him, "But..."

Silence again descended. He counted the white lines of the Eisenhower as they passed under the car's hood. She spoke again on fifty-three.

"Yeah. I think I'm okay with it." He turned towards her in time to catch a small shrug. "I wasn't sure, but then when you walked in to the room just now I just, I...I don't know. It seemed right. As stupid and crazy as these last weeks -- hell, these last could months -- have been, seeing you walk in to that room and hearing you say my name was the first thing that's felt right in a really long time." She turned and looked at him. "And that goes to back before the world turned upside down."

"Oh." He looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say.

"Really, when it gets down to it, I didn't know you that well, so I guess I can get to know you as Rob or Alex or whatever and it won't be too big of a problem."

He chuckled. "Maybe not."

"Oh, god," she suddenly said, rolling her head back towards the driver's side window, "Am I actually listening to myself?"

"Huh?"

"I must sound like the neediest psycho in the world. Our...our...whatever we have started with you breaking in to the house of my ex, who was married as you recall. Then I found out you were using an assumed identity and running from the government. And all I do is say, 'That's great, I'll fall for you whatever your name is.' Wow. I just. Wow."

"You want me to leave?"

"No. But maybe you should for your own safety."

"I highly doubt that you could hurt me. I was pretty well trained."

She turned and looked at him. "There are a lot of ways someone can get hurt. I highly doubt that the military taught you how to defend youself from the most dangerous ones."

"Maybe not," he replied, turning back to count white lines.

One.

Two.

Three.

The silence lasted until they pulled in to her apartment complex.

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 2

"This will cost her her life you know," Big Nose stared hard through him.

"It's the truth."

"Then why did you desert?"

"I couldn't take it any more."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

The door behind Big Nose opened. "Okay, Karl, I've seen enough."

It took a moment for Rob to focus. A new suit stood in the doorway. He carried himself with authority. Spook, probably. Former Ranger by the looks of it.

Big Nose nodded once. He picked up the DVD player and walked out of the room.

New Guy crossed the room and extended a hand. "Would you prefer your old name or your new?"

He stared at the hand in confusion. "I prefer Rob."

"Then come with me, Rob. We have a lot to talk about."

"How's...how's Dawn?"

"She's fine. For the record, I'm very sorry we had to do that to you. Now come on, up with you."

"Why was she crying?"

"She had just been told you might be executed for treason."

"Oh."

"Come on, then. Get up."

Rob took the offered hand and numbly followed New Guy out of the interrogation room. They walked down a long, white hall, then another, then a third, then took an elevator up several floors. Another hallway. A closed door. New Guy opened it. A locker room.

"There's a fresh set of fatigues. Clean up. Someone will bring you to my office when you're done. By the way, I'm Special Agent Smith."

"Of course you are."

Smith snorted. "I get that a lot."

Rob closed the door, peeled the gritty clothes he'd been wearing during his captivity off, stepped in to a shower stall and turned the water on. He stood in the flow and stared at the wall for a long time, dazed, on the verge of tears. He'd gotten sloppy, let someone in. Now he was caught and she was a knife at his throat.

No more. He'd get out of this somehow. He could run.

Newfound determination filled him. He cleaned up quickly, found the fresh clothing, and walked out of the locker room.

Hot One was waiting for him. She'd traded the tight skirt and fuck me pumps for a conservative pant suit that showed no cleavage. "Rob," she said, "Special Agent Smith wanted me to escort you. I should tell you that I'm Agent Cline."

"Um, hi."

"It's awkward, I know." She smiled, then started walking down the hall. He shrugged and followed. "By the way, she must be really special."

"Huh?"

"Dawn."

"Oh."

"I was starting to think it would take months to break you."

They took the same elevator up a few more floors and walked down another hallway to an office. "He's ready for you," Cline said, opening the door.

Rob walked through the door. Smith was seated behind a cluttered desk. He didn't even offer the pretense of rising. "Rob, please," he gestured to a chair across the desk, "Sit. Let's talk."

Rob took the offered chair. "About what?"

"I have a job for you, if you're willing to take it."

This was the last thing he'd expected. "You what?"

Smith leaned forward. "I'm sorry for all the shit we put you through, I really am. But these are desperate times and we have to do extraordinary things, up to and including working with people who a month ago we would have left to rot in Leavenworth."

"Like me."

"Like you." Smith sighed heavily. "I have a lot of friends in the regular Army and the Guard. I asked a few of them to keep an eye out for people who might be able to help me in my task. You have the skills and determination to do what we needed, but I couldn't afford to have someone who I couldn't trust working for me. And I certainly couldn't justify working with someone who left Delta Force to commit treasonous acts."

"So that interrogation was a job interview?"

"You could call it that."

"It's nice that you you think you can trust me and all, but I'm not really feeling I can trust you."

"I understand." Smith held up a thick folder. "This is your file." He began feeding pages in to a shredder next to the desk. "It's going away. You've got a clean slate and, I dare say, you can be Rob or you can be Alexander Simkins. Hell, you can be Alexander Graham Bell for all it matters. You're free. But your country needs you now."

"To do what?"

"To find people."

"And kill them?"

Smith shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not. We need you to help people." He finished with the shredder and leaned across the desk. "I'll level with you. It's absolute chaos out there. We're not advertising it, but the armed forces of this nation are at just over 50% strength and maybe a quarter of their expected effectiveness. A lot of people have disappeared and a lot simply went AWOL. Militia groups and gangs have sprung up all over the place and are grinding the Guards down. We couldn't win a war right now if we wanted. Hell, we couldn't fight a war right now."

Something clicked in Rob's head. "So is that why the U.S. Ambassador suggested turning everything over to the U.N.?"

Smith stared at him for a moment, blinking silently. "Um, not exactly," he finally said. "In fact, no one is really sure why that happened. The Joint Chiefs are up in arms over it and word has it that the British Ambassador isn't welcome home any more after his move to support the motion. Quite frankly, as weak as we are, turning control over to the United Nations will only weaken us further."

"So have we recalled the ambassador and reversed course?"

The Special Agent rubbed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. "No," he said after a moment. "The President went in to a closed-door session with that Carpathia creep mad as hell and came back like they were the best of buddies. Congress is panicking and word has it that they'll either turn control over or declare war on the U.N."

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, that's where you come in. Some of our most vocal opponents of the United Nations disappeared. We know a few of them were part of The Event, but several others were out of the Capitol at the time and apparently away from witnesses. We need them. And we need someone to find them."

"Can I think about it?"

"Yes. But not for long."

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 1

[Note: This is the next entry in "Answered Prayer."]

"I will ask one more time. And this time you will tell me the truth."

"That's what you said two times ago."

"No it isn't. I have never asked this question before."

"That's what you said last time."

The frown. When Black Hair frowned it was a good sign. It meant he was losing. He couldn't keep the questioning up forever.

"Did you or did you not consort with enemies of the United States of America after going AWOL from the Armed Services?"

"No."

"You disappoint me, Alexander." Black Hair stood. "Perhaps you'll be more talkative in the morning." He turned and left. When he closed the door he took the light with him.

Morning and night meant nothing in the inky blackness. He had no clock, no watch, but even though nearly two "weeks" had passed, it was probably closer to a day. A day of mind games, drugs, darkness, light. Child's play.

The trick was to keep the mind focused on something, anything. Preferably something that couldn't be used against him. A song.

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you very well may be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black soul of mine
To come alive

Good, remember the words. The next chorus built on them. Remember the new words.

Light.

