The Earth Experiment 5v4l52

The Earth Experiment

Rob Doan

Copyright © 2015 Robert E. Doan Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1458-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1459-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900486

Archway Publishing rev. date: 1/22/2015

Contents

PART ONE Limbo

PART TWO Atlantia

PART THREE Earth

For

Gabe Rupp and Carolyn Wall … without their voices, , and this book wouldn’t exist. We are of the same tribe and I count it one of the greatest blessings of my life. A’sha’nah.

Lorin and Isabella, my beautiful daughters, who taught me more than anyone about how deep love can run. I leave The Earth Experiment to you, so that when I am gone, you can read it and who I was and what I believed. I hope that the Earth lasts that long, and apologize for the mess my generation handed yours.

Rex and Christine. You know why. THANK YOU.

And Sharon … in spite of it all, we made it through.

PART ONE

Limbo

WAYNE CHISHOLM FIGURED HE MIGHT MAKE A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL if he would tell him where he was and how to get home. He was standing in the middle of a God-forsaken crossroads that reminded him of Robert Johnson’s famous blues song with no inkling how he’d gotten there. The roads stretched in straight lines, in each direction, as far as he could see. East-West was dull gray pavement full of small pebbles and rocks, the kind that if you rode a bicycle on it would transmit up the front forks and handlebars in a constant irritating vibration. North-South was blacktop that shimmered in the morning sun and smooth as a baby’s butt, but as the day wore on would get sticky. The landscape was almost flat, dotted with sparse greenish-yellow vegetation that was two feet tall, and full of lethal thorns and small black blossoms. A couple of lizards played tag under one of the bushes. It was the same in every direction. No clue or enticement that might favor one direction over another. No hints … none. Hell’s goin’ on? Wayne scratched his head, but it didn’t help. Neither did his third slow 360 degree turn. He gave a deep sigh, and sat in the center of the crossroads. “Shit.” He cleared his throat and spit as far as he could. It landed on the edge of the blacktop, a Rorschach ink blot that reminded him of a bat in flight. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and get run over.” Wayne’s life hadn’t been going too well lately. This might be as much of an understatement as Noah remarking that it looked like rain. There had been a streak of bad luck, and some of it was his fault. Things like the loss of a wife to divorce, the destruction of his summer sanctuary in the mountains to a house fire, and during the same period, the deaths of some dear friends. Bitter jagged pills that were damn near impossible to swallow. Tough times at work too, the university where he was a tenured, full professor of psychology. It was a place he once felt safe, but now was one person too many. And, a too-old father trapped in a used up body, marking time and waiting for death to release him from a physical hell. Yep, it had been a rough two years. Not to mention what had happened on this very day, starting at 2:30 a.m. He was stumbling half asleep through a dark bedroom to take a pee, stubbed his little toe on a vacuum cleaner, and heard a loud snap as it disted. It was three times its

size by morning. To add insult, at 8:45 while he was backing out of his driveway to go to the doctor about his toe, he ran smack dab over a cat. It belonged to the five year old daughter of his neighbor and she watched the gruesome event unfold. She plopped down in her front yard and commenced caterwauling. “You’ve killed Mr. Pebbles,” she sobbed, head thrown back so all he could see was an open mouth full of teeth. “What am I going to do; you’ve killed my Mr. Pebbles!” He got out of the car to take a look, and sure enough, she’d summed up the situation dead center, the cat was dead-dead-dead. It looked like a well-worn Frisbee with a tire track across its middle. He peered at the girl, at the big salty tears cascading down her cheeks, and mumbled something about being real sorry. He moved the cat to one side leaving a vivid trail of red-red-red blood and guts and as he got back in the car stubbed his toe, and yelled, “Oh lord, damn me to hell.” That quieted her for an instant. He took advantage of the silence, backed out, and headed down the street. Didn’t take him long to realize that the car was fishtailing due to one of the rear tires going flat. “Probably a damn cat claw,” he muttered and drove on, motivated by the escalating pain in his throbbing toe. By the time he got to the doctor’s, the tire was ruined and the parking lot was full, so he parked across the street and tried to one-leg hop through the traffic. He underestimated how much this would slow him down, and a gigantic four wheel drive pickup almost hit him. The driver comionately gave him the finger, and shouted, “Get the hell outta the way, you moron!” He was greeted in the office by the receptionist who smiled brightly and said, “Hi, Wayne, how has your day been?” So he decided to tell her. Before he could finish his vivid , two policemen entered, explained their actions were at the request of the doctor who owned the office, and ushered Wayne out. The doctor didn’t appreciate sentences that had three curse words for every ten … and was upset that his once full waiting room was empty. He tried to explain that his toe needed medical attention … especially now that one of the cops had stepped on it. Outside, the larger of the two officers saw it as his civic duty to deliver a cautionary tale to Wayne concerning the type of man he was in the process of becoming if he didn’t change his ways, his tune, and his attitude. And by the way, was he the same guy they’d just received a call on about killing some poor little girl’s cat?

Wayne stepped back two paces and looked the guy square in the eyes. “My way is to go to the doctor, my tune is the broken-toe-blues, and I’ll it my attitude is getting worse by the minute … some of which is due to you sonsabitches.” Although Wayne had never seen the inside of the city jail, he was disappointed … especially when they put him in a cell with a foul-tempered black dude who was in for being high on crack and in the middle of his own spiraling crash. As soon as the door shut, the guy raised his eyes from where he was sitting on a dirty-with-brown-stains cot, and said, “What you lookin ’ at, white boy?” Wayne gave what he thought was a diplomatic reply, and softly said. “It sure as hell isn’t going to be you.” That’s how he managed to match his three-times-now busted toe with a bloodgushing broken nose caused by a punch that propelled him into the wall.

He slid down its dirty surface and ed out.

HE EXPECTED TO WAKE UP IN HIS CELL SO IMAGINE HIS SURPRISE WHEN he came to at this crossroads in the middle of nowhere, with broken toe and nose, and a confused, oh God more- than-confused, mind. There he was, sitting in a strange intersection, unable to walk, and hoping to be run over by a benevolent truck. That he couldn’t walk became clear after he had taken three tentative steps. That really pissed him off, because when you wake from a dream, which this had to be, it’s supposed to get better, not worse! So maybe he wasn’t dreaming? Mayhaps all this shit was really happening? He looked at his watch and damn near had a stroke. It was only 10:30 in the morning. There was a whole truck load left of this absolutely horrible day. That can’t be good.

Sure enough, he was right.

A little background on our hapless character is in order. Wayne was a reasonably nice guy. Not prone to serious trouble. He’d never been arrested before that day, had always had a job, and could be called a good citizen in many respects. Was friendly most of the time, and any number of people would tell you they liked him. He’d been known to have a drink or two, and had smoked his share of pot back in the day, but had never had a drug problem. Of course he wasn’t perfect. His main issues were authority figures who thought folks should obey them without question, a feisty temper that flared too often, and a series of catastrophic relationships with women. If you asked him, he would tell you that 85% of all the trouble in his life could be traced to bad decisions that concerned women. Not that he blamed women. He blamed his choices in women, what happened between females and him when romance entered the picture. He had tried hard to have a female life partner, but hadn’t come close. This left him disillusioned and cynical about trying again, for her sake and for his. The institution of marriage was just that … an institution, and he figured he wasn’t cut out to live inside one. In fact, institutions in general were best avoided. They were products of the mass-think called culture, and he had concluded that whether a culture seemed good or bad, it was inevitably demanding. And what it demanded was conformity. Wayne wasn’t keen on that. Last time he’d checked the history books, every damn thing you could think of had been perpetrated by cultures … for good and bad. Just because people decided to live together within a certain geographical locale, in no way ensured that the organizing principles and philosophies they came up with would make sense. In his experience, people could be just as crazy in groups as they could alone … probably more so. So, he sat in the middle of the crossroads and sighed. What else is new? What was new was coming from the east, off in the distance, all shimmering and vague in the rising heat. It was a car moving fast. He needed to make a decision, to move or stay put. It wasn’t a truck, but it looked large to put him out of his misery and confusion. So he bent his knees, put his weight on his hands behind him, and watched the car. It kept coming, getting clearer till he could tell it was a

green Ford Crown Victoria. It had to be old, because it needed new front shocks, and was bobbing up and down. He put his hand over his eyes to block some of the glare, and squinted. Is that a cop? They like Crown Vics. Nope, no Christmas lights on top. Thank goodness, don’t need more policemen in this already-too-many-of-them day. It got near enough to see the driver was alone, watch him lean forward, and peer through the windshield, eyes big, mouth open. Then close enough to notice him straighten his arms, apply the brakes, and be pushed forward in the seat. His hands couldn’t hold him, and his chest slammed into the steering wheel. Pain etched his face as the car came to a bouncing, screeching, stop ten yards away. Driver’s mouth was still open, and his bug eyes went all crazy inside their sockets. “Shit,” Wayne said to himself, “it isn’t a cop, it’s a preacher!”

He signed deeply, “And the sonofabitch missed me!”

WAYNE COULD SEE AN OLDER MAN IN A WHITE COLLAR THAT WAS PROBABLY in his 60s. He had a narrow brimmed hat, a black suit, and whiteknuckled hands that gripped the steering wheel. There was a silver beard, a broad nose that looked like it might have been broken back in the day, and bushy eyebrows. He put one hand to his chest, rubbed it, and his open mouth snapped shut. He pulled the car over to the shoulder and got out stiff and slow, like his hips were hurting, or his lower back was sore. Pushed the hat back on his head. Wiped the pained look from his face, and smiled one of those smiles that make you wonder if it’s genuine or just long practiced. Wayne was pretty sure, if you had to wonder, it wasn’t real. “Knew the Lord wanted me to drive out this way for some reason.” The guy said in a deep and raspy voice, like it had been left too long in the rain. “I ‘spect the reason was you.” He took two steps forward. “How can I be of service, my son?”

Wayne sat on the pavement, said every curse word in his extensive vocabulary to himself, and turned his eyes away so the man wouldn’t see the cynicism he knew was in them. Sat for a bit, settled, and breathed deeply. “How far did you drive to get here?” He asked, slow and clear. “Hope it didn’t take too long.” The minister squatted, elbows on his knees, a small Bible in his right hand, and the plastic grin got bigger. “Bout 20 miles. In these parts that’s no more than round the block.” “And God himself told you to?” He took another cleansing breathe. “Well, in a manner-of-speaking, yes.” “What does in a manner-of-speaking mean?” The minister shifted his weight, put all the earnestness he could into a Baptistpreacher-on-Sunday-morning voice. “I didn’t actually HEAR our LORD’s voice, but I felt powerfully MOVED to drive out this VERY road to check on a WAYWARD lamb gone ASTRAY.” Wayne’s stomach seized up, and he fought a strong urge to spew vomit in the preacher’s direction. “Is that so?” He turned to face him, found his eyes with his, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “That’s a strange coincidence considering that just an hour ago God spoke to me too.” The minister stood quickly and shouted at the sky, “Praise Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!” He did a 360 degree turn and his hat tumbled to the roadway. “Praise all the heavenly hosts!” Wayne sat with his arms around his knees, his head canted to one side. “You want to know what God told me to tell you.” “Oh, Lord,” his voice trembled. “He gave you … a message for … me?” “I didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s now clear it was for you.” Wayne put on his own fake smile. The minister slapped his thigh, bent over and picked up his hat. “Lordy, son, don’t keep me waiting. I been praying for months for some kind of sign, some answer.” He was breathing hard. “And God sent you.”

Wayne howled. Laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. When he finally caught his breath, he said, “God told me,” he gasped, and choked. “If I’d sit right here at this crossroads, like old Robert Johnson, that the Devil himself would come driving up in a Ford Crown Vic, and offer me a deal for my soul. And I will be double-dogged-damned, here you are!” Wayne stood and walked toward the preacher. “I think it’s cool that you came disguised as a minister, white collar and all!” The guy backed toward his car, eyes darting side to side, breath coming in spurts. Then thought better of it, spread his feet, held his ground, and raised the Bible above his head. “You’re plumb crazy, boy! I am at the service of the one true God!” Wayne walked down the road to the west, stopped after ten yards, and turned. “That’s what God told me you’d say. Said to tell you that you’re confused. All these years believing you were serving him, when in fact, you’ve been in bed with old Beelzebub himself.” He walked on, and threw words over his shoulder, “You have a nice day now reverend, you hear?” Thirty yards away he heard the car start, cross the road with tires squealing in a tight turn, and head off in the opposite direction. He stopped and watched through the heat and dust of the morning, until it disappeared. “Yep,” he chuckled. “Have a nice day.” The laughter saw him through the next three miles of toe-aching misery.

But that was all.

AN HOUR LATER HE STOPPED WALKING, SAT ON A FLAT ROCK, RUBBED his toe, and wondered what the hell he was going to do. Hadn’t seen a car other than the minister’s and figured the odds weren’t good that he would. Was just about to give up and commence a cussing and snorting tirade when something strange happened; not that everything since the jail cell hadn’t been strange … but this upped the ante. A car materialized on the shoulder of the road. And not just a car, a 1964

Mustang convertible, as red a red as any red could be. And not just a car either, oh no, way to hell and gone more than that, there was someone in it. This someone had raven, black-as-a-moonless-midnight-inside-a-well, hair streaming to her shoulders. It framed a lightening-strike face with cobalt blue eyes and lips so luscious they were painful to look at. She had one hand draped over the steering wheel and was looking at him with raised eyebrows. “Hey, Wayner, you want a lift?” she said, in a voice so full of honey he looked to see if it was dripping down her chin. He said the first thing that came to mind, amazed he could speak at all! “Lordy mercy, you just might be the Devil for real!” She laughed like a glass chime in the wind, and batted her big baby blues at him so hard that he felt a breeze. “Why, honey lamb,” she said between the tinkles. “I heard someone was stranded up this way and figured I better check it out. You going to get in or what? He looked at her, sirens going off in his brain. Did she call me Wayner? Hell’s goin’ on? He took a step back and winced at the pain in his toe. “How’d you know my name?” She reached across the car and shoved the enger door open. “It’s a talent of mine. Besides, you look like a Wayne. You want a ride, or not?” He had always loved no brainers.

His toe could use the rest, she was gorgeous, and maybe she knew where they were.

THEY HADN’T GONE TEN MILES BEFORE HE GOT EDGY. WAS SOMETHING good happening? That didn’t fit the trend of his recent life and this crazier than crazy day. He figured it was prudent to be a might skeptical. And, to top it off, he still had no clue where he was, or why, or how the hell he’d

gotten there. “Uh,” he said. She turned toward the sound of his voice and winked. “Yeah, what’s up?” “Uh,” he tried again. “Do you have any notion where we are?” She laughed, and threw her hair back with a flick of her head, the way all beautiful women do. Wayne figured it was hard-wired. “We’re in the middle of frigging Limbo,” she said, and dodged a lizard running across the road, her hands sure on the wheel. “Uh …” “Do you start every sentence that way, or is it just for me?” She tossed her hair again. “Well, here’s the thing, where is Limbo EXACTLY?” He rubbed his chin and looked at her. “Land sakes, sweetie,” she ran her tongue over her lips, and took one of the most wonderful deep breaths he had ever witnessed, what with the tight cowboy shirt, and her …”If we knew where it was EXACTLY, we couldn’t call it Limbo, now could we?” The world spun, and he thought he felt dizzy for a few seconds, but it ed. Maybe if he came at it from a different direction. “If not exactly, how about just in general,” he smacked his lips twice, and did his best Jack Nicholson. Her mouth curved into a can-teeth-actually-be-that-white grin. “We’re a little confused are we?” He watched the color of the landscape change from drab and boring beige to an even drabber and more boring mud brown, and tried to sneeze some of the drab dust outta his nose. “Nah,” he said, when he stopped sneezing. “We’re a whole shit-pot-around-the-bend confused. Hell’s goin’ on?” “Oh,” she playfully jabbed his shoulder. “One I can finally answer! Hell’s going on just fine! You can’t believe some of the big names he’s managed to get down there … although don’t ask who, cause it’s the against the rules to tell. But there

are at least three U.S. presidents … three!” She giggled, the glass tinkling, and looked at him. He rubbed his chin. “Can you at least tell me which party they belong to?” “Oh, for crying out loud,” she squealed in delight. “Both parties a’course. Aren’t you a tease!” “Shit,” he said louder than he meant to. “I don’t care who’s in hell or what party they belong to; I just want to know where I am and where we’re going! Can you tell me that … PLEASE?” “Well, my, my,” she cut her eyes at him. “I told you we’re in Limbo, so by definition we aren’t going where we think we are.” “For crying out loud,” thinking it might help if he used one of her phrases. “Where do we THINK we’re goin’?” “You are the difficult one,” she shook her head, and blinked her eyes. “If you must know we think we’re going nowhere at all!” She patted him on the knee. “Now do you feel all better?” He swallowed three times and felt his head spin. “Holy shit,” he sputtered. “Never mind!” “Now see there,” she said and beamed at him.

“I knew if we just kept at it you’d understand!”

THEY DROVE FOR 12 HOURS WITHOUT A CURVE IN THE ROAD THROUGH a day that remained as bright as high noon in a John Ford western. He didn’t ask her about it; no sir, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. He sat as still as Buddha, watched the landscape turn back into a drab and boring beige, and spent the time wondering if his life would ever make sense again. He had an overpowering notion that it wouldn’t; that something irreversible had happened, and there was nothing he could do. That all his bad decisions had

added up and were too big to fight. It was time to pay the piper, who as Bob Dylan said, wanted an eleven dollar bill and he only had ten. If only he could start over. When he was consumed by such thoughts, almost lost in them … she broke the silence. “Doesn’t work that way, Wayner, it’s against the rules … you made that blister on your ass and now you get to sit on it.” He sighed, too confused to answer, and wondered if they were going stop for the night. Then ed there didn’t seem to be one. This is sure no country for old vampires. She pulled over and got out to stretch her legs. Standing she was no disappointment, with legs that went on forever beneath thin hips and narrow waist. She caught him looking and smiled. “Like what you see?” She did a perfect model-on-a-runway walk. He had an I-been-here-and-done-this déjà vu moment ripple through his brain. “What you thinking?” She asked, right on cue. He ignored her question, got out of the car, and walked toward her. “You got a name?” Her eyes twinkled, turned GREEN for a second, and her scent hit him with a roundhouse to the nose. Made him go weak in the knees, and feel disoriented. “Got lots of them,” she said. “You can take your pick.” He took three steps back and tried to think clear. “What would those be?” He realized he probably didn’t want to know as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Weeelllllllllll,” she let it hang in the air between them. “We can start with Eve, followed by Bathsheba, Salome, Medusa, and Helen. Cleopatra might be in there too along with Delilah.” A slight breeze played with the wisps of hair around her face. “You like any of those?”

He was suddenly sitting on the ground, legs refusing to do their duty, and felt dirt between his fingers. It was like Play-Doh. “Shit!” was all he could muster. “No,” she did a swivel her hips, hands in front of her face, and fingers splayed dance. “I’ve never been called Shit, but have damned sure caused some!” “Have mercy on my soul,” he moaned, unable to tear his eyes from her hips. “Darling boy,” she stopped the dance, stood still, leaned toward him from the waist, and found his eyes. “It’s your very soul that’s in question, don’t you know? Might say it’s being negotiated as we speak.” His eyes went out of focus, stomach turned over, mouth went dry, brain blank, and, and, and … he felt something rise to the occasion in his jeans. She stood tall, hands on her hips, feet apart, and peered down. “Oh, my,” her voice was husky and filled with the essence of smoke, the words stroking his face. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I do declare Wayner, would you look at that!” She pointed at the bulge in his pants. Images flooded into his mind, a swirl of ancient caves and campfires, of females dancing and men snarling; of riding into camp with a fresh killed Elk and women competing over him and touching him; and sitting at tables in fancy restaurants arguing with other men over who is going to pay the tab while womanhood watched with interest; of building a log home in the forest and having them come from miles around to see; of doing whatever it took so a she someone would give him a wrap-her-legs-around-him welcome home; of millions of men over thousands of years pretending they were strong and free while evolution used the opposite gender to wrap them around its little finger … Shit! What in the name of …? She stood over him, confidence oozing from every pore, a echoing siren, evolution pulling her strings too, knowing how without thinking, to push every age-old button in his testosterone-filled body to trade sex for security. Damnation! She had on the best fitting pair of second-skin jeans, tucked into worn-justenough boots, topped with a too-large-man’s-western shirt tied in a knot just

above her waist. Beaded belt with an Elkhorn buckle, turquoise earrings dangling, black hair to her shoulders, and eyes flashing the bluest blue and then the greenest green and then blue … “You don’t have much of a chance, do yah?” She knelt beside him, her eyes level with his. “You never have, just didn’t know it.” She leaned forward and licked his face from his chin to his nose. He tasted honey, smelled lilacs in bloom, and felt the remnants of heat on the path made by her tongue. And then, he was on his feet scrambling, stumbling, running as much as his toe would let him. Away from the road and her, into the drab and boring landscape. Running as if his soul depended on it.

And being pretty damn sure it did.

“WELL DAMN, WAYNER!” HE HEARD HER YELL AT HIS BACK. “I DIDN’T lick you that hard!” Her words made him try to speed up, lose his balance, and fall head over heels into one of those damn bushes with the black flowers … and thorns. They not only looked lethal, they were, and by the time she got there, he had counted five embedded in his legs. “Jesus, Wayne, what am I going to do with you?” She watched him writhe on the ground and gasp as he pulled the first thorn out of his shin. “What did you want to do that for? Now you not only got a busted toe and nose, but wounds as well.” She leaned over for a closer look. “Look pretty deep too. Damn, I bet that smarts!” He looked at her, pain etched in his eyes as the second two inch long thorn came out with a gush of blood. He moaned his discomfort. Hell, she has a point, when you’re right, you’re right! She knelt down, grabbed the base of a thorn, and said, “Let me help. I’m real strong.” She pulled the thorn out easily, and frowned as blood squirted from the

wound. He looked at her with wide eyes and grunted as he pulled out the last two thorns. “Uh, Eve, you think you could help me up?” “What? I’m sorry, I was preoccupied. What did you say?” “Help me up?” “Oh, God, silly me, what was I thinking?” She reached out with one arm and effortlessly lifted him to his feet. He stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open looking for words, taking time to find some, and then shouting. “Who in the living hell are you?” “Now don’t get upset,” she snapped. “I told you I was strong, and don’t dare say I didn’t, it was just a few minutes ago.” “Jesus,” he gasped and tried a couple of tentative steps. “You may be the strongest woman in the world, but it’s for damn sure you’re female!” She stepped back and her brow wrinkled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He snorted. “You ask me that while I got blood running down both legs? What that means is you are an all-too-female being that talks in circles and blames me when I call you on it. Any questions?” She returned his hard gaze. “Yeah, I got a question.” “Well, let’s hear it,” he replied, in a holding-his-ground voice. “A few minutes ago, did you call me by a name?” She took his chin gently in her hand, pulled his face so their eyes were six inches apart. Jesus, what did I call her? “Uh, let’s see … I, uh … I said, I mean I think I said … Eve …” “You called me Eve!” Her eyes flashed from blue to green and back. “It was one of the names you gave me, ?”

She put her hand behind his head, fingers into his hair, pulled his mouth to hers, and swallowed him. Nothing existed except her mouth, he was gone into it, and couldn’t imagine ever getting out. Jesus! Godalmighty, jump back and fall on the ground, this lady can kiss!!! Forget everything I ever said about being without a woman, must have been out of my frigging mind! She took her lips away. “Damn, Wayner, you ain’t a half bad kisser!” Holy moly! Geez, man-oh-man, what in the world? “Wayne?” she shook him by the shoulders. “Are you in there?” He took a deep breath. “Eve, will you kiss me again?” Her mouth dropped open. “Not sure that’s a good idea, you went away somewhere for a little while.” He sniffed and cocked his head sideways. “It was just a moment? That’s good for me. With my wife, I didn’t come around for eight years and a big house later.” He found her eyes with his. “Why did you kiss me?” She smiled. “Cause you called me Eve.” “So it was OK?” “Of course silly! She’s the best one of the bunch.”

“If it weren’t for her we’d still be running around that boring garden.”

THEY DROVE FOR MILES. THE ROAD REMAINED STRAIGHT AND THE landscape didn’t change. Limbo was consistent, he’d give it that. “Is this all there is?” He asked much later. “Life here is an endless journey and you never get anywhere?” She pulled to the shoulder, turned off the Mustang, took off her driving gloves,

and rubbed her neck. Put the seat back and stretched her long legs. “Wayne, honey,” her voice was full of patience and fatigue. “What if there isn’t anywhere to go … what if it’s the ride that counts?” “Geez, here comes the round-in-circles philosophy again!” He got out, put his hands on the small of his back, and leaned back. “How about a straight answer, one that isn’t a question?” She uncoiled from the car and sat on the front fender. Sighed, furrowed her brow, and sighed some more. “Shit, what can I say? Straight answers are lies of omission because existence is circular where everything affects everything all the time.” She drew a circle in the air with one finger. “You know the old saying, a butterfly flaps its wings in China and weather patterns change in the United States.” He sat on the other fender. “How about this, are we still in the United States?” A huge black bird, wing span of at least ten feet, flew over, 500 feet up or so, enjoying a long upward ride on a thermal. “Jesus,” Wayne said, and looked up in response to its shadow ing across the car’s hood. “What is that?” She waved at the bird and it dipped one wing in reply. “It’s a Limbo Buzzard.” He looked at her, palms upward, eyebrows raised. “Oh,” she said. “Where is here you were asking.” She got off the fender, stood in the middle of the road, and stretched both arms out. “Is this the United States, or not? Was that the question?” He held his pose and arched his eyebrows higher. “Well, the answer is both yes and no, you see …” “Damnation!” He hopped up and down and his face turned red. “There you go, holy crap, can’t you just …?” She held one hand up, and put a finger to her lips. “If you will be so kind and let a girl finish. We are in the United States … sorta. We’re in one version among

the many it could assume.” She shrugged. “I know that’s confusing, but I’m not allowed to lie to you. There’s no pretending allowed in Limbo. You have to deal with what is.” She walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes soft and moist, and … brown! “I’m not jiving you, Wayne; this is as straight as I can be in a circular world.” He took her hand off his shoulder, held it in both of his, and gave it a squeeze. “You’re being straight … we’re in a parallel version of the United States?” “Well, one of them,” she nodded. “How many are there?” “As many as are possible. This one came into being a few days ago in response to you.” “Holy crap!” He held his head with his hands. “I’m getting a headache.” She took his hands down and massaged his temples. “Yeah, reality does that when you’re not used to it.” “Man, does that feel good!” He closed his eyes and felt relaxation set in. “So where do we go from here?” She applied pressure to the base of his neck and held it constant. “Don’t ask me. You’re the one who called this into being. I’m here for companionship and to help you not go plumb crazy.” “You really don’t know what’s going to happen?” She released the pressure and stepped back. “How’s your headache?” He rubbed his neck and looked puzzled. “It appears to be gone.” “Good,” she patted his shoulder. “And no, I don’t know what will happen. How could I, it’s your trip.” His eyes popped wide. “LSD! They slipped me some acid at the jail.” She signed, and shook her head. “If that works for you, it’s OK with me.”

“No LSD?” He looked at her and gestured with his hands. “No, but you are in an altered state of awareness.” “Shitzy,” he muttered. “Am I having one of those transcendent moments that Abraham Maslow researched? Am I on the road to self-actualization?” Her smile wasn’t tired anymore, and she leaned over and whispered, “You might be, it’s up to you.” He walked away, and stood with his back to her for two minutes. Turned and found her eyes. “Could this be the answer I’ve been looking for all this time?” She got into the enger’s seat and motioned for him to drive. “You’d best be careful, Wayner, you never know what will happen if dreams come true.” He got in, grasped the ignition key, and turned it. The Mustang shimmered, shook, and transformed into a 1932 Ford pickup! It had a Chrysler hemi-head V8 with three two-barreled carburetors with no hood to cover it, huge tires on the back and smaller spoke-wheeled ones up front, a deep pearlescent rust-orange paint job, roll and pleat black interior, and chrome pipes coming from the manifolds and running down each side. The engine turned over, caught, and issued a throaty gurgle of exhaust. “All right, Wayner!” she shrieked. “I’m a Mustang girl myself, but have to it this ain’t bad. Looks just like ya.” His body wiggled on the seat and he gasped. Then grabbed the on-the-floor gear shift knob and put the Lincoln Zephyr transmission into first. Put his foot down on the accelerator, popped the clutch, and left a 50 foot streak of rubber on the roadway as they headed west in a loud screech and a column of dust. “Hot damn,” he yelled over the engine and the wind. “This is starting to be fun!” “Be careful,” she put her hand on the pinstriped dash. “Sharp turn!” He barely made it, rear end breaking loose, then grabbing again. “Where in hell did that come from?” He fought the car into a straight line and looked at her. “Damned if I know,” she said, and stuck her head out the window …

… and let the wind blow through her blonde hair.

WAYNE SCRATCHED HIS HEAD AND NOTICED THE LIGHT WAS FADING. HE pulled off the road under a large oak, the first tree he’d seen since coming to Limbo. It was thirty feet off the roadway, and its limbs offered a large overhanging canopy. “Damn,” he said. “This is a nice surprise.” He turned toward her. “It has occurred to me I haven’t been hungry, sleepy, or needed to go to the john … what’s up with that?” She shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but my guess is that you don’t want to bothered, wanted to spend most of your time dealing with being here.” He turned the engine off and looked at her. “Well, if that’s it, then maybe I’m tired of dealing with it. I’m hungry and wishing we had a tent, some hot dogs, and an ice chest full of cold beer.” Her brown eyes flashed to green, “Oh man, a cold beer! I’d damn near kill for one.” As the light faded, a big Mule Deer buck crossed the clearing in front of them. Stopped, peered curiously in their direction, and ambled on his way. “Damnation!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t he the pretty one? Thanks for wishing him here.” Wayne gasped. “I did that? You got to be kidding.” She brushed her hair behind one ear. “That’s the way it works everywhere, it just happens faster in Limbo. Wayner, what you think, you create.” He guffawed and gave her a doubtful glance. “If that’s so, where are those hot dogs and beer?” She calmly turned and pointed through the back window. “As a matter of fact, they’re in the truck bed … tent, box of groceries, ice chest, and I do believe there are a couple of sleeping bags too.” She sighed. “Two bags, Wayne? Whatever am

I going to do with you … one large one would have been better.” He jerked his head around and peered through the window. “What the …?” “You’ve conjured up things your entire existence. We all have. Part of being a unique personality is figuring out how to use it to our advantage.” He looked at her with wide eyes, at the truck bed, and then back at her. “You going to tell me I thought you up too?” She wiggled on the seat, chest out, the foot of her far leg on the dash, and one hand behind her head. “Am I your kind of gal?” “Holy cow,” he said. “Damn near perfect.” “There you go,” she said, and showed both of her palms in front of her. “Man, oh man,” he said, reverently. “I done real good!” She opened her door, and went to the back of the truck. Raised the lid on the ice chest and fished out two Dos Equis ambers, popped the tops, and climbed back in. “Darn good taste in beer, Wayner, fine job a’conjuring indeed.” She handed him one, leaned back against the seat, and closed her eyes. “Oh, lord, I’m going to pay close attention to this.” She slowly raised the bottle to her lips, and filled her mouth. Washed it around and swallowed. “If that isn’t one of the best tastes in the whole of creation!” He took a long guzzle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I hear that, how many have we got?” She took another drink and snickered “As many as you want would be my guess.” “Geez,” he took a deep breath. “I keep forgetting I can do that.” “Yep, that’s a big part of the problem … forgetting.” His eyes glazed over and he felt a disorienting wave over him. He was starting to get used to it … a little.

“In Limbo it happens so fast it’s impossible to overlook?” He asked. She shook her head. “You’d be surprised. People can watch reality get created with their own eyes, and still pretend they had nothing to do with it … especially when it’s not pleasant.” She pressed the cold bottle to her cheek and wiped off the moisture with her fingers. “Never underestimate the ability of the human brain to believe what it wants to.” Wayne shifted on the seat and took another swallow of beer. Scratched his head for a few seconds, and sighed. “Guess I been doing that as much as anyone. You probably know things haven’t been going too well in my life.” She reached over and laid her hand on his knee. When she spoke her voice was different, with a slight accent he couldn’t recognize, all soft and gentle. “Yeah, I was briefed before I came,” she squeezed his knee with her fingers. “I was told to tell you a couple of things when the time was right.” He closed his eyes, laid his head back against the seat, and said in a low voice, “Ah, man, do I want to hear this?” “You think it’s going to be bad … blaming?” He kept his eyes closed. “It’d have to be, I’ve screwed up bad.” “As compared to whom? Let’s take Hitler for example.” His eyes opened and he cut them at her. “Well, hell, compared to him a lot of us would have a good score.” “First,” her voice was low but firm. “There aren’t any scores kept, existence isn’t like a football game. Second, not everything that has transpired in your life has been your fault, that’s true of everyone. And third, and most importantly, you are not a bad person. You’re just an intense one that is sensitive to quantum possibilities.” There was a rush of moisture in his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. He looked away, dabbed at his face with his shirt sleeve, and peered out the window. “That’s what you were to tell me?” “I ad-libbed the keeping score part, but it happens to be true. The other two

things were per my instructions.” He blew his nose out the open window and sat breathing deeply, his mind spinning. “I’ve read a lot of quantum physics, so I think I know what you meant.” She smiled. “Simply put, the universe is full of probability waves, some get realized, and some don’t. There are those that know things could be vastly different, and you’re one of them.” “Where did you come from, Eve?” He turned on the seat to face her, one arm on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I believe in God and all the stuff I’ve been told about religion … but damnation, this is some strange shit happening to me!” Her eyes narrowed and she took a long drink of beer. “I’m going to answer best I can, but you need to give me time and don’t interrupt.” He nodded his assent. “As for God, and all the stuff you’ve been told, most of it is incomplete attempts to try and make sense of existence by mortals … beings who have forgotten their identities and are trying to . That’s not bad in and of itself, the problems arise when people forget they don’t have access to the ‘way things are.’” She made quotations marks in the air with her fingers. “They unwittingly pretend their narratives are completely accurate. Evolutionarily, the brain tends to do that … believe what it thinks is true. This is compounded when an individual can get others to believe they speak for God. That’s about as dangerous as it gets, because people will kill in the name of God faster than any other reason.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and the last gulp of her beer. “As for where I come from,” she paused and found his eyes. “I can’t tell you, we aren’t allowed. And … yeah, what is happening to you is some strange shit.” “Why can’t you tell me, can you tell me that?” She smiled, “Yeah, I can. If I tell people, they’ll believe me, start a religion, and pretend I’m a prophet. And worse, they’ll kill anyone who doesn’t agree.” He scratched his head. “Don’t think I would.” “Rules are made because of those that will act in problematic ways, not for the

ones that won’t.” She got out, went to the cooler, and got two more beers. She left the door open when she came back, and put one foot on the ground when she sat. “Damn these are good!” He took one from her outstretched hand, and popped the top with the opener she ed him. “Do you do this often, Eve? I mean what you’re doing with me?” She shrugged. “Out of the time I’ve been available, you are the first Earthling to ask for me.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for that, it’s a real compliment, and a nice break for me.” “I requested you?” He felt a tingle where her lips had been. “Your life did, the problems you were having over and over, especially with female-types. That called me here.” “Holy crap,” he said. “Why you, what is it about you? I’m not complaining you understand …” “Get out of the truck,” she said, as she opened her door, “and meet me under that beautiful tree you created.” He shook his head, tried to make sense of what was happening, and watched her walk to the tree. She leaned against the trunk, raised her eyes, opened her arms, and motioned with her head for him to come. He went to her and noticed his toe didn’t hurt anymore, neither did his nose. He scratched his head in wonder and walked into her arms. She enfolded him, snuggled her mouth next to his ear, and he could feel the warmth of her breath. She spoke a whisper of crystal light and energy into his ear, his brain, and straight to the center of his heart. “It was me your life called, because if I had been alive on Earth, and found you, I would have loved you. You are a difficult man, a hard case for most women … but not for me. I wait for guys like you to come along, the ones that run deep, the ones who can barely tolerate mortal existence because of the frustration of what it could be and isn’t, the kind that long to make it better. I wait, won’t settle for less, and when I find you I accept all that goes with it. Even the faults, frustration, and anger. I’m the kind of woman that thinks it’s worth it.”

He slid down her body, out of her arms to his knees, then to his stomach on the ground. He lay there feeling so deeply understood he didn’t know what else to do. Smelled the dirt, and experienced the blessed release from guilt, selfcondemnation, and loathing. He knew it wouldn’t last, but cherished it in the moment, and thanked all of existence for the now in which it was so. He rolled onto his back, gazed up, and said, “Let me get this straight, you know my shadow-side and you still like me?” Her eyes went green, blue, black, brown, green, and blue again … and she tossed her blonde hair into raven black, put her hands on her hips, met his eyes, and said in a voice that was laced with the aroma of musk, “You go pitch that tent, and lay those sleeping bags on its floor … and be quick about it. I’ll meet you inside for a little heart-to-heart answer.” You best believe he pitched the tent.

And listened close once he went inside.

WAYNE WOKE BEFORE SHE DID THE NEXT MORNING, ROLLED OVER gently so as to not wake her, and crawled out of the tent flap door. Stood up, rubbed the sleep outta his eyes, and damn near swallowed his tongue! The oak tree had disappeared and in its place was the largest ponderosa pine he had ever seen. And that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. The entire landscape had changed! They were high in the Rocky Mountains, or at least a wonderful alternate version, cool mountain air and all. Big peaks in every direction, pine needle carpet on the ground, ridges, draws, and a crystal mountain stream flowing fifty yards away. And squirrels, and pine cones, and the smell that only the Rockies have, like you died and went to potpourri heaven, and bluer than blue skies, and puffy beyond puffy white clouds, and, and, and … the BIGGEST damn seven point Bull Elk you’d ever imagine … 50 yards away, standing in the stream looking at him! As if that weren’t enough, a fly rod leaning against the tree, all strung up with a fly tied on the leader, just waiting … “I will be dipped in five kinds of shit,” he said, picked up the rod, walked to the stream, laid down a perfect cast, to which rose an even more perfect 16 inch Rainbow Trout. Another cast, the same result. Two jeweled fish to gut and put in

the skillet that was on the fire beside the potatoes that were half done … salt, pepper, and wild onions picked beside the stream, and a pot of cowboy coffee boiling away. Eve’s head came out of the tent. “Do I smell coffee?” She crawled out. “Oh, my God, I do … and fresh trout … fresh trout?” She looked around, mouth gaping, and turned a slow 360 degrees. She stopped when she was facing Wayne, who was on his knees tending the skillet with a big grin on his face. “Holy shit, Wayner,” she held her arms out wide. “Is this you?” He nodded. “This is 100%, shot from the heart and soul, pure, unadulterated, Wayne Chisholm.” “Well, isn’t that a fine howdy do! No wonder I love you so much.” He took the skillet of potatoes off the coals and set it on a nearby rock. “Did you just say that you love me?” She laughed her rain on the tin roof laugh, and slipped into her boots. “After the night we just had, you got any doubt about that?” He poured two cups of coffee and handed her one. “I’m going to have to get used to a woman like you loving a man like me. I never imagined such a thing.” She sipped her coffee. “That’s why it never happened, you couldn’t imagine it … didn’t think or dream it into being.” She turned at a sound behind her, and saw the Bull Elk emerge from the stand of aspen he’d wandered into. “Oh, my God,” she gasped out the words, “If that isn’t the most beautiful thing. Wayne brought her a plate of trout and potatoes. “He doesn’t hold a candle to you, Evie, can’t even shine your boots.” Her eyes changed colors so fast he didn’t even try and keep up. “I do like you calling me Evie,” she took a bite of trout and chewed. “Would you believe, Mr. Chisholm, that is my real name?” His eyes bulged. “For real, it’s your name where you come from?”

“Think you better eat fast, Wayne, I got a couple of more things I need to show you in the tent.” “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and gulped down half the trout.

“Whatever you say.”

THE ROAD WASN’T STRAIGHT ANYMORE AND THE MOUNTAINS KEPT getting bigger and bigger. There were lakes, rivers, Aspen groves, Deer, Elk, Black Bear, Bobcats, Fox, Grouse, and wild flowers every color of the rainbow and then some. Curve after sweeping curve of vista after stunning vista permeated by the aromas of pine, juniper, sage, and rain coming in on the wind. Golden Rod sunrises and Arctic Char sunsets, stars, omg, stars enough to strike the most verbose person mute for hours, and streams to sleep by, and acres of meadows to make love in, by sparkling, cascading, rippling, three-tiered brook waterfalls. And in the distance, almost but not quite too far away to see, the biggest mountain of all, towering in majesty, Lord of the Mountain lords, with an impossibly steep final 5000 feet leading to its 20,000 foot summit. It took Wayne’s breath away every time he looked at it through his binoculars. Evie watched him look at the mountain and knew what it meant and where it would lead. She brought it up around the campfire one evening about a week later. “You have to go don’t you?” He looked up with a puzzled look from putting a log on the fire. “Where?” “Wayner,” she said, and shook a finger at him. “We’re in Limbo, ? No pretending allowed.” He cleared his throat and stirred the fire. “Yeah, guess I do.” “All the way to the top?” He went to a stump and sat. Shrugged, and said, “If I can.”

She pulled her down parka closer and zipped it up. “And if you can’t?” “Evie, I … “And if you can’t?” “Aw, damn it to hell, I’ll probably die trying.” She rose, walked a few paces into the dark, and didn’t speak for a good five minutes. Came back and sat beside him. “I can’t go with you.” His face grimaced in the fire light. “Why not?” “Against the rules, that’s a place you have to go alone.” She kept her voice level, filtered out all the feelings. “Well,” he threw a pinecone in the fire and watched till it burst into flames, “What if I don’t go?” She found his hand with hers, held it tight. “Then I will have failed because you will have altered yourself for me … and you’ll resent that, as you should,” She ran her fingers up and down his forearm. “Do you know what its name is?” “I don’t like where this conversation is headed.” He put his arm around her, and sighed. “So what’s it called?” She snuggled in close, head on his shoulder, and whispered, “It’s called Mt. Destiny.” He held her and didn’t say anything for a few minutes. She could feel him struggle inside, so hard that it broke her heart. Begin to think he wasn’t going to speak. Then he did. “Damn it all, that’s exactly what it feels like,” he gave a deep sigh. “Shit!” “I know,” she said. “I know.” “How long we got?” he said, a quiver in his voice. “A week, give or take a bit.”

He rose and paced around the fire, into the dark, back around the fire, sat on a stump, got up, sat down, paced. “Evie, there’s got to be a way … please tell me there’s a way.” She smiled, small and sad. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “You have more time here, you’re not done. And I … well, I have other places I need to be … important places … not that this one isn’t important … I, uh, oh God!” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders shook. It was a few minutes before she looked up. “I haven’t cried in a long time. Have accepted the way things are without pretending, and will do that now when all is said and done,” she sighed from the depths of her being, and found his eyes with hers. “But what I’m going to say is part of not pretending too. I will love you forever, Wayne Chisholm, and you better damn-well believe that, Bubba!” The sound of an animal howling echoed in a nearby canyon, and her eyes widened. Wayne stood and looked in the direction of the sound. “Was that a wolf?” She asked. “Sounded like one to me,” said Wayne. “Far out!” She rose and walked to the tent, shuddered, and said, “You think you could manage to come in here and just hold me tonight?”

“I can do that,” he said.

THERE WAS ANOTHER MAJOR LANDSCAPE CHANGE THE NEXT MORNING. Everything, literally everything, was gray. Trees, mountains, wild flowers, even the pickup … duller than battleship gray. He was drinking gray coffee from a gray cup when she emerged from the gray tent dressed in gray clothes. She looked around and deep lines creased her forehead. “To quote a good friend, hell’s goin’ on?” “It looks just like I feel,” he said.

She poured some coffee, sat beside him, took several sips, and sighed. Got up and walked into the trees. She stayed gone thirty minutes before reappearing. Sat down, and took his hand. “Sorry, Wayne, I screwed up. This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m meant to be a help, not a downer.” She tapped herself in the forehead with her fist, and sighed. “I’m supposed to love you, but I’m not supposed to LOVE you.” He smiled a gray smile, held her hand inside both of his. “I ain’t depressed, just got a busted heart,” he squeezed her hand tight, “But you need to know something, Evie, something that’s Limbo true. I got to know what it’s like for a woman to love and like me at the same time. Won’t forget that that. Wouldn’t take anything for it … been waiting all my life. You’ve been a pure blessing.” She made a little sound deep in her throat, a whimper, a moan, an acknowledgment, a feeling so pure and real it couldn’t be kept silent, couldn’t be denied or pretended away no matter how much it hurt, so profound that no words could frame it or freeze it in time … just a little sound, a catch in the heart and throat and stomach and soul, the sound of the way things are when they are deep and oh so sad … and unchangeable. “Godalmighty, Evie,” he gasped, leaned back and looked at her. “Every other woman I’ve been with has shut down, not let herself feel like you just did, has protected herself rather than be real with me, has just gone away. Do you how much …” Her finger on his lips stopped him. “Yep, I know.” “Are you an angel?” “Today, for you, maybe I am,” she whispered. He looked down, took in a deep breath, and held it. After a few seconds he let it out. “You’re going leave now, aren’t you?” “Yes,” she said. “Right after you do one last thing for me.” “What?” “I don’t like the color gray. Never have.”

“Aw, God, Evie … aw, geez, aw, I can’t change it right now.” She held him, close and tight. “Do it for us, Wayner. We deserve it, we are multicolored if ever there was.” Over each other’s shoulders they watched the sky turn blue, and the trees turn green. Then she walked into the trees. He heard a low hum, and she was gone.

And he was in Limbo where no pretending is allowed.

THE BIG HEMI WAS DOING ITS THING, THROBBING WITH 400 PLUS horsepower, and dragging the little pickup behind it like it was nothing, no sweat at all. Had been for two non-stop days since Evie left, no breaks, no stops, and no rest, headed west toward Mt. Destiny with all its considerable might. But there was a slight problem. Mt. Destiny refused to get closer. Like a rainbow it kept moving, always the same distance away. It was frustrating and the top of his head was sore from scratching. So, he pulled off at a campground sign that appeared as he came around a turn. Campground? Where’d that come from? Parked the truck, turned off the engine, but didn’t get the tent out of the bed. Still had her smell on it, and although he’d done a reasonable job of accepting what was, didn’t figure there was any need to make it harder. Besides it wasn’t going to rain, he wasn’t in the mood. Maybe overcast, but that was it. There was a restroom with shower stalls. He undressed, got in one, and turned the hot up high. He didn’t feel dirty, but the water felt good, so he stood for thirty minutes and let things steam up. Got out, put on well-worn jeans, a blue and black plaid flannel shirt, and Russell moccasins he’d had for 20 years after resoling them three times. Looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in

Limbo, and was surprised at how good he looked considering the loss of Evie. His hair had grown fast and was on his shoulders with black unruly ends that had a mind of their own. He ran his fingers through it like a comb but didn’t change anything and he decided it didn’t matter. There was a salt and pepper beard that had just filled in; he’d never grown one before, but kind of liked it, at least for now. Thin face, high cheek bones, dark brown eyes, with eyebrows that spanned the area above his nose. There was a small scar on his forehead where the tip of a downhill ski had smacked him after he lost the battle with a four foot mogul. Not a bad face he decided, could be better, could be worse, but it suited him OK. He stepped back so he could see the rest of his 5’10” and 175 pound frame. Not big, not little, just average. That pretty much described him in general he thought … average. He’d always wished that he could be world-class at something, up there with the best of them, but it wasn’t in the cards … except maybe in screwing up relationships with women, he might be a pro at that. He frowned and went outside. There was a man, back to him, checking out the pickup. Damnation, a person! “Hello?” Wayne said. The man spun, eyes wide, and stammered, “Gosh darn, startled me … didn’t know you were there!” Shit a brick it’s that damn preacher-man! The guy leaned forward and peered at him. “Do I know you? You look familiar.” Wayne smiled. “We met a few days back, my hair and beard have grown since then. At the crossroads?” A light came on. “I been looking for you … didn’t know you had this kind of truck.” “Didn’t then, do now. What can I do for you?” The man rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, and furrowed his brow. “You

been traveling with a woman?” He asked in a tone Wayne had heard many times before. Wayne walked to a nearby picnic table, sat down, and ran his fingers through his still wet hair. “Don’t mean any disrespect, but what business is that of yours?” The preacher guffawed and pointed at Wayne with one long arm and finger. “Everything that happens here is my business. This is my parish; I see that nothing improper or immoral goes on.” Wayne crossed his legs, leaned back against the table, and fought down the urge to get primal real fast, but made a decision to postpone that for now. Sized him up for future reference, should it come to that. He was older, but a lot bigger than Wayne. He’d be no pushover what with thick shoulders, huge hands, and only a slight paunch on his gut. Wayne would have to be careful, but ed that at the crossroads he’d seemed to have some hip or back trouble. That could be exploited. “Yeah,” Wayne said even toned. “I had a lady companion, but she’s gone now.” The minister dropped his arm and paced. “None too soon, none too soon, with you two camping out and sleeping together in front of God and everyone! Not acceptable, not acceptable at all.” His eyes were wide, nostrils flared; and his best I-know-the-truth-look was etched on his face. Wayne took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Easy now, easy. He gestured towards the table, and said, “Care to sit down?” “No, I don’t,” came the reply. “When you planning on leaving, going back where you came from?” “May be around a bit longer,” Wayne said, and put his elbows on the table. “That going be a problem for you?” The minister paced faster, arms waving, Bible in one hand. “That all depends on how you conduct yourself,” he said, and stopped to stare at Wayne. “You’ve changed everything!! My God man, there are mountains and streams and

greenery, how can people live an austere life of sacrifice in such a place? You must change it back! It needs to be barren with sand and dust and a thousand thorns.” Wayne shook his head. “That so?” He put his Bible under one arm and went to an adjacent table, climbed on top, looked at the sky, spread his arms, and said in a loud voice, “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, hear the words of the Lord your God. You have sinned in his sight, and … Wayne stood and took some big steps in his direction, held up one hand, palm towards him. “Just what in hell do you think you’re doing?” “…and God has commanded me to chastise you in his name lest your soul be in eternal jeopardy … Wayne walked faster and the minister paused. “You’re asking me to believe that YOU speak for God? Why you, and not me? Why you and not any other person alive?” The minister stepped back, lost his balance, and almost toppled off the table. “I have given my entire life. I have fasted, prayed, studied, remained single, have never touched a woman mind you, put myself into a pure state of self-denial so God can use me as his mouthpiece. What have you done besides fornicate and drink beer?” “Sir,” Wayne walked to his truck. “I’m going be as kind as I can and leave. If you are in touch with God, you know that the worst decision you could make would be to come after me and try to save my soul. I relieve you of responsibility for that. You can rest easy and let me go to hell in my own way.” Wayne got in the truck, fired it up, and drove slowly out of the campground. The minister ran beside the truck, his voice coming in spurts. “ …and you burn in hell forever and ever. The day of the Lord is at hand when he shall smite the wicked and reap down upon them what they … As soon as the back tires hit the pavement, Wayne gave the Hemi its head, and roared away.