"Good morning, Alexander." The Hot One. She was good. Almost unfair, really, training a beautiful woman to be an interrogator. Like men had a chance in the first place, especially since she brought the light and one of those skirts that professional women with great calves wear when they want to show off. "Did you sleep well?"

Silence. Women hated that, at least to hear a dozen ex-girlfriends tell it.

Hot One leaned over, nice and close. Cleavage. Perfume. Damn. "I asked how you slept."

"Rob."

"What?"

"My name's Rob, not Alexander." It was his game with her. Keep her off her toes.

"Ah, still on this, are we?" She stepped back. "Sergeant Alexander Simkins, formerly of Delta Force. Well, not officially, of course. I know who you are. And the United States does not take too kindly when members of its special forces just disappear one day. Would you care to guess what the punishment is?"

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you very well may be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black,
Sun-cracked soul of mine
To come alive

"Don't care. My name's Rob."

Hot One leaned forward, her eyes softened. "Look, Alex, you seem like a good guy who did something stupid. I can help you. I can get you out of here. You just have to work with me." She dropped her voice, made it husky. "I might even be able to work with you."

This was a new one. He looked her up and down once, slowly, for the first time. He drew her scent in, let it linger in his nose.

"No." It was a challenge, but he had a weapon. He could beat her.

"Awww, Alex," she purred, "Are you sure?" Hot One leaned in close, her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "You don't know what you're missing."

"You wish."

"Who is she?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon, you've got to be head over heels to reject an offer like that. Who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"Nope."

"Maybe it's that girl who you were with when we found you."

"She means nothing." No, not Dawn.

"Dawn, I believe her name was," Hot One's voice dropped, sinister this time. "Maybe I'll just have to ask her a few questions." She walked to the door. "Tomorrow, then, Alexander."

Darkness.

He spent the "night" staring in to the empty blackness.

Light. Big Nose.

He placed a portable DVD player on the floor. "I'm sorry the volume doesn't seem to be working, Sergeant, but I thought you might want to see this." Big Nose pressed play. Dawn appeared on the little screen, across from Black Hair. Her hands were over her eyes. She was sobbing.

He took a deep breath, heart cracking inside like glass.

"We are sorry we had to do this, Sergeant. Had you been more cooperative we might not have had to." Big Nose pressed stop. "This was right after she found out what the penalties are for harboring a fugitive from justice and aiding and abetting a treasonous act."

His glass heart broke.

"She did nothing." He fought back tears.

"Tell me what I want to know."

"Will you let her go?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to know?"

"Have you or have you not ever committed a treasonous act against the United States of America?"

That same damn question. They didn't seem to want the truth, but the truth might cost Dawn her life. He stared at Big Nose.

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you you can bet will be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black
Sun cracked
Numb inside soul of mine
To come alive

"No."

Answered Prayer, Part 9

Sunlight was already streaming through the window when he woke up, filling the space with warm, yellow light. Dawn was lying on his chest. He gave her a squeeze. Her eyes opened slowly.

"Morning, beautiful," he said.

"Morning," she said, then kissed his chest.

"So what's the plan for today?"

"I don't know," she pulled herself up and put her head on the pillow next to him, "Maybe we should just stay right here."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"I thought so." She began drawing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips.

"So, uh, where were you?" he asked.

"Where was I when? I've been right here."

"I mean when it happened."

She winced.

"It's okay," Rob said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"No, it's..." she smiled, although it was more of a grimace, "It's just that it was..."

"You don't have to say anything, really."

"I was with him," she said, all trace of hesitation gone from her voice.

"Oh."

"I was trying to break it off with him," she snorted, "Like I'd done so many times."

"I see."

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. "You know those people, right? The ones that you can't stand to be around because they make you feel like shit, but whenever you try to get rid of them you just...don't. Well, Colin was like that. I mean, not always. Just, you know, later. After I'd been with him for a while."

She smiled wistfully. "When I first met him he seemed wonderful. He was one of those people who could find you in a crowd and make you feel like the only other person on the whole planet. I wanted him. I think I fell in love with him." She shrugged. "He was married, of course, but that didn't matter. He told me he wasn't happy with his wife, that he would break it off if it weren't for the effect it would have on his children and his career. Of course I believed him." A tear formed at the corner of her eye. "I was so stupid then."

Rob reached up and stroked her cheek. "No, you weren't."

"I was," she smiled, "And I know what you're trying to do. Thank you."

"What am I trying to do?"

"Make me feel better about being stupid. I was twenty, I'd been pretty sheltered, and I was stupid. I'm a lot smarter now."

"Just so you know."

She kissed him. "I do. Anyway, I think I was telling you a story."

"Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, Colin. All the guys I'd dated before were young and self-centered. I was just kind of an accessory to them or something to do on a Saturday night. I like to think that it's because they were young and stupid, then, too, but I don't know."

"It's a good bet," Rob said. "I can't speak for all guys, but we're pretty stupid when it comes to that stuff."

"Yeah. But Colin wasn't. He was caring and kind. Now, of course, I know that he was being self-centered, too, he was just better at it than the boys I'd been with before."

"Sounds like it."

"Yeah," she nodded. "About a year ago I found out that he'd pulled the same exact routine with another one of the station interns about two years before I got the job. She'd graduated and gone back home, so he just took the next one who came along. That was me.

"Maybe I should be flattered, I don't know, but he didn't drop me when I graduated. We kept right on seeing each other, he kept right on lying to me, and I kept right on believing him.

"Then, of course, I found out that I wasn't his first. I got pissed and started yelling at me. He apologized, said that he was lying to himself and the girl from before, but now he wasn't lying to me. And I believed him. I told him I'd wait for him. And I did, for a while. Then he hurt me again. I yelled at him again. He lied again. I believed him again."

Rob snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know," he kissed her on the forehead, "For what you went through, I guess."

"It's not your fault."

"I know. Still..."

"Thank you." She kissed his cheek. "But it's okay. He's gone now. Literally."

"Yeah."

Her voice dropped low. "I watched it happen."

"What?"

"We were at this cheap motel down in Bolingbrook. I was supposed to be breaking up with him for, like, the fifth time, but instead, well...

"So I got out of bed afterward. I knew that I couldn't break it off. I just wasn't strong enough and whenever I tried he'd talk me back out of it. I turned around and looked at him lying in that bed and I remember I prayed. I said, 'God, I'm not strong enough to do this. Save me from him. Save me from me.'" She paused.

"At that exact moment he disappeared. It was like...he was there...then there was a hole in the sheets and they just collapsed. I...I think there was even a pop."

Rob stared at her for a second. "Wow."

"I know."

"There," he took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you. Two somethings, actually."

"What?"

The response was swallowed up when someone began pounding on the apartment door.

"Hold on," Rob said. He slipped out of bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. He pulled them on, then grabbed his Glock off the dresser and slipped it in to his back pocket.

He went to the front door and cautiously opened it. Two men in black suits were standing in the hallway, flanked by a pair of fully armed Army privates.

One of the suits spoke. "Sergeant Alexander Simkins." It was a statement not a question.

Rob fought off the urge to grab the Glock and start firing. He wouldn't stand a chance. "Yes," he said.

"You'll come with us." Once again it wasn't a request.

Answered Prayer, Part 8

The cop was sloppy. His charge had noticed it almost immediately and prepared to take advantage by being extra docile. It was working.

"Can't believe the Army would go to all the effort to pull jurisdiction for a guy like you," the cop said. "Hell, it was just a drunk and disorderly. And you're neither right now."

"They take this shit seriously," the criminal replied, shrugging and shuffling slightly closer to his captor, "That's the Army for you." The sally port was already open, the cop had been kind enough to cuff his hands in front. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

"I wonder if that's them?" the cop said, focusing on a black car a few blocks down.

It was the moment. The prisoner's hands flashed towards the distracted policeman's holster and came up with his service Glock. "Get down, now," the prisoner commanded.

The cop complied. "Don't shoot me," he pleaded. "I've got a wife. I've got kids."

"I'm not gonna kill you. Give me the keys to these cuffs and I won't do a damn thing to hurt you."

Again the officer complied. It would have been a perfect getaway had it not been for one thing. The black car was actually the one with the MPs who were coming to pick him up. And they had definitely noticed that something was amiss.

The prisoner looked up just as the car began accelerating. He abandoned his attempts to remove the handcuffs and instead took off running. There was an alleyway a block down with dumpsters at the entrance, too narrow for a car. He cut down it.

The black car screeched in to a turn and followed him down a parallel street. He turned in to another alleyway and crossed a busy street, narrowly avoiding getting hit.

He cut right, then left. The black car was always there, always a block away, always turning the corner in time to catch sight of him.

Then it was all over.

He came to the mouth of an alleyway at the exact same moment the black car screeched around a corner, nearly clipping a blue Subaru WRX on the fender.

The doors opened. One of the MPs advanced on him, training an M4 at his head. The other stood out in the street, acting as cover.

"Drop the gun," the cop commanded.

The prisoner complied.

"Get on your knees and put your hands on top of your head.

Again the prisoner complied.

"Now don't try anything funny. I am authorized to put a bullet in your head "

He was completely out of options. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere he could hide. The only chance he had was the last resort of the desperate.

"God," he whispered up to the sky, "I know I don't talk to you, I don't do what you want too often, and, hell, I'm not sure I believe in you. But I can't stand to get locked up. Help me out and I'll change my ways."

And with that the MP in front of him vanished in to thin air.

His uniform suddenly emptied itself of its contents and seemed to waver in the air for just a second before gently collapsing to the ground. The gun clattered to the pavement and the sudden shock worked the mechanism once, firing a round that narrowly missed the confused prisoner's right ear.

Somewhere off in the distance someone shrieked. Tires squealed. There was a crunch of metal.

Silence fell over the scene.

The other MP looked down at the empty uniform, then up at the man crouching in the alley. His jaw worked once, twice. No words came out.

"Wha..." he finally managed to get out. He stepped backwards, eyes locked on the mysterious stranger.

He never noticed that he was stepping in front of a car.

It screamed down the road, empty, driverless, as unaware of the man in the road as the man was of it.

The MP bounced off the front of the car and out of sight. The car swerved to the left and tried to do the same thing to a light post. The car lost.

Silence again reigned. "That...that wasn't quite what I had in mind," the former prisoner said after a long moment. He pulled the handcuff keys out of his pocket and fumbled with them for a moment. Freed, he let them clatter to the pavement and stood up.

A sound from the unoccupied car startled him. He grabbed the Glock and started to swing it in line. The passenger door opened and a young woman fell out. She tried to push herself up, but then collapsed. She pushed herself up one more time, then began puking.

He decided she was no threat and put the pistol in his pocket, then grabbed the M4 and cautiously poked his head out in to the street. No one was there but him and the puking woman.

The Subaru was still sitting exactly where it had been when the black car cut it off. It was idling quietly, driverless.

He walked over and looked in through the windshield. A puddle of clothes sat on the driver's seat, the only indication anyone had ever been in the vehicle.

Not one to overlook a true gift, he opened the door of the car and pulled the clothes out, then switched wallets with the disappeared. "Sorry, man," he told the jeans as he dropped them on the pavement. "Looks like I need your identity more than you do right now."

He dropped his two newly acquired guns in the trunk, then got in the Subaru and pulled around the empty Army car. As he did the woman rolled over and looked at him.

"Help me," she said through her puke stained face, clutching her side, obviously in pain.

He drove past her. It was her problem. Something pricked him in the back of his mind. He'd made a promise. He stopped the car and backed it up, then helped the woman in.

"I don't understand," she said. "One minute he was there, then he wasn't."

"I don't, either."

He took the woman to the closest hospital, but didn't stick around. As soon as an Emergency Room orderly arrived to help, he took off as fast as he possibly could. Something strange had happened and he had to take advantage of it. He tuned in to a news station to see if anyone had noted the disappearance, only to discover that it wasn't an isolated case. People were gone all over the city.

On the outskirts of Phoenix he stopped at a storage locker to get some things he knew he was going to need. Years of practice had taught him exactly how to run.

He filled the Subaru's tank at a nearby gas station and pointed the car in the general direction of New Mexico. As he headed east in to the desert, he pulled out his newly acquired wallet and looked at the driver's license.

"Hey," he said to the rear view mirror, deciding to practice using his new identity. "I'm Robert. What's up. Robert. Nice to meet you."

He decided he really didn't like the sound of Robert.

"Hey," he said to the mirror, "I'm Rob."

The irony of his new name suddenly hit him. He laughed for the first time in days.

The car soon felt lonely, though. Quiet. He plugged a Dead Hot Workshop CD in to the car's CD player. There was nothing better for a long drive through the desert. Well, them or the Peacemakers.

I'm too tired for sleeping
Fast asleep but I'm not dreaming
Look for truth in aberration
Sinned to much to be forgiven.

I walked from Hell to here today
The world is young as it is wild
For every step you plan to take
Plan to walk another mile
Don't confuse yourself
If it don't mean anything

Answered Prayer, Part 7

"Why would the American ambassador just offer to de-arm?" the bartender asked.

"I don't know," Rob said, "But it makes about as much sense as China and Russia offering to adopt a U.N. sanctioned religion."

"I can't see the French going for that, either," Dawn added. "And I think India is one of the current Elected Members, so I doubt they'd support it."

Rob and the bartender turned and looked at her.

"What?" she held her hands up, "I was a poli sci minor. I'm a total politics geek."

Rob shook his head. "I wish I'd known what I was getting in to."

"Hey, you decided to stick around."

"I guess I did." He turned back to the bartender, "Um, hate to change the subject, but can I get a cheeseburger?"

"Sure thing," the bartender replied, looking relieved to be thinking about something different. "And for you, miss?"

"I'll have one, too," Dawn said.

"Nice," Rob said, smiling.

"What?"

"I like a girl who can order a cheeseburger."

"Then you'll love this," she winked at him, then turned back to the bartender. "I'll take a Johnnie Walker Black. Rocks." She looked back at him. "Your move."

"Maker's," Rob said. "Double, neat."

* * *

They left the bar three hours later, the strange video long forgotten. She was having a hard time standing up straight. Rob was more than happy to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her walking in a straight line.

"I just want you to know," Dawn said, slurring her words slightly, "That I usually don't drink like this."

"It shows."

They got to his car and he helped her in to the passenger's seat. "Hey, Rob?" she asked as he started to close her door.

"Yeah?"

"Let's not go back to Colin's place."

"Where do you want to go?"

"It just so happens that I have a perfectly cute little apartment of my own." She smiled up at him. "Let's go there."

"Okay."

He ran around the car and hopped in on the driver's side. As soon as he pulled away from the curb Dawn rolled down the window and began gulping in huge lungfuls of air. "Okay," she said after a minute, looking and sounding quite a bit more sober, "I'll have to give you directions."

"That would be nice."