Good luck with that, he thought.

HE SAT AT HIS CAMPFIRE, FIRST ONE SINCE SHE HAD GONE, AND WATCHED the flames as they danced yellow, red, and orange, in and out and over and under the logs. Smelled the scent of fresh pine mix with the smoke of the fire. Looked at the stars, wall-to-wall above, and saw the quick streak of one giving up its life in the atmosphere. “Damn, Evie,” he sighed. “I wonder where you are. I sure do miss you.” His shoulders and head slumped under the weight of the pain, and he felt an intense loneliness surround him. Will I ever have a love that lasts? A sound in the dark brought him back, and he sat alert, tried to penetrate the blackness with his eyes, and strained his ears. A twig snapped and he heard something brush against a bush. “Anyone there?” he called, and felt foolish. Probably an animal of some sort and they couldn’t answer, now could they? Two glowing yellow eyes appeared just outside the circle of light cast by the fire. Wayne stood, hair standing on the back of his neck. Easy now … this is Limbo and you’ve called whatever it is to yourself. A form stepped into the light, reddish-brown coat, and a long bushy tail arching over its back. He knew exactly what it was. It was a wolf, and a damned big one at that. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and pushed the innate fear response down. “You are one gorgeous creature,” he said, looking into its eyes. “I have some food left over from supper, you want some?” He picked up the uneaten half a trout, and tossed it in front of the wolf. It sniffed it cautiously, then consumed it and licked its lips. Came to the other side of the fire and sat on its haunches. “I understand I am your totem, that you love my kind,” the wolf said, not aloud but mind-to-mind.

Wayne touched the side of his head, felt his eyes widen, and his lips curve in a smile. Far out! “Welcome to my camp.” “Thanks,” the wolf replied. “Not often have I met a human that welcomes me.” “I hear that,” Wayne sent back. “There are lots of things I don’t like about my species, and that’s one of them.” The wolf blinked and ran his tongue over his nose. “Thanks for the tasty trout … would rather have it raw, but it was nice just the same.” Wayne nodded. “Why are you here?” “Heard your heart howling,” he put his ears back. “Thought maybe you could use some company, but didn’t want to scare you, so I made some noise coming in. You’ve lost your mate, your Evie.” “Appreciate that, and yeah, I can use the company.” Wayne said in a soft voice and scratched his head. “How did you know?” “You said her name on the wind.” The wolf stood and walked soundlessly around the fire ring. He stopped five feet away and sat. Wayne felt his eyes fill. “Thanks.” The wolf moaned deep inside. “I too lost my mate earlier this year to a human’s trap and bullet. I have howled many a sore night since.” Wayne gasped. “Was that you I heard a few nights ago?” “Yes,” the wolf said, “I have been watching you for some time.” “I am so sorry; especially that one of my kind did it.” Wayne threw a pine cone into the fire as hard as he could. The wolf put his ears forward. “If you had been there you would have stopped him.”

Wayne’s eyes flashed in the firelight. “I’d have killed the sonofabitch.” “I know,” said the wolf. “That is why I can be here. My name is A’Sha’Nah … it means ‘good for us’. Wayne smiled, and said, “My name is Wayne … it means piece of shit human.” A’sha’nah’s mouth curved up along the sides of his snout. “Is that a smile?” Wayne asked. “Can wolves smile?” “Of course.” “I thought so,” Wayne said. “I knew it.” “Is Evie dead too?” “No,” Wayne’s voice changed in tone and there was a catch in it. “She comes … from another time and place, uh, and had to return.” A’Sha’Nah raised his nose to the sky, and yipped. “She belongs to another pack.” Wayne looked up, found his eyes. “What a perfect way to say it.” “That makes mating difficult,” A’Sha’Nah replied. “Sometimes never the twain can meet.” Wayne smiled, reached out slowly and touched the wolf’s shoulder. The end of his fingers disappeared into the rich coat. “You have more understanding for me than most humans.” “That is why I’m your totem.” “What is your opinion of humans … I mean other than wishing they weren’t trying to make your kind extinct?” A’Sha’Nah rose, turned in three tight circles, and sat back down. “We find you strangely insane.” He raised one paw and licked the bottom of it. “Stepped on a thorn two days ago,” he signed. “Can’t get it out.” Wayne leaned toward him. “Sometimes fingers are good to have. Let me get a

flashlight.” He reached behind him to get the light. A’Sha’Nah came and stood by him and bent his leg so the bottom of the paw was exposed. Wayne lit up the surface and immediately saw the problem. “This might hurt a bit.” Wayne reached in his pocket, pulled out a Swiss Army knife, and hesitated. “This has some tweezers inside, Ok if I use them?” A’Sha’Nah grunted. “A human with my paw in his hand who has a knife … you will understand this is a first for me.” Wayne knelt beside him, and as gently as possible probed the wound. “Sorry if that hurts. Ah, I see it … just a little bit more … ok, ok, come on, come on … there it is!” He held up the tweezers for A’Sha’Nah to inspect. There was the tip of a thorn about one fourth of an inch long, and covered in puss. “That already feels better.” “Will you let me put some salve on it to help heal the infection?” Wayne went to the truck, and found the antibiotic ointment. Put some into the wound and placed a Band-Aid over it. “I shouldn’t lick it?” “Not for a while, let the medicine work.” “Now as to why humans are strangely insane,” A’Sha’Nah’ said. “Yes, please.” A’Sha’Nah’ cocked his head to one side, blinked, and said, “The way you think is foreign to us. You pretend and are dishonest with yourselves, so you cannot be honest with what is around you.” He lay down, and licked his lips. “You got me there,” Wayne sighed. “For example, you say you care about the natural world, and a few laws to pretend that you do, but you don’t actually protect it. In reality you are destroying it at an alarming rate.”

Wayne sighed deeper. “Yep, that’s us.” “The air and water quality, two things you must have to survive, are almost damaged beyond repair, yet you continue to pollute. Is this not insane?” “It’s the very definition of insanity,” Wayne responded. “By your actions it is clear that what you actually value is money and comfort, but you continue to say other things are more important. Is this not insane?” “Once again,” Wayne said, his voice rising in volume. “The answer is yes. Let me name it for you … it is delusional.” A’Sha’Nah’ sat, peered at Wayne. “What you are doing would be like my kind saying we are not carnivores; that we believe eating meat is bad for us, that we are going to stop, and then not doing so. Instead, we a minor law that prohibits eating meat inside of a small patch of land, but everywhere else it is still allowed … and then pretending that we are that small piece of land.” Wayne laughed ruefully. “Great example.” A’Sha’Nah stood, and put weight on his paw. “Ah, yes, that is much better.” He took a few steps. “You are doing the same thing with the practice you call fracking. Because it produces comfort and large profits, you are pretending it doesn’t contribute to underground instability and water table pollution. Although this claim is improbable, most humans choose to believe it because oil companies tell them to, the same oil companies that are polluting the oceans with leaks and spills. Is this not insane?” “Yes,” Wayne said in a resigned voice. “It is completely, totally, without question, insane.” A’Sha’Nah lowered his ears and tail, and uttered a painful moan. “My species has already accepted that we will soon be extinct. What remains is whether your kind will realize this can be your fate as well … before it is too late.” “We’d better hurry,” Wayne said. “Yes,” A’Sha’Nah nodded. “Becoming sane is your only hope.”

“Not going to hold my breath.”

“Nor I,” said the wolf.

WAYNE WOKE IN THE BED OF THE TRUCK, ROUSED BY THE MORNING SUN peeking over the ridge to the east. He smelled coffee, and heard the crackle of a fire. What the …? He sat and peered at the fire pit. Damnation! There was a man sitting on a log, stirring the fire. A pot of coffee hung over the coals, and two cups and a plastic baggie full of donuts waited on a rock. Wayne lay back and scratched his head. The man looked like he was in his 50’s, brown wavy mid-length hair, chiseled face, blue jeans, green chamois shirt, and hiking boots. The boots were well worn, had seen lots of miles, and his hands were weathered and calloused. “You awake over there?” The man asked in a clear, soft, voice. Wayne stood. “Yep.” “Hope you don’t mind some company, saw the glow from your fire and brought donuts, but you’re supplying the coffee.” “Fair trade.” Wayne got out of the truck, slipped on his jeans, and walked to the fire ring. “You come here often?” “Yeah, this is one of my favorite places to get away from it all.” Wayne could see a small pack leaning against a tree. Took a sip of the coffee and smiled, “Ah, you made it nice and strong.” The man took a large swallow from his cup. “If you’re going drink coffee there

should be no doubt about it.” “Amen,” Wayne said, and toasted him with a raised cup. “What do you do when you’re not camping?” “My job requires a lot of travel.” He stood, took a step, and offered Wayne a donut. Wayne grabbed it, took a bite, and smacked his lips. “Everything tastes better out here,” the man replied as he sat. Wayne decided to cut to the chase. “You know where you are?” “Right to the point. Evie told me I’d like you,” he said, drained the rest of his coffee, and poured himself more. “We’re in the middle of frigging Limbo.” Wayne choked on his coffee, sprayed it into the air, and coughed his way to his feet. Cleared his throat, and spit into the fire. “Did you say Evie?” he asked, coughed and spit some more and wiped moisture from his eyes. “You Ok?” The man asked. “Hell … no … I ain’t!” He hacked and found his voice. “You come into my camp, uninvited I might add, throw out Evie’s name, and ask me if I’m OK! Hell’s going on, anyway? And who are you?” The man raised his hands in surrender. “You got me. Donuts are an insufficient toll to pay for crashing into a person’s life.” He rose, walked to his pack, and took out a bottle of Pendleton rye. “Could I sweeten your coffee just a touch?” Wayne’s eyes widened. “If you’re going to put it that way.” He held out his cup, watched the man pour a generous portion, took a sip, and moaned with pleasure. The man added some rye to his brew. “I’m called ‘FedEx’ where I come from.” Wayne took a longer pull from the cup. “You run a delivery service?” “Yep,” he nodded. “Shortened it to Fex for convenience.” “You deliver messages or merchandise?”

“A bit of both.” Wayne took a bite of donut and his eyes narrowed. “And you know, Evie?” Fex grabbed the pot and refilled Wayne’s cup. “Evie and I go way back.” He got another donut and took a bite. “I didn’t want her to come to Limbo, but hell, you know Evie.” “Not sure I’m going like you,” Wayne said. “But could I bother you for a little more rye?” Fex chuckled, and tossed him the bottle. “Help yourself.” Wayne poured and frowned. “Why didn’t you want her to come?” “I know her,” Fex said, and shifted his position on the log. “Figured things would turn out like they did. She’s too headstrong for them not to.” Wayne stood, gave his best I’m-a-bad-sonofabitch gaze, and put a sharp edge on his voice. “You say another bad thing about her and I’ll do my best to kick your ass!” Fex stood and extended his hand. “You damn sure the test.” Wayne took and step back and looked at the hand. Fex narrowed his eyes. “You and I need to talk about Evie … your lover and my daughter.” Wayne gasped and spilled his drink. “Your daughter?” “Ain’t that a’pisser?” Fex sat on the log and gazed at Wayne, hand still extended. “Where in the hell you come from?” Wayne said, and shook the hand. “Can’t tell you.” “How’d you get here?” Wayne asked. “Rapid transit system.”

“I’ll bet that’s right!” They looked at each other, chuckled at the same time, and poured more coffee and rye. “I got an unhappy daughter that wants nothing more than to be with you.” Wayne walked around the fire ring, looked at Fex, got tears in his eyes, opened his mouth, closed it, went to his truck and sat on the tailgate. It was complicated. What he wanted, what was best for her, what she wanted, and what was best for him. And now there was Fex to think about, and how the hell do you know the answers to such questions anyway? He finally gave up, and hopped off the truck. “Never thought I’d see her again,” he said, as he walked toward Fex. “Was doing my best to accept it no pretending allowed, and now … you show up. I need to know what this would mean for her, for what’s best for her. I can’t risk, EVER, her loving me but not liking me. Can you assure me that won’t happen?” Fex went to his pack, buckled it up, and shrugged it on his shoulders. “No, I can’t, but I’ll ask her, tell her how much you love her, and let her decide.” He stepped into the trees, and disappeared from Wayne’s sight. After a few moments Wayne heard a heard a low humming that lasted for five seconds and was gone.

Rapid transit system no doubt.

WAYNE WAS ACCUSTOMED TO BEING LET DOWN. SEEMED TO HIM HE’D had his share. He brushed his teeth and mulled over why that might be true. One possibility was that his expectations were too high and another was that he hung around with undependable people. There was also the chance that most people weren’t good partners or friends. And last, the one he liked the least, was that he triggered that in others. He returned to his camp, poured some coffee, and turned it over in his head. ed a girlfriend he’d had years ago. They dated for a while, and had

been sexual on several occasions … pretty successfully as he ed. He’d thought there was the potential for something meaningful, but she started coming up with reasons not to see him, and after the third time he let it go. A short time later he moved halfway across the United States, and didn’t have with her for 20 years. Then, he went on vacation to where he’d lived all those years ago, was taking a morning walk, and who should come out of a house but her! They looked at each other, had an ‘aha’ moment, and spontaneously went to lunch to catch up on their lives. Careers, loves, divorces, successes, and failures were all topics of conversation across a two hour time span. As things seemed to be winding down, he decided what the hell, and asked her a question. “You broke it off with me back in the day. Why? I never really understood.” She took a deep breath, seemed startled, caught herself, and quieted her eyes. Took a sip of the red wine she’d ordered, and looked at him. “You scared me, “she said. “You were too direct and real, I had no defense against that.” “Why did you need one?” He asked, scooted his chair back, and crossed his legs. “Did I hurt you?” “No,” she said, and took a longer drink of the wine. “You didn’t, but … I don’t know, you disarmed me, I felt so vulnerable, so in over my head … so I ran.” He sat looking at the fire, ing those moments, and wondered if that didn’t describe much of his life. Some people just flat didn’t like him, and maybe a lot more were confused or scared of him. Had he been unaware of how difficult he was to handle for most folks, especially women? Probably. He sighed, stoked the fire, and shifted his position on the log. If that was true, what was he to do about it and still be him? Was that what had brought him to Limbo, to confront such issues? He placed another log on the fire, and wondered if Fex had visited with Evie yet, and if so, how it had gone? No use worrying about that, he’d already worn himself to a frazzle. What had Evie said? He was a difficult man, but not a bad one, just real intense. Yeah, it was something like that. He’d heard that word so often … intense … must be accurate. But why was that so bad for so many? He shook his head and realized he didn’t know how to be

involved with life in a non-intense manner. Wasn’t certain he wanted to, and realized he couldn’t imagine it. Evie said something about that too … if you can’t imagine it; you can’t think/dream it into existence. “Shit!” He looked at the sky and sighed. Whether it was right or wrong, changeable or not, one thing seemed likely … at the very least it limited his options relationally. It was probably a waste of time to try and make it with someone who didn’t like, or was afraid of intensity. Wouldn’t be fair to either person. Maybe Evie came to her senses and decided to opt out? “Damn,” he said. “She’d probably be better off.” There was a pop and a hiss from the fire. It was raining.

He knew whose fault that was.

BEING SEPARATE FROM EVIE WAS ONE OF THE TOUGHEST THINGS HE’D ever done. He wanted, down deep, to do the right thing, for her to be OK, to have the maximum chance to be all she could. Maybe being away from him was part of that? He steered the truck around a sharp turn, saw a scenic overlook, and turned into a parking area. Figured the elevation was about 12,000 feet, and could feel his lungs working overtime to make up the difference. The view was spectacular with row after row of peaks and valleys, green in the foreground and a deep hazy purple in the distance. And way out there, on the far horizon, was Mt. Destiny, no nearer than before. What in Heaven’s name is happening? He shrugged and got out of the truck, walked to the edge of the parking lot, peered at the valley floor some 2000 feet below, and was rewarded by the sight

of thirty to forty Elk feeding in a clearing that surrounded a small lake. The terrain on his side of the canyon dropped off steeply and fell in a series of three large tiers to the bottom of the valley. The trees were a mixture of forest green Pines, interspersed with Aspen groves that flashed light green and gold with every gust of the gentle breeze. A movement in the air caught his eye. It was a bird that appeared large even from a distance, circling on a rising thermal. A Limbo Buzzard? He squinted and shaded his eyes with one hand. Nope, different bird. It continued to gain altitude, getting clearer as it did. It was huge! He guessed the wing span at 10 feet or so. It was primarily black, with beige patches under its wings and neck. Its flight was an effortless poem. He walked closer to the truck, keys in his hand, and waited. When the bird was level with him it stopped its upward glide, flapped its wings, and flew right at him. Damnation that is one big bird! He reached for the door, but pulled his hand back. Let’s see this through. The bird flew over him at about 50 feet, set its wings, made a stunningly graceful half circle, and came to a gentle landing ten yards away. It folded its wings, and looked at him with orange eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” the bird mind-spoke. “I mean you no harm.” Wayne’s eyes narrowed and he put one hand to his head. “Glad to hear it.” A cloud ed over the sun and the shadow crossed the parking area. Wayne looked up, wondering if it signaled the arrival of another bird. “I am alone,” the bird responded. “There’s only a few of my kind left.” Wayne studied the bird, ran it through his memory banks. “Are you a Giant Condor?”

“Yes, my name is Riser.” Wayne smiled. “Well, you certainly live up to that.” Riser spread his wings, shook them, and returned them to his side. His feet were orange and punctuated with three inch talons extending from each toe. “Your destination is Mt. Destiny?” Riser asked. “Yeah,” Wayne shook his head. “But it keeps moving on me.” “It does that to everyone,” The cloud ed, and the sun flashed in Riser’s eyes. “I managed to get close to it once.” “Really?” “Yes,” said Riser. “But that’s easier for me than it would be for you.” “I hear that,” Wayne replied. “Why does it move?” Riser walked closer. “Destiny is always there, but not totally decided.” “Ah,” Wayne scratched his head. “That makes sense.” Riser preened the feathers on his left wing with his beak. “It’s not written in stone but you can get some strong hints about what is most likely and what isn’t.” Riser sailed over to land on a log. Wayne ran his hand through his hair. “What determines when the mountain will stop moving?” Riser paced atop the log, his head bobbing with each step. “It usually doesn’t … it’s just out there waiting on the horizon.” Wayne sat on the front finder of the truck. “So even if you try, it’s elusive.” Riser dug his talons into the log and nodded. “For example, part of your destiny could involve more with Reverend Tatum … and his with you. But, each of you can still make choices about how much, how long, and how you choose

to handle it.” “So that’s his name,” Wayne said. “Yes,” said Riser. “Ely Jack Tatum.” “What if one of us did something that insured we never saw each other again?” Wayne frowned, deep creases forming on his forehead. “Most likely a similar relationship would appear, one with the same potential for learning.” “So, it’s a pay me now or pay me later thing.” “You could look at it that way,” Riser said. “I can’t tell you much for certain, but will say I believe that being in Limbo has something deep to do with destiny. Not everyone gets to be here you know.” Wayne rose and paced beside the truck. “That’s a darn interesting notion. So if that’s true, how is it decided?” Riser hopped off the log, closed the distance between them, and said, “I think it’s about being willing to make positive contribution to the future of Earth, even if it’s dangerous. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s in a mess.” Riser made a circle around the parking area, and landed. “Sorry, had to stretch my wings a bit.” “No problem,” said Wayne. “It’s beautiful to watch.” Riser bobbed his head. “Take you for instance, you got to meet Evie, A’Sha’Nah, Fex, and now me … and there will be others as needed.” “You know them?” “Don’t know Evie, believe it might be her first trip, but A’Sha’Nah and I are close … we share kills. I’ve met Fex, and don’t know him well, but A’Sha’Nah does.” Wayne’s eyes widened and his eye brows arched. “Do you know where Fex is from?”

Riser shrugged, “Somewhere far away is my guess.” “Is it a physical place?” Riser cocked his head to one side. “That’s the question, isn’t it? A lot of the people believe Fex is a spiritual being … maybe an angel.” “And you?” Wayne asked. Riser ruffled the feathers on his wings. “I get the feeling that he is attached to Earth, has some sort of connection or responsibility.” “So,” Wayne looked at Riser closely. “He’s mortal?” “That’s my strong feeling.” “Where does he call home?” Riser spread his wings, took three steps, and launched himself. “If you find out, please tell me.” He rose, flew out over the canyon, and circled back. “We will talk again soon, I have to go meet A’Sha’Nah.” Wayne waved and scratched his head.

So, Mt. Destiny is there to remind us of the way things are.

HE SPENT THE NIGHT IN THE PARKING AREA, WOKE EARLY, MADE COFFEE, and watched the sun rise over the far ridge in an array of pinks and purples. In the middle of his third cup, he decided to hike down to the lake and back. There was a trail head fifty yards below and he had a strong urge to take a hike. He went to the bed of the truck and saw that a small day pack had appeared. There were water and energy bars inside. That sealed the deal. He tossed in a light jacket, a rain cover, one of the sleeping bags, and stepped over the cable at the edge of the parking lot. Scrambled across the slope to the trail head, took a

deep breath, and started down. The trail was faint, not often traveled, but it was there, one switch back after another through stands of Pines punctuated with large rocks and boulders. There was a thick pine needle floor and it was much cooler inside the shade and protection of the trees. It took him 30 minutes to arrive at the start of the first tier. It was marked by a stunning grove of old-growth Aspens and smelled of earth mixed with damp and decaying foliage and branches, and the unmistakable aroma of Elk, all musky and wild. He encountered several tangles of winter fall trees across the trail but was able to pick his way through or detour around them. It was slow going and it took him an hour to cross the flat and arrive at the second steep pitch. He could see another large tier about 500 feet below. He sat, had some water and an energy bar, and noticed a fresh foot print ten feet down the trail. He knelt to examine it. Wow, a big cat … shit, a mountain lion! Wonder what she’s up to? “You are correct, it is a female,” a mind-voice said from behind him. He spun and was relieved to see A’Sha’Nah emerge from the trees. “Damnation,” said Wayne. “I didn’t know you were there!” “Sorry,” A’Sha’Nah said. “I came to warn you.” “That sounds ominous.” A’Sha’Nah sat on his haunches and panted. “Puma calls this place home and is territorial. She is old and cross. Plus, she lost two cubs three years ago to humans. I suggest you hike another place.” Wayne sat on a log and rubbed his head. “Feel like I’m supposed to go down there.” The wolf blinked and canted his head to the side. “It is your decision. Riser and I promised not to infringe on her territory, but I warn you, she knows you are here.” “Can I die in Limbo?”

“Yes, she can take your life.” Wayne sighed, “You damn sure got my attention.” A’Sha’Nah walked to Wayne’s side. “If she means you harm, you will not know until it’s too late. She has already been within fifty yards of you.” Wayne tried to swallow, but found no moisture in his mouth. Looked down the path, shuddered, and took a step. “Seems my feet know where they want me to go.” “Good luck then.” A’Sha’Nah shook his head. Wayne waved over his shoulder.

And headed down the mountain to meet one of his futures.

THE REVEREND ELY JACK TATUM WAS SEVERAL MILES DOWN THE highway headed for the summit while Wayne decided to continue his hike. Cruising slowly, watching the side roads, turn-outs, camp grounds, parking areas and overlooks for any sign of Wayne’s ‘sinmobile’. He hadn’t been sleeping well, unable to rest since his first encounter with this agent sent from Hades to torment him and corrupt those entrusted to his care. Never mind that most of them were transients that mysteriously appeared and just as inexplicably left. It was his duty to open their eyes to the ways of the Lord and the undeniable truths contained in the Holy Bible. Double never mind that most of the visitors seemed confused about why they were in a strange place and resented his influence. But, every now and then, one greeted him like a God-send, and thanked him for ending their confusion by tying up all the loose ends and guaranteeing them eternal salvation by accepting Jesus as their Lord and Savior. Yes, once in a blue moon, there was someone who recognized that he was a prophet. But not this Wayne character. He wouldn’t give up though, because every soul he saved put another jewel in his heavenly crown. So, he would remain true, yes, sweet Jesus, he would keep his hand upon the plow and harvest those with sense enough to believe. His eyes were raised to the heavens, the roof of his car, thanking God for those faithful few when he went by the parking lot where Wayne’s truck was

parked.

God works in mysterious ways.

Far away across space and time, Fex was having a conversation with Evie about his visit with Wayne. Rays from the setting of the second sun streamed through the window into his living room. Dust particles danced inside the beam like crystalline sparks. She sat in a chair with her hands covering her face. “He said that?” She asked. “He wanted to do what was best for me?” “Yep,” Fex nodded and leaned back in the sofa. “And he threatened to kick my ass if I said anything about you he didn’t like.” “Did you like him?” “A lot.” “He’s the most fun I’ve ever had,” she wiped her cheeks. “That’s saying a lot.” “But I didn’t plan on moving to Earth.” “Yeah, there is that,” he said in a quiet voice.

Love is not always the most pleasant, or convenient, of emotions.

Riser was perched high on the craggy limb of a pine while A’Sha’Nah fitfully napped at its base. Neither of them were thrilled that with each ing minute Wayne was deeper into the territorial home of Puma. They knew her too well. She would kill him if she could.

Painfully.

Deep in the canyon, Puma was licking her chops. She had waited a long time for revenge. She checked each of her claws and nodded with satisfaction. Except for the one that was broken, they were all sharp and ready.

Damn humans anyway.

Light years away, The Council of Elders debated whether Limbo was worth so much time, effort, and resources. Earth remained a mess with no sign of redemption, but neither side had a majority, so they agreed to continue the discussion. There seemed no way to dislodge the political log jam they had been in for an increasingly long time. Tempers and patience were growing short.

And The Earth Experiment’s fate hung in the balance.

THE RAPID TRANSIT CENTER LOCATED WAYNE’S TRUCK EASILY, HONED in on the signal, programed the coordinates, and Evie materialized ten feet away. She quickly realized that Wayne wasn’t there, and her anticipatory smile faded along with her ideas of a grand reunion. She walked to the edge of the parking area and looked into the canyon. Saw his footprints headed down the slope to the trail head. She sat on a log, and pondered the situation. It was late afternoon, if she left now could she find him before dark? Knew she should wait, but wouldn’t it be delicious to surprise him on the trail? So, despite her better judgment, she threw caution to the wind.

And jogged down the slope.

High above her, Riser circled, and couldn’t believe his eyes. Just when you think it can’t get worse, it does! He increased the tempo of his wings, and headed back to where he’d left A’Sha’Nah.

This didn’t look good at all.

It took twenty minutes to navigate the initial downward pitch and reach the first terrace. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and ran into the Aspen grove at an increased pace. Although she stepped over it, she didn’t notice Puma’s footprint in the damp soil. It wasn’t long before she came to the first snarl of trees blocking the path. She stopped, wiped her brow, and realized she was thirsty. The air was so dry! She saw Wayne’s tracks skirt the far end of the obstacle, and followed them. It was slow going, and by the time she reed the trail the sun was sinking low over the westward mountains. She needed to find him soon, or she would be forced to spend the night alone.

Without provisions.

The air cooled with the onset of evening, and the updraft of the day became the downdraft of late afternoon. A consistent breeze wafted into the canyon and ruffled the Aspen leaves. Puma was almost across the third tier just above the lake when the scent hit her nose. She stopped and tested the air to be certain, and sat to consider her options. It was a female, the aroma left no doubt. Not as potentially lethal as a male. She would deal with him first and then decide what to do with this second interloper. She swished her long tail, and headed for the ambush point. It would not be long now.

And the man would die.

EVIE WAS IN DARK TIMBER WITH DEEP SHADOWS COVERING THE GROUND when she tripped on a tree root, felt her ankle turn outward, and gasped at the sudden shock of pain. She hit the ground hard, rolled at impact, sat on the forest floor, and watched her ankle balloon in size. She was across the flat expanse of the first tier at the beginning the second descent, and realized she could go no further. Decided to make the best of it for the night, concentrate on healing herself, and reassess the situation in the morning. She found a large downed Pine, and hobbled to it, biting her lower lip against the pain. There was room under one portion of the trunk, and a large limb extended outward to form a crude canopy. She raked pine needles into a large pile, crawled into the space, and scraped the needles over her body. The ankle was a burning inferno, and she cursed herself for her impulsive stupidity. She took a deep breath, quieted her mind, and went into the healing trance she had been taught as a child and visualized repairing the damage.

She had until morning to get it well enough to her weight.

Wayne made it across the third tier, saw the lake below him, and noticed the rock outcropping that ran away from the mountain side all the way to the near shore. He was exhausted, and decided to set up a make-shift camp at its base. He scrambled down the final shallow pitch, walked to the rocks, and found an overhang that provided shelter. Took off his pack, laid the rain cover on the ground, placed the sleeping bag on top …

And plopped his weary body down.

On top of the rocks, Puma was furious. She had waited a moment too long and now the human was under the ledge. She hadn’t been able to tell whether he carried the stick that shot fire, and had hesitated. Decided not to take the chance.

She would wait until morning.

Reverend Ely Jack Tatum sat in his car some 40 miles away and wondered where the Devil’s seed had gone? He must have driven past him. Tomorrow he would go back and look. After all, he was on the Lord’s errand, and failure was not a possibility. God would deliver this heathen into his hands just as he had Goliath to David, and he would slay him with the stone of prophesy. He pulled onto a side road, got out, and lay down in the back of the car. Now, if God could just make this seat more comfortable!

God wasn’t listening.

Wayne ate an energy bar and drank some water. Fresh trout would be great for supper, but he was too tired to fish. At least he hadn’t run into that damned mountain lion.

Not yet at least.

Riser informed A’Sha’Nah of the situation. He listened closely, turned, and went into the lope that has carried centuries of wolves hundreds of miles. He could be there by morning.

Riser would fly at first light and him.

The sun set, darkness fell, and night creatures stirred. Puma found a small cave in the rocks, and settled in for the night with her stomach growling from hunger.

Tomorrow she’d take care of that.

Fex had a bad feeling that Evie was in trouble. He had a mysterious tingle in his ankle. Damn! He’d used the rapid transit too frequently over the last few weeks and had to let his body rest. He couldn’t return to Limbo for two days.

Shit!

THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS RECESSED AT AN IME. DAMNED EARTH Experiment! It had caused growing disagreement for hundreds of years, and resulted in two philosophically entrenched feuding parties; ProEarth and ConEarth. Differences between them had reached such proportions that they threatened to destroy the hard won civility that had been achieved across the millennia. Bartok, the leader of the ProEarth coalition, left the meeting frustrated. They never varied in what they said anymore. Something had to change! He reluctantly made his way to the home of Lamen, his ConEarth counterpart. Knocked on the door, and stepped back Lamen cracked the door, frowned when he saw him, but swung it open for Bartok to enter. “May as well come in,” he said. “Although it will avail little unless you have come to your senses.” Lamen extended his hand toward two chairs in his living room. Bartok nodded a greeting. “It is the constitution of what sense is that divides us.” Lamen sat across the room, gathering his long tunic as he did. “We have been friends a long time, and for even longer, those in our position have struggled with this issue. The Earth Experiment has divided us too long. It must be terminated.” Bartok nodded, “It is sad what has transpired within our ranks. Our culture attained peace because ages ago we learned not to let conflicting versions of truth divide us. How have we forgotten that?”

Lamen sighed and shook his head. “Were it not for the Earth Experiment, there would be no conflict. It is crystal clear, we must give up on Earth, stop trying to intervene and regulate. All such efforts have failed miserably, even the Ultimate Sacrifice Initiative. Continued involvement in this hopeless enterprise is draining our resources.” “We have been over this ground many times,” Bartok said in a calm voice. “I know your position makes sense to you, but an Earth left to its own devices ensures the loss of our long-term investment. How does that make economic sense?” “There is a time when the prudent course is to it failure and retreat,” Lamen rose and shut the curtains to block the sun. “Earth must be left to its own fate.” “Lamen,” Bartok pleaded. “Do not forget who the Earthlings are and how they got there … and our responsibility in that.” He stood and paced in front of the sofa. “Lack of regulation only works when those in power are capable of decisions that are in the common interest, have an awareness of who they are, and the ability to be motivated by something other than profit margins.” Lamen’s eyes flashed with anger and his voice took on a hard edge. “Don’t presume to lecture me on Earth, our historical involvement, and what that means. The Earth Experiment was ill-advised from the onset, and was opposed by all of my ancestors. We have wasted enough on a hopeless cause. The Ultimate Sacrifice Initiative proved that!” Bartok walked to the door and put his hand on the opener. “This only divides us further. I wish the one that made that sacrifice was here, so we could ask him if he would do it again, if he still thinks it was worth it.” Lamen uttered a scoffing laugh. “He was an unwise and romantic idiot, however well-intentioned … just as those in your party are now. The Experiment and the Limbo Project must be abandoned. If Earth destroys itself, so be it. The open market will have served as judge and jury and ed sentence. This is how it is meant to be … the strong and the adept survive and deserve what they have earned. The remainder will reap what they deserve as well.” Bartok shook his head sadly and opened the door. “How have you grown so cold my old friend?”

Lamen rose and came to hold the door open. “And how have you grown into such a bleeding heart?” Bartok shook his head sadly and walked away. Lamen closed the door and cursed Bartok’s blindness.

The Earth Experiment must be halted … I will oppose anything ProEarth favors until it is done.

PUMA WOKE WITH THE DAWN, SHOOK HERSELF, AND EMERGED FROM THE cave. She was positioned thirty feet above him, too far to drop for a cat her age. The lower t on one of her forelegs had been sore since her last kill … that delicious calf she’d caught unaware. She needed to be closer, and be certain he did not carry thunder and fire. If he went to the lake, she could run to where the rocks were not so high, and attack if he wasn’t armed. She smiled, pleased with the plan, and waited. It didn’t take long. She heard movement below and watched as he came into view. He put his hands to the small of his back and stretched, and walked toward the lake. Yes! She ran across the top of the rocks for seventy five yards. Dropped to her belly, crawling to peer over. He would directly beneath her. She looked closely at his hands and saw they were empty. Nothing hung from his belt. She gathered her hind legs in anticipation and, when he came in range and stopped for a moment, she sprang. Wayne was watching the surface of the lake for rising trout, a long-time habit. The morning was beautiful with a cloudless sky and would warm as it progressed. The surface of the lake was still and reflected the rock cliffs on the far side. Several large boulders dotted the expanse of water, and there was a beaver den on the eastern shoreline. A few trout rose to a small hatch of Mayflies. He stopped to watch, thought he heard a movement above, and turned

to look. Riser’s mind-voice screamed in his head, “Wayne, duck!” He dropped to his knees and felt a searing pain cross his back from right shoulder to left side. It spun him off balance, and he fell hard, rolled over, and rose to one knee. There was a large mountain lion crouched a short distance away shaking her head. She had adjusted in midair and clawed his back as she hurtled past. It twisted her body and she hit the ground with her left hip, then onto her left side and head. She rolled at impact and stood, but the blow left her dizzy and her ribs hurt. When her eyes focused, saw the man on his knees facing her, with blood running down his right arm. I wounded him! Her lips rose in a snarl and she started forward … only to recoil as Riser swooped between them, and A’Sha’Nah loped to the man’s side. “You have broken your promise to me, he is mine!” Wayne tried to stand and thought better of it. “Don’t worry, Wayne,” A’Sha’Nah said. “We got this.” He looked at Puma, and bared his teeth, hackles rising. “Sorry, Puma, but he is a friend, we can’t let you do this.” Riser came to rest behind Puma. She whirled, and winced from the pain in her side. “You betray me too?” She changed her position so she could keep an eye on both of them. “You choose this human over me, after what they’ve done to us?” Wayne found his feet, his right hand gripping his left side, blood seeping between his fingers. “Puma, please, I wish you no harm. I am not like the ones that killed your young.” She hissed and took three steps back so she could better see Riser and A’Sha’Nah. “Your kind destroys everything. You are a scourge on the Earth, you

lay waste, you dominate, you plunder, and … you …” her mind-voice broke and she snarled deep in her throat …”you kill innocence without regard.” “You are correct,” Wayne replied. “But not all of us.” “How are we to know, before it is too late?” She shook her head and almost lost her balance. A’Sha’Nah sat on his haunches, lowered his lip, and said, “What lengths will we go to in order to protect innocence? Will we kill innocence to do so?” Riser flapped his wings, and said, “One must be certain that when they seek to stop the perpetrator, it is the perpetrator that is stopped. Often the innocent are the ones that suffer.” Puma moaned, and coughed a raspy breath. “I do not regret attacking him … if you were not here I would spill his guts on the ground.” A’Sha’Nah stood, head low, eyes on her. “But we are here, and you are injured. Please leave in peace.” Puma turned and looked at Wayne. “Today you are lucky human. Perhaps tomorrow you will not be.”

She limped into the rocks and disappeared.

Evie woke, and crawled out from under the fallen tree. She inspected her ankle before she tried to stand. The swelling was much better although there was still some discoloration. She tentatively put her weight on it and took a small step. Some pain, but bearable. Could she get back to the truck? She decided time would tell and started up the trail. After 400 yards she was confident she could make the truck before dark.

She plodded on.

Riser was on his way to the pickup too … and the box in its bed that had the tube of antibiotic ointment and bottled water. Wayne had used the water he had left to wash and inspect his wounds. Luckily the four gashes were not deep albeit very painful. He cut his shirt into strips, tied them around his torso, and put on the light jacket he’d brought with him. He concluded that infection was the most dangerous possibility, and sent Riser on his mission. On the long trek out of the canyon A’Sha’Nah would stay with Wayne.

To protect him from Puma.

Puma ed the human female scent of yesterday, and made her slow way up the mountain. She was very hungry, her ribs were sore, and it hurt to walk. But, she had a score to settle.

If not the man, the woman would do.

EVIE WAS MAKING BETTER TIME THAN EXPECTED AND WAS IN A clearing at the base of the last pitch under the parking area. She was thirsty beyond anything she’d ever experienced, and kept imagining the water bottles inside the ice chest in the bed of the truck. It wouldn’t be so bad waiting for Wayne’s return if she had provisions. Her ankle had gotten better as she walked, but knew if she stopped it would stiffen. She sat on a stump and shook her head. Life was so strange and unpredictable, with one seemingly random event triggering a whole series; a chain reaction that led to one reality among the many. If it’s possible, it’s probable, and if it’s probable it will happen … at least once, sometime, somewhere. She stood, ran her tongue over her dry lips, and wiped her brow.

Then put her weary feet on the trail and disappeared into the trees.

Riser flew over on his mission for Wayne, but didn’t see her because of the timber. He arrived at the truck in minutes, and was relieved to see the supplies hadn’t been disturbed. He landed in the bed, and used one talon to tip the box on its side. The contents scattered and he grasped a water bottle in one foot and the tube of antibiotic ointment and box of gauze in the other, and launched himself into the air. The day was warming and an updraft rose from the canyon. He used it to gain altitude, flapped his wings hard, and headed back to where Wayne and A’Sha’Nah waited. Evie was still deep in the trees. She could have used the water.

Random lawfulness strikes again.

Puma was on the second terrace, her breath coming in gasps. Something was wrong inside, and it was increasingly harder for her to breathe. She stopped, lay on an inviting bed of greenish-black moss, and rested. Just for a minute. There was the sudden taste of blood in her mouth, and she coughed. Red froth and bubbles sprayed from her nose. Pain wracked her chest, and she slumped onto her side. So tired, just a little rest. Her breathing gurgled with each exhale. She ed her dead cubs and felt something in her chest break. Blood gushed from her mouth and she trembled uncontrollably.

The pool of red grew under her chin as she died.

A’SHA’NAH AND WAYNE WERE AT THE BASE OF THE SECOND PITCH WHEN they saw Riser descending. Wayne sat gratefully on a log, and painfully removed his jacket while Riser circled once and landed. The shirt strips he had fashioned into bandages were stuck to the wounds. A’Sha’Nah waited for Wayne to hand him a loose end, took it in his mouth, and pulled as gently as possible while walking a circle around him. One by one the strips came off, punctuated by Wayne’s gasps. “At least the blood flow has stopped,” A’Sha’Nah reported, as the last bandage pulled loose. Wayne breathed deeply, chin on his chest. “That’s good,” he whispered, and picked up the ointment Riser had placed at his feet. “How am I going to reach the wounds to put this on?” A’Sha’Nah picked up the cleanest bandage strip in his mouth and took it to

Wayne. “Tie this around one of my paws,” he said. “Cover it with the medicine and I’ll dab it on your back.” Wayne smiled, and said, “I wouldn’t have made it without you two. What can I say? Thank you.” “It’s been a real adventure,” said Riser. “Amen to that,” Wayne said between groans, as A’Sha’Nah applied the ointment. They wrapped the gauze around the wounds in the same manner they had removed the bandages, and Wayne struggled into the jacket. He drank part of the water, and offered the rest to them, but they assured him they’d drunk their fill at the lake. Wayne looked up the mountain. “We aren’t going to get up there by standing here,” he said, and started up the trail. “I will go get more water,” Riser said as he took off. “We may be hard to spot in the trees,” Wayne yelled at him. Riser circled. “Pause at each clearing, I’ll see you in one of them.” A’Sha’Nah loped ahead of Wayne as the sun rose higher and the day warmed. There were a few drifting clouds that occasionally blocked the glare. Wayne wiped the sweat from his brow, put one foot in front of the other, tried to forget how tired he was, and how much his back hurt.

He wasn’t able to.

EVIE COULD SEE THE BARE SLOPE UNDER THE PARKING AREA, THOUGHT about the water that was waiting, and increased her pace. She trudged up the final ten yards and stopped suddenly at the sight of a large black

bird in the bed of the truck. “Hey,” she yelled, and waved her arms. “Get away from there!” Riser spread his wings, jumped straight up, and circled the parking area. He landed and mind-spoke, “I am helping, Wayne. Do you know him?” Her eyes went wide and she stared at Riser. “Wayne? Did you say … or whatever you just did … Wayne?” “Yes,” Riser replied. “He has been injured and I am taking him food and water.” “Oh, God,” she said. “Where is he, how bad is it, how did it happen, tell me!” Riser walked toward her. “Are you Evie?”

“Yes … how did you know?” “I am Wayne’s friend.” “Is he OK?” “He will be … there was this mountain lion …” She gasped and clenched her fists. “Mountain lion?” “Yes,” said Riser calmly. “His back is clawed, but he will be OK.” She found Riser’s eyes, “You sure?” “Yes,” he said. “I must go, they need water.” She put both hands to her head. “They?” “A’Sha’Nah is with him.” She turned a slow circle and massaged her temples. “Ok, slowly now, where is he and who is A’Sha’Nah?” “A’Sha’Nah … is … a … wolf,” he said. “Oh Lord have mercy!” She leaned forward at the waist, her eyes wide. Riser hopped to her and cocked his head to one side. “A’Sha’Nah and Wayne are friends too.” She kept her eyes on him, went to the truck, and grabbed a bottle of water from the ice chest. She didn’t take it from her lips until its contents were gone. “Where are they?” Riser pointed with a wing tip. “Down the mountain headed this way. They are moving slowly because of the pain.” She knelt down so her eyes were level with Riser’s, reached one hand out to him, palm up. “It seems I owe you an apology,” her voice was soft.

“I must get back. He needs food too.” “How about a small sack, can you carry one?” “I am very strong,” he said. “Fill it for me … energy bars and water.” “I’ll be right behind you.” Riser looked at her ankle and shook his head. “You are injured, it would be better if you wait here. You stay and prepare food. She balled her hands into fists and shook them in front of her. “When you’re right, you’re right. How far out are they?” Riser rose into the air, sack in tow, and said, “I will check and come back. They are probably one or two hours away.” He circled the parking lot and dropped into the canyon. She drank another bottle of water, ate two energy bars, and built a fire ring of stones. Gathered fire wood and laid it so that it was ready for a match. Found the truck keys underneath the running board, and the steaks in the ice chest. She sat in the truck and rested. She shed exactly four tears, sighed with fatigue, and smiled.

Soon she would be with Wayne.

ON HIS THIRD , RISER SPOTTED THEM AS THEY EMERGED FROM THE timber into a small clearing. He fell out of the sky and leveled off as he approached. Dropped the sack, made his usual circle, and landed. Wayne picked up the sack, gobbled down an energy bar, and drank a bottle of water. Poured some water into a depression on a rock for Riser and A’Sha’Nah. “You made good time,” Riser said. “Almost to first terrace.” Wayne sat and shook his head. “I’m real tired.” His chin was on his chest and his

face was wet with sweat. A’Sha’Nah looked at Riser, “We may need to stop, finish tomorrow.” Riser hopped to Wayne. “You need to climb out today, tomorrow you will be stiffer.” Wayne looked up. “Not sure I can.” Riser spread his wings and ruffled them. “What if Evie is up there waiting?” A’Sha’Nah cocked his head to one side and stared at Riser. “That’s not fair,” Wayne said. Riser returned his wings to his side. “If you want to wait until tomorrow to see her, it’s Ok with me.” Wayne jumped to his feet and winced at the pain, “She’s at the truck? Riser, if you are lying to me …” If birds can smile, Riser did. “I don’t know how to tell lies. I’m not a human.” He did a dance; two steps forward, three to the side, and a jump up and down. “So can I tell her you are on your way?” Wayne’s eyes blazed. “Ok, wolf, no more holding me up, I’ve had enough of your slowness. Suck it up and stay with me, you hear?” Wayne headed up the trail at a brisk clip. “Yes, sir, boss, whatever you say.” A’Sha’Nah loped happily behind. Riser flapped twice and was air born. “Going to check behind us,” he said. “See if I can locate Puma.” “Good idea,” said A’Sha’Nah.

Wayne whistled through the pain and made his way up the mountain.

REVEREND ELY JACK TATUM WAS STILL ON THE PROWL AS HE BACK-tracked his route and looked for Wayne. He was on the verge of heading home for a shower and food, when he came over the and saw Wayne’s truck shining orange in the sun .”Ah, ha,” he said to himself as he pulled into the parking area. His eyes widened when he saw Evie stacking wood. “He lied to me. His harlot is with him!” She turned toward the sound and her eyes narrowed. He scanned the area for Wayne, pulled up beside her, and rolled down his window. “Where’s your man,” he asked. A frown crossed her face. “Who’s asking?” He pushed his hat back. “The right Reverend Ely Jack Tatum,” he said. She dropped the kindling in her arms and looked him in the eye. “What business you got with Wayne?” “Last time I saw him, he told me you were gone. Looks like you’ve taken up with a liar,” his eyes became slits as he spoke. She stepped away from the car, clenched fists at her side. “I’ll ask you one more time,” she said, a sharp edge on her voice, “what business is that of yours.” She put her hands on her hips. “Cause I gotta tell you straight up mister, I don’t like your attitude.” “That’s what I’d expect a Jezebel like you to say … and it’s Reverend Tatum, not mister.” She batted her eyelashes. “I do declare, Reverend, I believe this conversation is over.” She turned and walked to the truck. “Goodbye.” His eyes darkened like clouds before it hails. “You listen to me, you hussy,” his voice shook. “You are in my house.” “Damnation,” she breathed. “I thought I was in Limbo, turns out I must be in hell.”

He opened the door, started to get out of the car, but was interrupted by the sound of wings, and the swoosh of Riser ing between them. “What in God’s name!” He gasped, ducked back inside the car, and slammed the door. Evie smiled. “Don’t mind him … he’s just a’friend of mine.” Riser landed in the truck bed and looked at Tatum, one foot on the railing. “He giving you trouble, Evie?” “He sure is … can he hear us?” “No,” Riser bobbed his head. “He doesn’t believe animals can communicate.” Tatum stared at them, eyes wider than wide, and rolled his window up. “Figures,” she said. “He’s obviously a man of little faith.” Tatum cracked the window, and put his mouth to the opening. “You ain’t seen the last of me.” He put the car in reverse. “I’ll be back when that demon-spawn isn’t with you.” “You gonna rush off just like that!” She leaned forward so she was eye level with him. “If you knew who you were talking to, you’d shit a brick!” He spun the rear tires in the gravel, backed out to the roadway, slammed the gearshift in drive, fishtailed once, and headed down the mountain. Evie turned to Riser with raised eyebrows. “How’s Wayne?” Riser ruffled his feathers. “He was all set to give up; till I told him you were up here … now he’s on the trail running.” “How long till they’re here?” “Hour or hour and a half … they got that deadfall to go around.” She looked at him, and said, “God, Riser, how can I ever … …” He held up one wing to stop her. “I understand.” He hopped up on the bed railing, “I’m going back, but we don’t have to worry about Puma, I found her dead from a punctured lung.”