An uneventful ten-minute drive brought them to a little apartment complex set off the road in a leafy residential neighborhood. She led him through a security door, up a staircase, down a hall, and in to a bright apartment decorated in reds, blacks, and whites and organized along sharp, straight, modern lines. "Here we are," she said. "Take off your shoes, please."

"Really?" He asked, kicking off his shoes. "This doesn't look at all like what I imagined your place would look."

"I got the stuff in this room from my sister," she replied. "The bedrooms and the kitchen are all me, though." She walked over to a stereo in the corner and turned it on. A soft guitar filled the room, followed by a Scottish-accented tenor voice.

Row gently down the waves as they grow
Unlike the land the sea can let its pride show
When you're hand in hand in a storm's command
Let the boat go gently

"I love this song," Dawn said, walking back across the floor and taking Rob by the hand.

If morning ever breaks its spell
We'll be floating on a heaven that whispers hell
And the wind sounds like the world is waking
So row gently now

She led him over to the couch. He sat down and she put her leg up on the couch so she was sitting facing him. "Um," she said, shyly, "So..."

Between every grain of sand there are chances
And better times to make advances
The walls of stone
That we'll leave behind us

He looked in to her eyes for a moment, then put his hand behind her head and leaned towards her. Their lips met.

As we go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into
Go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into

She pulled back slightly. "You're a good kisser," she said, then met his lips again.

Let the sails down, let them blow
When we're awake we won't feel so alone
The tide has its pride, but it's a pride that comes and goes
First so strong then so gently

He stopped, then looked at her for a long moment.

"What?" she finally asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I'm just trying to figure out how I got here."

"Don't think about it," she said, "It can only ruin the moment."

There are hills beyond these hills
Where the air is still grey in its mystery
That thankfully will always remain a mystery to me

"C'mon," she said, grabbing his hand and standing up. "Let's see if we can't find a way to get you to stop thinking about the past for a little while."

As we go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into
Go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into

Answered Prayer, Part 6

"Welcome, welcome, friend," the dark-haired man said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Christopher."

Rob shook the offered hand. "Rob. It's, uh, it's nice to meet you."

"We were just about to sit down for the evening meal," the woman standing next to Christopher said, "Would you care to join us?"

"Sure," Rob said, "Thank you."

The couple, or at least he assumed they were a couple, led Rob in to the house. "We don't get too many visitors out here," the woman said, "But we like to be hospitable."

"Not too many are these days," Rob replied.

"Well, it's important for us to display the love to everyone," she said, "We are the chosen, after all."

"I see," Rob said, unsure of how to reply. "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Martha."

"Are you married? I mean, to each other?"

"Oh, no," she laughed. "There's no marriage here."

"I see."

Rob fell silent and let them lead him through the house and out the back. They ended up in a large barn. A pair of long, wooden tables ran most of the length of the building. Each table was about half occupied, with men ranging in age from about seventy to maybe fifteen sitting on the inside and women, mostly skewed towards younger ages, sitting on the outside.

"Take a seat," Christopher said, gesturing towards an empty spot next to a young man and across from a blond teenage girl.

Rob took the offered seat. He shook hands with the guy sitting next to him. "Rob."

"Charlie." Nice to meet you.

He turned to the girl, who smiled shyly, then looked down at the table. "Hey, I'm Rob," he said.

She looked up, smiled again, and mumbled something. "That's Kristen," Charlie said. "She's kind of shy, but once you get to know her better...well, you'll learn, I'm sure."

"Huh?"

Rob didn't get a response. Christopher had taken a position at the head of one of the tables. He loudly cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Friends," he said, "Today is a truly auspicious day. I have heard from the lord. He has given me a message to share with you all. It has been ten days since the Lord took away our enemies and our work is finally to begin."

Rob risked a look across the table at Kristen. She was staring at Christopher with rapt attention and an expression somewhere between love and worship. He turned and caught a glance at a couple of the men at the other table. They, too, had adopted an expression of worship. He began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

He pulled his jacket close to his side as unobtrusively as possible. The reassuring bulk of the Glock in its concealed pocket offered a bit of comfort.

"We have waited for the prophesied day," Christopher continued, "The day that the Lord removes the lukewarm church from this world and takes the innocents in to his divine protection so that we can begin the true work of preparing this world for the imminent return of the Messiah.

"And much work must be done to prepare this world. For the Good Book commands, 'Go ye therefore and multiply and subdue the Earth.' And that it what we will do. Tonight the Lord told me it is time to begin multiplying so that we might raise new children in the proper way.

"I have told you," he voice lowered, "That the sins of this world will be repaid to it seven fold. The Lord has shown that He is displeased with the heathens, the heretics, and the false believers for raising the innocent to be full of carnal and worldly knowledge. So the Lord has taken the innocents away.

"It is now time," his voice rose, "Time for us. It is time for us to multiply. It is time for us to subdue. It is time for us to lead the world in the Lord's name," he finished nearly at a yell.

The young man next to Rob had turned his attention to the girl across the table. He was studying her with a lustful gaze. Everything suddenly clicked in to place. He wanted to run.

"I'm so glad you've come to join us," Kristen said from across the table. "I didn't think I'd be able to play my part in the Lord's plan."

"You, uh, you what?"

"I've been preparing my entire life for this moment," she smiled at him, "But as the youngest, I didn't think I would have a chance. This is a great blessing."

"The youngest? How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

Rob swallowed hard and blinked. "And you've been here your entire life?"

"Yes," she nodded enthusiastically, "I've been blessed to be born and raised here, in the Lord's new Eden."

"I have to go," Rob said. He began to get up from the table, but suddenly realized he was already standing. All he could think about was escape.

Several of the men had also stood up. They began to gather around him.

"What seems to be the commotion?" Christopher asked, stepping between two of the men to stand directly in front of Rob.

"I'm really not comfortable with...well, with whatever it is you're doing here," Rob said. "I think I'm going to go."

"But you haven't even had dinner," Christopher said. "I'm sure that it will all seem much better after you've filled your stomach."

"No, no, that's okay."

"Really, we insist."

"I do, too," Rob pulled out the Glock. The men all backed off a step. He turned to Kristen. "Look, I don't know you," he said, "But if things are happening here that I think are happening, you don't have to stick around."

"But it's the Lord's plan," she replied.

"No," Rob shook his head, "It isn't. Look, I don't know what god's plan is, but it's not this. This is just fucked up."

"I will not go with you," she said. "I will stay here and do the work the Lord has given me. The Good Book says that I will be blessed by my children, so I must play my part."

"I should put a bullet through your head," Rob said to Christopher, his voice lowering to an angry growl. "But I don't think that killing you will save that poor girl from being exploited by one of these other perverts."

One of the other men stepped in front of Christopher. "I don't think you have enough bullets to kill us all, mister. Do you?"

Rob's finger tightened on the trigger and for a brief moment he considered trying to get to Christopher. "No," he whispered, relaxing his grip, "I don't."

"These are our ways," Kristen said. "We live by the word of the Lord."

"I don't think that your god called you to have children with the first random guy who shows up," Rob said. "Christopher over here is exploiting you. You don't have to stay. Come with me. Please."

"You should probably go," Kristen said. "You obviously do not understand the ways of the Lord and will bring judgment down upon us if you stay."

Rob realized his was in a no win situation. He backed out of the barn, then turned and ran back to his Subaru.

As he got back on the road and pointed the car towards Missouri, he looked in the rear view mirror and made a simple vow. "I will never leave anyone behind again," he said to the empty highway behind him. "I've run away too many times."