Evie gasped. “I’m relieved, but sad too.” Riser nodded, “Me too, she never got over losing her cubs … but now she’s past that.” He launched himself, water bottle in each foot, and headed down. Evie sat on one of the stumps that had been used to string a cable around the parking area and put her foot in the ice chest.

It was cold, but her heart was warm.

WAYNE AND A’SHA’NAH STOPPED AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SLOPE BELOW the parking lot. The aroma of meat cooking pervaded the air, and they looked at each other with mouths watering. She came back! And she’s up there! It was 4:00 in the afternoon, and the Sun was in the west, casting that wonderful early evening radiance on the grass and trees, all crystalline and bright. A few high clouds floated through sky that was slowly fading from a brilliant toward a light-mist blue. This moment … this now, is worth all the hell I been through. He wiped the moisture from his brow and eyes, looked at A’Sha’Nah. “Let’s go see Evie.” “Can’t wait,” he said, and followed Wayne up the slope. When Wayne reached the top Evie was running from the fire pit toward him. She stopped three feet away and they stood facing each other, as if they wanted to prolong the moment, stay that happy and excited forever, savor it, clutch it to the breast, internalize it, and cherish it. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long ten seconds before she spoke. “I want to hug you so bad I’m about to pop … but I can’t because of your back.”

Wayne reached out and put one hand on her cheek. “God, Evie,” he said, his voice thick. “You came back.” He stroked her face with his fingertips. “And yeah, the hug will have to wait.” Her eyes went softer than any soft he’d ever felt. “Damn you, Wayner, what am I gonna do with you?” She put her hand on top of his. He allowed himself a slight smile and kissed her slightly open and oh so ready mouth. A’Sha’Nah loped to Riser’s side and they watched quietly until the kiss was over. Wayne stepped back. “You already know Riser … let me introduce you to A’Sha’Nah.” He came to their side, looked up at Evie, and wagged his tail in overtime. “Pleased to meet you.” Evie knelt, touched the top of his head, and whispered, “Thank you for bringing this wayward man home safe.” A’Sha’Nah blinked, laid his ears back, and found her eyes. “You are most welcome … a wolf saving a human, what will people think!” Evie howled her glee at the sky and he ed her.

Two animals telling the universe all about it.

AFTER EATING, THEY WENT TO THE CAMPGROUND TO SPEND THE NIGHT and use the shower to clean Wayne’s wounds. A’Sha’Nah rode in the truck bed, but Riser opted to fly. The shower wasn’t fun. Evie washed the claw marks as gently as possible with soap, but there was lots of grit and dirt in them from the fall Wayne had taken during the attack. He put both hands on the shower wall and gritted his teeth. It took her ten minutes to be satisfied they were clean. They covered the wounds with ointment and applied fresh bandages.

Evie pitched the tent, and Wayne lay on his side in front on one of the sleeping bags, his head in Evie’s lap. A’Sah’Nah and Riser were exhausted, and with their bellies full of raw steak, immediately fell asleep; A’Sha’Nah under a nearby Pine and Riser on a pine roost high overhead. Wayne turned his head and looked up at Evie. “What does coming back here mean for your future?” She poured them both a glass of rye “Maybe this will help the pain some.” “Sure won’t hurt.” “I came back because I was miserable without you,” she took a sip of rye and repositioned his head on her thigh. “It means I’ve opted to spend as much of my life with you as I can.” He drained his glass and ed it back for more. While she poured he gazed into the huge Pine they were under. Its trunk was four feet in diameter, and it stood sixty feet tall, with gnarled branches that were filled with pine cones and long, beautiful, needles. The camp grounds had been cleared of most of the underbrush and was a series of gentle glades interspersed with Pine and Juniper. The restroom and shower building was in the center, and there was room for thirty camp sites without being crowded. He took the glass from her. “Are you sure?” “Yep.” She playfully slapped the top of his head. “You want me with you, yes?” “Of course.” He sat and groaned from the effort. “It’s just that Earth is probably a poor trade compared to where you come from.” A’Sha’Nah stood, turned three tight circles, lay down, gave a deep sigh, and went back to sleep. “That’s one exhausted wolf,” Wayne said. “What wonderful friends. Thank God they were there.” “Amen to that.”

She rose and went the fire to put on more logs and watched as they ignited. Sat on a stump, and said, “I met your friend, Reverend Tatum. What a piece of work.” Wayne grimaced as he shifted position. “What did he want?” She raised her eyebrows, “To save our souls of course.” “Hope you ran him off.” “Managed to do that.” She chuckled at the memory. “Riser helped.” Wayne got slowly to his feet, found a log, and sat. “Let me guess, Riser was sent from Satan.” “You know the reverend well.” Wayne rubbed his shoulder. “Way too well, and lots like him. Earth is full of them.” Evie stirred uncomfortably and sighed. “Part of that may be our fault.” Wayne looked at her, eyes confused. “How would that be our fault?” “I don’t mean you and me … I mean those of us on Atlantia.” He turned toward her. “You want to explain that?” “That’s gonna be a problem,” she came to sit beside him. “Part of the deal I made, why it took me several days to return, was to promise not to tell you what I know about Earth.” “Can you at least tell me why?” “Only in general,” she said, and took his hand. “And it has nothing to do with you personally.” “Go on.” “I come from a planet far away in your … a place that is more advanced technologically. We’ve been involved in the history of Earth for thousands of

years.” “Are you the UFO people?” he gasped, leaned forward, and stirred the fire. “We used to be,” she laughed. “We don’t travel that way much anymore, but there are those that do.” Wayne’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my God, the rapid transit system! You can teleport like on Star Trek!” “Yes.” He held his head in both hands. “You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?” “Nothing but.” She shifted her position on the log and crossed her legs. He stood and paced in spite of the pain. “Evie, please don’t tell me you’ve changed form to come here … that you don’t really look like you do now.” She laughed, “Not to worry, I look exactly as you see me. We are carbon based humanoids, like you.” “I don’t understand then, what can’t you tell me, and why?” “I will do my best,” she took a sip of rye and closed her eyes. “We made a serious error back in the day. We underestimated the power of evolution on Earth to counteract our interventions in your history.” “How so?” “On Atlantia, we that our attempts to understand the universe, and our place in it, are only crude approximations that fall far short of being comprehensive. On Earth, however, this has not been the case. Here the brain evolved to totally believe what it thinks is true. Earthlings tend to believe organized systems of thought so totally they are willing to risk destruction of themselves and the planet.” Wayne walked around the fire pit, one hand holding his chin. “I’ve believed that is a problem most of my life,” he said.

“We know. That’s why you’re here.” “So,” he built up steam as he talked. “If you told us everything you know about our history the overall effect would be bad.” She nodded agreement. “It would be worse than bad, probably catastrophic. Thousands would die as a result.” He sat down and held his head. “You fear the story going public on Earth.” She nodded. “Our miscalculations were significant; we thought we could significantly lessen your violent tendencies. We feel partly responsible for what has happened.” “My God! Who needs LSD when he has a girlfriend like you?” “I can only imagine how you must feel,” “Does Limbo figure into this somehow?” She took the last sip of her rye. “All I can tell you is that Limbo is one of a number of ways we tried to correct our mistakes that haven’t worked to the degree we hoped.” He raised his head, looked at her, and whispered, “Evie, why am I in Limbo?” “You are potentially important to the future of Earth.” “Me?”

“You have no idea, Wayner. None at all.”

SAMALI AMOK KEYED THE FINAL COORDINATES INTO HIS SHIP’S computer and let the guidance system deliver a textbook landing on Limbo’s surface. He had made two interstellar jumps in route and the flight had gone well. The ship set him down in a small clearing near the highway twenty miles from Wayne and Evie’s camp.

He popped the hatch on the small craft and stepped out. Never ceased to amaze him the variety of flora and fauna the universe had to offer. The trees on Earth were some of the largest he had seen. He opened an outer compartment and rolled out the bright red Harley-Davidson motorcycle, put down the kick-stand and ired it. If one wanted to blend in with Earthlings, he had found no better way than on a Harley. He smoothed down his long hair, and stroked the beard he’d spent the last year growing. His skin was wrinkle-free and paler than was usual here, but the hair and beard covered most of it. Not to mention the tattoos. He was sure he could . He was 6 feet 8 inches tall, and at 185 pounds, very thin. After all, people saw what they expected to see, and for the most part Earthlings didn’t believe in aliens. Earthlings! What a waste of carbon and resources. The most backwater species in the most out-of-the-way part of the galaxy, primitive at best, and that was giving them the benefit of the doubt. But, their planet was another story. It was rich in land mass and water, had an atmosphere that was compatible with his kind. His home planet, Satonia, needed it. Space and resources were becoming serious issues there, and time was of the essence. They could easily subdue Earth, but the Atlantians were a problem. Their technology was light years beyond any species in this part of the galaxy. So they had to be persuaded that Earth wasn’t worth the effort anymore. Then they could strike. He chuckled as he fueled the motorcycle. It had been nice of Atlantia to seed life here, to supply his kind with a ready-made slave population to exploit. Now, if they could just be persuaded to give up on their precious Earth Experiment. Damn it to hell though, there had been enough enlightened Earthlings to keep Atlantian hopes up. Trouble makers like Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Mother Teresa, and Abraham Lincoln. Not to mention Mohammed, Mozart, and the ultimate problem child of all, Jesus Christ … but then, he didn’t really count did he? The Earth Experiment! Enough was enough, and at last there were growing signs of discontent on Atlantia, hints that they might be on the verge of withdrawing their protection from the forlorn blue planet. His job was to insure that happened by neutralizing Wayne Chisholm. He had the potential to give the Atlantians renewed hope. He posed too much of a risk. He, Samali Amok, Satonia’s best agent, an expert on undermining confidence, had been sent to get the job done. Chisholm’s thinking needed some thought adjustment.

As soon as possible.

FEX HAD ONLY BEEN HALF-AWAKE A FEW MOMENTS WHEN HIS COMPUTER informed him he had an urgent call. He’d gone to bed late and was in no mood to kick start the day, so he tried to reason with Matilda, the insolent, noncompliant, voice inside his computer. “Who is it?” he groaned. “Tell them I’ll call back in a few hours.” Matilda responded, “Its Samali Amok. He said to mention it concerns Evie.” Fex threw back the covers. “Why didn’t you say so?” “I just did,” Matilda intoned. He rose, went to the wall screen, and flipped it on. Samali’s face appeared and it took Fex a few seconds to recognize him. “You’re growing hairier these days.” Samali’s grin spread across the screen. “Howdy, Fex, how’s it hanging?” “Same old, same old,” Fex said. “What do you want?” Samali’s grin widened. “Don’t need anything, just making a neighborly call to a fellow agent.” He stroked his beard. “I’m on assignment in Limbo, and just found out Evie is here … with an Earthling named Wayne Chisholm. I assume you know?” Fex’s stomach went electric, like someone had plugged him into a hot 220 circuit. “On assignment in Limbo? Is my government aware of this?” Samali leaned forward, and his face grew larger on Fex’s screen. “That’s why I’m on the line, to keep you folks in the loop. I’ve been tailing this character, and the trail led me to Limbo.” He stroked his beard and sat back. “I called you first thing, especially when I discovered it involves Evie.” Fex didn’t like where this was going, felt his brow furrow. “What’s your

government’s interest in him?” Samali laughed. “Just nickel and dime stuff. He’s a petty hoodlum who has wrinkled the wrong feathers.” Fex turned away so Samali couldn’t see his face, and mulled the situation over. What does he really want? “Same ole, Samali,” he said, as he turned to the camera. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Satonia’s interest in colonizing Earth?” Samali’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, Fex, can’t a person be a friend out of concern for your daughter?” Fex put his feet up, wiped some sleep from his eyes, and reached for a cup of coffee that he hadn’t made yet. He scowled. “So whose feathers has Wayne wrinkled, and how?” “Everyone who cares about you and Evie,” Samali’s voice was soft. “He’s a con artist, and he may be trying to set Evie up to sway the vote on the Earth Experiment. As you know, all ConEarth needs is a few votes and it’s a done deal.” Fex sat up. “And you got this info from …” Samali shrugged, palms in front of him. “You know I can’t give up my sources, Fex.” “Especially if you don’t have any.” “Now there you go, being cynical again.” He laughed, and morphed his face into a serious expression. “Do yourself a favor, Fex, and watch this guy. He’s a smooth operator, and is real good at looking real clean when he’s real dirty.” Fex frowned and stood. “Thanks for the head’s up, maybe we’ll talk again soon.” “That would be my pleasure,” Samali said, and disappeared from the screen. Fex sat for several minutes, deep in thought.

Is Wayne a problem for them or us? I best do some checking around.

SAMALI PUSHED THE HARLEY AWAY FROM HIS CLOAKED SPACE CRAFT. Had some calls to make, some seeds of discontent to sow, some selfconfidences to disrupt in the process of derailing the Wayne Chisholm selfawareness train. His first planting had gone well, he thought. There wasn’t a father alive that could sleep easy if he thought his daughter was in peril. And that included Fex. Yep, Fex had spent a restless day and night since his call, he was sure of it. He swung a leg over the Harley, and pushed the electric start button. It roared to life, and he steered it down the single track path to the highway. It was a primitive contraption, but he had to it they were fun to ride. Wind in your hair, blowing Dixie cups and small rodents off the road in your wake, and the throb of the engine between your legs. Yep, and for sure, there was nothing like a Harley to make up for having a small penis … not that he had to worry about that. He pulled onto the roadway and thundered his way east. Time to pay Ely Jack Tatum a visit, see if couldn’t convince him to be of some use. The man was so stupid that manipulating him wasn’t much of an issue, the only challenge it presented was that after talking to him Samali always felt like he had been trapped inside a delusional vortex where nothing logical could exist. He swung around a sweeping curve and saw a large shadow cross the road. Raised his eyes and saw a Giant Condor some 100 feet above. He waved, and checked his belt to make sure the stun gun was there. It was. The bird flew on and he relaxed. Yes sir, old Ely Jack Tatum, a textbook example of the Earthling brain at its unaware worst. A caricature created by cultural mythology, a puppet that believed he was enlightened. Probably had never spent even a moment free from all the dogma he’d been fed as a child along with his baby food. The product of, as were so many humans, a twisted and comprehensive grand narrative gone wild. The unintended by-product of Atlantian interventions on Earth. Hadn’t factored in the power of religious fervor, now had they?

He would bet the farm that Tatum would be among the first to the ranks of true believers when Satonia sent their ‘ministers’ to Earth to usher in the second coming of Christ. Yes indeed, since Earthlings had proved willing to become the slaves of mythology, he may as well encourage them to do so. If they believed it was God’s will, it’d be like taking candy from a baby. He could make Jack Tatum believe his fondest dreams would come true. He laughed, twisted the throttle on the Harley, and sang an old Earthling song … Onward Christian Soldiers.

God, he loved his job!

SAMALI WAS RIGHT. FEX HADN’T SLEPT WELL, AND WELCOMED THE RISE of the first Sun on Atlantia. He kicked back the covers, and went to the mirror to run a comb through his thick and unruly brown mane. Brushed his teeth and decided to leave the shadow made by his one day old whiskers rather than shave. Wished his jaws weren’t so square and shrugged in resignation. Decided his hazel green eyes made up for it. Slipped on a t-shirt and jeans and bicycled to the house of his dear friend, Bartok. As he expected, Bartok was up, and answered the door promptly. “Fex,” Bartok smiled, and swung the door open. “What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking of calling you.” Fex hugged Bartok and entered the high-ceiling room, an open expanse that included the cooking area. It was done in colors that would have been called southwestern on Earth; tans, beiges, deep reds and purples, and of course, turquoise. Bartok had lost more hair since Fex had seen him, and put on a few pounds, although it was hard to judge under the floor length tunic he habitually wore in keeping with the traditions of the planet. He had on sandals and his eyes twinkled as usual. “Fine minds think alike,” Fex replied. “We do need to talk.” Bartok motioned at a chair and walked toward the kitchen area. “Could I interest you in some coffee … straight from high altitude Earthian Columbia?”

Fex smiled widely. “You know the answer to that.” He sat on an anti-gravity chair, worked the controls so that he hovered six inches off the floor, and leaned back. “I can’t imagine what that must have cost.” Bartok got two cups, poured, and the heady aroma pervaded the room. “Not so much, my friend,” said Bartok. “Just a minor political favor.” Fex raised his cup in a toast, and said, “Here’s to sly old political dogs, and the coffee they are able to steal.” They were quiet for a several moments as they savored the brew. Bartok sat on the L-shaped sofa that dominated the room, and sighed. “I wish that were true,” he said. “Have been feeling like a failure of late.” Fex lowered the chair to the floor, and leaned forward. “Has to do with the Earth Experiment and ConEarth, yes?” “To be sure,” Bartok said, and put his cup on an end table. “Is that what brings you here so early in the day as well?” Fex nodded, “I had an interesting call yesterday morning.” “Oh,” Bartok’s head rose and his eyes narrowed. “Am I going to like this?” “Probably not.” Fex’s brow formed into deep furrows. “It was Samali Amok.” Bartok sat back with a grunt, crossed his legs, and rubbed his chin. “Where was he calling from?” “Limbo,” Fex said, as he downed the last of his coffee. Bartok went to the counter, got the pot, and refilled their cups. “Why did I know you were going to say that? And, Evie is there, is she not?” “Oh, lord, yes,” Fex replied. Bartok sat. “With an Earthling named Wayne Chisholm, correct?” “You were there when the Council gave its permission for her to go.” “I only meant to confirm that she followed through on the decision,” he said

calmly. “Sorry,” Fex frowned. “I am not at my best right now.” “I understand completely. Evie is one in a million … literally,” he gestured with his hands as he spoke. “And given her lineage …” Fex rose and paced. “I know. She would be naturally attracted to Earth … not to mention Wayne Chisholm.” He stopped, turned, and found Bartok’s eyes. “What do know of Chisholm?” Bartok sat quiet for several minutes and rubbed his chin. “What I say next is in confidence.” Fex nodded, “Of course.” Bartok took a deep breathe, “I am the one responsible for Wayne Chisholm going to Limbo … and … for the selection of Evie to be his guide. I pulled quite a number of political strings to get it done.” Fex stared at Bartok. “What!” “Hear me out before you tell me I could have told you first.” “Go on.” Fex sat, crossed his legs, and gulped some coffee. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm on one knee. “Thank you,” Bartok smoothed the folds out of his tunic. “I will be as brief as I can.” “Take your time,” said Fex. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I doubt you’ll feel that way when I’m done.”

WAYNE DIDN’T SLEEP MUCH. EVERY MOVEMENT JERKED HIM AWAKE AND reintroduced him to pain. He welcomed the dawn and made his slow and agonizing way to light the logs Evie had prepared. She’d been up most

of the night too, stewing over him and trying to teach him the trance state she’d used to heal her foot. He didn’t have the hang of it yet, but thought maybe his back was a little better. He sat and watched the fire grow. A’Sha’Nah came loping out of the trees, sat, and licked his lips. “You’ve had some breakfast I take it,” he mind-spoke to the wolf. “Riser and I dined on fresh Brook Trout. It seemed like a fish kind of day.” As if on cue, Riser swooped down, braked with his powerful wings, and landed on a log. “Morning, Wayne. Rough night?” “Not my best,” Wayne replied. “But sure not my worst either … not with Evie here.” Riser nodded and smoothed the feathers on one wing with his beak. “It may not be important, but I saw a stranger riding a motorcycle on the highway.” “Huh, wonder who? Thanks for the head’s up.” “No problem.” “We are going to give you two some privacy,” A’Sha’Nah said. “Don’t leave on our ,” Wayne shifted his position and winced. “You are always welcome at our lodge.” “We won’t be far, and will visit often,” Riser said. “Those raw steaks are motivation enough.” Riser rose and flew toward a nearby canyon, and A’Sha’Nah followed below. Wayne watched until they disappeared into the dark timber, and put coffee on the fire. Realized his back was hurting less. What a strange place this was! He waited for the coffee to boil and ed what Evie had said. He had no doubt she was right not to tell him more, although he was curious past curious. But, God, how could anyone familiar with Earthling history trust us to do the right thing with important information? Take the U.S. Constitution, one of the most fantastic documents ever written. Gave us a real chance to discover our potential, behave in a dignified manner, and who we are.

He sighed, poured a cup of coffee, and rose to feed another to the fire. Watched a Blue jay light on an overhead limb. Sat and rubbed the stubble on his chin with one hand. But look what we’ve done since. The Constitution got lost inside political party and religious dogma, swearing allegiance to written in stone ideas rather than to ourselves, our country, and our planet as a living organism. Twisted it, perverted it, and used it to gain power over others. Why would anyone trust us? Our entire history a chronicle of wars fought over conflicting ideas, of killing each other in the name of truth. He felt the old anger rise, stir his insides, and incite thoughts of putting things right. Assholes … yeah, and you’re one of them. “Shit,” he said. “I hate it when that happens!” “When what happens?” A sleepy voice asked. He turned and saw Evie in front of the tent, hair tousled, man’s shirt falling to mid-thigh, bare feet in the leaves. “Holy moley,” he said. “You are one beautiful creature.” “Those lion scratches must have gotten infected and poisoned your eyes, I look a plumb mess!” She ran her fingers through her hair and pointed at the coffee pot. “Yum!” He poured her a cup and she sat by him. “You seem better,” she said, and touched the bandages gently. “Lots,” he said. “Improving by the minute.” She tossed her hair and smiled. “Lucky for you, because I’m not sure I can keep my hands off your body much longer.” He smiled, and said, “At this rate, I’ll be at your pleasure by early evening.” “Oh, goodie,” she said, and the wind chimes giggled, “I love it when there’s light enough to see everything.”

They sat, held hands, and drank coffee, both of them knowing difficult times were ahead.

But not today, not right now.

THE RIGHT REVEREND ELY JACK TATUM HEARD THE HARLEY PULL INTO his driveway. Those straight pipes right off the manifold were hard to miss. He put down what was left of his breakfast sandwich, and went to the front door. Didn’t recognize Samali, what with a different bike, long hair and beard … and, and, and tattoos! He shuddered and looked away. Samali raised a hand, waved, and said, “Howdy, Reverend Jack. How you been keepin’? It’s been awhile.” He squinted through the screen door. “Samali?” “Sure nuff,” he replied, along with a huge grin. “In the flesh but with more hair.” Tatum opened the door and stepped out on the porch that made the small brick, two bedroom, one bath, bungalow seem larger. He loved sitting on it, had spent lots of time there, listening to God whisper in his ear. It had a wood plank floor, and a railing that ran around the edge and between the four posts that ed it. Some apple trees and pines in the small front yard, with a rock lined walkway from the parking area to the porch steps. “Yeah,” he said. “Not to mention all those tattoos … why’d you go and do that for?” Samali stepped off the bike and smoothed down his wind-blown hair. “Just some righteous body art, Rev,” he said, as he came closer. “Ain’t this a beautiful cross? Constant reminder of the sacrifice made for us.” Tatum looked more closely. There was a red cross on his upper arm with a radiating gold sun behind it, casting orange rays down to the elbow. “I don’t hold much with profaning the temple our soul lives in,” he said. “But if you’re gonna do it, that’s a nice choice … I guess.” Samali stepped up on the porch, pointed to the chairs, and said, “Can we sit a

spell, got something important to tell you.” Tatum gestured toward the chairs. “Sure, mind if I finish my breakfast while we talk?” Samali plopped into a wood rocking chair, and sighed, “Not at all.” “Don’t have any more sandwich fixings, but could get you some cold sweet tea.” Samali’s face brightened. “Don’t mind if I do, Rev.” Tatum went inside, and returned in short order with his plate and Samali’s tea. Samali took a long drink, smacked his lips, and wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Yes, sir, that hits the spot!” Tatum sat, took a bite of his sandwich, chewed rapidly, and said, “You mentioned we had something to talk about?” Samali took the glass down from his mouth, and narrowed his eyes. “You run across a character by the name of Wayne lately?” Tatum scooted his chair to face Samali as a deep frown formed above his eyebrows. “Yeah … why?” Samali leaned closer and whispered, “What’d you think of him?” Tatum guffawed, “Why it’s as plain as the nose on your face, he’s a heathen, a fornicator, an irreverent …” “I knew you’d peg him right off,” Samali slapped Tatum’s knee. Tatum sat back and smiled smugly. “I got an unfair advantage,” he said, and pointed a long finger at the side of his face, “I see with the Lord’s eyes.” Samali sat back, rocked the chair, and laughed. “Well, a’course … he never had a chance a’foolin’ you.” Tatum leaned toward Samali. “What’s your interest in him?” Samali looked to each side, and scooted the rocker closer to Tatum. “We alone?”

Tatum had forgotten about his sandwich. “Yeah, of course.” “I represent some powerful outside interests … Christian interests you understand … that want to help you expand the Lord’s work in this part of the vineyard,” Samali said in a loud whisper, and turned to watch a chipmunk scurry across the porch with a crust of bread. Tatum’s eyes got wider with each word. He paid no attention to the chipmunk and motioned for Samali to continue. “They are prepared to make a substantial investment toward the type of conservative, fundamental, and washed-in-the-blood of Christ community they believe you can create.” Tatum lost the grip on his plate and let it clatter to the floor. Put one hand to his eyes and swiped at them. “I knew …” his voice broke and he cleared his throat, “if I just kept my faith, prepared, remained celibate, if I stayed true to the Holy Word …” Samali shook out a handkerchief and handed it to him. “Thank you … if I just remained steadfast, that God would use me for something important.” He blew his nose and sighed deeply. “Who are these outside parties and how do they know of me?” Samali made the sign of the cross in front of him. “From God, a’course!” “From God!” Samali nodded. “Don’t worry even a little bit about who they are, they are totally committed to doin’ God’s will for the good of the Earth.” Tatum’s body shook like an Aspen in the wind. “The entire Earth?” Samali put a hand on Tatum’s knee and lowered his voice. “Can you imagine, Reverend Jack … the Earth united under one banner for the good of all?” Samali extended his arms, made his body into a cross. Tatum raised both arms. “Yes, Lord Jesus, yes, I can imagine it. It has been my life-long dream.”

Samali rose slowly to his feet, and put a hand on Tatum’s shoulder. “And you … in charge of it all.” Tatum gasped and made the sign of the cross in the air. “If … you can help me get rid of those that can stop us,” Samali stepped back and frowned. Tatum double gasped and he looked hard at Samali. “And who is that?” “Wayne Chisholm and Evie.” “What?” Samali stepped off the porch, walked toward his bike, paused and turned. “It will not be for the faint of heart. What are you prepared to do?” Tatum set his jaw. “Whatever it requires.” “I will you said that,” he said, and turned toward the Harley. “We will talk again soon.” He threw a leg over and punched the motorcycle to life.

Tatum fell to his knees and wept.

WAYNE WOKE EARLY AND GOT THE FIRE AND COFFEE GOING. HIS BACK was much improved and he had slept like a baby after their evening of love making. He sat, drank coffee, and wondered why he was still uneasy and full of doubt. Realized he had to have another talk with her, make certain she understood what she was getting into, that he couldn’t rest until she did. Her head emerged from the tent like she’d heard him call, and she crawled out and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He poured her a cup while she went to the restroom, and handed it to her when she returned. She took it and sat. “You slept well,” she said. “As good as a body can, and I needed it.” He rose and added wood to the fire,

stoked it until it caught, and looked at her. “Now don’t get pissed, but we got to have another talk about your decision.” “Wayner,” she said …” “Wait.” He raised his hand. “Just hear me out.” “Ok, if you got to.” “I don’t like Earth much, and I’m not certain I’ve made that clear.” He sat by the fire and poked it with a dead branch. “Most of the time life on Earth is real frustrating, cause I think it’s pretty messed up, and unless something happens that I don’t expect will, that isn’t gonna change. How is it fair of me to ask you to live someplace I don’t even like?” He sat beside her and listened to her breath. He’d never realized what a beautiful thing that is, the sound of someone you love breathing beside you. After a few minutes she turned to him. “That’s exactly how we feel about Earth on Atlantia, and have for a long time. Earth is not Ok, not living up to its potential. We are very disappointed with how it’s turned out.” He looked at her, studied her face, her eyes. “So, you aren’t gonna tell me I’m being too negative, that I’m a pessimist, that I should look for the positives, that I’m too intense, that I just need to relax, that there’s nothing I can do about it, so I should stop making you uncomfortable.” She smiled and touched his cheek. “I’ve never felt more comfortable with anybody in my life. You’ve grown up on Earth and have every reason to be part of the rank and file mind-think of the planet … but you can’t. You see the prevailing social order as part of a cultural con game, and you can’t the delusions most Earthlings embrace just to feel comfortable.” He shook his head, and put his hands to his face. “But you told me I was a difficult man … and you’re right, I am.” She laughed. “Yes you are. You’re a thinker, an analyzer, and want the social institutions and beliefs on Earth to change. Anyone that believes that the planet is doing fine and headed in the right direction, that is genuinely happy with how things are going, is deep inside a delusion that has little basis in objective assessment.” She poked the fire with a branch and watched the sparks rise.

There was a lengthy silence before he spoke, “Well, that clears something up. Now I know something I may not have accepted before … you’re an ALIEN!” She howled, head back, eyes closed, mouth wide open howled. Till she couldn’t anymore, till she couldn’t breathe, started gasping, grabbed her sides and rocked back and forth, wiped tears from her eyes, collapsed on the ground, and whimpered … then she caught her breathe and howled some more. After a few minutes she collected herself and stammered the words out. “That there, that very thing,” … gasp, sniff, snort …”has been the primary,” … she took a deep breath and fought off laughing again …”source of your problems.” She wiped her eyes, snickered, and almost lost it. “You been hanging out with Earth chicks!” Then she rolled on the ground and laughed some more.

He thought for a few seconds, decided she was right, and ed her.

BARTOK AND FEX DECIDED THEY WERE TOO HUNGRY TO CONTINUE THEIR conversation about Evie, Wayne, Earth, and Samali Amok, so Bartok whipped them up a quick breakfast. They sat, deep in thought, and ate in silence. Finished with coffee and contented sighs. Fex rebooted them into talk mode. “You sent Evie to be with Wayne, you want to explain that to me?” Bartok sighed, walked around the end of the sofa, sat, and motioned for Fex to him. “Wayne is a unique human,” he began. “He has a keen awareness and overview of Earth’s current dilemma. He is somewhat outside the mass delusion that controls the planet.” Fex leaned back on the couch and rubbed his stomach. “You reference, of course, the wide-spread pretense that all is well on Earth, and anyone who says different is discounted and censored.” “Exactly,” Bartok replied. “Their evolutionary tendency is to twist unpleasant facts so they are congruent with monetary profit.”

Fex nodded, and said, “Yeah, the very problem we have tried unsuccessfully to address since the Earth Experiment’s onset.” “Wayne agrees with everything we are saying.” Bartok crossed his legs and put his hand on his knees. “He is dissatisfied with his species, their priorities and choices, and … and this is the essence of it … he is uniquely situated in history to make a large positive impact on Earth’s future.” Fex mulled this over and sipped his coffee. “You’ve obviously done a probability assessment?” Bartok smiled, “Of course … and before you ask, it’s very strong.” “So, you arranged for him to go to Limbo for further education, and gave him my daughter as a mate and guide?” Fex asked. Bartok looked at his friend. “Yes. Alone his probability of making a positive difference is very high … but with Evie they make a formidable team. He had gotten himself in trouble, was in a jail cell with someone who might have killed him. So, I teleported him to Limbo.” Fex rose, walked to the window, and peered out with his back to Bartok. “He was in jail?” Bartok laughed. “It was nothing serious. He’d had a bad day, and got lippy with a cop … something exactly like you might do.” Fex looked at his friend and frowned. “And what is the probability they will be killed? And don’t tell me it hasn’t happened before!” Bartok nodded, and sighed. “We both know it has. As for the probability they will die … it depends.” “Shit, Bartok, of course it depends … but on what?” “On the form that Wayne Chisholm’s awareness takes.” Fex paced and clenched his fists. “Once again, of course, it always does.” “In his case,” Bartok said. “There are two futures that are most likely and

roughly even in probability.” He smoothed his tunic over his knees. “One of them involves extreme frustration, anger, and becoming the leader of a violent social revolution.” Fex stopped pacing, turned to Bartok. “That will fail.” Bartok nodded slowly, “And it would all but insure that Wayne and Evie would be assassinated.” “Yeah,” Fex said, through clinched teeth. “Violence always begets violence, if you pick up the sword, you die by it.” Bartok looked down, then back at Fex. “The other path leads Wayne to a highly enlightened and advanced form of awareness, which has a profound positive impact on the planet.” “And?” Fex asked, and waited. “If that occurs then the odds they both will die are cut by 35%. Evie’s death is all but eliminated.” “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first … we are friends.” Bartok smiled and crossed his legs. “Because the choice was not yours to make … it was Evie’s.” Fex dropped his eyes, and put his hands on the back of a chair. Bartok watched the drama play out on his face. Finally, Fex groaned, and looked at Bartok. “At this moment I am very displeased with you.” His voice was calm. “But I am also filled with respect and iration. Her life may be martyred because of you, but it may also be one of the most important ever lived. As a father, I hate you … but as a human being I applaud you. Well played Bartok … well played.” Bartok dropped his head and wiped some moisture from his eyes. “She’s just carrying on a family tradition,” he said. Fex nodded.

“Well played indeed.”

WAYNE HEARD THE MOTORCYCLE MINUTES BEFORE IT PULLED OFF THE highway into camp ground. He wasn’t surprised due to Riser’s advanced notice that someone was cruising in Limbo. He looked up from the fly he was tying, and watched as the rider rolled the big Harley to a stop, put down the kick stand, and stepped off. Wow, he’s a tall drink of water! The man took off his goggles, smoothed his hair back, and held up a gloved hand. “Howdy,” he said. “Man, that’s one primo pickup! What year is it?” Wayne nodded. “1932 Ford,” he said. The man circled the truck and shook his head in appreciation. “Real cherry,” he said. “Bet she’ll move right on down the road too.” “It does OK,” Wayne replied. “That’s a nice ride you got as well.” “Thank ya!” He walked toward Wayne, pulled off one glove, and stuck out his hand, “My name is Samali, what’s yours?” He shook it and noticed how big it was. “Wayne,” he said, and pointed at the campfire. “Got coffee, you want some?” Samali pulled off the other glove, grinned, laid the gloves on a rock, and sat on a log near the fire. “You bet,” he said. “That would hit the spot.” Both men turned toward the sound as Evie exited the restroom. Her hair was wet from the shower, and a towel was draped around her shoulders. She had on her usual, a western shirt over blue jeans. “We got company, I see,” she said. Wayne nodded. “This is Samali. We were gonna have some coffee.”

She stopped and her eyes narrowed. “Samali,” she said as her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t recognize you with all that hair.” “You two know each other?” Wayne asked. Samali rose from the log, looked at Evie, and waited. “We’ve met.” She looked at Wayne and clenched her jaw. “Great to see you, Evie,” Samali said. “Time hasn’t hurt your looks any.” Her eyes found Wayne’s. “Samali is from a planet called Satonia, Fex knows him better than I do.” Wayne scratched his head. “What brings you to our camp, other than renewing acquaintances with Evie? He poured three cups of coffee and ed them around. Samali took a sip and sat. “As Evie can tell you, part of my job is to be a liaison between my planet and Earth.” He crossed his long, rail thin legs, and drank more coffee. “In fact, Fex and I talked just a couple of days ago. His job is similar to mine.” Evie ran a comb through her hair, and sat across the fire ring from Samali. Put on some socks, slipped her feet into her boots, and watched Wayne take a seat near her. “Don’t get the idea that Fex and Samali are buddies. Our interests and priorities aren’t usually compatible.” A frown flitted across Wayne’s face. “Is that so?” Samali took the pot off the coals, and poured himself some more coffee. “There’s no doubt you are Fex’s daughter, always cautious and wary.” Evie combed her hair. “So Satonia has an interest in Earth too?” Wayne looked at Samali. “You can be dead certain a ‘that,” Evie said. Samali’s issued s low volume grunt. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Satonia is

interested in all the inhabited planets in this sector of the galaxy, just like Atlantia. It behooves us to work together for the common good. I’m nothing but a well-intentioned diplomat.” Evie rose, walked to the truck, and brought back a loaf of bread and some bacon. She buttered four slices, put them on the grill over the coals, and popped some bacon into a skillet. “Sorry you can’t us for breakfast, Samali. We wouldn’t want to keep you from the important diplomatic meetings you have to attend.” Wayne’s looked at her and then at Samali. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said, as he handed Wayne the cup. “You always were the perceptive one, Evie. Picked right up on me getting all fidgety and not wanting to appear rude.” He got his gloves, put on his goggles, walked to the bike, and straddled it. Pushed the start button and the exhaust pipes emitted a throaty gurgle. He turned in a slow half circle, and inched his way toward the highway. “It’s nice to have met you, Wayne. Bet our paths cross again.” He twisted the throttle, spun the rear tire on the shoulder, and roared away. “Evie?” Wayne raised his eyebrows, picked up the wash pan full of dirty cups and dishes, and walked toward the outside faucet at the bathroom.

“It’s a long story,” she sighed.

WHILE EVIE FRIED BACON IN LIMBO, THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS ON Atlantia was in the middle of its weekly meeting. As usual, it wasn’t going well. Lamen had just finished another of his how-long-we-going-to-put-up-with-Earth speeches, and loud voices of differing opinions were colliding in the middle of the room. The middle was a wide aisle that bisected the long, oval shaped, chamber. At one end it merged with the large door that provided entry for the delegates. On the other it terminated in a short flight of steps that led to the stage where the Chairman presided over the meetings. On each side were fifty desks and chairs for the duly elected representatives of the Atlantian populace. A gracefully

arched glass ceiling gave the room the shape of half of a uniform egg. It curved down to meet ten foot high walls that formed the circumference of the hall. They were ed in dark brown wood and the floor was flagstone. Bartok rose from his assigned desk, raised one hand, and clutched his tunic to his side with the other. “The chair recognizes the esteemed leader of the ProEarth faction,” the Chairman said, and pounded his gavel for silence. The room quieted. “Colleagues,” Bartok began. “You are aware I am not in agreement with my old friend, Lamen, especially in light of the new information I have to share with you.” Lamen jumped to his feet, one hand raised, finger pointed at the ceiling. “What is this? You introduce new data without the courtesy to let me know in advance?” Bartok bowed to Lamen with a flourish. “That appears to be the case. After our last visit I decided I would try talking to some people that might listen with an open mind.” “Mr. Chairman!” yelled Lamen. “I object.” “Delegate Lamen,” the Chairman interrupted. “Bartok has been given the floor, please let him continue.” Bartok turned to the Chairman. “I thank you sir.” Lamen uttered a loud scoff and sat, eyes rolled back in his head. Bartok slowly turned, let his eyes scan the room, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, there is news from Limbo. Significant enough that I have spent the last several days conducting an exhaustive probability assessment. I think you will find the results interesting.” A murmur went through the chamber, several delegates stood, while others responded with loud boos. “Bartok,” one of the female delegates said. “I thought we agreed that due to excessive expense no more probability analyses would be conducted.”

“Madam Angelica,” Bartok said. “You are correct. We agreed that no more would be done at government expense. I paid for this one myself.” The murmur in the chamber grew louder, and there was scattered applause from some of the delegates. “ORDER,” the Chairman pounded his gavel harder. “The news I bring is that meaningful,” Bartok said, when order was restored. “There is an Earthling in Limbo that has a received a higher positive probability rating than we obtained before the Ultimate Sacrifice Initiative … 15% higher in fact … when the presence of his current Limbo guide is included in the calculations.” The uproar in the chamber could not be stopped by the chairman’s gavel this time. Lamen, and most of his party, were screaming at the top of their lungs … so much so that they won the floor based on sheer volume. “This cannot stand!” Lamen said as he went to the front of the room. “The presence of an Earthling in Limbo was not approved by this assembly. Bartok, this time you have gone too far. I move that we begin impeachment proceedings!” The assembly hushed immediately. Impeachment was not a word any of them had heard before. Bartok cleared his throat. “May I continue?” “What can you say that will change the fact you have broken the rules most grievously?” Lamen asked. Bartok smiled, and said. “If I am not mistaken, the rules state that if the Limbo Assignment Committee votes unanimously on a candidate, it does not require a vote by the entire delegation. Is that correct Delegate Lamen?” Lamen’s eyes bulged, his mouth sputtered, and his fists clenched. “But that did not happen,” he said. “It couldn’t, there are four of my party on that committee.” “Indeed,” Bartok said. “Do you want to ask them how they voted in the matter of Wayne Chisholm?”

Lamen whirled and found the faces of the four delegates in question. One by one they lowered their eyes. “This is not possible,” Lamen screamed. “What did you do, promise you wouldn’t kill their children?” “I suggest you take that up with them,” Bartok said. “For now, I will present the probability assessment that I paid for on the man that was approved by the committee.” The chairman’s gavel rang through the room. “Please proceed, Bartok.” “I will not suffer this transgression of justice and decorum.” Lamen gathered his tunic around him. “Anyone in my party who agrees should exit with me now. He stormed from the room. Slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, five others rose and followed him. Bartok triggered the computer control at his chair and a probability graph flashed on the large screen on the podium. The chamber quieted, eyes turned, and gasps echoed around the room. “The red line is the Ultimate Sacrifice Initiative figures, the orange line is Wayne Chisholm acting on his own, and the green line is Wayne Chisholm acting in concert with Evie as his guide and mate.” Bartok sat, gave them time, and then quietly said, “I leave it to your good judgment, my friends. Never have we seen anything like this opportunity. When we convene next week I will be most happy to answer any questions you have about this unique moment in history. I will say only this, if we let it elude us, it may not our way again.” He rose and left the chamber.

An hour later many of the delegates were still studying the data.

SAMALI WAS STILL UPSET AT EVIE’S TREATMENT AS HE SAT IN THE comfort of his spacecraft mulling things over. He needed to devise some sort of strategy to discredit her or there was little chance of influencing Wayne. As he

thought, the Limbo Buzzard that had flown over him a few days before stirred a distant memory of when he was first preparing for his mission to Earth. What do I reading about them? He logged onto the ship’s computer, opened the Earth Primer file, and typed limbo buzzard into the search mechanism. The computer hummed for a few seconds, and the information appeared on the screen.

Limbo Buzzard

Typical of all varieties of this species, survival is their only priority. They can be useful allies if they believe it will increase their chances. They are adept at putting their prey into trances, and should treated with extreme caution. They can mind-speak fluently.

Just what the doctor ordered. I best go find me a bird! It took him most of the afternoon cruising on the Harley before he spotted him soaring high above on a thermal. He got off the bike and waved his arms to get the bird’s attention. Finally succeeded, and was rewarded when it tipped up one wing, dropped 1000 feet, and flew directly over him. “Need to talk,” Samali projected. “I got a deal for ya.” The bird circled, set his wings, and landed twenty five yards away. “Take off your stun gun,” he said. Samali shook his head and replied, “It stays on my belt, but snapped in the case. You don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you.” “We can see how it goes,” the bird said. “I’m Samali Amok, who are you?”

The buzzard blinked and took a step forward. “I know who you are, and what you do here. My name is Buzz.” Samali sat on the bike, feet on the ground on either side. “And what is it you think I do?” “You try and secure Earth, and all that it is, for Satonia.” Buzz hopped toward Samali and ruffled his feathers. “Good,” Samali said. “We are on the verge of some big changes here … becoming the new owners of the plantation you might say.” Buzz extended his long neck and canted his head to one side. “You don’t say?” Samali put one foot on the bike’s seat, and pulled his goggles back on his forehead. “Yeah, it’s a done deal except for a couple of trouble makers.” “And they would be?” He extended one wing and smoothed down some feathers with his foot. “Wayne Chisholm and Evie, I need to get them out of the way.” Buzz extended his long neck toward Samali. “This would be of interest to me because?” “We’re gonna get along just fine,” Samali said, and slapped his knee. “It would be to your advantage for Satonia to come out on top.” “Why?” “Because we make deals with buzzards,” Samali said. “You help me with Evie, and when we’re in charge, you’ll be on easy street. Satonians don’t forget favors.” Buzz bobbed his head several times, extended his wings, and brought them back to his sides. “Define easy street.” Samali got off the Harley, put both feet together on the road, and leaned back against the seat. “For starters, no one will be shooting at you, because buzzards will be named the official bird of the new Earth. Second, you’ll have plenty to

eat, because when we take over there’s gonna have to be some thinning done … if you get my drift.” Buzz hopped closer, and said, “And what must I accomplish with this Evie person?” “Convince her to side with us, become the Queen of this place, instead of being assassinated.” “That may not be so easy,” Buzz said. “Use your ability to cast trances and spells, hell, she’s just a woman,” Samali said. “Surely she’s no match for you.” Buzz fixed Samali in the crosshairs of his eyes, stared at him hard for a few seconds. “And I can assume you are good to your word … yes?” Samali’s hand went to the side of his head and he gasped. “Damnation, what did you just do?” He rubbed his eyes. “Man, you are good, you had me goin’!” Buzz waited. “And, yeah,” Samali said. “My word is good. You turn her and Earth is your banquet hall. But, I suggest you do it when Wayne isn’t around.” Buzz paced for several minutes, a mixture of walking and hopping, and pointed a wing tip at Samali. “You have a deal.” “Excellent,” said Samali.

They talked thirty more minutes about the details.

FEX WAS SITTING BY THE FIRE RING WHEN WAYNE AND EVIE RETURNED to camp from a trout fishing junket. He had a glass of rye in his hand and his feet propped up on the trunk of a Pine. It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the west, with enough light left for two hours of evening.

A’Sha’Nah was curled up beside Fex getting his ears scratched and sighing. Riser spied the string of trout at Wayne’s side and swooped down from the roof of the restroom with a gleam in his eyes. Wayne stopped, sized up the situation, and turned to Evie ten yards behind him. “Look at this welcoming committee, Evie. We must have done something bad and they’ve come to set us right.” Evie smiled, nodded, and said, “I believe dear ole Dad is here because of something I did … Howdy, Fex.” A’Sha’Nah ran to them and licked a greeting on their hands. Fex rose and gave Evie a bear hug, and punched Wayne on the shoulder. Riser hopped over and counted the trout. “Good going, Wayne,” he said. “You got plenty for all of us.” Wayne turned to Evie. “Told you I had a feeling we should keep a bunch.” “I yield to your superior psychic abilities,” she said, and bowed in his direction. Wayne took two twelve inch fish from the stringer and gave one each to Riser and A’Sha’Nah. Riser flew to his roof top perch, held the fish in the talons of one foot, and stripped flesh from one side with his beak. “Thanks, Wayne,” he said, and munched contentedly. A’Sha’Nah was already finished. “Now you know why they call it wolfing it down.” Wayne went to the outside wall of the restroom, turned on the hose, and cleaned the remaining fish, except for two to add to Riser and A’Sha’Nah’s dinner. Evie peeled potatoes, diced onions, and heated two skillets of oil. In minutes the aroma of food cooking filled the air. Beers were opened, the bottle of rye was ed, the sun sank lower, Riser and A’Sha’Nah enjoyed their second trout, Fex hugged Evie again, and Wayne soaked it all in. There are times, despite the trials of being mortal, when you wouldn’t undo it.

Wayne was learning about those, times when love was strong, and fear tucked its tail and slunk away. When it was worth being alive, even though you knew you’d pay for it later. It was one of those evenings.

Yowsir.

The sun slipped below the skyline-to-the-west and painted the sky gold … then yellow … then orange … followed by pink turning to violet … then purple to gray with a slow fade to black, complete with a lump in the throat.

And a wow.

Riser and A’Sha’Nah tried not to, but fell asleep anyway. Wayne drank too much rye, and ed them a bit later. Evie took advantage of the situation and had a talk with Fex that no one else needed to hear.

It was no one’s business.

EVIE WAS SPENDING THE DAY ALONE WHILE WAYNE AND A’SHA’NAH hiked to a high mountain lake that Riser told them was full of Rainbows up to six pounds. That was all Wayne needed to hear. They’d left that morning and said they’d be back before dark. Riser went to show them the trail, but would return soon. She decided not to go, needed the time alone to think. She’d been happy to see Fex, but his visit had been disconcerting … especially the part about him not being able to return to Limbo for a while. The Council of Elders believed he couldn’t be objective and might influence the course of events in unpredictable ways. So, he’d come to say goodbye, and to go over the ramifications of what she had chosen. In the end, after they had thoroughly reviewed the historical journey of Earth and Atlantia’s influence, she looked him in the eyes and said she had to see it through. He sighed, and said, “I know you do. It has always been a probable part of your destiny. Like Bartok said, you’re just carrying on a family tradition.” She gasped. “He said that?” Fex nodded. “The women in your lineage, Evie … think about it.” So, she’d spend the day in thought. Have I been genetically and culturally programmed for this? Is that why I’m so attracted to Earth? To Wayne? She sighed and sat under one of the largest Pines at the edge of the camp ground.