Answered Prayer, Part 5

Sunlight was already streaming through the window when he woke up, filling the space with warm, yellow light. Dawn was lying on his chest. He gave her a squeeze. Her eyes opened slowly.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "You're still here."

He smiled back. "Of course."

"I was kind of worried this was going to be awkward."

"What? This?" He laughed. "I think this is one of the lest awkward, um, ones of these I've ever had."

"One of these?"

"Yeah. I'm not entirely sure what to call it. I mean, we weren't on a date, we didn't have sex, but...well...here we are."

She reached up and stroked his right cheek, then kissed him on the left. "Plenty of time to worry about that later," she said. "But I believe you promised me that you'd be taking me out today."

"That I did."

* * *

There wasn't much going on in their little corner of suburban Chicago. Things seemed to be slowly returning to normal, but it looked like there was a long way to go. Some shops were open and engaging in desultory trading, bartering in kind as much as, if not more than, dealing in cash. People seemed to trust that cash was still good, but at the moment it was less useful than getting goods in trade.

"This is sad," Dawn said after they'd looked in their dozenth darkened window. "I mean, this is really sad."

"I'm guessing it'll be back," Rob said. "At least it doesn't look like there's been much looting."

"Well," she smiled up at him, "You didn't get to town until yesterday."

"Hey, now."

"I'm sure you'll have the problem fixed by the weekend." She slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. It softened the blow considerably.

"I think I see a big rock over there," he laughed and put his arm around her. "I could show you how it's done."


"So should I feel honored that you decided not to break my window?"

"Nah. I just don't have time to teach you how to pick locks. It's easier for rookies to just throw something heavy."

"How about we just go over to that bar over there?" she pointed down the street.

"You think it's actually open?"

"Looks like it."

He checked his watch. "Well, it is nearly half past noon. And I'm pretty sure we don't have to be anywhere. Let's start drinking."

"Cool," she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Colin didn't drink and wouldn't have the stuff in his house. I miss it."

"Ooh, that's rough. I think I'd kill myself if I had to spend two weeks stuck in a house without beer."

"It's my own fault."

"True. Let's go help you repent."

They walked down to the bar. It was open for business and occupied by a few people who obviously didn't have anywhere else to be. They ignored the tables and took a pair of seats at the bar.

"Menus?" the bartender asked, "Or just here for the ambiance?" he jerked his head towards a sullen pair at the far end of the room.

"Menus would be good," Rob said. "What do you have?"

"Pretty much anything 'cept the fish and anything that needs tomatoes."

"You take cash?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Cash? Of course. Where do you think we are?"

"I, uh..."

"You a runner?"

"Yeah."


The bartender nodded. "Ah. Yeah, civilization's still here. Best get used to it."

"Hey," Dawn cut in, "Turn that TV up."

There was a TV over the bar that had been playing a re-run of Two and a Half Men on mute. It had switched to a view of a pair of anchors sitting in a studio somewhere. The bartender grabbed a remote and turned the volume on."

"...disturbing video from the temporary U.N. headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. It shows the new Secretary-General Nicholae Carpathia's first address to the Security Council. The video was uploaded from a camera phone and no one is sure of the source."

The scene shifted to the middle of a grainy, low-fi video. The camera was behind the speaker, pointed more or less at the main table behind which sat the Security Council.

"We must unify to face this threat," the Secretary General was saying. "It is something that is much larger than the petty struggles that have so long divided us. I propose, therefore, that we take a first, symbolic step. We must disband the religions of the world and create a single, unified belief that all people can see, understand, and appreciate."

"What?" The Chinese ambassador stood, face flushed with rage. "You presume to come before this body with promises of assistance and this is what you give us? This...this...I do not even know what to say." The ambassador paused and took a deep breath. "China does not have an official state religion. It is an insult to suggest that we must have one now."

"I believe," Carpathia's voice was quiet, measured, "That you are mistaken in your assessment of the situation. You will go to your government and you will suggest that they comply with my suggestions. There can be no other way."

The Chinese ambassador suddenly seemed to deflate. "Y-yes. I will do as you say," he said mechanically, nodding. Then he sat down.

"Wait," the Russian ambassador stood. "This is foolishness. Even if you do convince the Chinese, Russia will not stand for this." He stopped. For the next several seconds he seemed to be listening to something, but no one was speaking. The ambassador nodded several times, then spoke again. "Ah, yes, I see," he said. "I will go to my government and suggest that they back your proposal."

The American ambassador stood next. "Perhaps we should propose additional measures."

"And what would those be?" Carpathia asked.

"I just had the thought that maybe we should consider drafting a plan to turn military control over to the United Nations. We are not safe as long as the world is an armed camp."


"Why that sounds like a wonderful idea," Carpathia replied. "I do not think I could have said it better myself."

"I second that motion," the British ambassador said.

The video abruptly ended. Rob, Dawn, and the bartender sat in silence, staring at the blank screen. Dawn was the first to find her voice.

"What the hell was that?"

Answered Prayer, Part 4

He knew something was wrong when he pulled in to town. Something about the place was just off.

When the two guys in ratty military surplus camo holding suspiciously clean M-16s jumped out in front of his car, his suspicions were confirmed. Rob dropped the Subaru WRX STi into first, popped the clutch, and brought the car to a stop. He slipped the Glock under the coat sitting on the passenger seat, but kept his hand on the gun.

One of the M-16 guys walked up to his car, signaling that he should roll down the window. Rob complied.

"What brings you here, friend?"

"Just passing through. Looking for supplies, maybe a place to stay."

"This here's our territory. You can pass through, but it'll cost you."

"What?"

The pseudo soldier stroked his long, red beard and squinted in to the car for a moment. He looked over at his partner. "Hey, T-Bone, he wants to know what it'll cost him."

T-Bone laughed. "Ask him what he's got."

Red beard looked back at Rob. "Well, whaddya got?"

"Um," Rob said, risking a quick glance over at T-Bone. His gun was trained on some point above the Subaru. Red beard's was slung over his shoulder. It was a good way to look like a badass. It was an even better way to look dead. "Well, I've got this."

The Glock flashed out from under the coat. Red beard never fully registered it before taking two rounds through the forehead. T-Bone was just beginning to react as Rob popped the clutch and slammed on the gas. The military wannabe somehow managed to get out of the way. He even swung his rifle around quickly enough to get a burst off.

The right side of the Subaru suddenly dropped and the car jerked around. Rob swore, swung the wheel and turned the jerk in to a sideways skid. He'd lost a tire.

Three more rounds thudded in to the side of the car, then it slammed to a stop against a wall. Rob blindly fired through the passenger window, then dove through the door. Three more rounds spanged against the concrete behind him, so he kept rolling. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of T-Bone.

He stuck his leg out and jerked to a stop as three rounds passed through the air he would have been occupying. The Glock came up and he put three rounds in to T-Bone's chest. He dropped to the ground. He wouldn't be getting back up.

Rob turned and looked at the Subaru. He already knew about the right front tire. On top of that, three windows had been shot out and it was leaking gas. The car was done. He would be, too, if he didn't get out of the street.

He grabbed his coat off the front seat, then took his M4 carbine out of the back. As he turned to run up the street he suddenly discovered he wasn't alone.

"Hey, you," someone yelled from behind him, "Over here."

He turned around. A woman and a teenage girl were standing on the porch of the house that had suddenly become the final resting spot of his Subaru. The woman was holding a shotgun and the girl had a revolver.