Closed her eyes, and put her head against the trunk. Could smell the rich aroma of its resin as she took in the morning sky through a lacework of pine needles. A light breeze stirred her hair, and the pink glow of the sunrise began to fade. Atlantia could use trees like these. She spent a few minutes relaxing before an unknown voice whispered in her mind. “Hi, Evie,” it said, pleasant … inviting. “Believe it’s time we met.” Her eyes opened quickly and darted toward the source. She shrank back when she saw the Limbo Buzzard three feet away, gazing at her with yellow eyes that had strange green crosshairs in them. “How did you get so close without me hearing you?” She said, as she rose and placed her back against the tree. “What do you want?” Chills ran up and down her spine, goose bumps formed on her forearms, and her stomach flipped on an alarm switch. The bird canted his head to the side. “Sorry, quiet approaches are part of my nature, can’t seem to help it no matter how hard I try. My wings just refuse to make noise,” he mind-spoke as he hopped to where he was directly in front of her. “As for why I am here, I have come to be of assistance. I am concerned for your safety.” She stood, felt the bark press into her back, and waited. His stench invaded her nose and she put the back of one hand over it. “My name is Buzz; feel free to call me that.” His mind-voice was soft, gentle, had a lulling quality to it, invited her to stop thinking and just listen. She shook her head. What the hell is going on? “We don’t know each other,” she forced herself to say. “Why would you be concerned about me?” “Evie,” he said his eyes wider and the green crosshairs thicker. “All of us in Limbo know about you, your lineage, and importance. We’ve been waiting for you. Why do you think I flew over right after you arrived to pick up Wayne? I

sensed your presence from miles away.” Her eyes felt heavy, her body flooded with relaxation, and she wanted to sit down. She fought it and tore her eyes from his. “And why would I need your help?” She asked, and looked up through the tree branches. Then her eyes drifted back to his, she couldn’t help herself. He stretched his neck and raised his head higher. “Big changes are coming to Earth,” he said. “Really big, and they will be dangerous for those that oppose them.” His voice dropped lower, taking her down with it. “You are destined to be part of those changes. It would be tragic if you died, or were forced to leave Earth, because you made the wrong choices.” She shook her head harder, tried to clear the cobwebs that were forming inside it. “Uh … where did you get this information?” He spread his wings to their full extent. “I am a buzzard,” he said. “We are tuned to survival issues, we can read the signs. Change is coming … trust me … trust me … trust me.” Her eyes slowly closed and her head nodded forward onto her chest. “Yes,” he said. “Trust me, and …” There was a sudden vibration in the air. Evie jerked to attention in time to see Riser set his wings and land a few yards away in a spray of pine needles and dust. She rubbed her eyes. What just happened? “Buzz,” Riser said. “Use your wings and go. Evie is in my care and to get to her you have to come through A’Sha’Nah and me.” “Well,” Buzz crooned. “If it isn’t old Riser. You misunderstand, I mean her no harm, I only intend …” Riser flared his wings. “Save it. I am not susceptible to your trances and have known you too long. Fly or fight. Make your choice.” “Violence is never the answer,” Buzz intoned. “But it doesn’t surprise me that

you think it is.” He turned to Evie. “I will see you again. Carefully consider what I impressed into your mind. Your life depends on it.” He took several running steps, rose silently into the sky, and was out of sight behind the trees in seconds. Evie slid down the tree, sat, and held her head. “God bless you, Riser!” He came to her side and touched her on the knee with a talon. “He is very dangerous,” he said. “He can cast spells. That’s how his kind lulls prey into giving up. He will side with anyone or anything if it enhances his survival.” She shook her head and rubbed her temples. “Lordie,” she said. “Never experienced anything like that. Can it be stopped?” “Yes, but you have to love and trust yourself,” Riser said. “He preys on the weak.” She turned and looked at Riser. “I never thought of myself as weak.” “You aren’t, now that you know, now that he can’t take you off guard.” She leaned over and kissed Riser on the top of his head. “You are as good a friend as I’ve ever had.” He hopped a small circle. “My word,” he said. “He’ll be back, won’t he?” “Without doubt,” Riser nodded.

“I’ll be ready.”

EVIE WAS GLAD TO SEE WAYNE AND A’SHA’NAH COME OUT OF THE trees. She’d been edgy since her encounter with Buzz, and welcomed the company. The sun was low in the west, and an hour of daylight remained. She had wild greens that she’d found ready for the fire. Wayne had assured her that he and A’Sha’Nah would supply the meat.

There was a huge smile on Wayne’s face. The only thing larger was the 26-inch Rainbow he held in front of him. “Wow,” she said. “What a magnificent fish!” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and stepped back. “We kept one more for Riser, A’Sha’Nah already polished his off.” He pulled a smaller three pounder out of his pack. “God, Evie, what a day … Limbo may just be heaven.” She gave him a hug and held him a longer than usual. “I’m glad you’re back.” He looked at her and his eyes narrowed. “You Ok?” “That’s a conversation for later. Filet the fish, and I’ll call Riser. There’s cold beer in the cooler.” “Evie …?” She smiled. “After dinner … really.” A’Sha’Nah curled up under his favorite Pine and sighed. “Damn fine day, Wayne.” Wayne walked to the restroom and fileted the trout under a faucet. Evie went to the tree line and gave a piercing whistle. In a matter of seconds Riser dropped into the camp site. Wayne held up the trout. “You hungry, buddy?” Riser enthusiastically hopped to Wayne. “He’s earned his dinner,” Evie said. “Feed him well.” Wayne smiled as Riser took the trout and flew to the upper reaches of a craggy pine to eat it. Wayne ambled to the fire ring. Put the two trout-orange filets in the skillet, went to the cooler and popped the caps on two beers. Handed one to Evie, and plopped down wearily on a stump. “Long hike?” She asked.

“Yeah, but worth every mile.” He tipped his head back and took a long guzzle of beer. She grinned. “I love seeing you so happy.” “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and raised his beer in toast.

She returned it, and they waited on the fish to fry.

The fire died down into a beautiful bed of coals, glowing gold, yellow and orange. They sighed and watched the last few minutes of daylight fade. A’Sha’Nah snored beneath his tree, and Riser was high on a Pine perch. Wayne lay on his sleeping bag, elbow on the ground, head in his hand. “Ok,” he said. “Tell me about your day.” She lay on the ground, propped her head on his thigh, and took a drink of bottled water. “First time I’ve been really scared in a long time,” she said. He stopped his glass halfway to his mouth, and lowered it. “What?” She put her hand on his leg. “I had a visitor,” she said. “I need you to listen and stay calm. Don’t go all caveman, Ok?” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I’ll do my best.” She nestled her head into his thigh. “The Limbo Buzzard dropped in to see me,” she said, her voice calm and matterof-fact. “He’s an interesting guy.” Wayne forced himself to sit still, and censored the first five things that entered his mind. He put his fingers into her hair and rubbed her scalp. “And what, pray tell, did he want?” She sputtered, couldn’t help it, and laughed, “God, how hard that must have been for you.” He gave a snort. “You have no idea.” She sighed, starting deep and letting the breath come up slowly. “Before I tell you the rest, there’s something I need you to hear.” “Ok,” he said, and massaged her head. “We’ve got some rough road ahead. We’ve got to act as a team with no doubts.” He paused, raised his hand, and scratched his head. “Got no trouble believing

that’s true.” “We got to be in the same boat or we’ll sink like a stone.” “Holy crap,” he said. “You mean 100%?” “Yeah, or as close as possible.” He went inside, was quiet for a few moments. “Damn, Evie,” he said. “It ain’t about you … it’s about me, about my ability to trust. Made myself a promise after my marriage that I wouldn’t be fooled again.” She sat, put her hand under his chin, and turned it so they were eye-to-eye. “Listen,” she whispered. “This thing we’re involved in is dangerous. If we can’t count on each other we could die.” “Now you’re scaring me.” He shifted his position, took a sip of rye, and chased it with water. “You need to be. We’re dealing with something big here.” She released his chin and sighed. “If you wanted to play in the minor leagues, you shouldn’t have gotten involved with me.” A half-moon rose over the trees, a shooting star blazed a brief trail, and time stopped for Wayne. It was put up or shut up time, stand and be counted, or check it in. “Well,” he said finally. “I’ve had most of my problems with Earth chicks … and you aren’t one, are you?” She laughed, and said, “Nope.” “I won’t lie to you, been too burned, can’t promise one hundred percent … don’t think anyone can. Will do what I can, it’s all I got.” He rose; picked up the paper plates they’d used for dinner, and dropped them into a garbage bag. She put her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, and thought for a few moments. “If I’m honest, I been hurt too,” she said, and stopped to take a deep breath. “It’s hard to trust after that happens.” She paused. “The Limbo Buzzard offered me Queen ship of the Earth,” her voice was low and calm. “He put pictures in my mind. I could see myself on a throne, every knee bowed … the Earth, all of it, mine.”

Wayne gasped. “He told me they would obey me and the Earth could fulfill its destiny.” “What the heck?” he picked up a pine cone and threw it into the dark. “He can cast trances, Wayne. He wanted me to forget who I am … if it wasn’t for Riser …” Wayne sighed, walked to her side, and put his arm around her. They sat and watched the moon climb in the night sky. Saw three more shooting stars. “When you gonna start writing all this down?” she asked. He found her eyes. “I started yesterday.”

“Good.”

THE RIGHT REVEREND TATUM HAD WORKED HIMSELF INTO QUITE A state since Samali’s visit. He’d had nothing but water, had on his coarsest pair of burlap underwear, and read the Bible and prayed 18 hours a day. Of course, he’d lost ten pounds, was in a low blood sugar fog, and more irrational than ever. He was on his front porch reading from the Book of Revelations about the last days and false prophets when he heard Samali’s Harley. Like most folks that read the Bible, the warnings were about everyone but him … after all, he was saved. He put the book down and stood. Got light-headed, and waited for it to . The Holy Spirit felt like that sometimes. Samali parked the bike, put down the kick stand, and came up the path to the porch. “Howdy, Reverend Jack,” he said, and pulled off his gloves. “Right fine mornin’, ain’t it?” He stepped onto the porch and looked at Tatum with wide eyes. “Geez, Rev, you Ok? You don’t look so good.” Tatum grasped one of the porch posts to steady himself. “This is what a man of God looks like,” he said, as his body swayed from side to side.

“Darn,” said Samali. “I would have guessed you were dyin’ from something terrible.” “I’ve been fasting and praying,” Tatum said. “I will not let you and your people down.” Samali sat in the rocking chair and smoothed back his unruly mane of hair. “I’d say that you’ve prepared enough, time to start eatin’ again.” He motioned for Tatum to sit down for fear he would faint. Tatum plopped into the chair. “We got lots of work to do, and God needs you strong,” Samali said. “Spiritual strength is more important,” Tatum said. “The body and its desires are of the devil.” Samali rocked in the chair. “But the body is also the soul’s temple. , you told me that just a few days ago?” Tatum blinked, and his eyes spun in their sockets. Samali stood, and said, “You got any orange juice? I could use some, let me get us both a glass, and we’ll talk about Gods’ work some more.” Tatum nodded, and pointed toward the house. “First door on the left.” Samali found the juice, poured two generous portions, and brought them back. “Bottoms up, Rev! It’s time for the army of Christ to refuel.” Tatum took a small sip, smacked his lips, and downed the rest. He looked at the empty glass, then at Samali. “You may be right, I needed that.” Samali sat, drank his orange juice, and waited. Within minutes Tatum’s eyes cleared, and he shook his head. “God sent you, Samali,” he said, hand on the Bible. “To let me know preparation is over, and it’s time for action.” “Amen,” Samali said. “Amen and hallelujah!” Tatum stood. “Let’s adjourn to the kitchen. I’ll fix us some eggs, potatoes, and

bacon while we visit.” Samali stood and danced a little jig. “Now yer talkin’, Rev! Praise the Lord!”

Tatum finished throwing up the third time, and groaned into the toilet bowl. Raised his head, wiped his face with a damp cloth, and made his uncertain way back into the living room. “Guess I ate too much too fast,” he said. “Yeah,” said Samali. “I tried to stop you but you wouldn’t listen.” “God speaks in mysterious ways,” Tatum said, and sat. “Yeah, sometimes downright sickening ones,” Samali replied. “But you look better than you did.” Tatum leaned back on the sofa and sighed. “I’m feeling stronger by the minute.” Samali sat on the arm of an easy chair, hands on his knees. “We got a problem. Evie is bein’ a might difficult, and where Evie goes Wayne is sure to follow.” Tatum snorted, and wiped a bit of egg off his lap. “I’d expect nothing less from the harlot. What can I do?” Samali leaned forward. “Leave the woman to me; I need you to take care of Wayne.” “Gladly,” Tatum belched loudly. “Lordie, excuse me.” Samali ignored it and continued. “The plan for Wayne is a bit devious so I need to be certain you understand.” Tatum sat tall, a confident look in his eyes. “You need me to cast a demon out of him.” “No,” Samali almost rolled his eyes but managed to stop himself. “That won’t be necessary. What I need is for you to tell him he has been chosen by God, and that God told you to tell him so.” Tatum’s mouth dropped open, moved but no words came out. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his Bible, looked at Samali, raised the book above his head … and belched again.

“Now, Reverend.” Samali took advantage of the opening. “Hear me out before you get all worked up.” “But, but …” “I know,” said Samali. “But you’re the one that taught me God works in mysterious ways.” The hand with the Bible came down to Tatum’s side, and his eyes glazed over. “But, I …” Samali motioned for him to sit. “Just listen.” Tatum plopped into a chair, his body a living, and so confused, question mark. Samali leaned in close. “Has Wayne shown any inclination to listen to what you’ve had to tell him?” Tatum’s eyes rolled and his brow furrowed. “Uh, well … er, no, I guess he hasn’t.” “He resists everything you say?” “Of course he does,” Tatum said. “Because I speak for God … and he …” Samali held his hand up and Tatum’s words sputtered to a halt. “Here’s the deal,” Samali said, “we use that instead of fighting it.” Tatum swallowed deeply and coughed. “You want me to tell him he is chosen by God?” Samali sat back and crossed his legs. “I knew you’d understand. He can’t do what you tell him, don’t ya see? He has to resist you … so, if you think he’s chosen …” Tatum’s eyes flew open. “My word, he won’t know what to make of that! It’d be like telling old Satan he’s on God’s side.” Samali threw open his arms. “In mysterious ways indeed.”

“Amen,” said Tatum. “Amen.”

THE MAN ON SATONIA APPROACHED THE CONTROL BOARD OF THE computerized gun range and fed in the data for Earth. Within seconds he felt the pull of increased gravity take effect, and gave himself a few minutes to adjust. It used to take him longer, but after years of being Satonia’s most decorated sniper, he had skills others did not. Rapid adaptation to a variety of planet conditions was one of them. He looked down range, and keyed in precise physical descriptions for Wayne and Evie. The green light on the computer blinked three times, and two metal silhouettes popped up 500 yards away. They were exact duplicates of Wayne and Evie, solid black except for two explosive red sections; one for the brain and the other for the heart. He nodded with satisfaction and went to the gunroom. Row after row of weapons were neatly stored representing a variety of planets. He walked to the section labeled Earth, and went down the selection of rifles until he came to a small sign that said, ‘Weatherby 300 Magnum’. He touched the beautiful hand checkering on its walnut stock, and looked at the 3-9 power Leupold scope that was mounted above the bolt action. Fatali Morta was old fashioned. He used weapons that had been developed on the planet where he was to make his kill. He was particularly fond of Earth in this regard. Earthlings knew how to make rifles, he’d give them that. They were loud, primitive, explosive, and bloody … all characteristics that appealed to him. There was nothing in his experience that could match the thrill of a perfectly placed head shot, the speed and force of the bullet magnified by the skeletal enclosure of the brain, exponentially multiplying the energy, and spewing gray matter, blood, and bone out of the exit wound. It was instant death, one shot and done, red mist and all. He took the Weatherby out of the rack, walked to the shooting bench, and laid it on the table. He checked the range log to see if had been used since his last Earth assignment and was delighted to see it had not. It should still be dead zero at 300 yards. But being the professional he was, he opened the action and slipped in the laser sight cartridge, and closed the bolt. He placed the forward portion of the

stock on a sand bag, and pulled the butt piece into his shoulder. Closed his left eye, peered through the scope with his right, and centered the cross hairs on a target 300 yards away. He smiled. The red laser beam being projected through bore of the rifle had produced a dot on the target that was exactly the same place the cross hairs rested. Outstanding. He checked his ballistic log, found the 300 Weatherby data for a 165 grain Barnes TSX bullet. 3330 feet per second muzzle velocity and still 2605 feet per second at 300 yards. The gun would shoot 2.9 inches high at 100 yards, 3.6 inches high at 200, and be dead on at 300. At 400 yards it would be 8.8 inches low, and at 500 only 23.7 inches low. A very flat shooting cartridge indeed. He inserted a live round, and closed the bolt. Clicked a 24 inch elevation adjustment into the scope for 500 yards, and put the cross hairs on metalWayne’s head. Took two deep cleansing inhalations and held his breath. Concentrated on his heartbeat, counted three of them, and squeezed the trigger before the fourth. His sight picture was perfect when the gun went off, pushed the butt plate hard into his shoulder, and jerked his field of view off the target. He repositioned the gun and looked through the scope. Metal Wayne no longer had a brain. Outstanding. Moments later, Metal Evie either. Within seconds, neither of them had hearts. He called his employer, and said he was ready.

“Outstanding,” his employer said.

WAYNE HAD ALWAYS WONDERED WHAT IT FELT LIKE TO BE A WOLF, HAD been intrigued by them, captivated and entranced. So, one can only imagine what it meant to him to be able to mind-speak with A’Sha’Nah. Well, then again, maybe one can’t. People that believe the only good wolf is a dead one can’t imagine at all. Years before, when he was much younger, Wayne had made the acquaintance of a guy who trained animals for movies and commercials. He’d seen him drive into a small town in Oregon in a topless Jeep, with a coyote in the enger seat, and a Bald Eagle on the roll bar. The guy parked, got out and went into a store, and both creatures stayed exactly where they were. It got Wayne’s attention big time, so he waited till the guy came back.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Who are you?” He pointed to the coyote and eagle, put his hands in front of him palms up, and begged with his eyes. “An animal trainer,” the guy said. “I believe you,” said Wayne. “You got a wolf?” The guy’s eyes narrowed, he thought for a few seconds, and said, “Nope, I got two of em.” “Can I meet them?” Wayne asked. “Why?” “Cause if it’s possible I have to.” The guy got in the Jeep and thought longer this time. He petted the coyote while he did. Wayne held his breath. “I live thirty miles west.” He pushed his hat back on his head and looked up. “I feed the wolves at 5:00 p.m. and the sign out front says ‘Animal Actors Ranch’. If you’re serious, come out and help me feed. Can’t promise anything, it’ll be up to them. Probably take about seven days to know. If they accept you, I’ll let you go in with them. If not, no dice.” Wayne was there at 5:00 sharp the next five evenings. They were Alaskan Timber Wolves. Big ones, a male and a female. On the sixth visit, the guy told Wayne he could go in with the female, but not the male. He’d put the male in another enclosure. The pens weren’t small, and averaged an acre. She was on the far side, watching in a classic wolf stance, quartering to them, feet evenly spaced, head low, tail high, and yellow unblinking eyes that were glued on Wayne. They stood by the gate and watched a few minutes. She didn’t move. “Open the gate and go in,” the guy said. “Stop once you’re inside, let her have some time. She’ll decide. She knows who you are since you’ve been feeding her. Whatever you do, don’t show fear, but don’t show aggression either.”

He stepped back and pointed to the gate. “You sure you want to do this?” Wayne looked him in the eyes, and said, “Absofrickinlutely.” The guy backed up further and waited. Wayne opened the gate, shut it behind him, and walked five paces. Stopped and knelt on his knees facing her. Opened both arms wide, and waited. She didn’t move except to lower her head more, and look at him harder. Gray and white coat, 125 pounds of she-wolf, 200 yards away. He waited heart in his throat. And waited some more. “Stay with it,” the guy said. “She’s thinking.” After three minutes her head came up, tail went to half-mast, and she went into a lope … right at him. “Don’t move,” the guy said. She closed the 200 yards quickly. Wayne watched her come, ready to accept whatever happened. Jesus, oh lord above, I’m about to meet a wolf! She didn’t stop till she was three feet away, eye-to-eye, ears up, mouth slightly open, and panting. Took a big step forward and licked him from his chin to his forehead. “I will be double-dogged damned,” the guy said, as he turned toward his house. “Have a good visit, let her call the shots.” One hour later Wayne left the pen. It had been the greatest experience of his life.

By far.

A’Sha’Nah felt this in Wayne from the moment of their first meeting, like the waves feel the shore, like Pines feel the wind, like the river knows the canyon and the runner feels the trail. Like brothers that have each other’s back. Wayne felt it too. It was understood. A’Sha’Nah he trusted. Completely. Love, that deep, has an equally intense pain as a potential companion.

Damn.

BACK ON ATLANTIA, LAMEN HAD GROWN INCREASINGLY WORRIED AND discontent. The new probability data on Wayne was having a strong influence on the delegates. Several of his party believed it was worth seeing through and had put their anti-Earth Experiment votes on hold. He didn’t care what the tables indicated. Science wasn’t all that reliable anyway. Quantum leaps, probability waves, and alternate universes … he was starting to believe it was a con perpetrated by people with hidden agendas. The Earthlings could blow themselves to bits for all he cared. He wished they would, and then he’d never have to hear the subject debated again. He slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and wished himself calm. Wouldn’t be a good idea for Delegate Angelica to open her door to a huffing and puffing wild man, now would it? He stood on her front porch and collected his thoughts, shook the wrinkles out of his tunic, and knocked on the door. Ten seconds later she opened it, and motioned him in with a sweep of her arm. “Good day, Lamen, have a seat in the living room. Could I offer you some refreshments, a soft drink perhaps … or,” her eye brows arched slightly, “should we be a wicked and have something stronger?” She stood in the kitchen doorway half facing him. Lamen selected one of the reclining chairs that were on either side of a red sofa, and sat. “Something stronger by all means, perhaps it will take the edge of off my concerns.” “What is your pleasure?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have, ah, no, that would be too much to ask …” She turned toward him, her floor length full skirt rippling and shimmering with the motion. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, long hair to the middle of her back, green eyes most of the time, and full-figured to say the least. Not a petite woman, except in the right places. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I don’t have the best stocked bar on Atlantia, but you are welcome to what I have.” He smiled, and shifted in the chair. “I am overly fond of Earthian single-malt scotch, one cube of ice if you have it.” “I’ll fix two of those, and be right back.” She disappeared through the door and he could hear ice tinkling. He glanced around the spacious room and nodded his appreciation. It was painted in light beige and yellow with tasteful original landscapes of Atlantia adorning the walls. High ceilings and a wall of windows that provided a panoramic view of a small lake added to the ambience. She returned and handed him a highball glass with the likeness of a bull elk’s head on it, and sat on a long sofa. He looked at it appreciatively. “Dalmore,” he said. “You have outdone yourself, Angelica.” “Glad you approve, here’s to good scotch and conversation.” She raised her glass. “Hear, hear,” he took a generous sip. “My, but that’s nice.” She settled back on the sofa. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. I have been assuming it pertains to the Earth question.” He leaned forward in the chair. “Until we can settle that issue, Atlantia stands to lose,” he said. “It must be decided one way or the other.” “But that’s the crux of it, Lamen,” she said, and twirled the scotch in her glass. “Which way?”

“Yes, quite,” he set his glass on an end table and crossed his legs. “I know you have been having an inner struggle, and wondered if I could help solve the dilemma.” Her eyes narrowed. “By telling me how I should vote?” He scoffed, and shook his head no. “Of course not, I would never presume to do that.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I was just curious which way you are leaning? You’ve been closed mouthed about it.” “I will it to being very torn,” she said. “The results on Earth have not been encouraging, disappointing even, but at the same time it’s not as if we aren’t vested in the outcome. We’re not talking about Satonia, the Earth is special.” “I agree,” he said, and took a sip of scotch. “But we’ve tried to do the right thing by them for many years.” He held up the scotch and waited until she looked at it. “How many years would we try and distill something this fine, if year after year it tasted like shit? At what point would we abandon the distillery?” She looked at him with wide eyes. “Lamen, I’ve never heard you speak like that!” “I apologize, but that lets you know how strongly I feel. It makes no sense to continue when failure is assured.” “But the probability data on Wayne Chisholm …” “Angelica, how many times have we heard that?” She studied her glass. “Many, I will give you that.” “And what has been the outcome?” “The Earth continues to be problematic.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The foot on his crossed leg bobbed up and down. “Perhaps, if we withdrew our and intervention, they would realize its sink or swim. Why should they improve, if we keep bailing them out?”

“Do you really believe that?” She sipped her scotch and raised her eyebrows. “I think it’s likely they are children that won’t grow up until it is required.” She was silent for a few moments and looked at the ceiling. “But, the trick with children is to know when they are capable of standing on their own. Evolutionarily they are still very young.” “We cannot be mother to the entire galaxy, Angelica,” he said, as he stood and paced in front of her. “Let’s say I decided to agree,” she found his eyes as he turned toward her. “What would that involve?” He stood for several moments studying her face. “We need to make certain the Earth Experiment ceases, no matter what the cost. We have to put the best interests of Atlantia first.” “Even if the Council votes in favor of continuing?” Lamen lowered his voice to a whisper. “As dire as that sounds, my answer is yes. Someone has to do the right thing, the patriotic thing.” He skirted the coffee table and sat beside her on the sofa. “I wanted to talk to you because I believe you may be that kind of patriot.” She looked down, her brow furrowed, and she swirled the liquid in her drink yet again. “And how far would we go in the direction of no-matter-what-the-cost?” she asked, and raised her eyes. “Should one or two people put the future of Atlantia in jeopardy?” He asked. “Lives have been spent for this cause in the past, and may have to be again.” “That is dire indeed,” she said. “We will fervently hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said. “But if it should, I trust you will understand. I would welcome your .”

“I will think on it, and let you know,” she said.

FATALI MORTA WAS FRUSTRATED. HE WAS READY FOR ASSIGNMENT, BUT as yet the order had not come. He hated biding time. It seemed to him that his job involved more waiting than acting … for reasons that were invariably ridiculous. He was ready more than ready, and he needed the money the hit would bring. He could stand it no longer, so despite instructions he called his employer on the relatively secure line he’d paid a fortune to acquire. It took several minutes before the voice came through. “I thought I told you not to call,” the employer said, irritation etched in every syllable. “It was necessary. I have been offered another assignment, a more lucrative one I might add. I need to know the status of our agreement,” he said, lying in an attempt to apply pressure. There was a ten second pause. “You are under contract, you can’t break our agreement. I doubt that would be good for your professional reputation if the word got out … and it would.”

“Cool your jets,” Fatali countered. “This call is proof I am a professional, but I can ill afford to turn down a firm offer if you are undecided.” “How much do you need to tide you over? I want you to remain on standby.” Fatali smiled. He could hear the desperateness etched in each syllable, it was time to raise the stakes. “I need double the original fee with half of it paid in advance by tomorrow.” “That’s robbery,” the employer said. “You get what you pay for,” Fatali said. “You are welcome to retain someone else.” “I will forward you the money day after tomorrow; I can’t arrange for that amount sooner.” Fatali raised his fist in victory, and pumped the air. “I am not an unreasonable man,” he said. “That will be satisfactory. Assuming it comes as promised, I pledge to be available to you for the next 45 days. After that, we will need to talk again.” He severed the connection before the employer could respond, and smiled. The money would make waiting easier.

He sighted through the scope and exploded yet another brain in Metal Evie.

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE IN THE PICKUP ON A DAY TRIP TOWARD MT. Destiny to see if it was still maintaining its distance. The day was partly cloudy, and angry clouds were building in the west. Rain was a distinct possibility in the evening. “You conjure up a shower today?” Evie asked as she scanned the horizon. Wayne nodded, and said, “Yep, been in too good a mood lately and the country side is dry. Besides, it’s been awhile since we made love to the sound of rain on the roof of the tent.”

She tossed her hair and giggled. “Like the way you think, Chisholm.” At noon, with Mt. Destiny no closer, they pulled off the highway onto a side road to eat lunch. Got out, grabbed the picnic basket out of the truck bed, and sat on a fallen pine that was adjacent to an expansive aspen grove. Two ground squirrels scampered to and fro, and the musky smell of decaying leaves and pine needles pervaded the air. They munched roast beef sandwiches, and washed them down with bottled water. As Wayne chewed the last bite, he turned to Evie. “Been meaning to ask, you wondered the other day when I was gonna start writing. How come?” She looked down, then away. “I was hoping you’d forget that.” He didn’t respond, just waited. She took a drink of water and squirmed on the log. “Evie?” “Just keep writing, Ok? It’s important. I shouldn’t have said anything.” “Why is it important?” he took a long pull on his water and put one foot on the log. “Because.” “That’s your answer, because?” She stood, walked a few paces away, and stopped with her back to him. “Here’s where that trust thing comes in.” “I’m not much of a writer,” he frowned. “Don’t know why I’m bothering to do it.” She looked at him. “Not true.” she said, fists clenched at her side. “Don’t you dare stop.” “Evie …?” “Wayne.”

He sighed a deep one and let it out slow. “Aw, hell, probably couldn’t stop if I wanted to … feels like something I got to do.” “That’s because it is.” She ate the last of her sandwich and put their garbage in the basket.

“Evie …?”

FEX STOPPED LAMEN AS HE APPROACHED THE ENTRANCE TO THE HALL of the Council of Elders and guided him off to the side. Lamen’s face ed concern and confusion that increased as they walked. “What the hell you think you’re doing,” Fex said, once all the delegates had entered the hall. “What do you mean,” Lamen said, with his best innocent look on his face. “Don’t try that shit with me,” Fex said. “How long since there’s been an act of violence here?” Lamen’s eyes opened wide, and he paused before he said, “Hundreds of years … maybe thousands.” “You could become famous then,” Fex said, and hit him with a short right to the midsection. Lamen crumpled like a cheap card table, sprawled on the ground, and tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath. Fex stood over him, waited until Lamen finally managed a deep breath, and said in a stern voice. “I don’t care how evolved we are, if you play political games with Evie’s life, you answer to me.” Lamen tried to speak, couldn’t manage it, and gave up. Just lay on the ground and groaned. “What did you think? You could play with people’s lives with impunity?” Fex knelt beside Lamen’s head and put his mouth to Lamen’s ear. “If harm comes to

her or Wayne, I will pay you a visit.”

“Are you feeling me?”

Lamen’s opened his eyes the next morning and groaned. His stomach throbbed and there was a deep purple bruise under the ribs on his left side. He hadn’t gotten much sleep due to the pain and panic that kept circulating through his body. He walked to the kitchen with hunched shoulders and one hand ing his aching rib cage. Gasped with the effort it took to open the cupboard. He was out of coffee! That didn’t help his mood at all.

Fex is going to pay for this!

EVIE WAS ON A WALK WITH A’SHA’NAH. RISER FOLLOWED FIFTY FEET above. Wayne was waxing the pickup and enjoying the morning sun that shimmered off the driver’s door. He’d polish a little, sip his coffee, wax some more, all in a nice rhythm. He was so focused he didn’t hear the car until it pulled into the camp ground. He turned to see who it was. Holy crap, it’s the preacher-man! Tatum opened the door on the Crown Vic, and stepped out. Took off his hat and held it in front of him. The normally present Bible was nowhere to be seen. His eyes were down, trained on the ground at his feet. “Reverend,” Wayne said. “We meet again.” Tatum shuffled his feet and crumpled the brim of the hat in his fingers. “I, hum … I have come to apologize.” “Excuse me?” Wayne raised his eyebrows and applied wax to the door of the truck. “What for?” Tatum raised his eyes. “I have grievously misjudged you.” Wayne’s rubbed harder. “What led you to that conclusion?” Hell’s goin’ on?

“God’s Holy Spirit,” Tatum’s voice was a whisper. “I was reprimanded and chastised.” Wayne threw the polish rag in the truck bed. “God told you that you’ve been wrong about me?” “He told me to come and apologize.”

“And say you’ve been chosen for an important work.”

Some miles away, Samali watched his computer screen with great interest, courtesy of the small camera that looked like one of the buttons on the Reverend’s shirt. He laughed as he watched the scene play out.

His mirth was short lived.

Wayne looked at Tatum incredulously and allowed himself a small grin. “I’ll be damned. We finally agree on something. God is right about this one.” Tatum looked stunned and jammed the hat on his head. “You accept that I am God’s messenger and you are chosen to serve him?” Wayne sat on the truck’s tailgate and put one foot on the bumper. “When you’re right, you’re right.” Tatum’s eyes glazed over, he walked slowly to his car, and turned. “You believe me?” “When you make sense.” Tatum got in the car, started it, and drove slowly away.

“Have a nice day now!” Wayne yelled. “You hear?

Samali snapped off his computer. Damn that Wayne Chisholm, who is he anyway?

Maybe there is only one way to deal with him.

SAMALI SAT WITH REVEREND TATUM ON HIS FRONT PORCH. BIRDS WERE singing, the sky was blue, and the air smelled fresh from the previous night’s rain. A rabbit hopped in the damp grass of the lawn, and two squirrels played tag in a nearby pine. A picture perfect morning by any standard, but the two men didn’t notice. They sullenly drank coffee and hoped it would improve their dour moods. “I failed you,” Tatum said, slumped in his chair. “I failed God.” Samali put the rocker in motion and stroked his beard. “Not your fault,” he said. “I watched the whole thing. You played your part perfectly.” Tatum sat up, a deep scowl across his face. “I wasn’t playing a part,” he said, defensiveness etched in every syllable. “I was delivering God’s word.” Samali stopped rocking and looked at Tatum. “Of course you were,” he said softly. “It’s just a figure of speech. My point is that it’s not your fault, it’s that damn Wayne Chisholm.” He stood and crossed the wooden floor, his boots creating resonant thumps. A squirrel ran out from under the porch, and scampered up the trunk of the large apple tree that Tatum had planted years ago. It stopped on a limb and scolded Samali. Samali gave it a sour look in return. “Do you have a rifle, Rev?” Tatum’s eyes widened. “I won’t allow you to shoot my squirrels,” he said. “They’re family.” Samali leaned on the railing that enclosed the porch. “Never entered my mind to shoot them,” he said. “Was just curious if a man of God owns a gun.”

Tatum took a drink of his coffee. “I own an old .22 pump rifle. Don’t know why I keep it, haven’t shot it in years.” Samali rubbed his beard and asked, “Speaking of family, who you got besides the squirrels?” Tatum squirmed in the chair, picked up the Bible from his lap, and stroked it with his fingers. “I have no family except my brothers and sisters in Christ,” he said, his voice tinged with resentment and pain. “What about your parents?” “We disowned each other years ago,” Tatum said. “Don’t even know if they’re alive.” “Yeah,” Samali nodded. “Sometimes family can be more trouble than they’re worth.” “Amen,” said Tatum. “My father was a non-believer, a complete atheist. Plus, he was a career military officer that had seen lots of action.” He stood and paced while he spoke. “He said if there was a God, after what he’d seen in war, he didn’t want anything to do with him.” Tatum accidently kicked the coffee cup and sent it clattering across the porch. He ignored it. “He was a hard, violent, man. He beat my mother regularly, and when I got old enough to try and stop him, it fell on me.” Samali returned to the rocker, “Wow, tough duty.” The volume of Tatum’s voice increased. “The day I told him I believed in God, I thought he was gonna kill me. I must have been about twelve.” “Why did you believe,” Samali asked. “It would have been safer not to.” Tatum got moisture in his eyes and wiped it away with a quick sweep of the back of his hand. “The local Baptist church saved me, gave me a place to belong. I thought I must be the worst kid alive because my father hated me. They taught me that I was loved and that my soul could be saved by accepting Jesus as my lord and savior.” “So you decided to become a minister,” Samali said.

“You got it,” Tatum looked at Samali. “I swore I would spend my allotted time saving those that thought they were lost.” He paced quicker, back and forth across the width of the porch. “That I would stand against the evil of men like my father: I would confront them for the sinners they are.” “Did you ever consider killing him?” Samali asked, in a calm voice. “What?” “I mean to protect your mother and yourself, to end the evil.” Tatum raised the Bible over his head. “Thou shalt not kill,” he said. “Do you think it means never, not for any reason?” “It says what it says,” Tatum replied. “But, aren’t there places in it where God commands people to kill others? After all, that was one hell of a flood he unleashed on the world.” “Well, uh … I guess if God … if God directly told you to, it would be Ok.” Samali lowered his voice. “If you’d had a chance to stop those that killed Jesus by killing them, would you have needed God to tell you to do it?” Tatum stopped, and rubbed his chin. “That’s a good point, I’ll give ya that,” he said. “Maybe there is room for exceptions.” Samali stood and walked to the edge of the porch. “Well, here’s something for you to think hard about.” He stepped down, walked three paces toward the Harley, and turned to face Tatum. “Wayne Chisholm may well be the next crucifier of Christ.” Tatum gasped.

“And you own a .22.”

DELEGATE ANGELICA WAS UNSETTLED. THE VISIT WITH LAMEN HAD LEFT her in an agitated state, and she was uncertain what to do. She had played her part; given him enough rope to show his hand, but goodness, the taking of lives … never in her wildest imagination had she considered it would come to that. We are still Atlantians, aren’t we? What should be done? Lamen had considerable among the delegates. How many would side with him? If she brought formal charges to the floor of the Council, did it have the potential to destroy effective government? She needed help with the decision … but who could she confide in? The computer on her desk beeped an incoming call. Not now, I need to think! She sighed, went to check anyway, and saw the name on the screen. Fex! She sat and hit the receive button and his face appeared. “Fex,” she said. “It’s been a long time.” “Too long, hope I’m not disturbing you.” “No,” she said, smiling. “Your call is very timely.” He nodded. “Excellent, would you have time to meet with me today?” “By all means, where are you?” He smiled like a little boy caught red-handed. “Nearby … across the street from your home.” She chuckled and brushed some hair from her face. “You haven’t changed, still a man of direct action.” “Guilty as charged.” “Get over here,” she said. “I have hot coffee, but still have sleep in my eyes.”

“If you have sleep in your eyes, it becomes you.” She gasped and put one hand to her mouth. God, he can see me on his phone! “The doors is open, come in and have a seat, I will put on something more suitable.” She severed the connection and ran down the hall to her bedroom. Oh, dear lord, it’s Fex! She scrambled into a bright red tunic, ran a brush through her hair, and looked at herself in the mirror. Combed harder, then grimaced and sighed. Not as young as she used to be. You are acting like a teenager before her first date! She heard the front door open and close, took a deep breathe, and did her best to sweep into the spacious living room. “You could give a lady some advance notice.” He stood just inside the front door, shoulder length brown hair, new mustache, a t-shirt with ‘LIMBO ROCKS’ on the front, jeans, and those chiseled square jaws she had always loved. And, a bouquet of wild Earth flowers in one hand! He extended them. “Will these help you forgive the intrusion?” A tingle ed through her stomach as she reached for them. “From Earth! Fex, how thoughtful. They are lovely.” She went to the kitchen, got a vase, put water in it, and arranged the flowers to her liking. Returned with two cups of coffee, set them and the flowers on the low table that fronted a long beige sofa, sat, and patted the seat beside her. “Please, this is such a pleasant surprise.” He sat and ran one hand through his coarse hair. “You may not think so after we visit. I come for two reasons, and you might not like either of them.” She sat back into the plush cushions on the couch. “That sounds ominous. What is it?” Oh, my God, what does he want?

He put his elbows on his knees and cleared his throat. “First, it’s the Earth, and the conflict it’s causing.” She nodded. “What a coincidence, I was mulling that over when you called. My concern has been growing.” He turned his head, put his hand on the sofa between them, and found her eyes. “Yeah, me too. You know that Evie is in Limbo with Wayne Chisholm.” “Yes.” She reached over and let her fingers rest on his. “I can’t imagine how concerned you must be.” He looked at her hand, turned his over, and held it. “Thanks. But it’s more than Evie. It’s what I think this could do to Atlantia.” She squeezed his hand and felt tingles run up her forearm. “As important as this is, there’s another topic we must discuss first.” He shifted his position, turned toward her. “Of course, what?” She looked down at her lap. “I am hoping the second reason you are here has something to do with me.” She took her hand away, put it to her mouth, and squirmed on the couch. “If I’m out of line …” His hand on her face and his words stopped her. “I had to get over Helen’s death, be sure I was clear of it. Knew when I was I’d knock on your door.” Her body shuddered, eyes went wide, and she touched his square jaw line. “The Earth Experiment discussion is going to have to wait.” “I agree,” he replied. She stood, raised the tunic over her head, and let it fall to the floor. Turned, and walked slowly to her bedroom.

He followed.

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE, AT THAT VERY MOMENT, LYING SIDE BY SIDE AS well. Snuggled in their sleeping bags, enjoying the warmth, and reluctant to leave it. The weather was growing cooler, and the mornings had turned crisp. Wayne turned toward her, elbow on the ground, and head in his hand. “Do you think the Limbo Buzzard came of his own accord, or was sent by someone? He watched as her brow furrowed and her eyes blinked the way they did when she was deep in thought. “I’ve wondered about that too,” she and sat up. “Think it’s likely that others were involved.” “Yeah, me too, but who?” She held the sleeping bag to her breast, and sighed. “One of two sources. Satonia, via Samali, or the ConEarth party on Atlantia.” She shook her head and balled up her fists. “Hate to think it’s come to that, but Fex warned me it might.” He frowned. “ConEarth?” She pounded her fists on her knees. “I’m not supposed to tell you. But given what’s happened, I think you need to know.” “I’m all ears.” “Oh, God,” she said. “I wish Fex was here.” “Ok,” he said. “Let me tell you what I think I know.” She nodded. “Atlantia has been involved with Earth for a long time … is vested in the outcome.” She nodded again. “Satonia wants a piece of the action, but hasn’t been able to pull it off.” “Yes,” she said. “They can’t match our technology, and although we are non-

violent, we wouldn’t let them plunder Earth.” Wayne stood and pulled on his jeans. Opened the tent flap, crawled out, and lit the fire they’d laid the night before. “So Satonia needs Atlantia to withdraw its from Earth.” “You got it.” Wayne sat in front of the tent. “I’m guessing that opinions are split on Atlantia over this issue.” “Increasingly so.” She put on a flannel shirt and picked up her flip-flops. He opened a bottle of water, poured it into a pot, added some ground coffee, and hung it over the flames. “Some on Atlantia would give Earth to Satonia and say good riddance?” “Yes, as much as it pains me to say that.” She came out of the tent, sat on a stump, and looked at the sky. “Gonna be a sparkler of a day.” “Yep,” said Wayne, “another day in paradise.” He stood, went to her side, and stroked her hair. “You’re somebody important aren’t you?” She lowered her eyes. “Yeah, but don’t think I’ve known the full extent till now.” He bent over and stirred the fire. “How long has this been going on?” She shook her head, stood, got a towel from the truck, and headed toward the restroom. “I have to talk to Fex.” She stopped at the door and turned. “Please understand.” He checked the coffee and went to the faucet outside the bath house to wash last night’s dishes. Heard the sound of the shower. Returned to the tent, nursed a cup of coffee, and waited for her return.

Hell’s goin’ on?

FATALI MORTA’S SECURE LINE WAS BLINKING. THAT USUALLY MEANT good news, and good news meant money. He answered and heard a familiar voice. “There’s been a change in the plans. I have another end product for you.” Fatali smiled and waited five seconds. “A definite or a maybe?” “It’s definite, and needs to be executed as soon as possible.” “Is this instead of the original contract, or in addition to it?” “Probably an addition,” the voice said. Fatali’s smile widened. “You know, of course, that will require additional investments.” “Did you get the advance I sent,” the voice replied quickly. “Yes.” “Do the additional task for that amount, if more is required we will renegotiate.” “Agreed,” Fatali said. “Give me identity and location.” There was a five second pause. “The father has become involved and must be dealt with on Atlantia.” “Unacceptable,” he said. “That is not an option.” “You said you’re the best.” “I am, and that’s why Atlantia is off the table … they have too much technology, it can’t be done safely.” There was a long pause. “Limbo,” Fatali said. “Get him to Limbo.” “I will see if that can be arranged.”

“Till then,” Fatali said.

Excellent. He’d never liked Fex anyway.

FEX AND ANGELICA WERE SPENT AND THEN SOME. THEY LAY ON THEIR backs in her bed, panting. She had one arm on her forehead and he had both hands behind his head. “God,” she said. “I’d forgotten!” “Amen,” said Fex, and noticed there were flowers hand painted on the ceiling. She snuggled her head into his shoulder. “Should we have done that?” “If not,” he chuckled, “we should have stopped after the first time.” She slapped his chest. “There was no chance of that.” “None at all,” he said. They lay silent for a few minutes before she rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Fex, Lamen came to see me about stopping the Earth Experiment. He actually said that lives could be spent if it came to that. You must warn Evie.” Fex swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “You’re sure of this?” “I have it recorded,” she said. “He’s gone crazy.” “Did he get specific?” “No, just said it must be stopped no matter what, even if the Council voted for it to continue.” Fex stood, a deep frown etched into his forehead. “You heard him say that?”

“Yes,” she got out of the bed and found her robe. “I’ve been unsure of what to do. It could potentially destroy the Council.” Fex found his clothes and dressed. “This has to be handled carefully. Thank you for telling me.” She crossed the room and hugged him. “I am so glad you called, what happens now?” “Have you ever been to Limbo?” He asked. “No,” she stepped back and found his eyes. “Is that an invitation?” “Yes, mam, it certainly is.” She kissed him, hard, urgent. “When do we leave?”

“In a couple of hours.”

LAMEN CHECKED THE TELEPORTATION LOGS VIA HIS COMPUTER AS HE did each day. He was amazed to see that Fex had reserved a time to beam to Limbo later in the day, despite the request of the Council. He smiled broadly and couldn’t believe his good fortune. Fex is going to Limbo! I’ll call Fatali immediately. His pleasure turned into panic when he read the next line and saw that Angelica was scheduled to go as well. What? His stomach did flips as he ed their conversation and he pounded the desk with his fist before his sore ribs stopped him. He keyed her number into his computer and hit send. She answered on the third ring. “Lamen, I was just thinking of you.” “Why are you going to Limbo with Fex?” He asked. “You are aware the Council

has strongly advised him not to visit Limbo due to dual relationship issues.” “My, my,” she said. “Have you forgotten how to make small talk?” “No time for that,” he snapped. “You are scheduled to beam in an hour. Are you aware that Fex attacked me two days ago? I am concerned for your safety. He is acting irrationally.” “I appreciate your concern,” she said. “But I told you I would think our talk over and get back to you. Going to Limbo is part of my duty as a delegate. I want to see for myself and meet Wayne Chisholm. As for Fex attacking you, that is out of character. What did you do to him, Lamen?” Lamen sat down to ease the pain in his chest and struggled to control his anger. “That’s absurd. I have done nothing except be against the Earth Experiment, which is both my right and my duty.” “He seems to believe that Evie is in danger,” she said, her voice calm. “Is she?” “He is over-reacting,” he scoffed. “That is why the Council asked him not to go to Limbo. His disobedience will force me file a censure order with the Council. And of course, Evie is in danger, both she and Fex are aware of Satonia’s increasing interest in Earth … she is in jeopardy from them.” “I have a recording of you saying that ConEarth would stop at nothing to end the Earth Experiment, including taking lives. I would advise you to carefully consider filing a censure order with the Council. I would feel it was my duty to file impeachment proceedings against you if that happened.” “You … you … you’ve lost your mind. You recorded me! You don’t have a chance against me politically.” His voice went up an octave. “I’m not the one threatening to kill people. If anyone has lost their mind, it would be you. For now, you’ll have to excuse me; I have a journey to make. “Don’t you dare disconnect …” He was left looking at a blank screen …

And the panic that was rising his chest.

EVIE WAS GATHERING WILD GREENS FOR THE EVENING MEAL WITH A’Sha’Nah along for protection. Samali was informed of this via the high altitude surveillance of Buzz, fired up the Harley, and roared down the highway toward the camp grounds. Wayne heard him coming and was seated at the fire ring when he parked the bike. He noticed that Samali had switched to black leather riding gear to ward off the chill, complete with a fringed leather vest, and chaps. Samali swung one leg over the bike, waved and walked toward Wayne. “Afternoon,” he said, as he pulled off his gloves, and brushed some hair away from his face. “What do you want?” Wayne asked. Samali sat, and put his elbows on his knees. “I got a growin’ concern. Am worried that you’re operating in the dark where Evie and Atlantia are concerned.” Wayne crossed his legs. “That so?” Samli’s eyes narrowed. “Has she told you who she is? About her lineage?” “Not sure that’s any of your business,” Wayne said. “I’ll take that for a no,” Samali said. “She and her family have a long history with Earth. They’d do anything to stay in control … including use you. Why do you think it was Evie they sent to guide you?” He leaned back and grabbed one knee with both hands. “I’ll bet she told you that it was you that called her.” Wayne stood, put a log on the fire, and found Samali’s eyes. “What about their agenda for Earth?” “Damn good question,” Samali said. “They want to remake it in their image, shape its future to their desires. Why they even sent some …” “Samali,” Evie’s voice interjected, as she and A’Sha’Nah came out of the trees. She had a sack of greens in one hand and a stern look on her face.

Samali stood. “Evie, what a pleasure.” She put the sack in the bed of the truck and glared at him. A’Sha’Nah curled his upper lip back, uttered a low growl, and focused on Samali’s every move. “I’ve been listening for a while and I’m the last person you wanted to see,” she said, as she moved between Samali and Wayne, hands on her hips, and fire in her eyes. “Don’t come to our camp again uninvited. If I do, you might find yourself somewhere you don’t want to be … you get me?” Samali turned to Wayne with outstretched arms. “See what I told you, how she gets viscous when it don’t go her way?” Wayne nodded his head at the Harley and took a step towards Samali. “Lady invited you to leave. I heard her real clear.” Samali quick-stepped to the bike, threw a leg over, and fired it up. “She’s playin’ you like a fiddle, Chisholm. I tried to warn ya. She ain’t interested in you … it’s all about Earth, you’re just a pawn!” He yelled over the sound of the engine, eyes wide and bulging. Evie took three steps toward the bike, A’Sha’Nah at her side, a snarl coming from his mouth. Samali sprayed dirt and gravel as he swung onto the highway and disappeared around the first turn. Wayne looked at Evie. “It’s getting quantum weird around here.”

“Hell’s gonna happen next?”

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WAS A LOW HUM IN THE TREES, FOLLOWED BY Fex and Angelica striding into camp. Angelica took in the surroundings with wide eyes, hand to her mouth, while Fex opened his arms to Evie. She ran to

him, he enfolded her, picked her off the ground, and swung her around. “Fex,” Evie said. “I’m so happy to see you … needed to so bad. Things are happening, and …” “I know.” He put her down. “That’s why we’re here.” He turned, gestured toward Angelica. “Angelica, meet Wayne Chisholm … Wayne, Delegate Angelica.” “I am honored to meet you … you look exactly as I had pictured,” she said, shook his hand, and went to hug Evie. “It is so nice to see you are safe. We’ve been worried.” She gestured at the surroundings. “It’s so beautiful.” Wayne bowed. “Welcome, Delegate …” “Just Angelica, please.” “A’course,” Wayne replied. Evie studied Fex’s face and looked at Angelica. “You have a wonderful glow about you these days, Angelica. Limbo seems to agree with you … or is it something else?” Her eyes went from blue to green and back, and sparkled with all the mischief in the world. Fex stepped forward, grabbed Evie by the arm, and led her to the fire ring. “Daughter, I have raised you better. Make us comfortable, pour us some rye, stoke the fire, then we’ll talk.” Evie’s eyes were Roman candles firing bursts of color. “I stand duly chastised,” she said. “But you two brought that on yourselves.” Evie poured the drinks and ed them around. Angelica sipped hers and her eye brows went up. “Is that Pendleton 1910?” Wayne nodded. “Yes, indeed.” “Fex,” Angelica said. “We have to visit more often.” She drank half of the rye in her glass and sighed.

Evie giggled wind chimes and canted her head to the side. “Dad of mine, what have you been up to? Have you finally taken this beautiful creature into your bed?” Angelica put one hand to her mouth, gasped, and looked at Evie. “I have loved your father since forever,” she sighed and squared her shoulders. “And yes, as of this very morning, we have shared a bed.” Wayne raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that!” “Wait,” said Angelica. “Evie?” Evie hoisted her glass. “Here’s to two people I love.” Angelica wiped her eyes and drained the remainder of her rye. They ed her and Wayne refilled the glasses. Wayne stood and went to the cooler in the truck bed. “We’ve been saving elk steaks A’Sha’Nah brought us for a special occasion. I think this qualifies.” “By all means,” Evie nodded her approval. “Elk?” Angelica looked at them with wide eyes. “A’Sha’Nah?” “Did somebody call me?” A’Sha’Nah bounded into the camp. “Fex!” Fex dropped to one knee and A’Sha’Nah bowled him over. They rolled on the ground with the wolf growling playfully. Angelica’s eyes were full moons that got wider as Riser made a swooping, wing pounding, landing at the edge of the camp. Evie went to Angelica’s side and took her hand. “These are our dear friends, A’Sha’Nah and Riser. If you believe they can communicate with you via mindspeak. Have you heard them?” Angelica gasped. “You’ve been communicating with them?” A’Sha’Nah came and sat in front of her, his tail wagging in double time. “Hello,” he projected. “Hello?”

She put one hand to the side of her head. “Oh, my goodness, how wonderful!” “Geez,” A’Sah’Nah said. “Another human that likes wolves.” Angelica laughed and looked at Fex. “Thank you for bringing me here … no wonder you love it so.” “Yeah,” he said. “Riser and A’Sha’Nah are part of the Earth Experiment. We’ve found that humans that can hear animals have great potential.” Angelica looked at Wayne. “And you could immediately, yes?” A’Sha’Nah turned a tight circle and sat. “Let me answer, Wayne.” Wayne nodded. “Absolutely.” “I am his totem, he has always known wolves were special and intelligent,” A’Sha’Nah’s lips curved upward. “Did you just smile?” Angelica asked. “Of course, wolves have a sense of humor.” Riser hopped to A’Sah’Nah’s side. “I am Riser, a Giant Condor, I can mindspeak too.” “I am most pleased to meet you, Riser,” Angelica said. “This is wonderful beyond anything I have ever imagined.” Riser turned to Fex, pointed at him with a wing tip. “You need to keep her, Fex.” Fex smiled, and laughed. “I intend to,” he said, and walked over to kneel in front of Angelica. “If the lady will have me for a life-mate?” Tears flooded Angelica’s eyes and her jaw dropped. “Fex, really? Oh, God, really!” “Was just waiting on Evie’s blessing,” he said. “Evie?” Angelica looked her way.

“Of course,” Evie said, and raised her glass. Angelica went to Fex, pulled him off his knees, and wrapped him in her arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this without believing it could happen. My answer is yes one thousand times over.” “Hey, Wayner,” Evie pointed at the truck. “Best get the other tent and pitch it way over on the other side of the camp grounds.” “Consider it done. Come on, Fex, you get to help.” The two men headed around the restroom, with Wayne giving Fex a high-five. Angelica turned to Evie. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t ever want to …” Evie hugged her. “On two conditions, you help me with dinner, and treat my Dad right.” Angelica returned the hug. “Done, and thank you, Evie.”

“No,” said Evie, “I should thank you. My Dad has been lonesome.”

WAYNE WAS BECOMING MORE AWARE THAT LIFE WAS EVENLY DIVIDED between joy and pain, and there was no escaping this fact except via denial and delusion. The trick was accepting what is with reasonable style and grace. Joy is followed by pain and life inevitably involves accepting significant loss. In one way or another, every hello is on its way to goodbye. The call that Fatali Morta was accepting was just part of that cycle. “You got me,” he said, “so whatta ya want?” “Your destination is Limbo,” the voice said. “He is there with a woman. Take care of them both. Your fee will be doubled.” “Outstanding,” Fatali said. “And whatever you do, don’t get caught.”

“That goes without saying. What about the original contract?” “Still on hold for the moment.” “Roger that,” Fatali said. “Please advise as soon as it is done,” the voice intoned.

“Absolutely, will leave within the hour.”

Three hours later, Fatali landed in Limbo, his ship cloaked the entire descent. He set down in a small clearing ten miles on the opposite side of the camp grounds from Samali. Better that he didn’t know. The gravity felt heavy as he climbed out of his craft, he would need time to adjust. No matter how good the simulated shooting range was, it couldn’t duplicate the real thing. He put on the cloaking suit that had cost him a small fortune and strapped the 300 Weatherby on his backpack. He punched the button on the front of the suit, and disappeared. Then, he started the long hike to the camp grounds. He would be well acclimated by the time he arrived. All that would remain was to find some high ground and squeeze the trigger.

Hellos, and potential goodbyes, were on the way.

THE RIGHT REVEREND ELY JACK TATUM WAS FLUSTERED AND CONFUSED, and all the praying in the world hadn’t made it go away. Darn that Samali, he was a thought provoking kind of guy. Kill for Jesus? He hadn’t been able to sleep well since their last conversation. He’d gotten the old .22 out of the closet, cleaned and oiled it, and shot some tin cans in his back yard. His eye still seemed to be pretty good. Kill for Jesus? Could God be talking to him? Maybe he hadn’t listened close enough in the past. Perhaps more was required. Was he dedicated enough … really? Kill for Jesus? He’d gotten bad feelings from Wayne Chisholm from the very beginning. You could smell Satan all over him. You couldn’t fool Ely Jack about that sort of thing, no sir.

Kill for Jesus? Those that are dedicated will do whatever it takes, right? That’s what separates the mediocre from the saints. What was he willing to do? Wayne was just like his father, a man of no faith and blasphemy, he had to be stopped. Kill for Jesus! Kill for Jesus! Kill for Jesus!

He loaded the gun and went out to practice some more.

SAMALI SAT IN HIS SPACE CRAFT AND MULLED THINGS OVER. WAYNE AND Evie were a formidable team. The usual psychological stuff wasn’t working; he couldn’t divide them or introduce conflict. No matter what, they stood firm as one. A’course, that’s it! Divide and conquer! Apart they would be weakened, thrown into chaos. Yeah, get them away from each other, and the power level would fall. He smiled as an idea formed in his mind. Now, if he could just manage to execute it.

Uhm …

Fatali trudged five miles and was all in. The increased gravity and elevation were getting to him. He sat, turned the cloaking suit off, and eagerly drank water. Darn suit, it was heavy and made things even harder, but worth it. It all but guaranteed a clean escape. It was only detectable from straight above, but that was seldom an issue. He decided to rest for the night and finish the journey, and hopefully the job, tomorrow. He popped open his instant tent, ate some energy bars, and settled in for the evening.

Tomorrow his quarry would be in sight.

Fex and Angelica couldn’t get enough of each other. They were doing their best to make up for lost time, and why not? The only way you can lose that stuff is not use it.

They were using it.

Pain was biding its time and Joy was gratified to be in charge. Knew it was living on borrowed time and could sense Pain waiting in the wings. The exit sign was just around the corner. Goodbye Joy.

Hello Pain.

FEX AND ANGELICA HAD COME UP FOR AIR, WAYNE HAD SCORED SOME Brook Trout, and everyone was looking forward to another wonderful dinner and evening around the fire. Riser was doing his best to patiently wait for his allotment of trout and A’Sha’Nah was catching a quick nap under his favorite tree. He’d dug out a small bedding area that suited him perfectly, complete with pine needles for added comfort. The four humans had their usual drinks in hand, were watching the trout and potatoes sizzle in the skillet, and engaging in a most interesting conversation. “Fex,” Evie was saying, “I need to ask you if things have changed enough to start sharing some particulars concerning Earth and Atlantian history with Wayne. He’s naturally curious, and it seems to me the stakes are getting pretty high.” Fex took a pull on his rye and mulled it over. After a minute or so, he said, “Yep, we’ve never been in a situation like this. It may be that the old rules don’t apply.” He looked at Wayne. “How much do you know?” Wayne sat with his back against a log, feet in front of him, knees bent. “I know there’s a long history between Earth and Atlantia, and that Evie’s family has been involved for most of that time. I know that Satonia covets the Earth, and that opinion is becoming more divided on Atlantia about this issue.” “So you have a general picture but are missing a lot of specifics,” Fex said. “Goodness,” said Angelica. “I’ve been assuming he knew everything, it’s

fortunate I didn’t put my foot in my mouth.” “Wish you had,” said Evie. “Then it would be your fault, not mine.” She looked at Angelica and grinned. Wayne turned toward Fex. “I also know that the reason you are hesitant to tell me is because Earthlings have been historically adept at misusing information … of worshiping it rather than using it to expand their philosophies.” “Very well stated,” said Fex. “That has been a consistent problem on Earth. Earthlings reify information very quickly.” Wayne got up, refilled everyone’s glass, and sat by Evie. “Help me understand what you mean by reify,” Angelica said, looking at Fex. “It means to treat something as if it’s a real substance in the absence of ing evidence.” “Can you give an example?” Angelica asked. Evie chimed in. “The use of the word ego as if it’s part of the brain rather than as a symbolic way of explaining the types of narratives the brain can invent. People tend to think of it like it is a literal part of the body. But, you can’t perform an autopsy on a human brain and lay the ego on the operating table.” Wayne chuckled. “Great example! Why did John behave the way he did at the party last night? And somebody says his ego got the better of him.” “Yes,” said Fex. “And everyone pretends that the reason for John’s behavior has been explained … when in fact, nothing has been explained at all.” “Humans do that with so many things, particularly politics and religion,” Wayne replied. “Tell us something we don’t already know on Atlantia,” said Angelica. “No matter how hard we’ve tried, we haven’t been able to change that on Earth.” “Yes,” said Evie. “And ironically, after thousands of years of Atlantia avoiding that, we are about to fall into the trap of doing it too.”

Wayne scratched his head. “Do you mean the ProEarth and ConEarth factions?” “Yes,” Evie replied. “On Earth, as you know, they are called Republicans and Democrats,” Wayne said. Angelica looked at him. “Which one are you?” “God,” Wayne said, “Neither! I’m as independent as you can get.” “Can you vote as an independent?” Fex asked. “Depends on the state where you have residence,” he said. “In some you can’t. That’s an example of how the parties have usurped the individual’s voice. Most Earthlings let the political party do their thinking and voting for them.” “Yet another example of reification,” said Fex. “The beliefs of the party are accepted as undeniably true. Information to the contrary is automatically dismissed.” “Even more true of religious institutions on Earth,” Wayne said. “Some of them deny that evolution occurred.” “You must be joking,” said Angelica. “That is completely irrational.” “You don’t know the half of it,” Wayne said. “Some religious people believe the Earth is between 6000 and 9000 years old.” “What?” Angelica said. “It’s 4.5 billion years old.” “I know, it defies conception, but they use the Bible to justify it.” “They don’t believe in carbon dating?” She frowned and leaned toward him. “No,” said Wayne, “They claim it’s a scientific hoax.” She took a drink of her rye and sighed. “I don’t know how to respond to that.” “There isn’t a way that will change their mind,” Wayne said. “It’s a waste of time.”

Fex added a log and stirred the fire. “Much of the problem is due to the mind following different rules than the universe. The mind tends to form mental structures in an attempt to categorize what is reasonable to accept. These structures are imposed on the world and anything that doesn’t fit is resisted. Religions and political parties are excellent examples. Everything is filtered through the mental structures they have organized, and any contradiction is automatically rejected.” “So, we end up serving our institutions instead of them serving us?” Wayne asked. Evie took the fish and potatoes off the fire, dished them up, and distributed the plates. She gave Riser his usual raw portion and he happily hopped to the side of the camp to dine. A’Sha’Nah sleepily ed them long enough to receive his trout, and went back to his bed to eat. Fex looked at Wayne between bites of trout and groans of pleasure. “You got any hypotheses Wayne? Any guesses?” Wayne washed down some fried potatoes with a drink of bottled water and cleared his throat. “I think that 46,000 years ago Atlantia intervened on Earth in an attempt to make things better … and that Evie’s ancestors were involved.” “And if that’s the case, why 46,000 years?” Fex asked. “If I correctly, that’s when Homo Sapiens emerged after migrating from Africa to Europe … when they developed the cranium size, brain complexity, and vocal structure to have language … when they became ‘Wise Man’.” “Your memory is on target,” Fex said. “Suppose I told you that we came to Earth twice to intervene, and that you are correct about the one you’ve mentioned. When would the other time have been?” Wayne scratched his head, took a swizzle of water, looked at Evie, and ate a bite of trout. “This is probably crazy,” he said. “But could you folks be the missing link in our early history? Not sure of the time line on that though.” Fex looked down and nodded.

“You got yourself a smart one, Evie,” Angelica said. “Shush,” Evie replied. “Don’t tell him that, he’s already handful enough.” “About 1.4 million years ago,” Fex said. “During the Homo Ergaster and Homo Erectus period, we introduced the intervention that led to the jump in brain size from 600-900 cc to 1225-1300 cc. in Homo Neidelbergenesis 600,000 years ago, as well as changes in larynx and vocal cord structure. This spawned the development of Homo Sapiens about 150,000 years in the past, and as you pointed out, the more fully developed, language capable, Homo Sapiens of 46,000 years ago.” Wayne looked at Fex, his mouth open, and scratched his head in earnest. “That required genetic intervention, yes?” “Yes, in both instances. The Homo Sapiens of today possess genes that their human cousins didn’t all those years ago.” “You changed the gene pool,” Wayne said. “You altered evolution!” Angelica turned toward Wayne and nodded. “It’s been done many times in the history of various galaxies, Wayne. Planets have been seeded with the chemicals that increased the probability life would emerge, gene pools have been altered for the better, and cultural interchanges have occurred. Evolution among humanoids hasn’t been limited to individual planets. We have tried to help each other when it was possible.” “Wow!” Wayne held his head. “Just when I think you people can’t blow my mind again, you do.” Fex stood, put his hands on his lower back, and arched it. “It’s a big creation out there and there’s a whole lot going on.” “We have found that such information is best doled out in small doses,” Angelica added. “It’s a bit overwhelming otherwise.” She stood, gathered up the dirty paper plates, and put them in a garbage bag. “Having said that, I have need of my mate for the rest of the evening. Fex, are you interested in accompanying me to our tent?” “Say no more, madam.” He hopped to his feet. “Wayne’s had enough anyway.”

They disappeared into the dark, hand in hand. “I’m so happy for my dad,” said Evie. “Damn straight,” said Wayne. “You Ok?” She asked. “Damnation, Evie, you people have been around a long time!” She shook her head. “Nope, we’re one of the younger populated planets.”

“But you Earthlings are mere infants.”

THE MORNING DAWNED CLEAR AND BRIGHT. NOT A BREATH OF WIND, the smoke from the fire hung ten feet above before slowly vanishing. Everyone agreed it was a perfect day for a hike. They might have reconsidered had they realized it was also a perfect day for long range shooting. Fatali Morta was on a rise that overlooked his targets from a distance of 488 yards according to his range finder. It was a pine covered knoll just southeast of the camp and the highest point on the eastern side of the large canyon that ran west of the camp grounds. The camp had been fashioned into the large terrace that was under the knoll. He’d found an ideal location under a large pine tree with overhanging boughs that provided a clear line of sight to Wayne and Evie’s tent and the fire ring. He’d huffed and puffed his way into position at midmorning, just in time to see Wayne, Evie, Fex, Angelica, A’Sha’Nah, and Riser leave camp and head west into the trees. They had day packs, and were carrying two fishing rods, so it was reasonable to assume they would return later in the day. Perfect, he thought. I can settle in, rehydrate and eat, get range findings, and be ready when they come back. He cleared an area under the tree, unfolded his tripod shooting stand, and cut a few branches so he had a clear view. The only evidence of his position would be

the rifle barrel protruding from the limbs of the pine. He sat firmly planted, knees bent, with the stock pulled snuggly into his shoulder. The fore piece was anchored in the top of the tripod and provided an absolutely still sight picture. There was no sign of life below, so he inserted the laser sight cartridge and zeroed the scope on the red dot it cast on a stump at the fire ring. He removed it when he was satisfied, and inserted three cartridges into the magazine. He would only need two, but an extra provided peace of mind. He’d make the shots, pick up the ejected cartridges, activate his cloaking suit, and quickly exit the area. He didn’t have to make it back to his space craft that day he reasoned. Just hike a mile or so, dig in under a pine, and remain cloaked until night fall. No one would have any way of knowing where he was, and would be unable to see him in any event. Fool proof he reasoned, no way anything could go wrong. He had forgotten one of the oldest adages of warriors everywhere.

When the action starts, all plans potentially go awry.

THE SMALL STREAM AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CANYON WAS FLOWING crystal clear and gorgeous. It was at the ideal level for fly fishing and the lengthy stretches of boulder strewn pocket water interspersed with graceful deep pools were postcard perfect trout habitat. Wayne had discovered it was full of native Brook Trout that were eager to rise to any fly reasonably presented. Evie and Angelica had never fished before and were keen to give it a try, so they made the two mile hike into the canyon. The trail was a long series of switch backs that wound through aspen groves, stands of log pole pine, boulder gardens, and provided breath taking views. When they got to the stream, they sat a few moments, listened to the gurgle of the water, and soaked in the beauty. Angelica was the first to speak. “I had no idea that Earth was like this, or is it just Limbo?” “No,” Wayne said. “The mountainous portions of Earth, particularly in the United States, are just like this.”

“It’s incredibly gorgeous,” she said. “Yeah,” Wayne replied. “I’ve never been able to get enough of them.” Fex nodded in agreement. “First time I came here I didn’t ever want to leave. However, you need to that Limbo doesn’t always look like this. What you see is due to Wayne’s interaction with Limbo, the collapse of a probability wave into one of many that exist.” “Of course,” said Angelica. “But it’s easy to forget when you’re in the midst of it.” Fex put his arm around her shoulders. “That’s one of the biggest problems in understanding the nature of the universe … every probability feels real when it is manifested. Light can either be made of waves or particles … depends on the observer and the measuring device.” “Ok, Ok,” said Evie. “Enough about the ittedly beautiful scenery and how it came into being, I want to catch one of the trout my mate has created.” “That’s a request that shouldn’t be hard to grant,” Wayne said, as he tied a Grey Wulff dry fly on one of the leaders. “This stream is so small, you don’t have to cast far, just roll the line out.” He stepped to the edge of the water, let seven feet of line hang loose to one side, and flicked the rod forward to form a small loop that flipped the fly into the stream as it uncurled. It took Evie and Angelica a few tries, but they got the hang of it. Wayne walked them downstream to a dark green expanse with a waterfall at its upper end that cascaded into a deep slot formed by large boulders on the far side. There was an enormous pine that spanned the lower end. The pool was thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide. He positioned Angelica six feet below the waterfall, and Evie just above the fallen tree. A’Sha’Nah watched from a spot on a large boulder, while Riser monitored the proceedings from a limb that jutted out over the water. Wayne pointed at the water. “Roll out a cast, and concentrate on the fly. Keep the line under your finger on the grip of the rod, and be ready to raise the rod to tighten the line if a fish takes the fly. If you get a fish on, land it by pulling in line with your left hand, but keep the line under your finger on the grip.” He demonstrated the technique on the shore. “Ladies, your first fly rod trout awaits.”

Angelica made the first cast while Evie watched. The fly drifted two feet across the surface before a small mouth sucked it in. Angelica raised the rod too vigorously and the line went slack. She looked at Wayne and hopped up and down. “Oh my goodness, what did I do wrong?” “Just raise the rod gently to tighten the line,” Wayne said. “Not so hard, not so fast. You broke the end of the leader.” “Will the fish suffer?” She asked with concern etched on her face. “Not much,” Wayne said. “They secrete chemicals that will dissolve the hook after a few days, not to worry.” Evie had watched closely, and while Fex tied a new fly on Angelica’s line, made a cast. A trout rose immediately and she raised the rod tip. “I’ve got one,” she screeched, but let the line slip out from under her finger on the grip. It went slack and the fish was gone. “Damn,” she said. “Darn it anyway.” Wayne had the two women sit on the bank and calm themselves. “Ok,” he said. “Now that you know things can go wrong and that’s its tricky, I want you to watch me catch one fish. Concentrate on what I told you and watch.” He rolled a cast under the waterfall and an eight inch brookie leaped into the air and came down on the fly. He raised the rod tip, the line went tight, and the trout jumped again. It ran to the lower end of the pool, where he gently coaxed it into the net by taking in line with his left hand while keeping it anchored under the finger of his right. Angelica and Evie scampered to the water line and peered into the net. “Oh, how gorgeous,” said Angelica. “Do we have to kill it?” asked Evie. “No,” he said, and showed them how to shake the barbless hook out of the fish’s mouth, turn the net inside out, and release it. The trout flicked its tail once and disappeared into the depths of the pool. “Ok,” he said. “You’re on your own. Fex and I are going to watch and help you release them if you want us to.”

Fifteen small trout later, the women were giving each other high-fives, giggling, and washing their hands in the stream. “Oh my,” said Angelica. “That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long … well,” she looked at Fex. “The second most fun I’ve had in a long time.” Evie danced a little jig. “Damn you, Wayner, you just created a monster. You just try and go fishing without me from now on!” “You are welcome anytime.” “About time we headed back,” said Fex, and started to gather their gear, before he was interrupted by Riser. “You promised,” he said, and walked the length of the fallen pine. “Fex,” Wayne said. “You do the honors.” Fex picked up one of the rods and made a delicate cast to the far side of the pool against the boulders. A twelve inch trout immediately took the fly, and Fex deftly landed it. Took if off the hook and tossed it high in the air over the pool. Riser launched himself and speared the fish with the talons of his right foot, circled once, and landed. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m a fool for fresh trout.” “A’Sha’Nah’,” Fex asked. “Can I catch one for you?” “Don’t mind if I do,” A’Sha’Nah said, and sat beside Fex as he cast. As the fish slid into the bank, A’Sha’Nah took it in his mouth, waited for Fex to remove the hook, and gulped it down. The women watched spell bound. “Sorry, ladies,” A’Sha’Nah said. “But we are carnivores.” “It’s the most natural thing I’ve ever seen,” Angelica said. “It’s just that there’s something very touching about Fex and Wayne being in on the hunt.” Evie wiped her eyes. “Didn’t affect me at all.”

“Me either,” said Wayne, as he blew his nose. Joy, pure joy … with pain waiting at the top of the canyon.

Its name was Fatali Morta.

FATALI SAW THEM THE MOMENT THEY CAME INTO VIEW. THOUGHT IT WAS odd they had a wolf and a large bird with them, but decided it wouldn’t matter. They couldn’t see him if he was cloaked, and if needed he could use his stun gun. He looked through the rifle scope and was more than satisfied with his vantage point. Wanted to be certain the targets were absolutely still when he fired, so he waited while they milled around, put their gear away, and Fex and Angelica walked across the camp grounds to their tent. He reasoned they would gather for an evening meal, and was pleased to see Fex and Angelica emerge from the tent only a few minutes later, and walk back to the fire ring. He checked the time, noted it was 4:30. Decided he would wait until the sun dropped below the ridge to the west and estimated that would occur in about an hour. That would still give him daylight for his initial escape and then the increased safety of darkness. He spent the time peering through the scope and putting the crosshairs on Fex or Angelica. There was a slight glare from the Sun, so waiting until it went behind the ridge made sense. Besides, waiting with everything lined up was one of his favorite things. Holding lives in the palm of your hand and them having no idea they were on borrowed time. It was a gigantic rush. He lived for such moments.

So he waited, and relished it.

Of course, Fatali was right, no one in camp had any idea of the nearby peril … except for A’Sha’Nah. He couldn’t relax and the hair rose on his back, He patrolled the grounds and found nothing amiss. Sniffed the ground for unfamiliar spore and came up blank. Went to his bed under the tree but couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, gave a deep sigh, and went to the restroom where Riser was perched on the roof. “Riser, something isn’t right.” Riser sailed down and lit beside him. “What do you mean?” “Do you sense something wrong?” Riser looked at his old friend. “No, but if you do, pay attention.” A’Sha’Nah nodded. “Will you do a fly over?” “Sure,” Riser said. “Any place in particular?” “No, I may be crazy, but I got this real bad feeling.” “Say no more. You go tell Fex and Wayne.” Riser ran three steps and powered into the air, climbed quickly, and circled the area. A’Sah’Nah ran to Wayne and Fex at the fire ring. The women were at the pickup, heads over the ice chest, talking about dinner. “Wayne,” he said. “I have a feeling we are in danger. I’ve sent Riser on a scouting flight.” Wayne’s eyes widened. “Why, has something happened?” “No,” said A’Sha’Nah. “But I can’t shake the feeling.” Fex was listening carefully to the interchange. “Wolves have evolutionarily finetuned senses. We shouldn’t ignore him.” “Never entered my mind,” said Wayne. “What do you think it is?” “For some reason, I think it’s a human,” A’Sha’Nah said.

“Let’s see if Riser spots anything.” Fex said, as he walked over to be with the women.

Just as the Sun slipped below the ridge.

Riser had his eyes on, the term he used when he was hunting, all of his energy focused in that area of his body. There were two mice peeking out from under a boulder, and a small bird flitting in a bush, and an old snake heading for a warm den, and three deer on the top of the knoll, and, and, and … a black branch on a pine tree … he circled quickly, looked more closely. That’s not a branch … what is …

“Wayne! Get everyone down!” Riser yelled as loud as he could with his mind.

Fatali put the cross hairs on Angelica’s head, held his breath, counted heart beats, and squeezed the trigger …

There was a loud crack and the rifle pushed hard into his shoulder.

“Get down!” Wayne yelled at the top of his lungs just before he heard the sound. Fex was standing by Angelica and Evie on the far side of the truck. He pushed Angelica into Evie and sent them both sprawling.

The sound of the shot echoed down the canyon.

Fatali saw Angelica leave his sight picture at the exact moment the gun fired. He worked the bolt quickly, put his eye to the scope, and located Fex. He was looking down, his eyes wide. He centered the crosshairs on Fex’s chest, but just as he pulled the trigger a large black object ed through his field of view with a loud swooshing sound. He flinched, saw sparks fly from the roof of the truck, and heard the whine of the bullet as it ricocheted. He activated his cloaking suit, scrambled out from under the pine, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of his ship.

Holy shit!

Riser saw an odd glowing shape move through the trees. Had never seen anything like it, but was sure it had something to do with the shots. He folded his wings and fell out of the sky. His talons were outstretched and open and he hit the strange figure with all his might. It collapsed beneath his attack and he tumbled hard into the ground. Stood quickly, checked his wings, and started to take off, but after one flap everything went wrong. He felt a sharp sting on this chest, a numbness spread over his body, and his head was suddenly on the ground.

Things got hazy, blurry, and then black.

A’Sha’Nah was running at the top limit of his strength and was halfway up the side of the knoll. He’d seen Riser drop from the sky and knew he had attacked something. He issued a long howl and asked his legs for more speed.

Dirt and rocks slid down the slope behind him.

Fatali heard the howl, decided to ignore Riser, ran to a large rock, and sat with his back against it. Of course, the damn bird could see him from above, but the wolf wouldn’t be able to. He’d use the stun gun rather than fire again. Then leave as fast as he could.

He wiped at the blood pouring into his eyes, and waited.

A’Sah’Nah spotted Riser in a heap on the ground. Ran to him and saw with relief he was still breathing. But what had he attacked? Wait, what is this? A human scent! It was strong, tinged with sweat. and there was a blood trail leading away from Riser. He’s wounded! A’Sha’Nah put his nose to the ground and followed the trail to a dead end at a large boulder. Where is he? This makes no sense … where … He felt a jolt on his shoulder, a burning sensation, then his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he was down. He felt a violent spasm course through his body. Riser?

Then nothing.

Fatali ran as hard as he had ever run. Found it difficult to see through the blood coming from his head and lost track of direction. He slammed into tree limbs, stumbled, and fell twice. His only desire was to put distance between himself and the disaster behind. After several minutes he stopped. Got to think! Catch my breath and calm down! Shit! He scrambled under a pine and turned off his suit. Drank a bottle of water, and felt his scalp. There were three deep gashes that started where his hair ed his forehead and extended halfway across his head. Damn bird! He searched in his waist pack, found a coagulant and poured it into the wounds. Stifled a scream it burned so intensely. Laid on the ground and waited for his breathing to return to normal. Did I hit anyone? He didn’t know. He reactivated the suit and lay on his side. He’d wait for dark, activate the homing beacon on his craft, and do his best to get there. God, giant birds and wolves!

He wanted out of this damn place.

BACK AT CAMP THINGS WERE IN CHAOS. WAYNE RAN FROM THE FIRE RING to the truck. Fex looked down in horror at Angelica lying on the ground with blood streaming down the right side of her face, and knelt beside her. Evie picked herself off the ground, looked for Wayne, and then saw Angelica. “Oh no, oh my God, no,” she cried. Wayne scrambled around the bed of the truck, inspected Evie with his eyes, and pulled her down behind the vehicle.

“She’s breathing, thank God,” said Fex, and looked into her wide, glazed, eyes. “I think I’ve been shot,” she said in a puzzled voice as she reached up to her right ear, inspected her hand, and found it covered in blood. “Oh, my goodness, I have.” Fex tore off his shirt, swabbed the blood off her face and neck, and saw the source of the outflow. There was a notch on the top of her ear that was about half an inch across and oozing blood. Fex breathed a long sigh of relief. “You’re going to be Ok, Angelica; it’s just a flesh wound on your ear.” “It’s lucky you pushed her,” said Evie. “Wayne warned me,” Fex said. “No,” said Wayne. “It was Riser, he warned us.” Fex peered over the bed of the truck. “Where are Riser and A’Sha’Nah?” Angelica sat up, alarm in her eyes. “Oh, dear God, they have to be alright, they just have to.” “Stay with Angelica, Fex. I saw A’Sha’Nah run toward the knoll,” Wayne said, and sprinted toward the restroom and the slope beyond. Evie was on his heels. “Evie, you stay here,” he said over his shoulder. “In your dreams,” she yelled back. “, I’m stronger than you are.” He ran with every nerve in his body, willing himself faster, not stopping when he came to the knoll, and fought his way up the incline. Evie matched him stride for stride with ease. They stopped when they got to the top, stunned by the sight of Riser trying to stand, and toppling over, wobbling, flapping his wings, unable to get up and stay up. They ran to his side, and Wayne asked, “Riser, are you Ok?” Riser pointed toward A’Sha’Nah with an unsteady wing tip. He lay motionless at

the base of the boulder. “Oh, God, no,” Wayne moaned and ran to his side. Evie stayed with Riser and helped him stand. “He’s breathing, Riser,” Wayne said. Riser accepted Evie’s . “Stun gun I think. Not fun at all.” A’Sha’Nah opened his eyes, looked at Wayne with a dazed expression, and licked his lips. “What happened?” “Stun gun,” said Wayne. “You’re gonna be Ok.” “Lordy,” said A’Sha’Nah. “He was invisible.” “A cloaking suit,” said Evie. “Got to be Satonia.” Riser was able to keep his feet, and hopped unsteadily toward A’Sha’Nah. “Are you Ok, wolf?” “Getting better by the second,” A’Sha’Nah said. “He wasn’t invisible from above,” Riser said. “It was glowing blob so I won’t be able to identify who it was, but I got him good with my talons.” Evie found footprints headed away from the area. “Yeah, he’s bleeding,” she said, and pointed at three red splotches in line with the tracks. “Should we follow, try and nail him?” Wayne asked. “No,” said Evie. “We won’t be able to see him but he can see us.” “Yeah,” said Wayne. “You’re right, and he’s got a big bore rifle. Damn that thing was loud.” A’Sha’Nah tried to stand, wobbled for three seconds, and fell. “I couldn’t see him,” he said. “Knew he was there, the smell was strong, and then he zapped me on the shoulder I guess.”

“Yeah,” said Wayne, and touched his right shoulder, “There’s a burned spot in your hair.” “Ouch,” A’Sah’Nah said. “It is sore.” “Sorry,” Wayne replied. They sat ten more minutes, waited for Riser and A’Sha’Nah to be able to walk and fly, and then returned to the camp. Fex had an ice pack on Angelica’s ear and they looked up at their approach. “Oh, thank goodness, they’re alright,” said Angelica, relief written across her face. “They got zapped with a stun gun,” Wayne said. “He was cloaked, but Riser could see the force field from above. Cut him with his talons, there’s a blood trail up there.” Fex frowned, deep lines etching his forehead. “Satonia!” “Most likely,” said Evie. “How is her ear?” “Gonna be sore as hell,” Fex said, “But no real harm done.” Angelica touched Fex’s cheek. “If you hadn’t pushed me, he’d have hit me right between the eyes.” “Yeah,” nodded Fex. “We owe our lives to A’Sha’Nah and Riser … the best friends a bunch of stupid humans could have.” A’Sha’Nah went to his bed under the tree and lay down. “Pretty sure I can sleep now,” he said, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Me too,” said Riser. “But not as high off the ground as usual.” He flew to a low limb on a pine and preened his feathers with his beak. Evie asked, “Does everyone realize how lucky we are?”

They nodded, sat by the fire, and drank their supper.

FATALI STAGGERED TO HIS SPACE CRAFT AT 3:00 A.M. THE NEXT MORNING. He’d never been as tired in his life. He uncloaked, crawled inside, and fell asleep immediately. Awoke at daylight, keyed the coordinates into the computer, and took off for Satonia.

He couldn’t get home soon enough.

Fex was standing by the fire ring drinking an early morning coffee and saw a wisp of vapor trail as Fatali’s ship departed. He was certain he knew the identity of the assassin. But, Fatali didn’t kill unless money was involved, never had, never would. Don’t like what I’m thinking. Wayne came out of the tent, poured a cup of coffee, and took a sip. “What’s up, you look deep in thought?” “Just saw a vapor trail from a departing space craft,” Fex said. Wayne frowned and scratched his head. “Probably the shooter?” “Most likely.” “That means he’s from Satonia?” Fex sat on a log. “That’s the highest probability, but what’s bothering me is who hired him?” “Any ideas?” Wayne asked, and found a stump to sit on. “Yeah,” Fex said, and shook his head.

“That’s what is bothering me.”

Angelica and Evie ed the men an hour later. Angelica has slept reasonably well thanks to the muscle relaxant Fex had given her. She was groggy and her ear hurt, but in good spirits considering. Evie inspected the ear, put antibiotic ointment on it, and applied a fresh dressing. “You’re going to have quite a conversation piece,” Evie said. “You can have it fixed,” Fex said. “No one will even notice.” Angelica drank coffee and thought it over. “Think I’ll just leave it,” she said. “As a daily reminder of how precious life is.” “I agree with Riser, Fex,” Wayne said. “You need to keep her.” “I’ll drink to that,” Fex said, and downed his coffee. “Did I hear my name?” Riser asked, as he swooped into camp and landed. Angelica asked, “How are you, Riser?” She walked over and knelt by his side. “I appear to be fine,” he said. “I took a test flight and all systems are on go.” “I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” Angelica said. “But I’d really like to hug you. Would that be alright?” Riser looked at her, his head tilted to one side. “That’s the way humans show affection, isn’t it?” “Yes,” she said. “It is, and I feel a lot of affection for you and A’Sah’Nah right now.” A’Sha’Nah came out of trees and ed the group, his tail wagging vigorously. Riser moved closer to Angelica, and said, “Just be careful of my wings, if I lose them I am dead.” She gently enfolded him, exerting almost no pressure, and kissed the side of his head. When she released him, he ruffled his feathers, and turned in a tight circle.

“I believe I could get used to that,” he said. “You can have a hug from me any time you want,” she said. “Now, A’Sha’Nah, is it your turn?” A’Sha’Nah took two quick bounds and was at her side. “Wolves like hugs,” he said. “You can hug me hard, but avoid my right shoulder, it is sore.” She hugged him around the chest, behind his shoulder, and kissed him too. He wagged his tail in double time, and licked Angelica’s hand. “As long as I live,” she said, looking at the two of them. “If I have a home, you have a home.” Wayne, Fex, and Evie raised their coffee cups in salute. “Amen and amen,” said Wayne. “I owe them twice now.” Angelica raised her eyebrows. “Twice?” “Well,” said Wayne. “There was this mountain lion named Puma.”

They sat by the fire and he told the story.

LAMEN WAS ON PINS AND NEEDLES AWAITING FATALI’S CALL. WHEN HE could stand it no longer he keyed in the numbers for Fatali’s secure line. It rang five times before he answered. “Yeah?” “Has the product been delivered?” “There were some problems at the delivery site.” There was a five second pause and a surge of electricity in Lamen’s stomach. “What sort of problems?”

“A damn big bird,” Fatali said. “He ruined the whole project.” “What?” Lamen strained to keep his voice calm, and failed. “Did you say a bird?” He slammed his fist down on his desk and winced. “Yeah, he disrupted delivery, made it impossible to complete.” “Were you able to get any of the product to the customer?” “Not sure,” Fatali said. “But I don’t think so.” “Good, God,” Lamen stammered. “You bungled the entire thing?” “You had to be there,” Fatali said, his anger rising. “It was an unpredictable situation … a damn Giant Condor!” “Weren’t you cloaked?” Lamen asked throwing caution to the wind; the line was supposedly secure anyway. “The force field can be seen from above. Condors can be above … you feelin’ me?” Lamen panted, grabbed the side of the desk to steady himself, felt his heart skip several beats, and thought he might be having an attack. He staggered and sank into his chair. “Were you … uh … identified?” “Wasn’t seen, but had to use the stun gun on the bird and the wolf.” “Wolf, did you say wolf?” Lamen asked, and wiped the sweat from his brow with an unsteady hand. “Yep, they had one of those too.” “But, uh …” Lamen gasped. “You … weren’t … seen?” “No, cloaked the entire time. None of them could identify me.” Lamen leaned forward and put his head in his lap. Why am I so dizzy?

“This is not satisfactory, Fatali. I expect a full refund.” “That won’t happen,” Fatali snorted. “Got three gashes in my head and fatigue in my bones. I earned it.” “You will return the money, or …” Lamen panted. “Or what?” Fatali said. “You’ll sue me? Go ahead; tell the world how I let you down.” He severed the connection and went back to bed. Lamen sat stunned, literally reeling in his chair.

My God, what can I do now?

ON ATLANTIA, AN INTERESTED PARTY LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND smiled. A long and frustrating surveillance had paid off. It had taken weeks to hack Fatali’s secure line, but had been worth it. He listened to the play back of the recording and the smile widened. Yes indeed, words like cloaked, stun gun, target being hit, and money changing hands would interest a jury. After years of trying, Fatali Morta was going down. And unexpectedly, Lamen too. The agent shook his head. A fellow Atlantian! A Council member! This ProEarth versus ConEarth thing was getting out of hand. He was certain that the Chairman of the Council of Elders would want to hear his report. One never knew how things would turn out. Boy is this going to shake things up! He keyed in the Chairman’s number and hit send. Across town the Chairman put down his cup of tea and answered the call. “Yes?” “Mr. Chairman, this is Agent Hubble. I have some interesting news.” The Chairman’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” “Yes, sir, without a doubt.”

The Chairman found a chair, and pulled it in front of the computer. “Probably best to discuss it in person?” “That’s an affirmative, sir,” Hubble said. “In a secure location.” “We can meet in the vault at the Council Hall.” “Excellent, sir.” “Will tomorrow at two be good for you?” “Affirmative, sir. I’ll be there.” “And Agent Hubble …” “Yes, sir?” “Good work, your patience and perseverance paid off … yes?” “That’s a big affirmative, sir.” The Chairman sat back and crossed his legs. “Then as you would say, agent, outstanding!”

“Thank you, sir.”

FEX AND ANGELICA BEAMED BACK TO ATLANTIA THE NEXT MORNING. They were reluctant to go, but there was business that needed attention. The Council was scheduled to meet, and Angelica was determined to attend. Upon arrival they went immediately to her home, where she showered, donned her finest white tunic, left her ear un-bandaged, and arrived at the Council Hall on Fex’s arm. In a matter of moments she was surrounded by delegates that wanted to know how she had been injured. She assured them she would explain as soon as the meeting convened, and quickly found the Chairman to ask his permission. He agreed without hesitation.

The delegates filed through the doors and found their seats. Quiet settled over the room as the Chairman approached the podium. Lamen stole a quick peek at Angelica and found her eyes trained on him intently. He quickly averted his gaze to the front of the room. “Esteemed delegates,” the Chairman said. “Many of you have no doubt noticed that Delegate Angelica has been injured. She has requested time to tell us how and assures me it will be germane to the purpose of our meeting.” A murmur swept through the audience as Angelica took the stage. Lamen sat and tried to appear calm. “My fellow delegates,” Angelica said, and then reached for a glass of water to ease her dry mouth. “For the past few days I have been visiting Limbo with my new life mate, Fex,” she pointed to his presence at the side of the stage. A rustling ed through the audience. “I went there to meet Wayne Chisholm and assess the situation first hand. I would recommend each of you to do the same before making a decision on the Earth Experiment.” Lamen jumped to his feet. “Mr. Chairman, this is highly irregular …” “Delegate, Lamen,” the Chairman interrupted him. “Take your seat or I will have security escort you out.” “But, Mr. Chairman, I wish to raise a point of order, this …” “Guard,” the Chairman called in a loud voice. “Please escort Delegate Lamen …” Laman returned to his seat. “I yield the floor.” “Before I was so rudely interrupted,” Angelica said, and cast a stern eye at Lamen. “While on Limbo there was an assassination attempt made on Fex’s and my life …” The hall erupted in an outpouring of disbelief and outrage. Delegates were on their feet, expressions of confusion and concern on their faces.

“The missing piece of my ear … can I have your attention please,” Angelica said in a loud voice. The Chairman came to the lectern, rapped his gavel several times, and the hall quieted. “The missing piece of my ear is testimony to the bullet that ed through it.” The roar began anew and the Chairman had to yell at the top of his voice. “Please have the courtesy to let her continue!” The hall slowly returned to order. “I have reason to believe,” Angelica said. “That the order for the attempt originated from within this assembly.” No gavel pounding or yelling for order helped this time. The delegates were on their feet, shouting, demanding to know who it was, and how she knew. She held up her arms, and waited for them to wind down. It was several minutes before she could continue. “I will not bring formal charges until evidence has been gathered for your consideration. In the meantime, I would invite each of you to search deep within yourselves for the answer to this question. Do our differences over the Earth Experiment justify taking lives? I suggest that at least one among us believes that it does. If I am wrong … I will gladly issue a public retraction. Until then, have any of you ever had a supersonic bullet this close to your head? It is quite unsettling.” The hall was dead quiet, no one moved. Mouths were agape and eyes filled with surprise. After a lengthy interval the silence was broken by the sound of one of the delegates crying. “I ask for your understanding,” Angelica added. “I will not be staying for the remainder of the session. Whatever our differences, surely high speed bullets are not the answer, never have been, and never will. We made that decision on Atlantia hundreds of years ago. It is indeed sad it has been forgotten.” She exited the hall to a standing ovation of thunderous applause. Even Lamen was forced to rise and put his hands together.

Lest he be the only one who abstained.

WHEN THE CHAIRMAN ARRIVED AT THE COUNCIL HALL AGENT HUBBLE was waiting. He was dressed in black slacks, topped with a gray tight fitting long sleeved t-shirt. He had running shoes on his feet. He made the Chairman feel his age, with his boyish, unlined face, and clear blue eyes. His hair was closely cropped and light blonde in color. He was razor thin, with hawkish facial features. The Chairman was certain he was fleet of foot as well. They didn’t speak, and the Chairman led him to the secure vault that had been constructed as part of the hall. The room was 20 feet by 30 feet, sparsely appointed, and lined with safety deposit boxes that were used to store documents considered important by the Council. There was one table and four chairs that could be used to look at the contents of the boxes. The room had no windows and had been built with privacy as a priority. The Chairman pointed at the chairs and they sat. “I had the room scanned by security this morning.” We can speak freely.” “Outstanding,” Hubble responded. “You have no doubt heard what transpired in the Council meeting.” “Yes,” Hubble nodded. “The entire city of Atlantis seems to know. The information I have will shed further light on the issue.” The Chairman’s eyes widened. “You have information pertaining to the assassination attempt?” Hubble picked up his brief case, snapped it open, and took out a playback device. “Listen to the transmission I intercepted,” he said. “It will clarify things.” “Of course.” The Chairman sat back in his chair. Hubble pressed a button and the Chairman’s bulged wider with each sentence. The conversation ended and Hubble looked at the Chairman.

“My, God,” the Chairman gasped. “It’s Fatali Morta and the person that hired him! Do you know the identity of the other voice?” Hubble cast his eyes down. “You aren’t going to like this, sir. It’s Delegate Lamen.” The Chairman’s jaw dropped, and he stood, hands on the table. “You’re certain?” “Sir,” Hubble said. “I am able to identify the number for every call.” The Chairman paced the room. “Of course, you are, of course, how stupid of me, it’s just that …” “I understand,” Hubble sighed. “It’s bad enough that an Atlantian is involved, much less a Council member, especially Delegate Lamen.” The Chairman looked at Hubble closely. “Is it possible that someone used Lamen’s computer to frame him?” Hubble shook his head. “I thought of that and conducted a voice recognition test. It is Delegate Lamen speaking.” The Chairman’s face reddened. “Damn him to hell! This will be difficult to handle politically. It’s potentially quite divisive to the Council.” “It gives me confidence that you are at the helm, sir.” The Chairman gave him a meager smile. “Thank you, Agent Hubble.” Hubble nodded. “In the meantime,” the Chairman said. “I want you to …”

“Yes, sir,” Hubble interrupted. “I will speak to no one and you can be assured that I haven’t.” “You are a bright and capable young man,” the Chairman said. “We are fortunate to have you in our ranks.” Hubble looked down. “Thank you, that means a great deal to me.” The Chairman stepped forward and shook Hubble’s hand. “Thank you for your service.” “Sir,” Hubble said. “I hope it turns out to be good for Atlantia.”

“It’s my job to see that it does,” said the Chairman.

LAMEN LEFT HIS HOUSE, AND CAUGHT A PUBLIC TRANSPORT TO ONE OF the large parks located in Atlantis. It was on the west side near his home, and surrounded a lake that was used as a city water supply. The park was relatively flat, like most of the terrain on this part of Atlantia, with just a few shallow draws and swells. Stands of trees of various types that had been planted by the city years ago dotted the landscape. There were numerous walking trails, picnic tables, and benches scattered throughout 1000 acres. The ground cover, a grass-like plant, was a light shade of yellow and was endogenous to the planet. Lamen chose the path that circled the lake and mulled things over as he walked. How could things have gone so awry? All of his life he had been adept at manipulating people and events. He was trying to protect Atlantia, to do what was in the best interest of the planet. Why couldn’t Bartok, Angelica, and the others realize this? If they had, none of this would have happened. The Earth Experiment! That was, and always had been, the problem. How could people be so stupid and blind? The Earthlings didn’t deserve help. Even the most educated and wealthy were inept, stupid, and unwilling to improve. If they had the ability to change let them show it and save themselves. He was tired of wasting resources on inferior beings that weren’t motivated enough to respond. It was their fault! They had gotten him into this mess! Damn them all to hell anyway.