"Can you get us out of here?" the woman asked. "We have a car."

"Yeah," Rob nodded, "I'll need some of the stuff out of my car, though."

They disappeared back in to the house and Rob popped his trunk open. A minute later the garage opened and the woman backed a green Mustang out in to the driveway. She opened her trunk and Rob started throwing his stuff in next to the pair of suitcases that were already there. The woman ran out to the street and grabbed red beard's M-16 while the girl sat in the back seat next to a small armory and somehow managed to look bored and scared at the same time.

"Shit!" the woman yelled, "We've got to get out of here."

Rob hopped in to the driver's seat and backed the car down the driveway. He stopped long enough for the woman to jump in, then peeled out down the street as a pair of pickups gave a futile chase. He quickly lost them.

"Thanks," the woman said. "By the way, I'm Karen and this is my daughter Tina."

"I'm Rob. And I should probably thank you. I wouldn't have gotten very far on foot."

"Maybe not."

"Who were those guys?"

"I don't know," Karen shook her head, "Some militia group or something. They moved in to town a couple days ago and started looting the place. We figured we'd sneak out, but they've had guys on our block ever since they got here."

"That's a little weird," Rob said.

"Yeah."

"So where to?"

"My husband's a Captain in the Reserves. His unit's up in St. Louis. They're supposed to be getting ready to come down here and get rid of these militia guys."

Rob got on the highway but didn't get anywhere near St. Louis. Less than five miles up the road they ran in to a military convoy and flagged it down.

A man wearing captain's bars on his fatigues hopped out of the lead Humvee, a broad smile on his face. "Karen," he said, opening his arms to embrace his wife and daughter. "Tina. I'm so glad you're safe."

"Thank him," Karen said, pointing at Rob.

"All I did was drive," Rob shrugged. "I even had to borrow the car. Er, your car. Sir."

The captain turned. "You a vet?"

"Um, yes, Sir."

The captain let go of his wife and daughter, then turned towards Rob and offered a stiff salute. "Thank you, soldier."

Rob returned the salute. "You're welcome, sir."

The captain nodded off to his right, then began walking away from his family. Rob followed him.

"I know you're a stranger and you've already done more than I could ask of you," the officer said, putting his arm around Rob's shoulder, "But do you think you could take Karen and Tina up to my sister-in-law's place in St. Louis? Talk it out with Karen, but I wouldn't mind letting you take the car afterward. I figure we owe you something and we were going to replace it, anyway."

"That's no problem, sir."

"Be careful though, son. Something's going on out here and I don't know if anyone is safe any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I know a few spooks Right before all those people disappeared they said they were getting some really weird intelligence, like someone knew something big was going down and they were moving assets in to place to take advantage."

"What kind of assets?"

"Groups like the Anarchy Boys." the captain paused, "Um, you met a few of them back down there."

"Oh."

"Scuttlebutt has it that there have been a lot of terrorist attacks and some of our supply problems are due to sabotage, not just confusion."

"How could anyone know about something like that?"

"I wish I knew."

"Can we get it under control?"

The captain sighed. "I don't know. We're holding now, but just barely. We're lucky that the big cities have managed to keep control. Well, everywhere but Texas. If the cities collapse we'll be in trouble."

"I'll bet."

"Official word has it that the U.N. is offering to come in and help. Unofficial word says that they're pushing some sort of unified world government as a condition, however."

"Really?" Rob raised an eyebrow. "A bunch of people disappear, the country falls in to anarchy, and the U.N. shows up offering assistance in exchange for joining their government? Think it's connected?"

"I hope not, but let's just say that too much is going on right now for it all to be coincidence."

Answered Prayer, Part 3

"You know, Dawn, I've been in some crazy places," Rob said as he filled two bowls from the
pot on the stove, "But I don't think I ever thought I'd be eating Spaghetti-O's in a mansion while a dead televangelist's girlfriend holds a gun to my head." He slid one bowl across the wide island to where she was sitting.

She giggled. "It's a crazy world, isn't it?"

"Crazier than it used to be, that's for damn sure."

Dawn put the .38 down on the counter next to his Glock and picked up a spoon. "So what's it like out there?"

"Totally crazy. I hear it's far worse outside the cities, where there were a lot more more people who disappeared, but it's like some people just gave up living, some people panicked, and some people decided to take advantage of the survivors."

"Which one are you?"

"None of the above," Rob offered a half smile, "I guess you could say I'm one of the runners."

"What are you running from?"

"A little bit of everything, I guess. It's a brave new world, I figured I'd be able to make a new start."

"Here?"

"Wherever. What's it like here?"

"Not so bad," Dawn shrugged. "Chicago's kind of taken everything over. But the mayor has managed to keep the power on and the gas flowing. Most of the time."

"Is he planning on starting his own little country out here?"

"No," she shook her head, "At least I don't think so. He's just trying to keep all the services going. The towns and counties are all pretty short staffed, between the disappearances, the people who aren't coming back to work, and all of the new people showing up out of nowhere. At least that's what I hear on the news. And they almost never tell us what's going on in the rest of the world."

"Some places are better than others," Rob said. "I hear the coasts are mostly okay. The government is still mostly up and running and I've seen the Army and National Guard out trying to restore order."

"That's good."

"Yeah. I talked to an Army guy in Missouri a few days ago, though. He says that the U.N. is trying to use this to leverage a One World Government thing."

"So? We don't hear from our own President. What's the U.N. gonna do?"

"Jack shit, probably. Isn't that what they always do?"

"Yeah."

Rob shrugged. "Anyway, things are starting to come back. I hear most of the oil refineries and platforms down on the Gulf coast are back online. But the planes are still grounded, since most of the airports took heavy damage."

"There's been some bad weather, too," Dawn offered. "I did hear that we were supposed to be getting an aid convoy or something, but there have been blizzards out east."

"Couldn't tell you anything about that."

"Okay." She looked up at the clock. "Oh, it's time for the nightly news update." She picked up the .38 and used it to gesture towards another room. "Come on, the TV's in there."

He led her in to the next room and took a seat in an overstuffed chair. She plopped herself down on the couch and picked up a remote with her left hand. The gun stayed in her right.

The nightly news report was sparse. It was mostly a list of services which services were being restored and where, a weather forecast, and a reminder of the dusk to dawn curfew imposed on Chicago and the collar counties. There were no sports scores, no human interest stories, no lottery numbers. It ended with what the anchor called "A Moment of Hope."

That night's moment of hope was a quick story about how a group of neighbors in the north suburbs were taking it upon themselves to make sure that stranded Northwestern University students were getting fed and, in some cases, giving them rides home. "Remember," the anchor signed off, "It's all of our responsibilities to watch out for each other. So try to create your own moment of hope for someone tomorrow."

"It's not much," Dawn shrugged apologetically as she turned the set off, "But it helps make everything feel a little normal again."

"What's on the rest of the time?"

"Re-runs."

"Ah." Rob scratched his head. "So, uh, how did you end up here?"

"A lifetime of bad decisions, I guess," she shrugged. "I mean, I knew that all I had to do was pray that stupid prayer he was always talking about. I guess I thought...I guess I thought that he was just crazy and it would never happen."

"So you actually do buy that Rapture story?"

"What else could it be?"

Rob waved his hands helplessly. "I don't know. I've heard a lot of crazy theories. Seems like everyone's just sitting around trying to figure it out."

"Well, there's not much else to do. Just that and survive."

"I, uh, I met a guy on the road a couple days ago," Rob sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I stopped because I saw him lying on the side of the road. He, um, he told me that he'd been clean for six years, that he'd stopped drinking the day his wife told him she was pregnant. Said his daughter was finally the thing he found that gave meaning to his life. When she disappeared he broke in to a liquor store, stole as many bottles as he could and just wandered away."

"What did you say to him?"

"What can you say? All I know is that isn't the answer. We can't fall apart and we can't just sit around and wait for the meaning to come back in to our lives. We need to move." He gestured towards the TV. "That guy on the news was right about that moment of hope thing."

"You know," Dawn dropped her head back against the back of the couch and looked at the ceiling as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, "You know why I came here?"

"Nope."

"I told myself it was for the food, the supplies. But what I really wanted to do was sleep in his bed." She lifted her head and looked at him, a combination of shame and defiance in her expression. "Really. How pathetic is that? The whole world goes to hell in a handbasket and all I can think is, 'Hey, maybe now I'll actually get to sleep in his bed.'"

"Did you love him?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Yes...no...hell, I don't know." She paused. "See? I'm pathetic."

"No, you're not." He took a deep breath. "You're human. We all do crazy things for silly reasons."

"You know what the real shit of it is?" she asked. The answer came before Rob even had a chance to open his mouth. "I don't really think he ever cared about me. I've been sitting here by myself trying to figure out what I miss about him and all I can think about is all the reasons I'm glad I don't have to see him any more. I was just a thing to him, a toy. I could see it in the way he looked at me sometimes." She stopped and cocked her head to one side as a sudden realization hit. "Maybe that's why I never prayed his stupid prayer."

"Huh?"

She smirked. "He once told me that I should pray the prayer because it really wouldn't be Heaven if he couldn't bring 'his favorite lay' with him. I think I thought it was funny at the time, but it wasn't. He was just a selfish bastard. I couldn't imagine wanting to be in the same place as him for all eternity."

"So then why did you stick around with him?"

"I think," she closed her eyes for a second, then shook her head as if to toss a thought away. After a moment she looked back up. "I think I've always preferred to chase after things that I'll never be able to catch. It's easier, I guess, knowing that I'll never be happy but can always pretend I am than trying to hold on to someone I truly care about and knowing he might leave."

"Well," Rob shrugged, "You can't chase this Colin guy all the way to Heaven. And I really don't think you want to."

"Nope," she smiled, "I really don't."

"Give yourself a chance. Get out of this house. I'm sure you'll figure out that there's someone who's worth holding on to."

"I'm scared."

"We all are. It's okay."

She stared at him for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. "You might be right," she finally said, nodding.

"I am. Trust me."

"But you know, I'm kind of tired. I think I'll go to bed." She paused. "You probably shouldn't be caught outside after curfew, so if you want you can stay here. There's a guest bedroom at the top of the stairs."

"Aren't you worried about having me in the house at night?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not. Besides, if you want to steal this shit, it's not mine. I don't care about it. And as for anything else, well," she waved the .38, "I sleep behind locked doors with a loaded pistol under my pillow. Just so you know."

Dawn disappeared up the stairs. Rob went in to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and grabbed the Glock off the island. As he started to go upstairs he realized the front door was still standing open, so he closed it and secured the locks. Then he went to bed.

* * *

A soft knock awakened him some time later. His hand found the gun under his pillow before he'd even registered where he was. The guest bedroom. Everything was softly lit by the light of a nearly full moon, so he knew it was still the middle of the night.

"Rob?" he heard Dawn's voice through the door. "Are you still here? Can I come in?"

He took his hand off the pistol. "Yeah, what is it?"

The door opened and she walked in. "I'm sorry to wake you." She walked across the room and sat down on the side of the bed. "It's just that...well, it gets lonely here."

"I understand. I've been on the road by myself a lot, too." He studied her for a moment. She'd traded in the lumpy sweatshirt and baggy jeans she'd been wearing for a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. He realized that he'd been completely wrong. Dawn was definitely not a young girl. In the moonlight he wondered how he could have thought that at all.

"I, uh, I wanted you to know that I'm not scared of you."

"Good," Rob smiled, "You shouldn't be. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I also want you to know that, uh, well, it was nice having someone to talk to," she smiled shyly, "And I'm glad you didn't leave. Or turn out to be a psycho."

He grinned. "I'm glad I didn't turn out to be a psycho, too."

She smiled wider. Her eyes shone in the moonlight. "Um, I don't want you to think I'm, like, a slut or anything, but...well," she paused, "It gets kind of cold and lonely in this house at night..."

He nodded and pulled the covers back. "I've spent too many nights in an empty bed, too," he whispered. "I know what it's like."

She slid in next to him and pulled the covers tight. After a moment's hesitation she pushed her body up against his. "Don't try anything funny," she muttered.

He wrapped an arm around her and breathed a deep sigh. "I won't."

"Hey, Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay tomorrow and do something for me?"

"Sure, what?"

"Take me out somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care."

"I'd love to."

Answered Prayer, Part 2

He shuffled in to town, coat pulled tight but soaking wet and completely useless for keeping out the cold.

"What the hell was I thinking," he muttered to himself for the billionth time, "Heading north in the winter. Shoulda stayed in Phoenix."

Several little houses dotted the sides of the road. Empty. So many houses were empty everywhere he went.

Except for one. The front door to the house on his right opened. A gray-haired man stepped on to a broad porch, cradling a shotgun.

"Hello, friend," the old-timer called. "What brings you here?"

"Car broke down," the traveler turned and gestured vaguely towards the highway with his right hand, keeping his left covered as he dug in to his pocket for the Glock nestled inside. "Looking for shelter."

"It's cold out. Snowy, too."

"Yes," the traveler nodded, "Yes it is."

"Well, come on in," the old man half turned to the house and gestured inside with the barrel of his shotgun. "I was just making dinner and it's warm by the fire."

"Thank you."

The pair walked in to the cozy house. It was warm, lit by the roaring fire from a pot bellied wood burning stove. A pot of something sat atop the stove, bubbling and filling the room with a sweet barbeque smell. The old man placed his shotgun in a stand between a pair of hunting rifles and an AR-15.

"Hate to seem inhospitable," he said, patting the barrel of the shotgun, "But you know how it is these days." It came out as an apology.

"I've made introductions over the barrel of a gun several times in the past week," the traveler said, shrugging out of his overcoat. It fell to the floor, but he kept the Glock in his left hand. "That's why I've got this."

A slight shadow of fear crossed the old man's eyes. "I, uh, I don't have much, but..."

"No, no. No. Sorry." He set the pistol down on top of the rifle stand. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm not going to pull anything on you. Really," he smiled, "I appreciate your hospitality."

"Good, then," the old man smiled. "I'm Ed."

"Rob," the traveler replied, sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Ed pointed to a worn couch. "Have a seat, friend. Dry out some. Tell me where you're headed."

"Chicago," Rob said, plopping down on the couch. "Figured I'd be there today, too. Damn car broke down, though."

"Lots of people headed there these days," Ed laughed, "It's the only place that's still working. Who'da thought the Democrat machine would actually turn out to be a good thing?"

"Guess it's true," Rob smiled, "God doesn't like Democrats."

"Well, it's like they say. One thing god and the Republicans have in common is that they disappear whenever there's a crisis."

"Who says that?"

"Me, I guess."

"I'm not going looking for order, though. I could have gone to California if that's all I wanted Word has it that they've got stuff pretty much under control out there and it's a lot warmer."

"So why are you going to Chicago?"