He stopped and sat on a bench. His breathing felt labored, sweat poured down his face and side, and his heart pounded rapidly.

What is happening to me?

Visitors at the park reported they heard a single, loud, boom. A male hiker was certain he’d seen a puff of smoke just inside a stand of trees 300 yards from Lamen. Another, just 100 yards away, said she saw his forehead explode in a spray of red mist that extended a foot into the air. She watched his body slump to the left and tumble from the bench.

It twitched violently and then was still.

At the same time, the Interstellar Flight Detection Center on Atlantia tracked the landing of a small, cloaked, space craft. It was on the surface for only thirty minutes and departed a scant few minutes before the investigative team arrived. The craft headed for deep space.

In the opposite direction from Satonia.

Fatali Morta landed several hours, and one interstellar jump after Lamen’s death, on the planet of Astroidia. He planned on paying his brother who lived there an extended visit. Things had grown uncomfortable on Satonia since he discovered his secure line had been hacked. It was time to change residences … after tying up a loose end.

Ah, yes, red mist indeed.

News of Lamen’s demise spread quickly. The Chairman was home drinking a fine scotch when Agent Hubble called. Both men expressed sorrow about the death, but also felt secretly relieved at the turn of events. The Chairman asked, “Was it Morta?” “That’s the highest probability,” Hubble replied. “What should be done about him?” “He has a brother on Astroidia,” said Hubble. “Our relationship with them is too tenuous to demand exportation. As long as he remains there, it’s best we leave him alone.” “And if he leaves?” The Chairman asked after a five second pause. “I recommend issuing orders for him to be killed on sight.” There was a longer pause. “That is against our long policy of non-violence,” the Chairman said. “Affirmative, sir, it is. However, I would volunteer for the job.”

“Thank you again, Agent Hubble.”

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE ENJOYING A WELL-DESERVED REST. THE DOWN time felt good, although since the assassination attempt, they were unable to relax completely. The same could be said of A’Sha’Nah and Riser. They dutifully patrolled the area surrounding the camp grounds at least twice daily. A’Sha’Nah had even followed Fatali’s tracks to where he had landed and verified he was gone. Fex left a personal communication device with Evie and sent word about the events on Atlantia. She was shocked to learn of Lamen’s involvement and death,

but was pleased to hear the assassin was out of circulation for a while. Riser and A’Sha’Nah recovered from the stun gun with no residual effects. The four of them were in camp, with Riser and A’Sah’Nah napping, and Wayne and Evie reclined on sleeping bags in front of the tent. “Ok,” Wayne said. “You know I got to ask. Fex said you intervened on Earth 1.4 million years ago, and again 46,000 years ago … right?” “I wondered when you’d bring this up,” she replied. “That’s accurate, although those are the times we intervened both genetically and culturally. They were other times it was limited to social interchange.” “I see.” Wayne sat and wrapped his arms around his knees. “So the genetic part, how did you do it … literally have sex with the population?” “The first time artificial insemination was used. We were able to convince a large number of women it would improve the health and survival rate of their babies.” “Holy cow,” Wayne’s eyes widened. “How many?” She shifted her position and propped her head up with her arm. “Several thousand. We determined when they were ovulating and the fertilization percentage was high.” She reached over and took his hand. “We also taught them about tools, building shelters, fire, and language. They weren’t able to form complex sounds due to the structure of their larynx and vocal cords, but they could communicate via signs and pictures.” “So, Atlantia’s involvement goes back a long way.” “Further than we’ve talked about so far.” “What?” He looked at her with wide eyes. “Angelica hinted at that when she was here. When Earth developed the conditions to sustain life, after it had cooled and the oceans had formed, we seeded chemicals and minerals in the water that led to one-celled life forms. That was about 3.5 billion years ago. Then we sat back and let evolution take its course.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” “Life needs help sometimes.” She stood, arched her back, and rubbed it. He held his head. “Damnation, Evie, you folks are who we call God!” “To some degree, yes,” she said. “So, you helped life form, watched it evolve, and intervened again 1.4 million years ago by altering the gene pool.” She walked to the truck and got a bottle of water. “You’re tracking so far.” He scratched his head vigorously. “Then 46,000 years ago, you did something else … after homo sapiens evolved … with your help of course.” “Give the man a cupie doll.” She returned and sat on a log. “And what, exactly, did you …” They heard Samali’s Harley approaching, louder by the second. “Damn,” Wayne said. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said, narrowed her eyes, and took a long drink of water. They walked to the entrance of the camp grounds. He stopped on the edge of the highway, put a foot down on each side of the bike, and held out his hands with the palms up. “I know, you told me I wasn’t welcome here … but I gotta check. Did you fire a big bore rifle a couple of days ago?” “And you want to know because?” Wayne asked. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright.” “Really,” Evie said, hands on her hips. “Somebody from Satonia thought it would be Ok if we weren’t.”

“Satonia?” He shook his head. “Please tell me that ain’t so.” “Odds are it was your pal, Fatali Morta,” Evie said. “A cloaking suit, small space craft, high speed Earth rifle … sound familiar?” “Damn it, Evie,” he protested. “Fatali isn’t a friend a’mine, never has been. I don’t hold with killing for money.” “No, you’re a man of higher principles,” she scoffed. “You only kill for political reasons.” He got a pained expression on his face. “I’ve never killed anybody, and that’s the honest truth.” “That may be,” she said. “But you’ve arranged to have it done.” “You give me too much credit. You can’t talk someone into killing if they don’t want to.” “Delegate Angelica and Fex were here,” Wayne said. “The attempt was on their lives. Angelica was wounded, but Fex wasn’t hit.” A’Sha’Nah ed them and faced Samali with bared teeth. Samali’s eyes widened. “Easy there wolf, I don’t mean harm.” “He seems to think you do,” Wayne said. “He felt the same way about Fatali.” Samali changed the subject. “Did I hear you right, Delegate Angelica was hit?” “Flesh wound,” Evie said. “She was lucky.” “That’s what has me confused,” he said. “I don’t like Fatali, but he usually doesn’t miss.” “There were some intervening factors,” Evie said. “Next time you see Fatali, tell him to kiss my ass!” She turned and walked toward the camp. A’Sah’Nah stayed with Wayne, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Bye, Samali,” Wayne said, and turned. “If he doesn’t leave, A’Sah’Nah, give

him good reason.” Wayne heard the motorcycle depart before he got back to the fire ring. “What do you make of that?” He asked, as he sat on a stump. “Did he know it was gonna happen?” “Don’t think so,” Evie shook her head. “Fatali has always worked alone. But it wouldn’t have bothered him if it had succeeded.” “I agree,” said Wayne. “He hoped he’d find both of us dead.”

“How nice to disappoint him,” she said.

REVEREND TATUM WAS IN HIS CAR, MAKING SURE NO MYSTERIOUS SOULS had dropped into his parish as they did from time to time. Over the years he had grown comfortable with his situation even though he couldn’t explain how it had come to . He’d been in Limbo so long it was the only reality he knew. Had to strain to his previous existence; a place that was vague, foggy, that fleetingly came and went in brief mental snapshots. He slowed while three deer crossed the road in front of him. Damn Chisholm, all this wildlife! He accelerated and shook his head as wispy memories of being in a seminary flitted across his mind, like a black and white film he’d seen long ago from the balcony of some cheesy theatre. One he’d snuck into and could be evicted from at any moment. The lead actress was an older woman, the wife of the heaster of an elite school, a temptress who lured a naïve male student into her lair. She did things to him, delicious things, even as he told her not to, but was powerless to stop. The film would flicker and a sequence of one second images interspersed with two seconds of dark screen would appear. Another man was there, with a solid white collar around his neck, hitting him, slapping the woman, throwing him out the door onto a desolate crossroads, where God’s voice told him to repent and atone for what had happen.

He rubbed his chin, sighed, and returned his attention to the road. He was at the crossroads, the car idling in the middle of the intersection! Again! He looked down the highway to the west and saw a dot in the distance. He could barely see it through the haze of the morning. Of course, it was God’s messenger coming to tell him what to do! It would happen here, just like all those years ago. Yes, at the crossroads! He’d been so young, so confused. Which way should he go, how had he gotten there? He sat for what seemed hours, a mass of indecision. Then heard a strange humming sound, and a man appeared some 100 yards distant. He had kindly brown eyes, a full beard, shoulder length brown hair, and was dressed in a long, white, robe. He had sandals on his feet. “Morning, Ely,” he said as he approached. “A bit confused?” “Yes,” he stammered in reply. “No need to be, you are here for an important reason.” The man smiled and held both arms outstretched. “This is Limbo, and you are to be a guide … a help to the people that will through from time to time. You will remind them of their potential.” He ed the relief that flooded through his body and mind; a sense of being lost, and then found. He asked the man, “Who are you?” “A friend,” he said, “a good friend.” He looked at the man. “How will I know what to do?” “If you pay close attention, Limbo will teach you.” The voice penetrated his mind. “But , there is always choice. You will need to remain open, flexible, and very aware. If you can, the path will become clear.” The man turned and walked away, back to where he had appeared. He heard the humming again and the man was gone!

Tatum rubbed his eyes and looked down the road. The dot was bigger but he still couldn’t make it out. But it was coming to the crossroads. Of course it was! He ed what happened a few days after the man disappeared. He was still at the intersection, unable to decide which way to go, when another man had come, He pulled up beside him in a car, rolled down the window, and handed him a book. His face was long and his head bald and his hands were huge with long fingers. “Your guide manual,” he said, and drove away to the east. Tatum smiled; picked up the Bible he’d been given all those years ago, and stroked its worn cover. He had read it every day since that moment, and had come to realize that the first man was Jesus himself, and the second, one of his apostles. He had been shown the way and chosen by God to show others. Now he could fulfill the promise he’d made to himself as a lad. He had seen Jesus and been saved.

He sat at the crossroads for further instructions.

WHILE REVEREND JACK WAITED, WAYNE DRANK A CUP OF MORNING coffee, and stoked the fire. He was in the middle of his second sip, when he heard the familiar humming behind the tree line on the edge of the camp. “Hey, Evie,” he yelled. “We got company.” She stuck her head out of the restroom door, water glistening in her hair, and a towel in her hands. “Who is it?” “Don’t know yet. You done with your shower?” She toweled her hair vigorously as she stepped through the door. “Yeah,” she said, and walked toward him. Fex, Angelica, and three others came out of the trees. “Dad,” Evie said, and ran to greet him. “Morning,” Wayne said, “Guess I better put on some more coffee.”

Angelica hugged Wayne. “That would be so nice.” She turned and pointed at the visitors. “Wayne Chisholm, this is Delegates Luke and Merriam. They wanted to see Limbo for themselves.” Fex let go of Evie, and said, “And this is one of my dearest friends, Bartok.” Evie smiled as she ed the group at the fire pit. “Hello, Merriam, Luke,” she said. “Welcome to our humble camp. And, Bartok, it’s such a pleasure to have you here.” “My goodness,” said Merriam. “What a gorgeous place! I wish we had trees like these on Atlantia.” “Indeed,” agreed Luke. “I had no idea it would look like this.” Evie motioned for them to take a stump seat. “Keep in mind,” she said. “That this is Wayne’s version of Limbo. It doesn’t always take this form.” Merriam sat. “What was your inspiration, Wayne?” “What you see is the spitting image of the Rocky Mountains on Earth.” A’Sha’Nah came out of the trees in a lope and bounded into the camp. “I heard unfamiliar voices, is everything OK?” The hackles on his back were on high alert. “Are you a wolf?” Luke stared with his mouth hanging open. “Did I just hear you?” Fex chuckled. “He can mind-speak if you are open to it, and obviously you are.” Merriam’s’ brow furrowed. “Luke, you can hear him, uh, speak?” “Clear as a bell.” Luke smiled at her. Bartok rubbed his head. “I can hear him too!” Evie sat by Merriam. “A’Sha’Nah, sit in front of Merriam and say hello.” She put her arm around Merriam. “Don’t be afraid, he is a dear friend.” A’Sha’Nah walked slowly around the fire ring and sat on his haunches. “Hi,

Merriam, I am A’Sha’Nah, the wolf.” Her eyes flew open, she looked at Evie in awe, then back at A’Sah’Nah. “Oh, my word,” she gasped. “I don’t know what to say!” “Hello would be good,” A’Sha’Nah said. She leaned forward and looked into his eyes. “Hello, A’Sha’Nah, I am so pleased to meet you.” A’Sha’Nah raised one paw and extended it toward her. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, and gently shook it. “Be advised,” A’Sha’Nah said. “Riser is on his way.” Angelica giggled. “Merriam, Luke, and Bartok, get ready for the grand entrance of a Giant Condor.” Luke said, “Excuse me …” Riser dropped over the tree line, circled the restroom, and landed in the truck bed. “Hi, everyone,” he said. Merriam and Luke gasped in unison and Riser was introduced as he hopped around the camp. Fresh coffee was served. They sat and enjoyed the brew. “Could I interest any of you in a little sweetener for your coffee,” Wayne said, as he uncorked the bottle of rye. Luke’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “Absolutely!” “Oh my,” said Merriam. “It’s so early, I, uh, well … er; we are on vacation, aren’t we.” She held out her cup. “Please include me,” Bartok’s eyes gleamed. Wayne made the circle, poured, and raised his glass. “Welcome to Limbo.”

“Hear, hear,” Luke echoed. Merriam stood, took a drink, and said, “Here’s to more of ConEarth coming to Limbo for a visit.” “I second that,” said Bartok.

“The more the merrier,” said Wayne.

TATUM SAT IN HIS CAR WHILE THE DOT CHANGED INTO A MOTORCYCLE, the motorcycle got larger, and he could see it was Samali. The bike stopped beside the car, Samali steadied it with his feet, and pushed back his goggles. “Howdy, Rev,” he said. “How you be?” “I’m Ok,” said Tatum. “What you doin’ out this way?” “Lookin’ for you. Got some important info.” Tatum rested his arm on the door. “What information?” Samali turned the bike off. “You hear about the shooting over at Wayne’s camp?” Tatum’s eyes narrowed. “A shooting?” “Evie’s dad and new girlfriend were there for a visit. Someone took two shots at them. Slightly wounded the woman, but missed Fex.” Tatum frowned. “Not that I like that bunch, but why would someone do that?” Samali leaned in closer. “I got disturbing news; part of Atlantia’s strategy for Earth is to discredit Christianity by claiming that Christ is not the son of God.” “What?” Tatum pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “That’s blasphemy!” “A’course it is, but they want Earthlings to think like they do.”

Tatum waved his Bible out the window. “We have to stop them!” “That’s what the folks with the gun were tryin’ to do,” Samali said. “Fex’s lady friend is one of the leaders on Atlantia of the anti-Christian movement.” Tatum frowned deeper. “Who are they?” “Don’t fret about it; they’re good people like you and me.” Samali patted Tatum on the shoulder. Tatum rubbed his chin and stroked the Bible. “Is this what you meant about Chisholm being dangerous to Christianity?” Samali’s eyes grew wide. “I knew you’d get it. He’s central to their cause, and he’s the one that will get their anti-Christ story heard on Earth.” Tatum asked, “How can he discredit Christ?” “Don’t concern yourself with that. They got this cock and bull story that’s a bunch of lies. What you need to do is stop Chisholm.” “You mean kill?” Tatum laid the Bible beside him and squirmed in his seat. Samali found Tatum’s eyes. “That’s what they did to Christ, isn’t it?” He leaned back and scowled. “They shut him up. You’re in a position to do the same to Chisholm. God is countin’ on you, Reverend Jack.” Tatum’s heart skipped beats, butterflies invaded his stomach, and his mouth went dry. I’m at the crossroads and God is countin’ on me! “We can team up, Rev. I’ll keep Evie busy, and you can take care of Chisholm.” Tatum picked up the Bible, closed his eyes, and opened it at random. Held his breath, looked down, and saw the of David killing Goliath! He gasped, closed the book and looked at Samali. “I’ll do it. I will be the stone in God’s sling!” Samali’s grin covered the lower portion of his face. “Alright, Rev! That’s what

I’m talkin’ about!”

“And Reverend Jack, the sooner the better.”

BUZZ WAS FRUSTRATED. HE’D HAD NO CHANCE FOR A SECOND VISIT WITH Evie. What with all the company, the shooting, and that damn A’Sha’Nah and Riser. It was a matter of pride; he wanted another shot at her. He dropped 500 feet in altitude and scanned the camp. No one to be seen. He circled over the canyon and checked the stream. No luck. He was on the verge of giving up, when he spied some movement. It was her! She was gathering plants and she was alone. It was risky, but would have to do. He folded his wings into a steep dive, pulled up when he was fifty feet above her, and glided to a noiseless landing. She was on her knees and too preoccupied to notice. Perfect! “Evie,” he mind spoke. Her body jerked, but she didn’t turn around. She took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you want?” He couldn’t circle her because dense brush and a large pine were in his path. “You thought anymore about being queen of this place?” She reached into her shirt pocket, took out a pair of Polaroid sunglasses, and put them on. “You’re wasting your time. Get away from me!” “I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, don’t let them talk you out of it.” He hopped closer and managed to get on her right side. “I’m gonna tell you once more,” her voice had a hard edge. “You leave, or I’m gonna bust you up.” “Fancy talk for such a little lady,” he said. “You need to relax … relax … go with the flow.”

She moved her feet under her hips, abruptly stood and spun to her left, with her right leg extended. It came around in one fluid motion and found the left side of his head where it ed the neck. A roundhouse kick delivered with perfect timing, the long fulcrum of her leg gaining speed and landing dead on target. There was a loud crack and his head fell to one side. He went down like he’d been struck by lightning, landed on his right side, and rolled onto his back with his feet and talons clawing at the air. Tremors ran through his body for a few seconds and then he was still. A trickle of blood flowed from his beak and down the front of his neck. Riser came barreling out of the sky and hit him with both feet fully extended. Stepped off the body and looked at Evie. “He’s dead,” he ruffled his feathers and prodded the body with one foot. “Told him to leave me alone.” She put her face in her hands. “Never killed anything before. God, Riser.” Riser hopped to her side. “He was a bad character, Evie. It was self-defense.” “Hope I don’t ever have to do that again.” she said, and wiped moisture from her eyes.

Some wishes aren’t meant to be granted.

WAYNE WAS SITTING BY THE FIRE, THINKING, AND HEATING WATER ON the fire to wash the dinner dishes. He had listened to Evie’s of killing Buzz, held her and rubbed her head, and given her a Valium. He sat with her till she fell asleep, waited twenty minutes to make certain it was going to last, and went to the fire ring to stew in his own juices. He wished Fex, Merriam, and the others could have stayed longer, but understood the situation on Atlantia required their presence. He was becoming more aware he didn’t like life on Earth and it was due to an inability to accept things as they were. He didn’t feel particularly grateful for being and Earthling, although had been told often enough that he should. He shrugged, one more rule he’d broken. Most folks, in his opinion, made a living

off pretending life was what they wanted it to be. Pretending! His number one pet peeve. The old glass half full or half empty question. The answer was an obvious, observable, yes. Any other position, based on the reality of a half full glass sitting in front of you, was only half correct. The glass was, at all times, both. Why did so many folks view that as pessimistic? He figured it was how they protected themselves from the pain the half empty side represented. Did he do that too? He couldn’t ignore the half empty portion, but had he dealt with the pain and frustration of it well? He sighed and shook his head. If he was truthful, he couldn’t claim he had. Nope, he’d protected himself from the pain with anger, so how was he any different? No pretending meant dealing with the pain in a productive manner, not an angry one. Was Anger any better than denial? Weren’t both just cop outs? Damn it! He’d had some audacious one-way conversations with God over the years on this issue. Whoever God was, or wasn’t, he/she/it wasn’t keen on explaining things in a direct manner. God was like an absentee landlord that didn’t show up to fix the furnace, but didn’t mind raising the rent. At this moment, sitting next to the fire, he was clear about at least one thing … whatever God’s agenda was or wasn’t, it didn’t have anything to do with protecting innocence. Innocence had been raped, pillaged, tortured, drowned, burned at the stake, put on the rack, and killed in outrageously cruel ways … and told it was its fault. Whales were beaching themselves because the ocean was so polluted they could no longer stand to live there. Sharks, one of the oldest species on the planet, were 25% extinct, and Wayne wondered what the Bison had done to deserve their fate? Not to mention the 58,000,000 million Native Americans that Europeans had slaughtered in North and South America. Nor, the thousands of children born into situations that all but guaranteed they would be bitter, resentful, angry, and unaware of their potential goodness. Yep, whoever God was, he/she/it was not adverse to pain, suffering, or harsh consequences to those that seemed innocent of anything except being born on the third rock from the Sun. Who would protect the innocent? Did anyone care about their pain? Did injustice bother anyone enough to do something about it? If so, it didn’t seem to be God. And, it certainly wasn’t Republicans either. They seemed to thrive on it and

sleep well at night to boot. And the Democrats! Their answer was to throw free lunches at the problem with few strings attached and pretend it would teach folks how to behave responsibly. It was not as if either party could rise above its own agenda and provide what people needed. Better to blame people for their ills, or throw self-help programs at them to ease one’s guilt. Better to rise above it, to become comfortably numb, to rationalize everything into oblivion … to pretend, pretend, pretend, and then pretend some more. Just pretend. And be happy no matter what … the ultimate pretense. Or … is this Anger talking? He sighed, stoked the fire, and checked on Evie. She was sleeping soundly. He put a blanket over her, returned to his seat, and thought about some humans he really respected. He saw it on the screen of his mind like a power point presentation.

Jesus: “How oft I would have gathered you, even as a chicken under her wings, but ye would not.” Outcome: Hung on a cross until dead, nails driven through wrists and ankles.

Nelson Mandala: “Never, never, and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another.”

Outcome: 27 long years in prison.

Martin Luther King: “I have a dream where people will be judged by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin.” “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

Outcome: Supersonic bullet through his body.

Abraham Lincoln: “A government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the Earth.” “Let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds.”

Outcome: Derringer bullet to his head.

Mahatma Gandhi: “Silent suffering … speaks with an unrivaled eloquence.” The pioneer of non-violent civil disobedience.

Outcome: Assassinated.

Mother Teresa: “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten we belong to each other.”

Maya Angalou: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside yourself.”

Wayne smiled ruefully. As far as he was concerned there was something very wrong with this picture. And how about the other end of the spectrum? It was a

different slide show indeed.

Adolf Hitler: “When starting and waging a war, it is not right that matters, but victory.” “Who says I am not under the protection of God?”

Benito Mussolini: “The truth is that men are tired of liberty.”

Joseph Stalin: “The death of one man is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic.” “Death solves all problems–no man, no problem.”

Vladamir Lenin: “History will not forgive us if we do not assume power now.”

John O’Sullivan: “It is our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying masses.” New York Morning News, 1845

He sighed and threw a pine cone into the fire. It sat for a few seconds, then burst into an eruption of flame and sparks that rose and winked out above the fire ring. He smiled as a pack of coyotes yapped their glee at a kill across the canyon. Far behind him the plaintiff cry of an owl ed the chorus. A’Sha’Nah came and sat beside him. “Your soul is howling at the moon.”

“Yep,” Wayne nodded. “My kind has howled for years, from the highest mountain tops.” Wayne rubbed A’Sha’Nah behind the ears.

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

EVIE EMERGED FROM THE TENT THE NEXT MORNING WITH A VALIUM hangover, eagerly accepted the cup of coffee Wayne offered, and drank urgently. As she gulped the brew her eyes scanned the sky. “Cloudy,” she sat and crossed her legs. “Did you order rain today?” He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Think Limbo sometimes acts on its own.” “Wow,” she rubbed her eyes. “That pill really knocked me out.” “You were pretty upset,” he said. “I killed him, Wayne.” “Yep, and you should have.” He came and sat by her. She cut her eyes at him. “What?” He returned her gaze without flinching. “There’s no pretending allowed, right?” Her eyes dropped. “No pretending,” he said. “It is what it is, yes?” She studied the ground between her feet. He kept looking at her. “Are Riser and A’Sha’Nah bad?” “Of course not,” she replied, eyes still down.

“They have killed all their lives.” No response. He threw a log on the fire. “As a normal part of the scheme of things, as part of the ecological order.” She sat motionless. He waited. “They think you don’t like them anymore,” he said finally. She gave him a quick peek, and turned away. He drank his coffee, let her mull it over. She squirmed on the stump. “They have to kill to survive,” she said in a quiet voice. “Really?” He turned toward her. “Are you sure?” “Damn it, Wayne, you’re pissing me off!” He thought it over, sipped some coffee, and shrugged. “Gonna risk that. Buzz was a predator to the core, both physically and psychologically. He would have destroyed you.” “But, but …” “But nothing.” He kept his words calm. “That’s what he came to do, consume you one way or another.” “Damn it.” A tear found its way down her cheek. “Yeah,” he said. “It sucks. He should have left you alone and he’d be alive if he had. He picked the wrong prey, and paid for it. That’s the way it is, Evie. No pretending.” Her shoulders shook and she sobbed from deep inside. “Why did he force me to choose myself over him?” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Because he underestimated you and it was a bad mistake. Lots of animals will live because he’s dead, because you took him out of the chain. That’s the pure truth, nothing but, with no pretending.”

She looked up, a river of tears on her face, cascading in a waterfall off her nose. “Do Riser and A’Sah’Nah really think …” “Course not,” he said. “But it got your attention.” She stood, slapped him on the shoulder, then hugged him. “You can be a sonofabitch, you know?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “But I’m working on it.”

THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS WAS IN SESSION, AND IT WAS A SUBDUED gathering. Lamen’s death hit all of them hard, regardless of party affiliation. Most sat silent, while a few spoke quietly in small groups. The Chairman didn’t have to use the gavel to bring the meeting to order. “Esteemed colleagues,” he said. “This is a sad day. It pains me to make it even sadder.” A murmur swept through the hall and heads were raised. He had their attention. “I have asked one of our agents to address you. So, without further ado, Agent Hubble.” All eyes were on the stage as Hubble made his way to the podium. “Good morning,” he said. “I wish I were here under better circumstances.” He cleared his throat and drank water from a glass on the podium. “I was charged with the task, some three years ago, to apprehend a Satonian citizen we had reason to believe was a skilled sniper and assassin for hire.” The audience moved in their seats as one, fabric rustling on wood. “Toward that end I spent months trying to crack his communication network, and track his movements, so that we might bring substantiated charges against him.” He wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “A short time ago, I succeeded in this endeavor, and can now say with certainty that charges can be filed.”

The delegates broke into a smattering of applause that grew and became unanimous. Hubble waited until they stopped. “I appreciate that, but it may be premature. The net I cast captured the assassin as well as the one who hired him.” There were gasps from the delegates as a wave of shock rippled through the room. “The assassin is a Satonian named Fatali Morta. He was the one who fired the shot that wounded Delegate Angelica.” There was a stunned silence. They sat on the edge of their seats and waited for the rest of the story. “Let me assure you that I would not say what will follow unless I was certain of its validity.” He paused, took another drink from the glass, and inhaled deeply. “The one who commissioned him was Delegate Lamen.” Several delegates jumped to their feet and issued cries of outrage and disbelief. Agent Hubble stood silent, raised a recording disc above his head, and waved it. It caught the light and sent flashes through the hall. The room quieted. “This disc contains a direct conversation between Morta and Delegate Lamen that provides irrefutable evidence of the veracity of my statements.” The silence was pervasive, thick and tangible. “I am also reasonably certain that Delegate Lamen was killed by Morta to insure that his part in the scheme would not come to light.” He lowered the disc and turned to the Chairman. “Mr. Chairman, is that sufficient?” The Chairman nodded and came to the podium while Hubble left the stage. “Those of you who doubted Delegate Angelica’s charges owe her an immediate apology,” the Chairman said, his voice crisp and demanding. “Were it not for a warning just before the shot, she would no longer be among us.” His eyes swept over the chamber. “It has been centuries since an Atlantian killed someone. Surely, we do not want to revert to such a means of settling our differences.” He

stood silent and let his words sink in. “We will adjourn early to give you time to deal with this information … but before we do, I have asked Delegate Luke and Delegate Merriam to briefly address this assembly.” Luke and Merriam rose from their seats, walked to the stage, and stood side-byside at the podium. “Fellow Delegates,” Merriam said. “Luke and I recently returned from a trip to Limbo with Delegates Bartok and Angelica as well as Fex. We took Angelica’s request to see for ourselves to heart.” She stepped back and looked at Luke. “We will be brief,” he said. “We ask that as many of you as possible make a similar journey prior to making up your mind about Earth and our involvement there. We found it most enlightening and thought provoking.” They left the stage and headed for their seats. The Chairman rapped his gavel on the lectern. “This meeting is adjourned.”

It didn’t adjourn for several hours.

SAMALI TURNED OFF HIS MOTORCYCLE AND COASTED TO A STOP IN FRONT of Tatum’s house. He found Tatum in his backyard burning twenty two cartridges at tin cans. He watched for a few minutes without Tatum being aware of his presence. The ole Rev was getting pretty darn good with that pump gun. Yes sir, this just might work. Samali came around the corner of the house, and called out, “Hey, Rev, got to minute?” Tatum jumped and turned wide-eyed. “Didn’t know you were there!” Samali smiled. “I’m gonna be gone a couple of days to get some equipment. Keep this personal communication device so I can get in touch with you.” Tatum looked at the small screen on the instrument and shrugged. “What’s this?” “Kinda like a phone with a longer range. The message will appear on the screen in text.” Samali showed him the controls, how to activate it, type in text, and

send it. “I’ll let you know when Evie is outta the way. Once I do, take care of Wayne.” Tatum frowned and put the device in his pocket. “You gonna kill her?” “No, we’ll need her later, just gonna inconvenience her a bit.” Samali put an arm around Tatum’s shoulders. “As soon as Wayne is gone, you let me know.” Tatum stepped away and shook his head. “This isn’t going to be easy for me.” “Course it ain’t, said Samali. “Things that will do the most good are the hardest.” Samali leaned forward at the waist. “You make sure you finish him. Put him down and then two or three to the head.” Tatum scrunched up his face and put a hand on his stomach. “Geez!” “ why we gotta do this,” Samali said. Tatum’s face lost its color and he sat on a log. “It’s the Lord’s will,” Samali said, as walked toward the side of the house. “You’ll hear from me in a few days … till then, keep practicin’.” He disappeared around the corner.

Tatum heard the roar of the bike, walked three paces, and threw up.

WAYNE TOOK IN THE SUN DRENCHED MORNING WHILE EVIE DOZED inside the tent. The day was gorgeous, calm, and cools enough to require a sleeve. He sat on the ground and leaned back against a log. Heard a noise above and looked up to see a squirrel scampering on a pine limb. “Evie,” he said. “On Atlantia, do most people believe in God?” He heard her rustling in the sleeping bag. “Sorta,” came her muffled reply. “Sorta? What does that mean?”

She stuck her head out of the tent. “What’s with you?” “Just want to know what Atlantians believe, is there a God or not?” She crawled out and wiggled into her jeans. He grinned and watched. She could do that all day as far as he was concerned. “We aren’t sure,” she said. “What?” “We don’t claim to know.” “That’s convenient.” She poured herself some coffee and sat. “You’re in a bit of a mood, aren’t you?” He answered with a frown. She sighed. “God that tastes good. And, no, it’s not convenient, we’d rather be sure, but we aren’t.” He turned away and grunted. “Damn it, Wayne, it’s not something you can know. It’s a faith thing, so sue us.” “I might do that,” he said. “You’ve messed with Earth’s evolutionary history, and you refuse to give an answer on the God question?” “That’s correct,” she sipped her coffee and brushed hair from her face. “People might believe us.” “That again,” he said as he turned to faced her. “Yeah, you should know by now.” She put on her boots and sighed. “You Earthlings believe in a Supreme Being and look where it’s gotten you. Godordained monarchs, government sponsored churches, the crusades, the inquisition, prophets without number leading people here and there, and wars attributed to God’s will.” Her hands moved in front of her, punctuating the words. “Hell, Wayne, in the United States thirty percent of football fans believe

God acts to help their team win!” He put his elbows on his knees. “So you don’t think it’s possible to believe without all that happening.” “Belief without question makes it unlikely.” she replied. “If people believe they are acting in God’s name, history has shown they will do most anything, no matter how heinous.” He stood, went to the truck, and returned with a loaf of bread. “So, if I understand, you think that belief itself must be subject to question and analysis.” He buttered four slices and put them on the griddle over the fire. “Exactly.” She walked to the cooler, got some bacon, and added it to the grille. “If not, you can end up doing things like Lamen, because the ends justify the means.” He sighed. “Can’t argue with that.” She opened a jar of grape jam while Wayne turned over the toast and bacon “So … we are probabilistic believers.” “What?” “We believe it’s likely there is a God, a First Source, but we don’t assume we are right. On Atlantia, it’s impossible to use God’s will as a reason for action.” Wayne mulled this over. “So, you believe there’s probably intelligence behind creation, but mortals have no clue what God’s will is.” “Well said, Wayner. Dead center, bull’s eye!” He sighed, scratched his head, and spread jelly on a piece of toast. Put it and threes slices of bacon on a paper plate and handed it to her. “In the United States that problem has been compounded.” “How so?” She folded the bread around the bacon and took a bite. He squirmed on the stump. “A lot of the religions believe that God came down to Earth and expressed God’s will in an undiluted form. For Christians, of course,

that was Jesus.” “Yeah,” she said in a low voice. “The interpretation of his life has been a real problem.” “Lordy mercy.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t say that too loud on Earth, you might get crucified.” He popped a slice of bacon in his mouth and chewed. She stood, walked a few yards away, and stopped with her back to him. “You don’t know the half of it, Wayner.” He looked at her back and felt a twinge through his stomach. “Evie?” She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Jesus was a relative of mine.”

SAMALI WAS ON SATONIA ADJUSTING TO THE DECREASED GRAVITATIONAL pull. He had crashed into the walls of his apartment twice and had the bruises to show for it. His tall angular body didn’t help. He stroked his beard with his long fingers and practiced taking shorter steps with his feet close to the floor. Went to his desk, activated the computer, and punched in a call code. It was answered on the second beep. “Samali,” the voice said. “What can I do you for?” “I find myself in need of a cloaking suit.” “Those are hard to come by these days,” Shader said. “The new policy that they have to be ed is playing havoc with availability.” “Yeah, yeah,” said Samali. “I know all that, just tell me how much.” “Five thousand big ones,” Shader said. Samali choked on his words and sputtered. “Damn, that’s double the last time!”

“And in a month it will double again.” “That’s robbery,” Samali said. “You want it or not? I got two of em’. If you don’t, somebody else will.” “I’ll be over this afternoon, but don’t expect me to be in a good mood.” “Damned if I care one way or the other,” Shader replied. “As long as you got money.” “I also need a dart gun and six darts,” Samali said. “That’ll be another three hundred.” “You won’t just throw that in with the five grand?” Shader laughed in his ear. “You gotta be kidding.” Samali terminated the call with an angry punch at the computer keyboard.

There go half of my profits!

WAYNE HAD CONVINCED HIMSELF HE WAS ABOVE BEING SHOCKED BY further revelations concerning Atlantia and Earth. He had been wrong. He sat on a tree stump seat, and tried to convince his mouth to close. He couldn’t, so he spoke instead. “You and Jesus are related?” Evie swallowed a bite of toast and turned to face him. “Sorry, I know you must feel like you’ve followed Alice down the rabbit hole.” “That describes it,” he said. “What sort of relative?” She walked toward him and took the pot off the fire. “A very distant one, but we’re from the same lineage.” She sat and poured them some coffee. He took a sip and sampled his toast. “But, Evie, that means that …”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It does.” “He’s from Atlantia?” “Yeah … he was.” He scratched his head like never before. “Was he one of your cultural interventions?” “Always quick on the uptake, Wayner.” She said, and sighed. “We got so discouraged with the direction Earth was headed that we let his father talk us into what is now known as The Ultimate Sacrifice Initiative.” Wayne leaned toward her. “And by his father you mean …” “The handsome Atlantian that mated with Mary and sired the son known as Jesus of Nazareth.” “Holy crap,” said Wayne. “You aren’t kidding are you?” She took his hand. “No, I’m not.” “Evie, this would cause a revolt on Earth!” “Why do you think Fex and I have been so hesitant to tell you?” He stood and paced around the fire pit. “You hoped his presence would make a difference?” “It’s not that different from what’s in the New Testament. We hoped his life would awaken Earthlings to a realization of their potential … to an awareness of who they are.” He paced faster, the smoke from the fire swirling around him. “God, the implications are so … so … holy crap!” “Welcome to Limbo.” She raised her cup in salute.

“Fex is right,” he said, and clinked his mug against hers. “Limbo rocks!”

SAMALI LANDED ON LIMBO IN THE SAME CLEARING HE’D USED BEFORE and uncloaked the ship long enough to unload the Harley, his cloaking suit, and the dart gun. He reactivated the ship’s shields and watched it disappear. He’d had the Harley altered on Satonia. It now had a soundless exhaust system and an invisibility shield. He put the suit and gun into a pack and used bungee cords to attach it behind the enger seat. He swung one leg over and checked his new look in one of the mirrors. The long hair was gone, as was the beard. He was so clean cut he doubted anyone in Limbo would recognize him at first glance. He pushed the start button on the Harley and motored noiselessly down the highway toward the camp ground.

Get ready folks, I’m comin’.

Reverend Tatum was on pins and needles. He checked the screen on the communicator every fifteen minutes. There was still no word from Samali. What’s takin’ him so long? He’d thrown up three times, once for each instance he’d imagined shooting Wayne in the head.

He sat on his porch and waited.

Angelica and Fex were still enjoying each other, almost unable to believe their good fortune. Fex was a bit unsettled however, and couldn’t stop feeling that Evie was in harm’s way.

He was right.

WHILE SAMALI WAS RIDING AND TATUM WAS STEWING, WAYNE AND EVIE talked. It was early afternoon, and the sky had clouded up since morning, a thin cover of gray with strips of blue showing through. The air was heavy with the smell of pine, as evidenced by the green sheen of pollen that covered every exposed surface. The grass in the campground was coated in morning dew and glistened like small jewels. A light wind had come up and the aspen grove behind the tent quaked in response. Wayne was on his way to take a shower, but stopped to ask Evie a question. “Is there a connection between Atlantia and Satonia other than an interest in Earth?” She looked up from her spot under the large pine where she sat petting A’Sha’Nah. “Like I told you before,” she said. “You’re a quick study.” “Just I feeling I had,” he replied. “Historically, back in the day, we were one people, but we had this disagreement.” He put the towel around his shoulders and sat on a log. “You all lived on Atlantia?” “Years ago, but had started a colony on Satonia.” She rubbed A’Sha’Nah’s belly while he lay on his back and sighed. Wayne grabbed the ends of the towel with his hands. “What was the conflict over?”

“There was a faction that thought our policy of non-violence was naive.” “So the two sides drifted apart?” “Yep,” she shifted her position. “It was formalized in a written agreement and the ones that favored forcing Earthlings to comply went to live on Satonia.” She stood, brushed pine needles and dirt from her rear, and sat near him. “When did the competition over Earth turn nasty?” “Almost immediately,” she replied. “But it’s gotten worse over the last 50 years.” She frowned. “Satonia’s position has become more militant. They want to rule Earth by military force.” Wayne rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Come on, Chisholm,” she said. “Put it together.” He looked at her. “That story sounds familiar. Are you telling me that’s where the story about Satan came from?” “I knew you could do it.” She leaned over, pulled on a boot, and tied the laces. He took a deep breath. “How much of the Bible is based on Atlantian and Satonian interaction with Earth?” “Your entire religious mythology is intertwined with it.” Wayne gave a snort. “So not only do we think of you as God, but Satan too.” She nodded. “For thousands of years, Atlantia has sought to influence Earth to be peaceful and non-violent, while Satonia has been doing the opposite. Who do you think was whispering in Hitler’s ear?” “Wow,” he held his head with both hands. “Quite a story, isn’t it?” Wayne moaned. “We’re such idiots!” “See why we can’t tell Earthlings the facts? Look what you do with them.” She

put on the other boot and stood. He sighed from the depths. “I’m beginning to.” He stood, and walked across the glade to the restroom. “Going to shower and think,” he said. “When I get back I want to talk about 46,000 years ago, and Jesus.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, and ran a brush through her hair.

SAMALI PARKED THE HARLEY FIFTY YARDS DOWN THE HIGHWAY FROM the entrance to the camp ground and cloaked it. He donned his suit, activated it, and walked to within thirty yards of the fire ring, and watched Wayne and Evie talk. When Wayne stood, towel on his shoulders, and went to the rest room, he couldn’t believe his luck. In and out, quick as a bunny rabbit. His only concern was the location of Riser, who was nowhere to be seen. But he was lucky there too. Riser was in the canyon, flying low over the stream, looking for a trout dinner. Samali walked straight to the fire ring, aimed the dart gun carefully, and fired a direct hit into Evie’s thigh. Her eyes flew open; she gasped, stared at the projectile, and pulled it out. A’Sha’Nah stirred at the sound of the gun, raised his head, and yelped as a dart embedded in his hip. He jumped to his feet, nipped at the projectile, lost his balance, collapsed in a heap, and lay twitching. Evie stared at him, looked at the dart in her hand, and tried to stand. Her legs wouldn’t work and she slumped against the pine. Samali moved quickly, collected the darts, picked Evie up, and hurried back to the Harley. He sat her on the enger seat and strapped her to the sissy bar with five bungees. He got on the bike and fired it up. Made a quick U-turn across the highway and motored away. Wayne was in the shower scrubbing his back and singing.

“My girl, I’m talkin’ ‘bout my girrrllllllllllll.”

On Atlantia, Fex felt foreboding through him, a deep tingling; a physical version of a flashing red light. He activated his communicator and tried to reach Evie. Two minutes later, her communicator beeped from its spot on top of a stump at the fire ring.

No one heard it.

Reverend Jack also heard a beep and read the text that appeared on the tiny screen.

THE COAST IS CLEAR … GO.

He gulped, fought down a wave of nausea, and went to get the .22. It felt foreign and ugly in his hands, like he’d never considered its true function before. It sent high velocity pellets of lead and copper through the air to through the flesh and organs of a living creature with the intention of ending its life forever. He stopped on the porch and sat. He’d read all he could about the life of Jesus and there had been no mention of him owning or using weapons with the intent to kill. He couldn’t imagine Christ doing such a thing.

So why am I?

Samali arrived at his ship, stored the Harley in the cargo bay, and strapped Evie into the enger seat. He gave her another dose of sedative and headed for Satonia. He had a secure basement cell waiting for her, one that offered little chance of escape even for a person of her strength. He smiled and made the interstellar jump successfully. He’d be safe on Satonia within two hours.

Damn, I’m good!

WAYNE TOWELED HIS HAIR AS HE WALKED TO THE CAMP SITE. A’Sha’Nah lay motionless under the tree. He ran, knelt by his side, and shook him. The wolf was breathing, but was unconscious. “Evie?” He yelled. He looked in the tent, ran to the women’s side of the restroom, and threw open the door. Made a quick search, went back outside, and scanned the camp ground. “Evie!” He yelled at the top of his voice. Riser came swooping down and landed. “Wayne, what’s wrong?” Wayne pointed at A’Sha’Nah. “He’s unconscious and Evie is gone.” “What?” Riser ran to A’Sha’Nah and nudged him with his beak. “This is not good,” he said. Wayne ran a hand through his hair and searched the ground for foot prints. He found two in the soft dirt by the fire ring with a tread pattern he didn’t recognize. “Shit, somebody took her.” “But she’s so strong,” Riser said. “Not if she’s sedated.” He shook his head and plopped down on a stump. Riser bobbed his head and ruffled his feathers. “I was only gone for fifteen

minutes to get dinner.” “Not your fault,” Wayne said. “He probably used darts. I’m sure he was cloaked. They never saw a thing.” The communicator on the stump beeped, and Wayne picked it up. “Oh, God,” he said, and looked at Riser. “It’s Fex. Hello,” “Wayne,” said Fex. “I got a bad feeling …” “Evie’s gone, Fex.” His voice trembled. “I think she’s been kidnapped.” A quick intake of breath. “When?” “Just now. I was in the shower. Someone sedated A’Sha’Nah and took Evie. Big footprints. We’ll know more when A’Sha’Nah wakes up … assuming he does.” There was a five second pause. “I’m going to go get a doctor friend of mine. We’ll beam down. He’ll bring something for A’Sha’Nah to clear his system.” There was a short pause. “Damn it, this has to stop!” “God, Fex,” Wayne said. “This is my fault.” “Bullshit, it predates you by centuries,” said Fex. “Calm down and think clearly, we got to get her back.” Wayne took three deep breaths. “You’re right; see you when you get here.” “Be there as soon as I can,” Fex said, and disconnected.

Wayne hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

REVEREND JACK WAS HAVING TROUBLE GETTING IN HIS CAR AND TURNING the key. He’d thrown up two more times and was back in the chair on his porch breathing hard and fast. The rifle was in his lap, but he couldn’t convince himself to walk to the car. He’d been praying for thirty minutes, asking God to let him know if it was right to kill Wayne, but the nausea only increased.

He opened his Bible at random and read the words, ‘Thou shalt not kill!’ He was paralyzed with indecision, and, and, and … This isn’t right, I’m not a murderer. He felt a twinge of relief, a seed of calmness deep within. He rose, went in the house, and put the rifle in the closet. The seed grew, sprouted, and blossomed through his chest. Tears filled his eyes and he dropped to his knees. I am not a murderer. Amen and amen.

Wayne had just dodged a bullet.

SAMALI LANDED ON THE PAD BEHIND HIS HOUSE AND BREATHED A SIGH of relief. He carried Evie in the house, laid her on the floor beside a large door, and checked her vital signs. All was well. He opened the door and took her down a flight of ten steps that descended into a 15 X 25 foot concrete basement. He placed her on the narrow bed that was bolted to the floor against one of the walls. The room was sparse and gray. There was a white toilet and sink in one corner, and a large bottle of drinking water with a spigot at the bottom. There were no windows and the walls and floor were three feet thick. The ceiling was rust red half inch steel plate, ed by brown metal joists. The metal stairs were painted white. The door was solid steel plate. He scanned the area and nodded. No chance of escape. Even the electrical wiring was enclosed in strong metal conduit. The fuse box was at the top of the wall and padlocked. He’d let her sleep it off, then give her something to eat. Let’s see how Wayne functions without his lady love. He should be easy for the Rev to handle. Wonder why I haven’t heard from him? He went up the stairs, closed the door, and dropped the large lock bar into place.

Mission accomplished.

WAYNE AND RISER WAITED IMPATIENTLY FOR FEX AS THEY SAT BESIDE A’Sha’Nah. Wayne stroked his fur and they talked to him nonstop. Weren’t sure it would do any good, but it was better than doing nothing. At the one hour mark they were encouraged when he moved his legs slightly and his breathing rate picked up. Thirty minutes later they heard the low hum they’d been listening for, and Fex and his friend walked into camp. The doctor, named Meds, quickly examined A’Sha’Nah, while they held their breath and waited. He looked up. “I’m not an expert on wolves, but he shows no sign of being in danger as far as I can determine. I’ll give him something to clear his system. He should be back with us in a few minutes.” He opened a small black bag and removed a hypodermic needle, syringe, and a small bottle of amber fluid. Wayne wiped his eyes with a shirt sleeve, and whispered, “Thank, goodness.” Riser hopped around excitedly and flapped his wings. The doctor found a vein and completed the injection. He turned toward Riser. “You understand all this, don’t you?” Riser found Meds’ eyes, and projected, “Yes, I do.” “Well I’ll be damned. Fex said you would but it’s still a surprise.” A’Sha’Nah stirred, yelped, and opened his eyes. Wayne slipped a hand under his head. “It’s Ok, wolf, you’re gonna be alright.” A’Sha’Nah’s eyes slowly cleared and focused. “Hello,” he projected weakly. Riser nudged his paw with his beak. “You had me scared. Welcome back.” A’Sha’Nah licked his lips. “Where is Evie?” Fex knelt beside him. “Someone took her, but it’s not your fault.”

A’Sha’Nah tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. “I didn’t see anyone, and then there was a dart in my hip.” He struggled to his feet, wobbled, and went down. “We have to find her, leave while the trail is fresh, we have to …” Fex put his hand on A’Sha’Nah’s side. “You rest and get your legs back. We’ll find her.” Meds shook his head. “This is absolutely amazing, you can hear how much he loves her … and all of you.” He checked his vital signs and gave a thumb up. “He’s coming around nicely, give him another thirty minutes and he’ll feel a lot better.” Riser hopped in a circle, launched himself into the air, and flew around the camp twice. Wayne looked at Meds. “That’s how he celebrates. It’s his dance.” “That’s obvious,” Med said. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything … uh, sorry, Fex, I meant …” Fex threw an arm around Meds’ shoulders. “I know exactly what you meant … aren’t they incredible?” Wayne came over and shook Meds hand. “Thank you for coming. You’ll never know how much it means …” “I got a pretty good idea,” Meds said. “Thanks.” Fex nodded to Wayne and they moved away to let A’Sha’Nah rest. “She’s off planet,” Fex said. “What can we do?” “Precious little,” Fex sighed. “She’s probably on Satonia,” Wayne said. “Most likely,” Fex said. “We’re gonna have to hope she can send a signal.” “What?”

Fex gave a rueful half smile. “She has a chip in the skin under her left arm. She can activate it and the signal will reach Atlantia. The Rapid Transit will hone in on it and beam her back. But, she has to be in the open air. The signal is too weak to through rock or concrete, and it’s only good for about thirty minutes.” “At least there’s some hope,” Wayne said.

If he could have seen the cell she was in, he might not have thought so.

TATUM’S CAR PULLED INTO THE CAMP GROUND AND ROLLED SLOWLY toward them. Wayne looked up and scowled. “What does he want?” Fex craned his neck and squinted. “Who is it?” “Long story,” Wayne said. “Just follow my lead.” Tatum got out, waved, and walked to where Wayne and Fex stood. “Please,” he said in a low voice. “Hear me out.” “It’s a bad time,” Wayne said. Tatum took off his hat. “That’s why I’m here. I have information that might help.” Fex stepped forward. “Info? I’m Fex, Evie’s father.” “Jack Tatum,” he said, and stuck out his hand. Fex shook it. Tatum’s face clouded and he looked down. “Is Evie gone?” Wayne’s eyes came up quickly. “Why do you ask?”

“Samali has her.” His voice trembled. “You knew about this?” Wayne clenched fists and stepped toward him. “Hold it!” Fex grabbed Wayne’s arm. “He said he was here to help.” “Thank you,” Tatum looked at Wayne. “You can deal with me later, for now let’s work together.” Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “Fex, this could be a con.” Fex’s eyes were hard as stone. “Is he right?” “We’ve had some hard words.” He looked toward his car. “Just a minute.” He went to the car, reached through the window, and came back holding his Bible. “I swear to you on this book I will tell the truth.” Wayne shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.” “Samali has Evie, but I don’t know where he took her. He won’t hurt her because he as a plan her for later. He took her to weaken the power you two have together.” Fex looked at Tatum. “Anything else?” “This afternoon I was supposed to kill Wayne.” The words hung in the air, Fex’s eyes bulged, and Wayne swallowed so hard he almost choked. “I know how horrible that is, but … it, uh, woke me up, shocked me into seein’ clearer … I, oh, uh, God, can you ever forgive me?” Wayne couldn’t get a word out, his mouth felt paralyzed. Fex took up the slack. “Do you know where he kept his ship?” “Not exactly, somewhere a few miles the other side of your camp.” Riser hopped up to the conversation, wings flapping. “I know where it is,” he said. “Flew over something yesterday and saw a shimmer on the ground.”

Tatum took two steps back, eyes wide. “He can talk!” Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “You can hear him?” “Lord, it’s a miracle!” Wayne winced. “Don’t start that shit.” “Sorry,” said Tatum. “Yes, I hear him.” Wayne turned to Fex. “Now I believe he’s telling the truth.” “Good enough for me,” said Fex. “Let’s see if the ship is gone. Riser, is it close to the road?” “Real close. I’ll fly ahead, find the spot, and sit by the highway.” “Jack, can we go in your car?” Fex asked. Tatum walked toward the car, and said, “You bet!”

Of course, the ship was gone.

EVIE WOKE UP IN A STRANGE PLACE, WITH A HEAD THAT POUNDED, AND coordination that was off. She tried to walk, lost her balance, was on the other side of the room after two steps, and slammed hard into the wall. Holy shit, I’m on Satonia! She had been there once as a child, and ed how she could jump much further than on Atlantia. As her head cleared she adjusted her stride and effort and things got better. Memories came back slowly as she practiced moving around the room … There was a dart in my leg … and … A’Sha’Nah … one in his hip … Damnation, I’ve been abducted!

The room was dimly lit by a light bulb in a socket on the wall. She looked for other sources of illumination but saw the other sockets were empty. She inspected the room as best she could with the pain in her head, and wasn’t encouraged. It had obviously been constructed to keep people from escaping. The signal chip! I can activate the chip! She pounded on the walls with her fist and her spirits dropped. They sounded dense and thick. She couldn’t risk using it till she was certain it would work. It was her best hope of escape. She discovered the water bottle, drank greedily from its spigot, and realized she was very hungry. As if on cue, a metallic voice came out of a small speaker on the ceiling. “Would you like something to eat?” “Yes.” “I will slide it through a slot at the bottom of the door. Climb the stairs and get it any time you like.” “Why am I here, who are you, and what do you want?” “You will not be harmed,” the voice said, in robot-like tones. “Neither are you being spied on visually in the toilet area. How long you stay depends on outside factors, but at some point you will be returned home.” “Am I being held for ransom?” The voice laughed metallically. “Nothing as crass as that.” “Then why?” “Do not concern yourself. It is enough that you have my word you will not harmed or mistreated. I hope your food is satisfactory.” She went up the stairs and found a plate of fish and vegetables. There were no eating utensil that could serve as a tool or weapon, just a flimsy plastic spoon.

She ate it all.

FEX ED ANGELICA AND FILLED HER IN. SHE WENT DIRECTLY TO the Signal Detection Center and was assured someone would be on duty until Evie was retrieved. Fex and Wayne were grateful but still unable to sleep. They talked late into the night to keep their minds busy. “Evie has filled me in on the Atlantian and Satonian interventions on Earth,” Wayne said as they sat by the fire with Meds, double portions of rye in hand. “Are there any gaps you haven’t discussed?” Fex asked. “What happened 46,000 years ago?” “Ah, that’s a big one,” Fex said. “That’s for sure,” Meds chipped in. “Homo sapiens had developed to the point where they were capable of advanced cognitive tasks and language development.” Fex finished splitting some firewood and stacked it to one side. “We sent a colony of five hundred couples from Atlantia to help.” Meds carried two of the split logs to the fire ring and placed them on the embers. “Their purpose was to interbreed and act as tutors for language, art, and science.” Wayne leaned forward. “And Evie is a descendent of some of those in the colony.” “She’s a descendent of the leaders.” Fex went to the truck, got a package of cookies, returned, and sat on the ground. Wayne took a cookie from Fex’s outstretched hand. He wasn’t hungry, but figured he needed to eat something. “And this found its way into Earth’s religious mythology?” Meds laughed. “Tell him, Fex. I’ll tend to him if he goes into shock.”

Wayne’s eyes widened. “You got my attention.” “The leaders of the colony were named Adam and Eve.” Fex munched on a cookie and leaned back against a log. “That answer your question?” Wayne sat silent for a few moments, his mouth hanging open before he spoke “Holy crap! Holy moly crap!” “You had enough, or want some more?” Fex asked. Wayne held his head in his hands. “This is mind boggling … all the stuff we’ve been led to believe …” He looked at the night sky. “And Jesus was fathered by an Atlantian and born of Mary?” “So you already know that,” said Fex. “Mary made the best sense of it she could. She reasoned the father was an angel. After all, he could come and go like one. When she got pregnant, she told Joseph it was a miraculous conception … which in a manner of speaking, it was. She had a unique baby with a special purpose, who was tutored by his Atlantian father as he grew up.” “Damn!” Wayne said. “Yeah,” said Meds. “When adolescent Jesus said he must be about this father’s business, he knew exactly who his father was, and what he’d been assigned to do.” Wayne said, “He was to spread a philosophy of non-violence and peace, yes?” “Absolutely,” said Fex, “but it didn’t end well as you know.” “And what about him rising from the dead?” Wayne asked. “We don’t know what happened,” Fex said. “Of course, we believe it’s unlikely he literally rose from the dead,” Meds said. “But are uncertain how it appeared he did. This is compounded by the fact that the written history of Jesus was penned by followers who didn’t know him when he was alive.” “It appears the devotees of Christ made things up to jive with long-standing

messianic prophesies about a savior. The time before and after Christ is replete with examples of men claiming to be just that, and attracting followers who believed,” Fex said. “Many Earthlings are convinced that God insured every word in the Bible was true, so it makes no difference who wrote it.” Wayne said. “We are aware of that,” Fex said. “However, we have the advantage of knowing that Jesus’ father wasn’t God.” “What was his name?” Wayne asked.

“It was Gad.”

EVIE’S HEADACHE WAS GONE, SHE HAD EATEN, AND HER MIND WAS CLEAR of sedatives. She made a mental list of what she had going for her. Her abductor was not aware of the signal chip. If he had been he would have removed it while she was unconscious. Also, he had no idea how strong and agile she was. Nobody did, not even Fex or Wayne. She also thought he would underestimate how much the low gravity on Satonia would benefit her. Hell, she could all but fly! When she added this up, all she needed was to get him in the room with her. She practiced moving about the space in the low g environment. She’d never tested the limits of what she could do physically or athletically. Now seemed like the time to do so. How could she get him inside the door of the basement? She considered trying to break into the fuse box and turn off the electricity, but after a close inspection it appeared she would need a tool and it was in a difficult location. She thought about faking illness, and hadn’t discounted that yet. If he needed her alive, that might get his attention. Then, it came to her, a strategy that might scare him. The more she thought about it, the better it seemed. Yeah, she’d try a bit of fear and playing with the male ego.

Then she’d introduce him to superwoman.

ANGER HAD ALWAYS TEMPTED WAYNE TO USE IT AS PROTECTION although it only worked in a limited manner. When deep feelings of pain and discomfort were too strong to deny, anger could be a feel like a friend, even though, over the long haul, it was usually an enemy. Evie being kidnapped was a good example. He couldn’t be more frightened or hurt worse. Not only was she gone, she was in harm’s way. In his experience people didn’t tolerate a worried and scared man well, but in certain situations they seemed to like anger. It was confusing. Women wanted a man who could protect them when evil stalked the night, when the home was threatened, and the enemy was lined up on the horizon ready to rape, pillage, and murder. Most Earth chicks loved alpha males, would welcome them into their beds, until, and if, the warrior drew the line with them. Then he was wrong, unreasonable, and in need of training. With them, women wanted the warrior to act like a well-trained sheep, and pretend to like it. If he snarled, or showed his teeth, he was damaged goods to be thrown out with the garbage. Most Earth chicks, he reasoned about ninety nine percent of them, wanted their man to have a switch behind his ear that they controlled. They could switch it to warrior when it suited them and off when it didn’t. The problems occurred because the men controlled the switch. The Japanese found that out after Pearl Harbor, and the Taliban and Al Qaeda after 9-11. You hurt most warriors deep enough and you got a truckload of trouble coming your way that you’ve invited … even if you are a female. Right now, with Evie under the control of God-knows-who, Wayne was protecting himself by being pissed; He sat in front of the tent and reasoned that he was dealing with an asshole. If that was the case, there was nothing he could do to change it. It was doubtful the person was going become a non-asshole just for him. Oh, it happened every now and then, but not often enough to count on. Nope, an asshole usually stayed an asshole, because they had no desire to be anything else. He sighed and felt the rage come up from his stomach. Dealing with an asshole made it doubly hard to escape anger, because assholes deal crap and like it. An asshole can listen to Beethoven, and not be moved an emotional inch; an asshole, a true-blue genuine version, can listen to Shakespeare and feel nothing, can experience true love, walk away and congratulate self for doing so; an asshole can lie to an entire nation, get thousands of young men and women killed, and say afterward he did the right thing; and an asshole can sell people for

fun and profit, and sleep well at night. They aren’t called assholes because they’re likable or nice; they’re called assholes because they stink to high heaven and need to be wiped. Somebody has to stop them from crapping on others.

And most people pretend they don’t even stink.

Fex was angry too. It was born of the fear he was going lose his daughter. He’d been raised to be non-violent, and before Lamen, had been. But he’d learned something about himself of late, if you made it personal, one-on-one with the lives of his family on the line, it was a different ball game, and he could throw a wicked fastball. Yep, if he was honest with himself, it was one thing to agree to kill hundreds of people you didn’t know because some government decided you should. That was an easy decision. He’d look at the government folks, and tell them to do it themselves, or send their sons and daughters. A calculated genocide based on greed and power was easy to decline. But if someone kidnapped Evie, they were in knee-deep shit. He’d been non-violent because he didn’t want to live with the knowledge he’d taken someone’s life. He now knew it would be easier than living with the knowledge he’d let someone take hers.

Without trying to stop them.

SAMALI CALLED EVIE ON THE INTERCOM THE NEXT MORNING. “YOUR breakfast is at the top of the stairs.” She sat for a few seconds and wondered if this was the time to try her plan. She shrugged, took a deep breath, and decided to go for it. “I’m not going to eat until you talk to me in person.” “What?” “You heard me,” she said in a calm voice. “You think I care if you starve yourself to death?” “You might not,” she paused for effect. “But you should.” “And why is that?”

“I know I’m being held on Satonia, and I’m certain the Council of Elders will conclude the same. What do you think they’ll do if I don’t return?” There was a lull of a few seconds before he spoke. “But you’d still be dead.” “And so would you, my metallic-voiced abductor, along with everyone on your planet. Do you who I am, Samali?” The silence lasted longer this time. “I am unfamiliar with that name,” he said, finally. “You’re a lousy liar. You talk to me face-to-face, or you die. Do you think Fex will let this stand?” She waited and let the words sink in. “I will sit on the bed, with you at the top of the stairs. What have you to fear? Are you not man enough to face a woman?” She heard the intercom click off. She’d played her hand.

Time would tell if it worked.

FIVE HOURS LATER EVIE HEARD THE INTERCOM CRACKLE TO LIFE. SHE SAT on the bed, and waited. It was mid-afternoon and she was very hungry. “You ready to eat?” “Bring it to the top of the stairs where I can see you.” “No can do.” “No thanks then.” She held her breath and crossed her fingers. “Don’t be a fool,” he said. “This is a game you cannot win.” “Oh, really,” she replied. “How has Atlantia managed to stay non-violent all these years?” “What?”

“Why haven’t we been invaded?” There was no response. “You know the answer,” she said. “It’s because of our technology. What would happen to someone who tried to take away our freedom?” There was still no reply. “They would cease to exist. There would be no trace of them or of their planet to be found. We don’t start wars and we don’t occupy other people’s land. We haven’t taken sides in an armed conflict in thousands of years. But we do require that we be allowed to live in peace and liberty.” She stopped and waited a few seconds. “You are depriving me of my liberty and I am highly regarded on Atlantia. You are playing a game more dangerous than you know. You’re about to awaken a sleeping giant. Talk to me face-to-face, and I will put in a good word for you. If you don’t, you will die, and you won’t even know how, you will simply, and with finality, disappear.” “You’re bluffing,” he said quickly. “I don’t have to bluff. I am holding a full house … a house full of technology so terrible it would keep you awake nights. I am sitting on the bed. You can put my meal at the top of the stairs and be man enough to look me in the eye. I will not give you another chance.” He waited long enough that she thought her strategy had failed. Then she heard a scraping sound and the door opened 12 inches. “I have a dart gun,” he said. “That’s fine if it makes you feel safe,” she replied. “I just want to talk.” He peeked around the door to see if she was on the bed. Satisfied, he opened it further and trained the gun on her. She sat motionless, her feet a foot apart, the weight centered behind her toes, and smiled at him. “See that wasn’t so hard. Samali, this is a bad idea, you should let me go. If you will, I’ll see that no harm comes to you.” “That’s what you wanted to tell me,” he scoffed. “Don’t think so.”

“Did you bring my meal?” She asked. He nodded at the door, averting his eyes for just a second. “It will be right …” She extended her knees, followed with her hips, and was air born, flying straight at him. She held her body so that her left shoulder led the way. He looked up with startled eyes, raised the dart gun at hip level, and she heard a distinct pop as he fired. She was halfway to him, rising as she crossed the room in a fluid arc. She saw the projectile leave the gun. It was spinning from the rifling in the barrel. It ed three inches in front of her chest, and would have gone harmlessly past, but she caught it between the thumb and index finger of her right hand. She landed beside him and spun to the left. Her right hand plunged the dart into his neck, while her foot swept his feet out from under him. He gasped, fell forward, and toppled down the stairs head over heels. He screamed as he slammed into the concrete floor, and looked in horror at the fractured bone that protruded from a bloody hole in his right thigh. “How did you do that?” He moaned, and wiped at the blood pouring from his nose. “I’m superwoman,” she said. He pulled the dart out of his neck, looked at it with wide eyes, shuddered, and ed out. She went out the door, walked through the house, opened the front door, and stepped outside. She put her right hand under her left armpit, and pressed the embedded chip three times. She felt a slight tingle as it activated.

Five minutes later she was on Atlantia.

Fex, A’Sha’Nah, and Riser were at the fire ring, and Wayne was rummaging through the bed of the truck for supper. Fex’s communication device beeped and he anxiously pushed the receive button. “Yeah,” he said. “Fex here.” “Hi ya,” she said. “Evie!” Wayne’s head was in the cooler and he didn’t hear. “I’m safe and sound on Atlantia,” she said. “No worse for wear. Is Wayner there?” Wayne was walking around the truck bed, a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread in his hand. Fex handed him the phone. “It’s for you.” Wayne’s eyebrows went up. “Hello.” Three seconds later his eyes clamped shut, he pumped a fist by his side, and his head went back. “Evie,” he said. “Evie!” A’Sha’Nah jumped up and down at his side yapping, and Riser did his patented Giant Condor dance; composed of three bouncing steps on both feet, three bobs of his head, a tight circle of flight, and a repeat of the first two. Fex plopped down on a stump, wiped his eyes, and smiled.

“Evie, “Wayne said. “Oh, thank God, Evie.”

Samali was not happy. He was in considerable pain, lying in a hospital bed with a cast from his hip to his ankle, and the Director from the Covert Agents Bureau was staring him in the eyes. The room was small and white, with a window that overlooked a parking lot three floors below. “We are most displeased,” the Director said. “Not only did you bungle things, you were identified.” Samali tried to shift position and gasped with pain. Having your leg elevated from a pulley was inconvenient to say the least. “Mr. Director,” he said through clenched teeth. “I realize the unfortunate results of my efforts, but our intelligence service vastly underestimated Evie’s prowess. The woman is not to be believed!” The Director scowled, and dismissed Samali’s statement with a sweep of his gloved hand. “You didn’t factor in the difference in gravitational fields did you? If you had, you would not have entered the room.” “There’s not an agent we have that can stand against her,” he protested. “With or without gravitational differences … she’s not normal.” The Director crossed his legs, sat back in the chair, and placed his hands in his lap. “One thing is certain,” his voice low and measured. “You will not have to worry about her again. You are being relieved of your agent status effective immediately.” Samali tried to sit up, his leg swung wildly from the pulley, and he cried out. He took a deep breath, stilled his leg with both hands, and looked at the Director with pleading eyes. “I have years of successful missions and service. Give me a chance to atone.” The director thought for a moment, deep lines on his wide and flat brow. He uncrossed his legs and put his elbows on his knees. The overhead light glinted on his bald head, and his black eyes narrowed. “Wayne Chisholm has gained significant political capital on Atlantia. Our sources report a ProEarth vote is all but assured in the Council of Elders. Based on your record of service, and that alone, I will give you a second chance.”

Samali smiled gratefully. “You won’t regret it, sir, I swear.” “Time will tell.” The Director stroked his ample mustache with one hand. “I want Chisholm dead, and quickly. He cannot be allowed to rise into prominence on Earth.” Samali’s eyes flew wide. “You want ME to kill him, sir?” “If you want to keep your job.” “But, sir … I, uh … haven’t been trained as an assassin. My role has been in the psychological domain.” “That will change,” the Director snapped. “You will be given a crash course at our sniper school … or we have a vacant garbage collecting job that would suit you well.” Samali sat in silence and monitored the flood of panic coming up from his stomach. He coughed, winced in pain, and forced his words. “I am in your service, sir,” The Director nodded and smirked. “That’s what I thought. I am also ing Fatali Morta, and you will function as a team. If one of you can’t get it done, perhaps the other will.” Samali couldn’t believe his ears. “But, sir,” he stammered. “Didn’t he just bungle an assassination attempt in Limbo?” “Exactly,” the Director said. “Both of you will be highly motivated. Your careers depend on it … not to mention your lives.” “But, sir …” “This conversation is over.” The Director walked to the door. “I will be in touch as soon as you’ve healed.”

“They will be giving you accelerants, so it shouldn’t be long.”

REVEREND JACK TURNED INTO THE CAMP GROUND, DROVE TO THE TENT site, and parked beside Wayne’s truck. He exited the car quickly, and ed Wayne, Fex, and Meds at the fire ring. “Hope you don’t mind,” he said, and stood at the edge of the circle. “Sit down,” Wayne said. “Thanks! Is there news about Evie? I can’t eat or sleep thinkin’ about it.” Wayne looked at Fex, and said. “You tell him, you’re her father.” “Oh, God,” Tatum’s eyes circled in their sockets. “It’s not bad news, please.” Fex smiled proudly. “My little girl kicked the bad guy’s ass.” Tatum threw his hat in the air, and danced a jig. “Glory be,” he whooped, retrieved his hat, and wiped his eyes. “That’s a weight off my guilty shoulders. Is she coming back soon?” “We’re beaming up tomorrow,” said Wayne. “They want to debrief her, so we are going there.” Tatum’s brow furrowed. “Beam up?” Wayne smiled. “That’s right, you don’t know about that. Fex, Evie, and Meds are from a place that has the ability to teleport … like on Star Trek.” Tatum jaw dropped. “You mean another planet … and she’s there now?” Fex nodded. “We’re from a planet called Atlantia.” Tatum’s lips curled into a grin. “You had me goin’ there for a minute.” Meds looked up from his seat. “There’s a big universe out there, Jack. Did you think Earth had an exclusive on intelligent life?” “You’re serious?” Tatum rubbed his chin and the grin disappeared. Wayne stepped closer to him. “Reverend Jack, your whole world is about to

change. If you don’t want it to, might be best to get in your car and leave.” Tatum stared at Wayne and slowly found a seat on a nearby log. “I need to mull this over for a bit.” Meds looked at Tatum. “Wayne filled us in on the history between you two. What happened to change your mind?” Tatum looked at the ground and sighed. “A’course, you all have the right to know, considering.” “We’re listening,” Wayne said. “The short version is I realized I was becoming my father. He was a violent man, and I turned to the church to escape. When I found myself on the way to commit murder in the name of religion, it hit me hard.” Wayne extended his hand. “Congratulations,” he said. “Today you are a Christian.” Tatum eagerly took his hand. “That’s exactly how it feels.” Meds nodded. “To kill another in the name of dogma is one of the least evolved things a human can do.” He leaned forward and found Tatum with his eyes. “Especially in the name of God.” Tatum mulled it over and looked down. “Yeah, when I thought about killing Wayne, I threw up.” Wayne slapped him on the back. “I appreciate that.” Fex stepped over and shook his hand. “Jack, you woke up. You came out of the trance that says violence will end violence. Conrad’s!” Tatum shook his head. “Can I dare ask a favor of you?” “Just a minute,” Fex replied. “A’Sha’Nah, can we trust Jack?” A’Sha’Nah got up from his bed and gave Tatum’s leg a big sniff. “Good as gold, there’s not a trace of bad intention on him.”

Riser dropped out of the tree, strutted around the fire ring, and said, “I agree.” Tears filled Tatum’s eyes and his mouth moved but nothing came out. “Talk about being born again!” Wayne said. “Now, about that favor?” Fex gave A’Sha’Nah and Riser a pat on the head and turned to Jack. “Can I go with you?” Tatum said eyes as big as moons. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I got a lot to learn.” Fex beamed and put his arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Damn, what took you so long?”

PART TWO

Atlantia

WAYNE WASN’T KEEN ON THE IDEA OF RAPID TRANSIT, BUT EVIE WAS waiting and he would darn sure see it through. A’Sha’Nah and Riser begged not to be left behind, so Fex got permission for the boys to tag along. Evie couldn’t wait to see them and thought their presence might help sway the Council’s vote, The sun was just coming up when they walked to the glade outside camp to make the journey. It was surrounded by large pines and old-growth aspens, and two large boulders punctuated one side. The knee-high grass left dew on their legs as they made their way to the middle of the clearing. A’Sha’Nah turned small circles and howled while Riser assured him that flying was fun and not to worry. “We’ll go three at a time,” Fex stopped and faced them. “You won’t feel much, just a little vertigo. Tatum, Meds, and I will go first. Wayne, you and the boys come a couple of minutes later. Stand where we do, and remain still. No dances, Riser.” Riser ruffled his feathers. “I’m going to wait till I’m there, then dance.” Fex turned to Tatum. “You ready, Jack.” He motioned for Wayne and the boys to stand to one side. “Absolutely.” Fex pushed the button on his communicator. “Three ready, three on standby. Activate.” They shimmered for a few seconds, and then disappeared, leaving Wayne and the boys wide-eyed. They stepped into position, and the next thing they knew were on a knoll overlooking a wide expanse of yellow grass that led down to a glass building. Evie grabbed Wayne and swung him in a circle, then kissed him long and hard. The Chairman, Hubble, Luke, Merriam, Angelica, and Bartok all watched, their faces radiating welcome. Fex went to A’Sha’Nah and Riser and knelt down. “You guys Ok? Thought you’d be more comfortable if we used the outside port.” A’Sha’Nah wagged his tail and looked around with wide eyes. Riser extended

his wings, and said, “Fex, can I dance now?” “Have at it, Riser, but don’t go far, lots of people want to see you.” They watched in rapt attention as Riser hopped three times, bobbed his head, flapped his wings, and took off. He circled and came back over them at a low altitude. “It’s harder here.” “More gravity,” Fex yelled as Riser gained altitude, found a thermal, and soared. The Chairman’s mouth was agape, his eyes glued on Riser. “If that’s not the most beautiful thing!” A’Sha’Nah sat in front of the Chairman. “Condors are the most accomplished flyers in the galaxy.” The Chairman looked down. “And how do you know that?” A’Sha’Nah returned his gaze. “It is common knowledge in the animal world,” he said. The Chairman threw back his head and chortled and A’Sha’Nah ed him with an equally robust howl. “My word,” the Chairman said to Luke and Merriam. “You didn’t exaggerate, they are incredible. They must address the Council at our next meeting.” Merriam slipped her arm under the Chairman’s. “I thought maybe this would merit a special session?” His eyes brightened and he patted her hand. “Of course, that would be just the thing, a session for Riser and A’Sha’Nah.” Wayne finally found a moment to introduce Tatum. While everyone shook his hand, Evie stood to the side. When they finished she spoke. “Reverend, Jack, Wayne said you helped find me. I’m thanking you.” He looked down sheepishly. “No more, Reverend, please. Plain Jack will do.” She hugged him hard. “Welcome home, Jack.”

Riser interrupted the proceedings as he dove five hundred feet and demonstrated a perfect landing in their midst. He hopped excitedly and flapped his wings. “It’s flat, and has weird colors, A’Sha’Nah, but there are lakes, and they have some big fish in them.” He hopped over to Fex. “Can we catch them, Fex, can we, please?” Fex petted Riser’s head. “There’s some where we can,” he said. “I’ll show you tomorrow. But tonight, it’s elk steaks all around.” Riser couldn’t stop hopping. “Outstanding,” he said. Hubble chuckled and couldn’t stop. The Director ed him.

Everyone agreed with outstanding.

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE ALONE, IN A BEDROOM AT FEX’S HOUSE, LAYING down, and holding each other. The evening meal had been grand, and the elk a big hit. Fex had a large backyard with a terrace and numerous trees. The boys decided to call it home as neither of them was comfortable indoors. “Fex told me that you had a talk about Earth and Atlantian history and were filled in on some of the details.” Evie nestled her head into his shoulder. “Very interesting talk it was too. It’s a shame the majority of Earthlings are still in the dark ages in of beliefs.” Evie sighed. “Yeah, their thinking seems compartmentalized. We hoped that religion and science could merge into a coherent explanation of the cosmos, life, creation, and its purpose. Like Einstein said, ‘Science without religion is lame, and religion without science is blind.’” She sighed deeper, sat, and took a drink of water from a glass on a bedside table. Wayne took it from her and had a sip. “Once again,” he said, “the literal interpretation of the Bible gets in the way. How can science be flexible enough to agree the Earth is only a few thousand years old and evolution never happened?”

Evie put the glass back, and ran a brush through her hair. “And on the other side of the spectrum, science has many that aren’t open to consider the existence of a First Source.” Wayne sighed. “Yeah, it keeps coming back to knowing things for certain, doesn’t it? When we adopt an all-knowing stance what is considered truth becomes indisputable and all learning ceases.” “You are beginning to understand why we don’t claim there’s a God.” Evie kissed him on the cheek. Wayne put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Yeah, probabilistic thinking makes more sense.” He fluffed a pillow behind him. “Changing the subject, how exactly did you get away from Samali?” She rolled her eyes. “You probably don’t want to know.” “Why not?” “I can do things, Wayne, especially in a low-g environment.” “Like what?” “I ed when A’Sha’Nah got shot I could see the dart in slow motion. If I hadn’t been sedated I might have been able to catch it.” He turned toward her. “Are you serious?” “That’s how I got away. I jumped twenty feet across a room, ten feet high, and caught the dart he fired at me. Landed beside him, stuck it into his neck, and round-housed kicked his feet out from under him. He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his leg.” His eyes were full moons. “Evie?” “Yeah, you’d best behave yourself,” she said, and melted into his arms and showed him how she wanted him to behave.

He didn’t mind at all.

JACK TATUM WAS SPENDING MOST OF HIS TIME IN THE CENTRAL ATLANTIS library reading history books and being tutored by the librarian. His head was spinning to say the least. There was so much on Earth not known, so much made up, and it was such a young planet! His tutor, Melody, told him there was one major concept to embrace; any claim of truth by a mortal was a pretense perpetrated by a brain that wanted answers so much it would make them up. “All mortals can do is come up with narratives that are likely stories; s that are based in accurate probabilities.” She spoke while she led him to another row of books. “That’s as good as it gets for beings inside space and time.” Jack loved listening to her. He also loved looking at her and thinking about her, and … Stop that, his mind told him, but he couldn’t. He read until his eyes ran, ate only when he had too, and resented that his body needed sleep. The only thing he was hungry for was truth … uh … information, yeah that was it. “This is hard for me,” he told Melody one afternoon. “I know it is,” she patted his forearm with her hand. “The brain tries to tie up all the loose ends, doesn’t it? It takes a great deal of awareness to catch ourselves at it. If we can’t, we are prisoners of whatever our brain and feelings tell us.” He gasped inside at her touch, the electricity it sent up his bicep, and he took a deep breath. “So, the problem on Earth is most everyone believes what their brains tell them.” “Yes, but it’s larger than that,” she said. “Some beliefs get woven into the fabric of the culture and become grand narratives that are believed by thousands. Those rarely get examined.” Her hand is still on my arm!

“Are you alright?” She asked. “Uh, yeah, there’s just so much to learn.” She took her hand away and smiled. “Yes, there’s a lot you need to learn, Jack.” “Are you, uh … married?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. She stepped back and found his eyes with hers. “We don’t marry on Atlantia, we simply state our intention to be life mates. We don’t think the legal system or government should have anything to do with it.” She put her hand back on his arm. “No, I don’t have a life mate at present. He died a year ago. Why do you ask?” He squirmed in his chair and felt his face flush. “I, uh … was just curious.” “And you?” she asked. He looked at her in confusion. “Me?” “Do you have a mate on Earth?” “Oh!” He said. “No, I’ve never married, uh … life mated. I keep my own company, because I’m the only one that can stand being with me.” She leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Goodness, a man like you going to waste. What a shame.”

He damn near ed out.

THE DELEGATES WERE BUZZING AS THEY GATHERED FOR THE SPECIAL session. It was a rare occurrence, and there was abundant curiosity about its purpose. They had been told that special guests were going to address them and be available for questions. As they filed into the hall the conversations were heavy with conjecture. Their state of wonder increased as they took their seats and noticed that the two retractable sections of the roof had been opened. It

had been some time since they’d had an open air meeting. Nine chairs had been placed on the stage and the room hummed as they waited. It quieted as the Chairman entered the chamber and came down the center aisle. He was followed by Angelica, Luke, Merriam, Wayne, Evie, Tatum, Meds, and Hubble. He stopped at the podium, and the rest took seats behind him. He had their attention. “Esteemed, Delegates, I thank you for making time in your busy schedules to attend this special session. I believe you will feel it was well worth it.” A faint rustling went through the delegates as they shifted in their seats and exchanged glances. “Since it is inconvenient, and economically impossible for all of you to visit Limbo, we have brought a slice of Limbo to you, so you can better understand the nature of what transpires there.” The sound of 100 people moving in their chairs increased in volume. The Chairman waited until it settled. “Everyone on the stage is familiar with Limbo and will be available to answer questions after we formally adjourn. Two more honored guests will arrive shortly with Fex. But first, I yield the floor to Evie, who is no stranger to any of you.” Evie took the podium and cleared her throat. “As you know, I was abducted recently as part of the long-standing Satonian desire to control Earth. This is the second violent intervention on their part within the last few weeks, including the assassination attempt on Delegate Angelica and Fex. I will answer any questions you might have after the session, but for now want to leave you with this question. Do we really want to turn the Earth, where our relatives live, over to people such as these? I ask that you seriously consider the implications prior to casting your next vote.” The room was silent; all eyes were on the stage. “And now, we have a wonderful treat for you … our honored guests!” She motioned toward the back of the chamber. All eyes turned and saw A’Sha’Nah accompany Fex down the aisle. He wagged his tail in double time and pranced to the stage. A gasp of surprise and wonder swept through the delegates. It

escalated when Riser swooped through the open roof and ed Fex and A’Sha’Nah. Most of the delegates were on their feet, eyes wide, and mouths agape. Fex stood on the stage with the boys on either side. A’Sha’Nah sat on his haunches, while Riser stood tall and ruffled his feathers. Fex motioned for the delegates to sit. “Please allow me to introduce two dear friends, A’Sha’Nah, a Limbo wolf, and Riser, a Limbo Giant Condor. They are here to address you. I assure you there is nothing to fear.” Fex found a chair and sat while Wayne came forward. “Esteemed, Delegates,” he said. “I am Wayne Chisholm.” A murmur went through the crowd. “At the present time, I live in Limbo with my life mate, Evie. I was asked to tell you about Limbo, but my two friends can speak volumes more than I.” He knelt between Riser and A’Sha’Nah, and put an arm around them while the crowd sat in stunned silence. “They can communicate with you if you listen with your mind and believe.” The crowd stirred, unable to grasp what they were hearing. Wayne turned to Tatum and nodded. Jack rose and came forward. “Hello, I am Jack Tatum, and I have lived in Limbo for many years. I didn’t believe I could hear these two wonderful creatures until a few days ago, so I missed out on the pleasure of talking to them for a long time. I assure you, if you will open your minds, you are in for one of the most incredible conversations of your entire lives.” He turned and went back to his chair. “I will ask Riser to speak first,” said Wayne. “If you can hear him, please raise your hand so we will know how to proceed. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Riser and A’Sha’Nah.” He looked at Riser and nodded. Riser raised his wings slightly and stepped forward. “Good morning, it is a pleasure to be here.” Gasps pervaded the room, hands shot into the air from most of the delegates, and

some applauded. “Riser,” Wayne said. “When they make noise with their hands it means they like you.” “Of course, it does,” Riser said. “I can tell by their expressions … except for a few.” A collective murmur erupted from the delegates, and more hands were raised. Only five abstained. A’Sha’Nah said, “Is it my turn now?” Two delegates rose and left the chamber. They were hardly noticed. “Yes, wolf,” Wayne said. “It is your turn.” A’Sha’Nah jumped off the stage and ran down the aisle. “I can shake hands with anyone that wants to.” He sat by a female delegate that was on the aisle and raised his paw. “Hello, I’m A’Sha’Nah.” “Oh, my,” she leaned over to gently take his paw. “I am so pleased to meet you, I am Elana.” “Like-wise, I am sure,” said A’Sha’Nah. “How wonderful!” She said. “I have just met a wolf!” Laughter swept the room, applause erupted, and two more delegates exited. “Don’t they like us, Wayne?” Riser asked. “My guess is they can’t hear you,” Wayne said. Riser flew off the stage and landed by A’Sha’Nah. “Please,” he said. “Don’t turn Earth over to Satonia and destroy Limbo. If you do, they will kill creatures like us.” The room went totally still and several of the delegates turned their eyes to the floor.

“Yes,” said A’Sha’Nah. “Limbo is one of the few places where animals like us exist. I think you will agree we are worth saving.” Angelica took Fex’s hand and found his eyes. Most of the delegates were nodding yes. Wayne ed the boys and swept the crowd with his eyes. “Limbo is the most incredible place I could ever imagine. Thank you for its existence and for allowing me to go. While there I saw a peak named Mt. Destiny and believed my goal was to scale it. However, it kept moving and I could get no closer no matter how I tried. I came to realize that destiny is not something you can climb or hold in your hand … that it is constantly changing based on one’s choices and priorities. This is but one example of the type of learning that Limbo provides.” There was no stopping the applause, everyone stood, and there were tears in some eyes. A’Sha’Nah ran up and down the aisle, and howled faintly. Riser took off, circled the room once, lit on the stage, and did his Giant Condor dance.

It brought the house down.

It was late in the afternoon when the final delegate left. Everyone on the stage was exhausted. The questions had been endless, and of course, Riser and A’Sha’Nah were asked the most. Everyone was pleased with the outcome, especially the Chairman, who was beaming. “There will never be a session more special than that,” he said.

A’Sha’Nah wagged his tail and licked the Chairman’s hand.

FATALI MORTA WAS NO HAPPIER TO HEAR FROM THE DIRECTOR OF THE Covert Agent Bureau than Samali. The man had lost his mind! He was no longer his boss, although he had been at one time. He’d been a bureau agent for ten years, but had quit to go independent. Now he was being blackmailed to work with that idiot, Samali, or be sent to Atlantia to face charges and stand trial. He hated to it it, but he had little choice. He was out of money, so could ill afford to jettison off to another part of the galaxy. At least he would be doing something he enjoyed, killing people from long range with a supersonic bullet. He needed to get even for that debacle in Limbo anyway. Now, if he could just get lucky and get a shot at that damned big bird!

He bided his time, and waited for the inevitable call from the Director.

Meanwhile, Samali wasn’t getting along well with the fast-healing accelerants they were giving him. They were working, but he was dizzy and nauseated much of the time. He’d lost ten pounds, couldn’t hold food down, and still had three days left on the regimen. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had to work with that total asshole, Morta.

Sometimes life wasn’t much fun.

TATUM FINISHED ANOTHER DAY AT THE LIBRARY, AND WAS ON HIS WAY out to return to Fex’s for some evening conversation and sleep. Melody had been busy helping another researcher, so he was surprised when she was waiting on the front steps. “Hi, Jack,” she grinned at him. “Another long day?” “Uh, gee, uh, hi, Melody … uh, yeah, a long day.” Darn she looks pretty! “You ready for some rest and relaxation?” She stepped nearer. “Uh, yeah, I’m headed to Fex’s for some dinner.” Her perfume invaded his nose and he had a funny feeling in his stomach. She put her arm under his. “Not in the cards tonight, Tatum. You’re going home with me. A meal is simmering in the pot and there’s a nice red wine to go with it. My air buggy is across the lawn.” He felt himself being led, with no idea how to stop her, across an expanse of grass toward a bright red vehicle … Atlantia’s version of cars, but with no wheels. It moved on a cushion of air three feet off the ground and saved Atlantia millions over the years in road costs. They got in and she steered away from the library.

“Cat got your tongue, Jack?” She said, and looked across the compartment at him. “Uh, well, er, I … did we have this planned?” His brow was creased with lines. “Did I forget?” “No silly, WE didn’t have this planned, I did. You’re just along for the ride, so sit back and enjoy it.” It felt like his head might explode and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out slowly and hoped she didn’t notice. She accelerated through a turn and over a rise and stopped in front of a cottage. It was painted a pale gray-green and made of native rock. It had a porch, and two large windows in front, with a winding walkway through a small yard. The roof was flat, and the architecture reminded him of Santa Fe. She took his hand, led him to the front door, and motioned him into a small combination living and dining area. A round table that could seat four was neatly set with place mats, fine China, and glassware. “Have a seat,” she said, and pointed to the leather sofa in the living room. “Thought we’d have a glass of vino first.” He said nothing, walked slowly to the sofa, and sat. What is happening? What am I gonna do? She went into a kitchen that was off the dining area, filled two glasses, and came to sit beside him on the sofa. She handed him one of the goblets, and took a sip of hers. “Uh, Melody,” he said, eyes down. “I haven’t had alcohol in years. I was a minister you know.” “Goodness!” Her hand went to her mouth. “How silly of me, can I get you some juice?” He squirmed and looked up. “That’s not what I meant. I might get drunk fast.”

She smiled, and scooted closer, her thigh warm against his. “Oh, I see,” she looked over the rim of her glass. “You might lose control, and then whatever would we do?” He looked away, took a drink of wine, and licked his lips. “Wow that tastes good!” “After all these years, I can well imagine,” she said. “Anything else you haven’t done?” He drained his glass and looked her in the eyes for the first time. “Everything, I haven’t done everything.” “Not to worry,” she said, with silk in her voice.

“Just so happens, I know about everything.”

WAYNE WAS SPENDING HIS TIME WRITING. HE HOLED UP IN FEX’S ATTIC, a table, chair, and a small lamp his only company. It was pouring out of him fast and easy, and he was hesitant to do anything that might ebb the flow. He wasn’t sure where it came from and did his best not to think about it. He was averaging 15-20 pages a day. It could have been more, but his eyes and lower back would stop him and force a break. He wasn’t sure where it was going, or for what purpose, but wanted to finish as much as he’d ever wanted anything. He hoped he’d be allowed the time, but had a nagging feeling that death might interrupt him. He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t. He decided not to tell Evie. She was ive of the writing even though they didn’t get to spend much time together. He’d come down to eat, intend to stay and visit, but sentences would appear in his mind and back to the attic he’d go. She’d come up; rub his head, and say, “You’re doing something important, something bigger than us right now.” Then she’d take the boys for a long visit in the city park near Fex’s house. A’Sha’Nah and Riser loved it and felt at home on Atlantia. They especially liked that there were no guns or traps. They missed hunting, but agreed to stop when

they realized it could upset the ecological balance. They had plenty to eat, as everyone they met wanted to feed them, especially if Riser did his Giant Condor dance. Occasionally, Wayne would tell Riser he could take one of the large Basslike fish from a distant lake, and Riser would happily do so, always bringing enough back to share for dinner. They’d return from the walks, Evie would stick her head in the attic and say hi, and Wayne would write some more. He wanted to go with them, but just couldn’t tear himself away.

Hell’s goin’ on?

WAYNE ALSO WENT TO THE LIBRARY WITH TATUM TO DO RESEARCH THAT paralleled what Jack was studying. Tatum was happy for the company, and Wayne appreciated Jack’s input. Wayne could sense Melody’s attraction to Jack and his discomfort with it. Wayne broached the subject with him as they sat in the library coffee shop. “Melody seems like a nice lady,” he said. “Uh … yeah, she’s helped me with the research.” “Think she kind of likes you, Jack.” “Aw, nah,” he said, and squirmed like a cat on a hot tin roof. “She’s just tryin’ to make me feel at home. She’d do the same for anybody.” “I may be off base,” Wayne reached for the creamer and poured some in his coffee. “I think she wants you more than just comfortable.” “No … that’s impossible.” Tatum took a bite of a breakfast roll and wiped his chin with a napkin. “Whatever you say.” Wayne smiled. “How did dinner go over at her place?” “What? Who told you that?” The fork stopped halfway to Jack’s mouth.

“Hubble happened to be ing by.” Wayne pealed a piece of fruit and munched on it. “I think it’s great.” Jack lowered the fork. “You do?” “Sure, why not?” “We got lots ’a work to do.” Tatum picked up his pencil. “We’d better get to it.” Wayne shrugged. “What you working on?” “I’m educating myself on evolution,” he said, relief etched in every syllable. “Yeah, most of your life you didn’t believe in it … right?” “I believed in a literal interpretation of the Bible,” Tatum said. “Exposing yourself to a different way of thinking, huh?” “That’s for sure,” Jack shook his head. “I’ve been reading condensed versions of the history of Earth. They say its 4.5 billion years old.” “Yeah, I’m refreshing my memory on that myself,” Wayne said. “It resulted from the Big Bang some 14.0 billion years ago. According to that view, the universe was created from primordial gases like hydrogen, helium, and lithium.” “I guess God is powerful enough to set off a big bang,” Jack’s face clouded over. “That’s always been my stance,” Wayne replied. “And somewhere between 3.9 and 2.5 billion years ago, ancient life appeared,” Jack looked at his notes. “One celled organisms like algae and bacteria.” “Yep,” Wayne agreed. “Then it went through stages that included multicellular life, sponges, primitive plants, early fish, and the age of fishes. About 345 million years ago a large mass extinction occurred and thirty percent of life was destroyed. That was followed by the first winged insects, then reptiles, cockroaches, and amphibians. Then the big boys, the Dinosaurs, about 248 million years ago.” “They lasted until 65 million years ago and there was another mass extinction,”

Jack turned a page of notes over as he spoke. “Humans didn’t appear until around 64 million years after the dinosaurs were gone.” Wayne rubbed his chin. “Hard to believe,” Jack said. “The ancestors of modern humans date back about 3.3 to 2.5 million years?” “Yeah, several stages of humanoids have been discovered in Africa,” Wayne added. “Fully developed homo sapiens didn’t come along till about 46.000 years ago in Europe and Asia.” “Home sapiens means ‘wise man’, doesn’t it?” Jack asked. “Yeah, although these days it would be better to say ‘wise person’ … especially around Atlantian chicks.” Wayne laughed. “I’ll try and that,” Jack said, and nodded. “Good idea since you’re involved with one.” Jack scanned his notes, shuffled the papers, and wiggled in his chair. “I am not involved with Melody.” “Yes, you are,” Wayne said, and took a sip of coffee. “You may not know it, but you are, and you don’t have a chance.” “Uh, that’s what she says too.” “Damnation, it’s gone further than I thought.” “Whatta ya mean?” Jack asked. “That’s exactly what Evie told me.” Jack stuck his nose in his notes, paused, and said, “Now where were we?” Wayne grinned, “Homo sapiens evolved to the point where they could handle complex mental tasks, make and use a variety of tools, and were on the verge of developing sophisticated language forms. About that time, along came Adam and Eve, and their band of merry pranksters from Atlantia.”

“Pranksters?” “Never mind, it’s a reference to the 60’s on Earth and LSD. You probably aren’t familiar with that slice of history.” Jack look confused. “No, I’m not.” “It’s not important, suffice to say that Adam and Eve, and 499 other couples, were sent to produce offspring that would help Earthlings expand their minds.” Jack scowled, and deep lines etched themselves into his forehead. “Not sure I can believe it.” “No doubt,” Wayne acknowledged. “The Biblical of the Garden of Eden has been so reified by Christian culture that it’s beyond questioning.” Jack sighed. “Thanks for understanding, especially after how I treated you.” “You were just doing what you thought was best at the time.” Jack shook his head. “I’ve believed the Garden of Eden story all my life. I’m not sure I can discard it.” “Not sure you have to,” Wayne said. “Let me take a shot at re-visioning it. It’s a narrative to try and explain our origins in a way people could deal with at that time. You ever hear of Joseph Campbell?” Jack looked at Wayne. “Who?” “He was a dude that spent all of his life collecting and researching stories and folklore from cultures all over Earth. I forget how many different creation stories he recorded, but it was a bunch. It seems that all living beings try and for their beginnings.” “So he says the Garden of Eden story is just one of those?” “Probably,” Wayne replied. “I wouldn’t want to say for sure … but in this case it may have been based on an actual event. There was an Adam and Eve, and there was a garden of sorts … if Atlantians are telling us the truth.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he said, “There was?” “Yeah, and it was a big one. It was where most of our early history played out.” “You mean Africa?” Jack asked. “More specifically, the fertile Nile River delta, just northeast of the upper part of the Red Sea, and on the southwest shore of the Mediterranean, as well as the entire watershed of the Nile south through Egypt. Lucy, one of the most famous archaeological finds, was discovered between the southern end of the Red sea and the Blue Nile. Her remains carbon date back about three million years.” “Yeah,” said Jack. “I just read about that. But I’ve been taught that carbon dating is a scientific hoax.” “A literal interpretation of the Bible requires that,” Wayne scooted his chair back and crossed his legs. “What do you think the people that taught you that would say if they could see where you are and how you got here?” Jack looked down. “They’d be amazed … like I am.” “Do you think they’d consider changing what they believe?” Jack sat back and rubbed his chin. “Don’t know, but being teleported to another planet is quite a jolt.” “For sure,” Wayne chuckled. “Let’s run through the story and see how it feels.” “I’ll do my best.” “From southern Egypt our ancestors spread to what’s now known as Saudi Arabia, Israel, Jordan, Syria, and Iraq some sixty thousand years ago.” Wayne put his elbows on the table. “They subsequently migrated into Europe where Austria, , , and Italy are located. Home sapiens evolved there about forty six thousand years ago. That entire area was the garden that gave birth to humans. Fifty thousand years ago humanoids developed the capacity to think and plan and lived as hunter-gatherers until about twelve thousand years ago. At the six thousand year mark things changed so most groups of humans farmed and herded animals.”