Rob shrugged. "I really don't know. Guess it seemed like a good idea. I needed a change of scenery or something."

"I can understand that, I guess," Ed said, walking on stiff legs over to the stove. "Lots of people looking for a fresh start these days." He stirred the pot. "Hope you like beans. I still got a few hot dogs left, too. Cut 'em up and put 'em in the pot."

"Sounds delicious," Rob smiled. "I don't get too many hot meals."

Ed grabbed a couple plates and spoons from a cabinet next to the stove and ladled out the meal. He limped back to the couch and handed a plate to Rob before sitting slowly down in a threadbare armchair.

"So why did you stay here by yourself?" Rob asked between bites. "Or are there still people here?"

"Nope," Ed shook his head, "As far as I know I'm it. But it won't last long."

"Why?"

"They'll be back," he nodded sagely. "People are running to the cities, looking for order and protection. Once the food runs out they're gonna realize that someone needs to start farming again."

"So you think it'll get back to normal around here?"

"Normal?" Ed chuckled and shook his head. "Son, after something happens like what we've been through, you never get back to normal."

"I guess not."

"So, what are you planning to do now?"

"I don't know," Rob shrugged. "Probably find an abandoned car and take it the rest of the way. It's how I got this far."

"Figured as much," Ed nodded. "Tell you what. I don't like the idea of being generous with things that don't belong to me, but the kid next door has a real nice car. It's one of those Acuras and he's always working on it. Shouldn't break down in the middle of winter. If you want to start looking, you might go there. He's not going to be back for it any time soon."

"You sure?"

"Son," Ed leaned forward, "He was sitting on that very couch when it happened. One second he was here, the next, well, you know..."

"Oh."

"And let's see if we can't find you a dry coat. I've got a couple old ones down in the basement that'll probably fit you. They haven't fit me in years," he laughed and patted his stomach.

* * *

Early the next morning Rob pulled his newly acquired 2006 Acura RSX up behind a green Mustang on the shoulder of a snowy highway. The previous owner had been kind enough to leave the keys on an old man's couch inside the pocket of an apparently unneeded pair of pants.

He opened the trunk of the Mustang and pulled out a gas can and a length of rubber hose. There was no sense in leaving a half tank of gas sitting uselessly on the side of the road. He opened up the gas cap on the Mustang and began siphoning out the fuel.

Once the gas was flowing he began transferring the contents of one car to the other as quickly as possible. A duffel bag full of clothes went first, followed by a few boxes of carefully rationed canned and freeze-dried food and candy. A toolbox was next, then a bag full of batteries of various sizes. It quickly became obvious that the trunk of the RSX was a little too small.

The guns went in the tiny back seat. He placed a Remington 12-gauge pump action shotgun, a full milspec M4 Carbine and a pair of Smith & Wesson .44 magnum revolvers on the seat and carefully covered them with his new coat. Then he wedged four ammo boxes in behind the passenger seat.

Last, but certainly not least, he dumped a pair of completely frozen gallon jugs of water on the floor of the front seat and dropped a couple boxes of CDs and a half-empty bag of beef jerky on the passenger seat, then shoved a wad of bills in to the glove box.

Once the gas can was safely stowed in the trunk he put his prized copy of Dead Hot Workshop's 1001 in the CD player -- the signed copy he'd gotten from Steve Larson himself at a show back in the late '90s -- and got on the road. The previous day's storm was a distant memory and he shot eastward under a clear winter sky, his unofficial theme song blasting from the Acura's speakers.

I'm gonna get me some peace someday
Guess I missed the boat when the cradle started rockin'
From the womb come a newborn baby
Is the light of day
Any better than that?
Tell me I'm not alone

Answered Prayer, Part 1

It was a good house, the sort he looked for. A plaque above the door proclaimed "Praise the Lord!" but the murky darkness within claimed there was very little praising going on at the moment.

The door was locked, but that wasn't much of a problem. A few quick jiggles with his lock pick kit and he was in. A gentle push and the door swung slowly open. Nothing happened.

His Glock preceded him in to the house in steady hands at the end of extended arms. He tracked it slowly across the openings to the entry hallway and up the staircase with practiced ease. Still nothing happened.

The pistol continued to lead him, this time down the hall toward what he assumed was the kitchen. It was right.

He already knew that something was wrong before he saw the open cans sitting on the island that dominated the ostentatiously large space. There was no stench of rotted food. Someone had been there recently. Someone had cleaned.

Someone was still there.

Someone was watching him.

He slowly turned to his left, bringing the gun part of the way around.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The voice belonged to a snub-nosed .38 revolver. No, wait. It belonged to the hands grasping the .38.

"Don't you dare point that gun at me," the .38 -- no, the hands -- said.

"I, uh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know anyone was here." He dropped the Glock to his side. "I'll go."

"...Yeah. Maybe you should."

He noticed for the first time that the .38 was shaking slightly. The hands holding it were trembling. Hands that were attached to a pair of slender arms. And at the other end of the arms from the gun was a frightened looking woman. No, a girl.

There was no worse place to be than in front of the business end of a gun held by a terrified, threatened person. He'd learned that the hard way twice already, which was two more opportunities than most got. He began to slowly back out of the kitchen.

"Wait." The girl said, voice tight.

"What?"

"Put the gun down," she gestured toward the island. He complied. "Tell me something about what's going on. You know, out there," she nodded toward the front door. "I, uh...I don't get out much."

"I don't know much," he shrugged. "I've seen a few things, every once in a while I hear a radio broadcast. There are some shortwave radio operators, some CB, but nothing's really organized."

"Hey, it's gotta be more than I get sitting here by myself."

"You're by yourself?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Um, I, uh, I mean..."

"Look," he held his empty hands up, "I'm not going to hurt you. I understand why you'd be worried, but, believe me, I'm not like that."

"If you don't mind, I think I'll keep this," she said, shaking the pistol. "Now talk. Please."

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Really, anything at all. How many people are there? Where are they?"

"All over. Everything's pretty much going crazy."

"So there still are a lot of people out there?"

He shrugged. "Depends on where you are. Lot's of empty towns out west of here. Don't know if it's because everybody disappeared from them or some disappeared and everyone left."

"You've been west?"

"Yeah. I was in Phoenix when it happened."

"Why'd you come here?"

"I guess I saw it as a chance to make a new start."

"A new start? There's no new start here. It's just the end."

He shrugged. "Maybe for some."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No. It's the end. The guy who used to live here, he was one of those TV pastors. He was always talking about the end times, how everyone who loved Jesus would disappear, then a bunch of bad shit would happen, then Jesus would come back."

"I haven't seen Jesus yet."

"No, we've got a lot more to get through first."

"So you figured you'd be safe here?"

"No," she smiled, "I knew there was a lot of food and supplies stockpiled over here. Colin...um, the guy who owns...owned...the place was pretty paranoid. I guess he worried that the Rapture would happen and he wouldn't get to go with."

"Why? Wouldn't a TV preacher be first to go?"

"Maybe the ones who didn't have mistresses."

"Ah." Realization dawned. "Wait, you? But you're..."

"Twenty-five," she smiled. "I know what it looks like, but he wasn't a pervert. I interned for his show in college. That's where we met."

"Cool. Um, I guess."

"I believe, though, that you were supposed to be talking."

"I know."

"Oh, hey, you hungry?"

"Always, these days."

She gestured at a cupboard. "There's a bunch of cans of stuff in there. The stove still works."

"Cool. By the way, my name is Rob."

"Dawn."

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. So far."