“So, Christ came to the garden according to this version too,” Jack said. “Exactly, he was born in the heart of it, on the west coast of the Mediterranean in the most important piece of historical real estate on Earth,” Wayne gestured with his hands as he spoke. “That area has been the most volatile and contested land on the planet for a long, long, time. It has been the site of Christians versus Muslims, Jews versus Arabs, the arena for ages of conflict between various warring factions, not to mention one of the richest oil reserves on Earth. It was the birth place of humans … and may well be our grave too.” Jack looked at Wayne. “That’s what the Bible hints at, but I know that doesn’t carry much stock with you.” “Not so,” Wayne replied. “The Bible may be correct about that, and about lots of things. In my mind, the problem is not with the Bible, it’s the interpretations of those who read it.” Jack shifted in his chair. “So you don’t discount it entirely?” Wayne shook his head no. “What I discount are mortals who claim they know what every word means, and that my eternal soul will roast in hell if I disagree.” Jack hung his head. “People like me.” “People like you used to be. We get along pretty good now.” Wayne found Jack’s eyes. “Bottom line, each of us has to work this out for ourselves. We’re in an Atlantian library doing research and trying to uncover what is accurate about the history of our planet and the cosmos. Make up your own mind about that, Jack … don’t let anyone do it for you … including me.” Jack started to respond, but noticed Melody approach their table and his face immediately flushed. “Hi, you two.” She stopped by Jack’s chair. “And a good day to you, Melody,” Wayne responded. “Uh, I, Uh …” “I’ll take that as a hello, Jack,” she giggled. “Wayne, would you and Evie

consider dining at my place tonight? If you will, maybe Jack will come too. He’s afraid to be alone with me.” Wayne chortled and watched Jack’s face and neck grow redder by the second. “You are a daunting piece of female personhood,” Wayne said, as he looked up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “It was meant as one, and we’ll be there. What time?” “About an hour after second sundown,” she said. “Done,” Wayne replied. “And don’t worry for a second, between Evie and I, we’ll see to Jack.” She put one hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Can I count on that, Tatum?” Jack looked around desperately for an escape hatch, and sighed. “Uh, yeah, uh, sure.” She looked at Wayne. “Don’t you just love the way he talks?” “Yeah,” said Wayne. “I think maybe he’s invented a new code. I’m pretty sure uh means something nice.”

Jack did his best imitation of a beet.

SAMALI WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL AND WAS TO REPORT AT 9:00 a.m. the next day to the Satonia Sniper Academy. Fatali Morta would meet him; they would train together, and plan a strategy for the assassination of Wayne. He was not thrilled at the prospect. But felt he had no choice.

Fatali was returning from Astroidia after a call from the Director of the Covert Agent Agency. He was in a sour mood. Not only did he have to work with Samali, but was required to go through a two week sniper refresher course. He was insulted, had forgotten more on the subject than the whipper-snapper teaching the class would ever know. How did I get into this mess?

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the instructor said in a brisk voice as he and his assistant met them outside a classroom building at the sniper academy. “Two weeks isn’t enough to cover what you need to know, but we’ll do the best we can. Be prepared to put in some long days.” Fatali’s eyes rolled back in his head and he sighed. “Is there a problem, Mr. Morta?” The instructor asked. Fatali took a step forward, and asked, “Is there a provision for me to test out of this course?” The instructor’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t believe you are in need of instruction?” Fatali looked him in the eyes without blinking. “That’s affirmative, sir, and I can prove it. Name the weapon, select the distance, and let’s send our best down range. If I don’t beat you at every distance, I’ll say no more.” The instructor turned to Samali. “Mr. Amok, do you feel the same?” “No, sir, I have never been trained in long-range shooting. However, I did not ask for this assignment.” “I see,” said the instructor. “You both are unhappy about being here, but for different reasons.” He turned to his assistant. “Please give Mr. Amok our basic classroom instruction in ballistics and physiology control. Mr. Morta and I will be at the range. We shouldn’t be too long.” The assistant nodded and left with Samali. The instructor pointed at his vehicle. When they were seated, he turned the key, pulled out of the parking lot, and turned to Fatali. “The weapon will be the new McMillan CS5 Stubby with a 12.5 inch barrel, and chambered for .308 caliber ammo. It fires a 175 grain bullet at 2250 feet per second at the muzzle, and is capable of 0.75 minute of angle accuracy. The adjustable rear portion of the stock is removable, making the length 23.5 inches. It fits neatly into a small backpack and is ideal for situations where that is needed.” He looked at Fatali,

“Questions?” “With that barrel you obviously aren’t expecting us to do any serious long-range shooting.” “You do have some knowledge of ballistics. We will be firing from three hundred yards with muzzle suppressed weapons. Are you familiar with the McMillan?” He steered around a curve and turned on a dirt track. “I know of it, but haven’t fired one.” “You’ll have one hour on the range with a new rifle that has been bore sighted. We will fire five shots from 300 yards, and the tightest grouping nearest the bull’s eyes wins.” “Sounds fair,” Fatali said. “And, Mr. Morta,” the instructor said. “Your spread will need to be smaller than 2 inches for you to have a chance.” He pulled into the range parking area and turned off the ignition. Fatali smiled broadly. “The ruler never lies, but shooters do. I will let my rifle do the talking,” he said, as he got out of the truck. “I will look forward to the conversation.” He walked to the rear of the vehicle, took out a McMillan still in its shipping box, and handed it to Fatali. Fatali scanned the range and nodded in appreciation. State of the art facility with ten firing benches overlooking a manicured field with target frames set up every one hundred yards out to a thousand. A large dirt hill behind the last station made certain no ricochets went awry. “Ammo?” Fatali asked. “There’s a carton of two hundred rounds of match grade on the first bench.”

“See you in an hour.”

WAYNE AND JACK SAT DEEP IN CONVERSATION AT A REMOTE TABLE IN THE library. They were researching records of the people on Earth that had the strongest genetic ties to Atlantia, and were amazed at the findings. There was a high correlation between Atlantian genetic and cultural and enlightened activities on Earth. Much success had been documented, but not at the level expected. The majority of Earthlings embraced the Satonian philosophy that favored the use of force, violence, and imperialism to achieve desired goals. Wayne scratched his head. “Throughout most of Earth’s history, there was little evolutionary selective pressure against exploitation. The group with superior technology and weaponry won the competition for land and resources. It overshadowed the genetic and cultural influences that Atlantia introduced.” “Jesus is a prime example,” Jack said. “According to Atlantian records his father was from this planet and Mary was selected because of her direct lineage to Adam and Eve’s group.” “Not only that,” Wayne added. “He was tutored by his Atlantian father during his childhood.” “Even so, he was unable to make nonviolence the dominant philosophy,” Jack signed. “He paid for it with his life.” Wayne shook his head. “Being assassinated has been the fate of many enlightened beings on Earth.” “I almost ed the ranks of the assassins,” Jack’s voice trembled as he spoke. “But you didn’t.” “Thank, God,” said Jack. “That’s something I couldn’t have lived with.” “But things would be worse if Atlantia hadn’t intervened.” Wayne pushed his chair back, stood, and rubbed his lower back. “Without doubt,” Jack agreed. “It resulted in some wonderful people and accomplishments on Earth.”

“Name some that you’ve found,” Wayne said. Jack scanned his notes. “I’ll just read what I wrote.” “Great.” Jack cleared his throat. “The Renaissance transformed art and literature as a result of people like Michelangelo, da Vinci, Galileo, and Dante … all of them had strong genetic ties to Atlantia. The Reformation changed religion and lessened unquestioned dogma. It was led by Luther and Calvin who challenged the supremacy of the Pope. The Scientific Revolution ushered in a new view of the cosmos as exemplified by Newton’s discovery of gravity and Copernicus’s realization the Sun was the center of our solar system.” Wayne nodded, scanned his notes, and sat. “William Shakespeare is reported to have direct lineage to Atlanta and was arguably the greatest writer of the English language that ever lived. His thirty seven plays and one hundred and fifty four sonnets have achieved immortality.” “Lordy, yes,” said Jack. “If you need a quote, Shakespeare is where to turn.” “I’d add the names of Mark Twain and Bob Dylan to the if-you-need-a-quote list,” Wayne said. “We shouldn’t forget the 18th Century Enlightenment,” Jack added. “It marked an explosion in printing technology, and the widespread use of French. This increased the influence of science and partially replaced superstition, tyranny, and injustice with reason and legal equality. Kant and Rousseau were two of the important influences. Kant said the Enlightenment was man’s release from his self-inflicted immaturity and involved the use of reason to challenge outdated traditions. Rousseau added that the consent of the people is the sole basis for government. Very Atlantian sounding, isn’t it?” Wayne shifted uncomfortably in his chair and sighed. “Satonia couldn’t let that stand, so they used religion to introduce the Anti-Enlightenment Period, a move away from Democracy toward a system where a few that were considered chosen by God ordained ruled.” Jack’s forehead creased. “One example was that whites were deemed chosen, and people of color were so inferior they could be sold as chattel. Twelve million

Africans were imported as slaves to white owners, with four million dying on the voyage to American.” The level of his voice increased as he spoke. “There are still an estimated twenty-seven million people enslaved on Earth due to forced labor, sex trafficking, and involuntary military service.” “That many!” Wayne said. “Did you know that most of the first Presidents of the Ivy League Colleges were slave owners and brought slaves with them to campus?” “What!” “Would you have guessed such a thing?” “Never,” said Jack. “The Satonian influence has more than kept pace with Atlantia,” Wayne said. “I believe it has had the upper hand,” Jack frowned with the words. “I agree,” said Wayne. “Evil is more organized than goodness on Earth.” Jack sighed, and wiped his brow. “It certainly was during Jesus’ time.”

“No more than now,” Wayne said.

WAYNE, EVIE, AND A TWITCHING, BUMFUZZLED, STUTTERING, AND reluctant, Jack, knocked on Melody’s door. The second sundown was over an hour gone, so they were late. Jack hadn’t been able to get ready, and Wayne and Evie had finally escorted him to Fex’s air buggy. The door swung open to a radiant Melody, dressed in a burnt-orange tunic with brilliant turquoise accents. Red coral earrings dangled from her earlobes and an antique squash blossom necklace added the final touch. “Good evening,” she said. “It will be crowded, but if we work together, it should be manageable.” Greetings were exchanged that included Fex and Angelica who had also been

invited and had arrived earlier. “We’ll be on my back patio,” she said. “A’Sha’Nah and Riser couldn’t stand to be left out, and I can accommodate them better there.” She led them through the house and out a French door. A large dining table took up most of the space. It was constructed from an antique door that had served as the entrance to a ranch in Earthen Mexico, and showed years of weather. The dark blue paint that once covered its surface had flaked off leaving the wood underneath visible in a variety of splotches. It was surrounded by high-backed chairs with seats of woven straw. Three long-stemmed candles were on the table, on each end and in the middle, and hand thrown plates from Santa Fe rested on loomed Navajo placemats. Wayne nodded his appreciation. “Feels like I’m back on Earth. Melody, this is incredible!” His sentiments were echoed by all … even Jack, with wide eyes and a nervous nod. A’Sha’Nah pranced in the fenced, yard and Riser had a proud perch on one of the fence posts. “I like Atlantia,” Riser said. “A’Sha’Nah and I may stay here and take turns living with each of you.” A’Sha’Nah howled his approval and the group raised their glasses in toast. Riser glided to the patio and did an abbreviated dance. “Only problem,” said Angelica, “is that we’ll fight over who gets to keep you the longest.” A’Sha’Nah put on his best smile. “Gee, Riser, what a problem.” “Yes,” said Riser, “but we’ll just have to manage.” The group’s laughter was interrupted as Melody served the meal. Cheese enchiladas with green chili sauce, Spanish rice, refried beans, and guacamole. Ice cold Tecate with salt and lime to wash it down … even for A’Sha’Nah. He and Riser dined on raw trout that had been beamed up from Earth that day. Riser was ecstatic, but managed to eat slowly and show off his newly acquired

manners. After the meal, they cleared the table, washed the dishes, and retired to the patio for an after dinner Grand Mariner and conversation. “How is your research coming, Jack,” Angelica asked. “Uh, fine, I guess. Wayne is a big help, as is Melody … she really knows her way around that place.” Melody looked surprised and smiled at him. “Formed any conclusions?” Fex asked. Jack looked down at this drink, and sighed. “It’s hard for a man to realize he’s been wrong about most everything, but I’m starting to believe it.” Wayne raised his glass. “Here’s to Jack, a big enough man to keep searching, and who hasn’t been wrong about everything at all.” They raised their glasses and started to drink, but Jack stopped them. “Wait!” The glasses came down and all eyes turned to him. “How have I not been wrong about everything?” The words hung in the air for several seconds before Fex took up the slack. “Wayne, you made the toast, so you get first crack at this.” “Don’t mind if I do,” Wayne said. “You weren’t wrong about lots of things. Let’s see if you agree.” Jack nodded, and looked down with surprise as A’Sha’Nah licked his hand. Jack wiped some moisture from his eyes and petted A’Sha’Nah. “You weren’t wrong about not being a killer, it just wasn’t you.” Jack looked at Wayne, then around the table, and Riser came and sat on the opposite side from A’Sha’Nah. Jack nodded slightly.

“Good,” Wayne said. “Second, you weren’t wrong about coming to Atlantia.” “Hear, hear,” said Fex. Jack nodded again. “You weren’t wrong about Jesus being special, and being on Earth for an important reason.” Jack’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Well?” Wayne asked. “I was, uh … right in a way.” “Fine,” said Wayne. “We’re on a roll.” Melody had tears on her cheeks, and Evie was looking at Wayne with all the love a woman can put in her eyes. Angelica and Fex held hands and A’Sha’Nah licked Jack’s hand again. Riser touched him with a wing tip. “Fourth,” said Wayne. “You weren’t wrong in wanting to help people find their way when they were lost.” “Oh, my God.” Jack buried his face in his hands. “And fifth, and you listen close to me now, Ely Jack Tatum,” Wayne said, more forcefully. Jack moved one hand and peeked at Wayne. “You are not wrong to be falling in love with Melody.” Melody gasped, her eyes wide, and she turned to Wayne. He put a finger on his lips and she put her hands in her lap and looked at them. Jack didn’t move for ten seconds and dropped his hands to his side. A’Sha’Nah grabbed the cuff of his shirt in his mouth, and tugged. Jack looked at A’Sha’Nah, question marks in his eyes. A’Sha’Nah tugged harder. Jack stood and A’Sha’Nah led him down the table to Melody and placed Jack’s hand on her arm.

Melody looked up and stroked A’Sha’Nah’s head. Jack took his hand from her arm, put it under her chin, and kissed her mouth ever so gently for five seconds. “Probably not too good at that,” he said, when he pulled away. “It was just perfect, Jack,” she said softly. A’Sha’Nah pranced around the yard, his tail arched high over his back.

And, of course, Riser danced.

FATALI HELD HIS BREATH, COUNTED HEART BEATS, AND SQUEEZED THE trigger. The McMillan bucked against his shoulder, and the sound was cut in half by the suppressor on the muzzle. He looked through the spotting scope and smiled. Dead center from 300 yards. He was ready for his smart ass instructor to return. His wish was answered as if on cue. The Jeep came over a rise and down the lane to the range. It stopped ten yards away and the instructor got out … and so did the Director of the Covert Agent Bureau. “Only way I can sign you out is with his Ok,” the instructor said, and pointed to the Director. “That Ok with you?” “Won’t bother me,” said Fatali. “Might bother you though.” The instructor smiled, took his rifle out of the Jeep, and pointed down range. “There’s the target, here’s the bench, let em’ fly cowboy.” Fatali put a cartridge in the chamber, and four in the magazine. Sat at the bench, opened the tripod on the forward portion of the stock, and snugged the butt of the rifle into his shoulder. The target was a large X with the center representing dead on. The crosshairs of his scope settled on it easily. He breathed three times, held it, counted one heartbeat, two, squeezed the trigger, and recoil punched his shoulder. The sight picture had been perfect. He looked through the spotting scope … dead in the middle. Second shot, same result, third, fourth, fifth, and there was an irregularly shaped hole in the center of the target. He sat back,

folded the tripod down, and looked toward his audience. The instructor took his eye away from the spotting scope on an adjacent bench and shook his head. He turned to the Director. “Can’t be done any better than that. Whatever he can’t do, shooting straight isn’t one of em’.” The Director smiled. “So you have not lost your touch, Fatali.” “Never did,” Fatali replied. The Director nodded at the instructor and then looked at Fatali. “I want to know your location at all times until this mission is completed.” “Yes, sir,” Fatali said to the Director’s back as he walked toward the truck.

Asshole, he thought.

ELY JACK TATUM HAD BEEN BORN AGAIN, WASHED IN THE FLUID OF A woman, saved by more grace than he had ever known, and was bound for glory. He stared at the ceiling and tried to catch this breath. At his side, Melody attempted to do the same. Amen, hallelujah, and the communion plate again please, he was sure he needed one more sip. Lord, have mercy, why had he wasted most of his life? He had said ‘Oh, God’ many times before, but never like tonight. Oh, God, indeed! “Melody?” He asked. “Jack,” she said, her voice quivering. “Are you crying?” “Yes.” “What did I do wrong?” She sighed, and said, “Oh, you big idiot. It was beautiful.”

“But I think we’d better do it again soon, so you don’t forget.”

Fex and Angelica were nestled on her couch, snuggling, comfortable and full after the wonderful meal. “Did we stay too long?” Fex asked. “No,” she said. “But we left none too soon. Perfect timing I’d say.” “Great evening,” he said. “Yes, it was, and your daughter has herself a good man.” “No doubt,” he replied. “But you’re worried about them, aren’t you?” She asked, and rubbed his back. He shifted his position. “Odds are she will lose him.” Angelica sat up and looked at him. “Why? He’s crazy about her.” “The latest probability analysis indicates he will likely be killed,” he said, with a catch in his voice. “Oh, Fex!” “Yeah,” he said.

“I would love for it to be proven wrong.”

Samali had a crescent shaped scar over his right eye from crowding the scope on a rifle with considerable recoil. Fatali found it hilarious and laughed until tears streamed down his face. Despite the wound, the training continued, and Samali’s shoulder was recoil sore. He liked it better though. Yesterday his bullet found the center of the target for the first time and he’d felt a rush of pleasure shoot up from his stomach. “When you can manage a three inch group from 300 yards,” the instructor said, “we’ll graduate you to the range with human facsimile targets and the real fun will start.”

He hoped one of them looked like Evie … he had a score to settle.

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE HAVING MORNING COFFEE IN FEX’S KITCHEN. A’Sha’Nah lay at Wayne’s feet, and Riser sat just outside the sliding patio door. “What a great evening,” Evie said. “I’ll bet Jack agrees with you,” Wayne chuckled. “Isn’t Melody a wonderful person?” Wayne went to the fridge, took out a grapefruit, and cut it in half. “Good as it gets from what I can tell. Jack’s a lucky guy.” He cut the fruit into sections, put it in two bowls, and brought it to the table. Evie’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. She looked at Wayne over her coffee cup. “He’s going back to Earth, isn’t he?” Wayne shifted in his chair and petted A’Sha’Nah. “He says he has to, to make amends.” Evie took a bite and wiped some juice from her chin. “She’ll have a choice to

make when that happens.” “Rapid Transit makes long-distance relationships more convenient,” he said. “But you can only beam back and forth so often or risk damage to your body.” He looked at her, sipped his coffee, and took her hand. “You’re really talking , aren’t you?” Her eyes went down briefly. “Yeah, guess I am. You have to go back.” He sighed. “That’s what this has all been about.” He played with the grapefruit with his spoon but didn’t eat. She leaned toward him. “I knew that from the start, and I’ll be there with you some of the time, but …” He squeezed her hand. “I don’t expect you to live on Earth. It’s not much compared to here.” She rose, got the coffee pot, and refilled their mugs. “You like it here?” “Nope, I love it,” he said. “Feel like I’ve gone home.” She tried to smile but couldn’t pull it off., “Maybe someday …” He nodded. “I hope it works out that we live here, but we’ll have to see how things go …” “I know,” she said. “You’re a good man, Wayner.” He frowned, deep lines on his face. “I’m a mess of a man. I’ve screwed up everything I’ve touched.” “It’s like I told you before, you’re intense, care deeply, and are brutally hard on yourself.” He leaned over and kissed her. “I agree with you, but haven’t handled that well, have done some bad things.” “Granted,” she said. “So have I.”

“What?” She smiled ruefully. “I was sent to Limbo not only to help you, but to sort me out too.” He sat silent and scratched his head. “You want to tell me?” Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her face. “You’ll think twice about loving me.” He stood, went behind her chair, and put his arms around her neck. “Don’t think so.” “It’s pretty bad, Wayne.” He held her, could feel the tension in her body. “Wrong man?” She turned quickly. “Who told you?” “Fex mentioned you were young by Atlantian standards, and that’s a mistake lots of us make when we’re young. After your mom died?” The tears were a river, cascading down. “You’re too damn smart, Chisholm.” “You don’t have to tell me, Evie. It’s Ok if you don’t.” “My mom was killed in a mountain climbing accident with Fex. It was one of their favorite things to do. There’s a nice range on the other side of Atlantia, and she fell when a piton Fex had placed pulled out. She hit her head so hard it broke the helmet. She died instantly.” He held her and felt waves of pain run through her body. “You were real close to her?” “Oh, God,” she gasped, between the sobs. “So you were mad at Fex.” “I hated him.” She turned and looked up. “So I hurt him as deep as I could … I took a Satonian lover.”

He almost grunted the words hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. Took him a few moments to breath. “You had to be hurting really bad to do that,” he managed. She looked up and shook her head. “That’s your response? You’re going to be nice?” “As long as I can manage it.” He took a chair across the table and looked at her. “Damn you, Wayner.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. His stomach was still reeling. “Were you and Fex still at odds when you left Limbo after being with me?” “It was better, but still tense.” “Did you forgive him then?” “Finally!” She brushed hair out of her face. “He was destroyed by her death, and I …” “Let’s just say we’ve both been hurt.” He sighed and shook his head.

“And did some stupid things.”

WAYNE AND JACK WERE AT THE LIBRARY, THEIR HEADS BURIED IN STACKS of books. They’d been at it for hours and needed a break. They walked through the lobby, out of the large double door entrance, and found a table in a courtyard. The day was clear and cool enough to be comfortable. A slight breeze carried the aroma of flowers and the conversations from others that were enjoying an outdoor lunch. “Last time we talked we decided that evil was better organized than good on Earth,” Jack started the discussion. “I have a few more examples.” “Fill me in,” said Wayne, around a bite of sandwich.

Jack poured two cups of tea from a thermos and handed one to Wayne. “The American and French revolutions resulted in an explosion of ocean-going trade and commerce. Along with the advent of open-market capitalism, the opportunity for business expansion was tremendous. This created a competitive climate, very rapid advances in technology, and led to the Industrial Revolution.” “Ah,” said Wayne. “The competitive profit game and mass production.” “Yep,” Jack took a bite of an apple, “and the population exploded, so there were more potential consumers than ever before.” “There were good aspects to that,” Wayne said, and took a sip of tea. “Like increased liberation and education for more people and cross-cultural fertilization.” “Absolutely,” Jack agreed. “But Satonia was more adept than Atlantia in what they were promoting.” Wayne sliced an orange-like fruit and munched on it. “How so?” “The increased commerce and profit margins led to strong imperial powers and intense competition that resulted in global conflicts over land and resources.” Wayne nodded. “I read something similar. Satonia used the competitive atmosphere to sow the seeds of its-only-business and the-ends-justify-the-means philosophies.” Jack finished his sandwich and walked to a trash bin to discard his sack. “And the means included the Seven Years War, the Napoleonic Wars, WW1, WW11, and numerous smaller wars since that time.” Wayne leaned back in his chair. “Currently the underlying principle of all foreign policy in the U.S. is that unless they control the world via military occupation it will run amok. It is impossible to get elected to high office without believing this, even though President Eisenhower issued stern warnings about the expansion of the military-industrial complex in his exit speech from office.” Jack shook his head and let go with a long sigh. “If I were writing a history book, I would call this The Age of Perpetual War.”

“Amen to that,” Wayne echoed. “Non-violence and cooperation got lost in the quest for commerce, money, and political power and was based in the belief that God wanted wars to be waged.” Jack hung his head. “The kill a commie for Christ mind set.” “Or kill a Christian for Allah,” Wayne sighed.

Jack shook his head. “Or kill a Muslim for God.”

THE EARTH EXPERIMENT NEEDED A VOTE OF AT LEAST SIXTY PERCENT IN the Council to assure continued funding and . The vote after A’Sha’Nah and Riser’s appearance was 58 pro and 42 con, closer to age than for the last few years. Satonian lobby efforts had been considerable however, and managed to hold enough votes to derail it. Both sides were nervous; Satonia because the margin was so slim, and the pro faction because funding ended for the program in a month.

Both of them had lots to lose.

The Director of the Covert Agent Bureau was beside himself. If the vote didn’t go their way, he might be competing with Samali for the garbage collector position. It made his stomach knot up just to think about it. To make matters worse, killing Wayne was all but impossible as long as he remained on Atlantia. Their detection system was too strong. Fatali had been lucky to escape by scant minutes when he silenced Lamen. Now that they were on alert, it would be doubly difficult. How could they get Wayne off of Atlantia? Thus far he hadn’t been able to come up with a feasible plan. He was mulling over this dilemma during lunch in his spacious office when it hit him. Didn’t Evie have a Satonian lover a year or so ago? He looked out the window at the mountains in the distance and drummed his fingers on his desk. Yes, it had been Stricker, their foremost warrior.

Stricker Amoss was the answer.

“Twyla,” he said over the intercom to his secretary. “Find the location of Special Operations Reconnaissance Officer, Stricker Amoss, and do it quickly.” Within minutes she informed him he was on a distant planet helping quell an uprising.

An hour later orders were cut to return him to Satonia.

Twyla’s second call on this subject, later in the day on a secure line, was to Agent Hubble on Atlantia. He was delighted to hear from her; not only because she was an accomplished spy with good intell, but because she had been good in his bed as well … and would be again soon he hoped. She was unable to tell him the reason that Stricker had been summoned, but was certain it had something to do with Wayne Chisholm, and the problems he was causing Satonia. Hubble called the Chairman, who was alarmed over the news. The Chairman called Fex. Fex was not alarmed, he was livid.

You could tell by the fire in his eyes.

Fex spoke with Evie the next day at his house while they sat in his spacious living room. She took one look at the intensity etched on his face and squirmed in her chair. He got right to the subject. “Have you heard from Stricker?” She whirled, cat-like, and stared at him. “What?” Fex cleared his throat. “Has he ed you? Sorry to ask, but it’s important.” “Fex!” She leaned toward him, both palms up in front of her. He held his hand up. “He’s been summoned from an off planet assignment, and Samali and Fatali are practicing daily at the sniper range. The probable target is Wayne.” She slumped back in the chair and put her head in her hands. “Oh, God!” “Evie, we have to know.” “Do you think I’d put Wayne’s life in jeopardy?” Her voice was strained. “No, sorry, my bad.” “Do we know what they’re planning?” She rubbed her temples with her fingers. Fex drummed his fingers on an end table. “Probably a ruse to get Wayne off Atlantia. They have little chance otherwise.” Her eyes flashed reddish-orange. “And they’re going to use my relationship with Stricker?” “That’s the highest possibility.” He looked her in the eyes while he spoke. “And their other option?” She met his stare. Fex ran one hand through his hair. “According to our calculations there isn’t one.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “What have I done?” “Easy.” His voice was low and measured. “We’ll come up with a counter plan.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “You don’t know the whole story. They’re going to try and blackmail me. I got pregnant, Fex.” Fex stood and walked to the window. Stood with his back to her. “They can’t do that now that you’ve told me.” He turned and faced her, his eyes full of question. “You had an abortion?” She nodded and cried.

For a long time.

STRICKER LISTENED CLOSELY AS THE DIRECTOR SAT ON THE EDGE OF HIS desk and explained what he wanted. Then sat and thought for a few minutes. Samali and Fatali sat too, and curiously waited his reply. “You gave me an assignment,” he said. “I courted her, bedded her, and knocked her up as per instructions. It accomplished nothing except to incite hatred in the woman. The only thing she wants is me dead.” The Director snapped his fingers and looked at Sticker. “We can use that. I’ll bet her new man won’t let her come to Satonia without him.” Stricker stood, six feet and five inches of chiseled muscle, raised one huge arm, and pointed a long finger at the Director. “You propose to use me as bait?” Fire shot through the Director’s eyes. “I propose to do whatever necessary to rid ourselves of this thorn in our side. You will cooperate or go to the brig.” Stricker closed the distance between them with two strides and looked down at the Director. “Does the Supreme General know of your intention to stake me out as a goat for a tiger?”

The Director scooted back on the desktop. “She’s not a tiger, she’s only a woman.” “A woman who can kill in a matter of seconds,” Stricker replied. “Isn’t that so, Samali?” Samali jerked at the sound of his name, looked down, and sat quivering. “How is your broken thigh?” Stricker asked. “I am the only one to stand a chance against her and she could best me if I made an error.” Samali rubbed his thigh and grimaced. Stricker leaned closer to the Director. “I will call her one time, no more. I will not be successful in luring her to Satonia unless she wants to come … and if she does, gentlemen, we are in deep trouble. Atlantia will have a plan that involves us all, including you Mr. Director. Are you certain you want to set them free among us?” “Surely you exaggerate.” The Director said with a smirk on his face. “She knows that the orders for me to seduce her came from our government … more specifically from you. You have no conception, none at all, who you are dealing with … yes, Samali? And you will answer me this time.” Samali’s eyes widened and his stomach turned flips. He, along with everyone on Satonia, knew of Stricker’s reputation for violence and destruction. He looked at the Director. “She is unbelievably formidable, sir. She wouldn’t need any help to kill all of us in this room.” The Director scanned the room with his eyes. “I have heard enough moaning and wailing about how afraid all of you are of a woman. Call her and get it done, get her down here.” He turned to Samali and Fatali. “And when that happens, you will kill them all …

… or heads will roll.”

EVIE TOLD WAYNE ABOUT THE ABORTION AND THE WARRIOR STATUS OF the father. He was silent for several minutes, sitting with his eyes closed, breathed deep and slow. There was a terror so big and deep in her throat she could taste it, all coppery, like a penny left in the street, coated with oil and grime. He finally spoke. “It kills me to think about what you must have gone through. I’d like to kill him but would probably have little chance.” She didn’t speak, sat with her hands in her lap, and tears on her face. “I read in the library that Atlantian women can control when they get pregnant … that they only do so by choice.” “That’s true. I know how that must seem …” He held up his hand to stop her and sat for five minutes without speaking. Then slowly rose, walked to the door, and turned. “This is something an Earth chick would do. You should have told me.” “I did tell you about him,” she said. “Not soon enough, but I did.” “But you left out that you chose to get pregnant.” He opened the door, paused and looked back. “It’s about more than that, it’s about trust. I told you I was short on that. I need some time to think.” He closed the door gently and was gone. She sat without moving for an hour, hoping he would return.

He didn’t.

Hubble was surprised to see Wayne on his porch when he answered the door chime. He motioned him in, and stepped back with the door wide. “Sorry, Hubble, can I bother you for a place to stay tonight?” “No problem,” he said. “I got a guest room. It’s yours as long as you need it.” “Thanks, can someone beam me down to Limbo in the morning?” Hubble frowned and shook his head no. “Bad idea, you’d be dead inside a day courtesy of a Satonian sniper. Besides, we need you here.” “Why?” “We’re hatching a plan that has a good probability of success if all the pieces fall in place. You’re one of the pieces.” Wayne looked at him and his eyes formed slits. “Does it involve Stricker?” “Yeah.” “What’s the plan?” Hubble motioned to the chairs. “Still a bit uncertain and depends a lot on an undercover agent. Keep that to yourself.” “I understand,” said Wayne. “What’s my role?” Hubble glanced down, then back up. “Bait, but you’re not the only one. Several of us might be framed in a rifle scope before it’s over.” “Does it include Evie?” “Yep, and it’s going to require a leap of faith.” Wayne found Hubble’s eyes. “What are the probabilities?” “You learn fast. If the agent succeeds about seventy five percent in our favor.”

Wayne stood. “Thanks again for being willing to take me in, but given this, think I’ll mosey back to Fex’s place. “We’re waiting for Stricker to Evie. That will set things in motion.” He saw the look on Wayne’s face. “Uh, sorry.” “Don’t be, you helped. I won’t forget that.” Hubble shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“Still won’t forget it.”

Evie was with A’Sha’Nah and Riser in the backyard, sitting under a tree. She looked up as Wayne came through the back door. Her eyes and cheeks were red from crying. “I’m back,” he said, keeping his distance. “It appears I’m part of a plan that includes you and Stricker. I’ll be sleeping in the other room. You Ok with that?” She nodded and looked at the ground. A’Sha’Nah came to Wayne and licked his hand. “Tough times, Wayne?” “Yeah, buddy, real tough.”

He went to the guest room and shut the door.

Twyla, the secretary agent on Satonia, was in bed with Fatali. It was the lousiest of jobs, but had to be done. She’d managed to get the details of the Satonian plan, and if they didn’t change, thought things could work out. She needed to get word to Hubble. Daylight couldn’t come fast enough. Couldn’t wait to take a long shower and wash the smell of him off her body.

And down the drain.

Evie wished it was morning too as she lay in bed alone. She had no more tears to cry and kept her mind busy with thoughts of a shot at Stricker. Should have killed him when I had the chance. She’d talk to the Chairman and Hubble tomorrow. Stricker would be hers, and hers alone, or she’d refuse to help. Non-violence was in her past. She had some bad things to do to a bad man.

Payback is a bitch, she thought, and smiled at the pun.

THE CALL FROM STRICKER CAME EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. WAYNE WAS gone. She’d heard the front door close just after daylight. She swallowed the lump in her throat and hit the receive button. “What the hell do you want?” “Got a proposition for you.” He looked the same on the screen, shaved head, blue eyes, chiseled jaw line, huge neck and shoulders, and a constant smirk on full lips. “And why would that interest me?” “A chance to get even. I’ve decided to be a nice guy.” “Oh, really,” she said. He raised one eyebrow. “It’ll be fun, just like old times. Me and you, on the dueling grounds, only this time for real … just one of us leaves.” “With snipers watching your back no doubt.” She hoped her voice sounded calm. “Not like that,” he said. “You know the rules of a Satonian duel, only a few witnesses are allowed. Your new guy can even be one of them.”

She shifted in her chair. “What’s in this for you?” “You destroyed my son and I’ve decided we need to talk about that … with our fists.” She leaned toward the screen to enlarge her image. “I’m out of your league.” A sneer crossed his face. “Prove it … bitch.” “Name the time and place.” “Three days from now, thirty minutes after sunrise, on the dueling grounds. You’ll have to come in space craft because we’ll have your beaming system blocked.” “Done.” She narrowed her eyes. “I would have never birthed a son of yours.” “And for that you will die.” She purposefully invented a large smile; let him see it for a few seconds. “Lucky you won’t be around after the duel. Could never live down being killed by a woman.”

She could hear him laughing as she severed the connection.

Hubble took off the head phones and looked at the Chairman. “He called her and it’s as we thought. They want us on Satonia.” He stood and sighed. “Now it’s in Twyla’s hands. If they catch her, it’s the end of our chances.” The Chairman sighed. “So much responsibility for one woman.”

“She’ll manage, sir.”

TWYLA HAD BEEN THE DIRECTOR’S SECRETARY FOR FIVE YEARS. SHE WAS a native of Satonia, but had never shared their cultural views. This had been further solidified several years back, when she met Hubble at a galactic peace conference. The kind of event that governments sponsor, so they can brag they tried to promote accord, but couldn’t gain the cooperation of others. Twyla liked to call them ‘It’s the Other Guy’s Fault’ conferences. One peace promoting event did result however, she and Hubble spent hours in his room talking, and having the most incredible sex of her life. Males on Atlantia were given a better education in how to please a woman than their Satonian counterparts. Their resulting correspondence convinced her to become an Atlantian agent. They had promised if she could help save Wayne and Evie, she could defect. She warmed at the thought of renewing the relationship with Hubble. So she had slept with Fatali to learn the Satonian plan. They were luring Evie to the dueling grounds to face Stricker; hoped Wayne would come, so both of them could be killed. Fatali told her where he and Samali would be positioned and she relayed that information to Hubble. All that remained, on the morning of the duel, was the most dangerous task of all. The one the entire operation hinged on. As she thought this over, she checked her look in the mirror. Her red hair hung to the middle of her back and framed a pixie-like face with an upturned nose, green eyes, a small, but full, set of lips, and high cheek bones. Her chin tapered almost to a point, but at the last minute squared itself. It was an unusual face and more striking as a result. Men liked it. They also liked her petite, shapely, 5’4” body.

Small proportions and everything in the right place, superbly balanced. At age 28 she was in her prime. She made a 360 turn and smiled, looks wouldn’t be a problem.

What would be a problem was if more than one man was on duty.

WAYNE WASN’T HAPPY. HIS VISIT WITH FEX WAS MAKING IT WORSE. “She’s going to do what?” “Duel Stricker … on Satonia.” Fex sat and looked at him. They had driven to a city park, walked down a wood chip path, and were seated on a bench overlooking a small lake. The sky was overcast and a few isolated raindrops put in an occasional appearance. Wayne stood and paced. “You Ok with that?” Fex looked at the lake, a faraway expression on his face, and shrugged. “She’s going to do it, with or without our , has a score to settle. There’s a good chance she can best him, and we will have bought some time and gotten rid of some bad actors.” Wayne stopped, turned to Fex. “But he’s a brute, right?” Fex nodded. “He’s their best warrior, but no match for Evie.” “Seriously?” Wayne asked, and stared at Fex. Fex nodded. “Especially on low-g Satonia. She’s in training with our best martial arts expert as we speak.” Wayne frowned as one hand ruffled his hair. “Aw, geez,” was all he could manage. “Evie won’t be the only one in harm’s way, everyone that goes will.” “Am I going?”

“It’s your choice, but it sweetens the pot for them.” Fex stood and wiped a raindrop from his forehead. “Will I know the details of our plan?” Wayne turned to Fex and pleaded with his eyes. “Going to tell you the whole thing right now.” After Fex finished, Wayne felt a little better.

But not much.

FATALI COULDN’T BELIEVE HIS EARS. HE STOMPED AROUND THE Director’s conference room, eyes wild with apprehension. “We do what?” The Director looked at Stricker. “It was your demand, you explain it.” Stricker looked at Fatali and Samali and centered them in his eyes. “The bitch pissed me off. I will have my chance at her. No shooting until I do. Understood?” The Director stepped between them. “The observers will be totally enthralled and be easy targets. Fire as soon as Stricker has prevailed. Fatali, your target is Chisholm. Samali, you take out Fex if he’s in attendance. Spend the rest of your ammo on whoever remains and the situation allows.” Fatali shook his head. “We should fire at the first opportunity. In a mere second everything can change for the worse. I will obey orders, but want it made clear I disagree.” “Duly noted,” said the Director. “Just make certain you nail Chisholm.” “My skills are not in question, but as for scar eye …” Fatali looked at Samali and snorted in disgust. Samali looked down and was silent.

The Director’s eyes flashed anger. “Is Delegate Angelica still alive? You were not so good that day.” Fatali stepped toward him with both fists clinched. “It angers me that old fat men without a day of combat can presume to criticize warriors. With all respect, sir, you are welcome to use my rifle and see that the job is done according to your standards.” The Director’s face turned a deep red. “Just do it!” Fatali bowed to him. “How about I shoot straight and you close your mouth?” “I can have you thrown in jail!” The Director slammed his fist down on his desk. “Be my guest, I’m certain that Samali, expert that he is, can kill them all without me.” Stricker laughed, head thrown back, and eyes closed. “It’s fun to watch children play word games.”

Nothing further was said as Stricker left the room.

SAMALI WAS PLEASED. FROM 300 YARDS HE HAD FIRED A THREE SHOT group of 2.75 inches, less than a minute of an angle, and in the bull’s eye. He touched the target with his finger and then the scar on his nose. The smell of burned gun powder still hung in the air as he picked up the spent cartridges on the ground. His instructor nodded and gave him thumbs up. “That is easily good enough to complete your mission. Aim for the center of his chest instead of the head. That will give you room for error.” “Yes, sir,” Samali said. “I appreciate your help and patience.” “You’ve come a long way, and worked hard. Just that in a real situation, your body will try and betray you. what you’ve been

taught.” ““Can I practice on human facsimiles now?” He placed his rifle in its case. “Let’s get some breakfast and return,” the instructor said as he walked towards his vehicle. “Outstanding! Do you have one that looks like Evie?”

“Affirmative, Mr. Amok.”

Evie sat drinking an early morning coffee deep in thought. In two days, she would face Stricker, and best him if she could. She’d have to be on her game to win, but whether she won or not, the plan could still work. She just wouldn’t be around to enjoy it. A’Sha’Nah roused himself and came to sit in front of her. “Riser and I must go with you. We can help, I’m sure of it.” She petted him and smiled shook her head. “Not this time, good friend. We made this mess, and have to clean it up. Can’t risk your lives. Satonia is a violent place and you and Riser would never be allowed to live.” “But, Evie …” “It’s not open for negotiation, you cannot go.” He slunk across the room, tail between his legs. “It’s because we love you, wolf,” she called after him. He stopped and looked back. “If you loved us, you’d let us go. Staying here will be torture.”

“I know, because you love us too.”

THE DIRECTOR OF THE COVERT AGENT BUREAU HAD CALLED A MEETING. Fatali, Samali, and Sticker sat in his conference room, and waited on his arrival. Twyla brought them coffee, and got a disgusting leer from Fatali. She smiled sweetly. “I just heard from the Director, he will be here shortly.” She exited the room and closed the door. Stricker took a long drink of his brew. “The old man sounded excited, wonder what’s up?”

Samali squirmed in his chair. “Must be good news.” “I could use some of that,” Fatali grumbled. The Director came through the door, walking briskly. “I just received the list of witnesses that are coming to the duel. Our plan is working perfectly.” He waved the sheet of paper in his hand as he spoke. Stricker looked up from the opposite end of the conference table. “I knew lover boy wouldn’t let her come without him.” The Director nodded, and sat. “Yes, Chisholm is coming, but it gets better. So are Fex, Angelica, Hubble, and the Chairman of the Council of Elders.” Fatali pumped his fist in the air. “Another crack at that Earth-loving bitch and her man.” “,” the Director said. “You must …” “Yeah, yeah,” Fatali interrupted him. “Kill Chisholm first.” “Must you always be so disagreeable, Fatali?” The Director frowned and looked his way. “Only happens when I’m around people like you.” “Watch your step,” the Director said, a sharp edge on his voice. “After this is over, I won’t need you.” Fatali sat back and crossed his legs. “It is you that should be cautious. Bullets can sometimes go astray in the heat of battle. Perhaps one will accidently find your head.” The Director blanched. “You … you wouldn’t dare!” “Are you willing to gamble your life on that?” Fatali leaned forward, elbows on the table. “An apology is in order.” The Director’s mouth fell open, and he tried to speak, but found no words. Stricker stood and walked down the side of the table. “I agree with Fatali. We are

killers, just as you’ve trained us to be. You wouldn’t want us to view you as the enemy.” The Director gulped and forced a smile. “Accept my apology,” he said, with a slight quiver in his voice. “I am under pressure to complete this mission successfully. It appears I’ve taken that out on you.” “Show it by your behavior,” Stricker said. “Fair enough,” the Director said. “I and the Supreme General will be at the duel. Be assured you have our .” Stricker allowed himself a slight grin. “Is Earth really that important?” “Yes,” the Director wiped sweat from his brow. “We are running out of natural resources on Satonia.” Stricker sat on the edge of the table and looked at the Director. “All the more reason to treat the men that are going to bail your asses out with respect.”

“Duly noted,” the Director said.

WAYNE FOUND EVIE AT THE GYM, TRAINING WITH HER INSTRUCTOR. SHE was just finishing and her body glistened with sweat. She saw him at the entrance and walked to him. She motioned to the stairs and they went to the upper deck to sit. Neither of them spoke for several seconds, before she broke the tension. “Wouldn’t blame you if never forgive me, since I can’t forgive myself.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m trying, but it’s hard for me.” “You don’t trust me now.” She looked at the ceiling and sighed “I can accept that you’ve been with someone. I’ve been with others too. It’s the intentional pregnancy that trips me up.”

She made a choking sound in her throat. “You aren’t going to be able to get past this?” “Don’t know.” He looked straight ahead, avoiding her eyes. “The timing sucks, we could be dead in a few days. But you aren’t done with him.” Her body went rigid. “How can you say that?” He sighed. “How much more involved can you be than to risk your life to get even?” Tears fell from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “You’re asking me not to do it?” “If I have to ask it won’t work. It is what it is.” His voice sounded hoarse and strained. She wiped her cheeks with the back of one hand. “And you can’t help feeling the way you do.” She held out her hands. “I don’t love him, I love you.” He looked at her finally, found her eyes. “But you hate him more than you love me. Makes him pretty damned important.” She looked down and didn’t respond. “I’ll be around until after the duel.” He stood and looked down. “Then am going to Earth and finish the book … if I’m alive. Will stay with Hubble until then.” He walked to the stairs and was out of sight while he descended. She sat, the embodiment of pain, watched him cross the gym floor, and go out the door.

And she feared out of her life.

THEY GOT ON THE SPACE SHUTTLE BEFORE FIRST SUNRISE AND SAT quietly as the crew ran through their final checklist. The mood was tense,

the stakes high, and everyone knew it. Evie sat with Fex and Angelica in the first of the three rows of seats, while Wayne and Hubble took seats in the back. The Chairman was alone in the second and busied himself with paper work. Evie and Wayne had not spoken since their conversation at the gym and avoided eye as they got on the craft. Wayne noticed she had on a fighting suit, a skin tight one piece outfit in the Atlantian colors of green and gold. Her shoes were high top lace ups with reinforced toes for protection while delivering kicks. She had her hair in a single braid that hung down her back. The pilot announced lift off and they fastened their seat harnesses. The thrust pressed them hard into their seats for a few minutes before they escaped the atmosphere. “This is the pilot,” a female voice came over the intercom. “We will be making one jump in about thirty minutes and land on Satonia twenty minutes later. Sit back and enjoy the flight.”

No one did.

Twyla was up early too. She donned her slinkiest red dress, the one cut lower than low in front. She put a stun gun in her purse and sprayed on her best perfume. Hubble’s coded message had let her know they had taken off as scheduled, and their estimated time of arrival. She would leave in thirty minutes. She sat on her sofa, breathed slow and deep, and waited.

Now it was up to her.

Fex turned to Evie, and kept his voice low. “You and Wayne are obviously having trouble.” She nodded. “Is it Stricker?” He asked. She nodded. “Him, the intentional pregnancy, and the duel. He says it means I hate Stricker more than I love him.” “I see,” said Fex. “Do you agree?” “We can talk about that after the duel … you can’t be distracted, Evie. Stricker’s too good. I’m sorry you have to fight him under these circumstances.”

“Me too,” she said.

A’Sha’Nah and Riser were miserable in Fex’s backyard. A’Sha’Nah paced, and Riser made periodic circular flights over the neighborhood. They watched the trail of light in the sky as the shuttle took off and A’Sha’Nah howled at the top of his lungs. Hubble had promised that someone from his office would notify them the moment the outcome was known.

A’Sha’Nah paced and howled louder.

The jump went smoothly, and Satonia came into view, a yellow-mottled-in-red orb surrounded by a black sky. The pilot ed their Air-Space Control Center and received landing instructions. They were informed there was a van waiting to transport them to the dueling grounds.

It was show time.

Twyla left her apartment, got in her air buggy, headed for her destination, and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

She couldn’t.

STRICKER STOPPED RUNNING AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE DUELING grounds. He liked an easy three mile warm up before a fight. It got his body loose and the juices flowing. He scanned the hillside where Fatali and Samali were hidden, and could not detect their presence. He nodded in approval. He walked to the fighting area and inspected the surface. It was a perfect square, fifty yards on each side, with bleachers that surrounded it for spectators. The grass had been cut the night before and was in ideal condition and length. He inspected his belt buckle and detached the set of brass knuckles that were hidden in its design. He put them back in place and grunted with satisfaction. Just one punch with them and the duel would be over. He turned toward the sound of vehicles approaching. There were two vans, each with the Satonian logo of a large purple snake on the side. He looked forward to seeing Evie’s beautiful face and how it would look as death settled over it.

He intended to find out.

Twyla checked her look in the interior mirror, got out of the air buggy and walked to the small building that was on the outskirts of the city of Satonia. It was in a stand of trees that made it hard to see unless you knew it was there. She sighed in relief when she saw there was only one vehicle in the parking area. She went to the door and knocked. “Who’s there,” said a voice from inside. “I’m Twyla, the Director’s secretary. He wanted me to double check that everything is AOK.” The door cracked and a young male peered out. His eyes ed surprise when he saw her, but not as much as when she bent over to check one of her shoes, giving him a full view down the front of her dress. “I thought this was going to be so boring,” she said, as she stood. “But now that I’ve seen you, the day is looking better.” The door opened another six inches. “Why don’t you let me in, convince me everything is in order, and I’ll call the Director. Then we can decide some way to spend the next hour.” The door swung wide and he stepped back to let her in. She stopped inside and took in the room. “Look at all these gauges and knobs. Whatever do they do?” She looked at him, batted her eyes, and waited. “Uh, what?” he asked, after he finally tore his eyes away from her breasts. “How do you turn everything off and on?” She asked. “Maybe that would be the easiest way to show me everything is ready.” He pointed to a large behind him. “It’s this switch right here, it shuts down everything.” He motioned around the room with a sweep of his hand. “See all green lights, not a red one in the bunch.” He looked at her and his chest swelled. “No worries, not as long as I’m on duty.”

She reached in her purse and licked her lips. “Think I’ll just put on some fresh lipstick.” “You look great just the way you are,” he said, and ran his hand through his hair. His eyes bulged when he saw the stun gun in her hand. She shot him in the middle of the chest, and he went down in a tangle of arms, legs, and spasms. She took a roll of duct tape from her purse, bound his hands and feet behind him, and put a strip over his mouth. She walked to the switch and flipped it to the off position. The lights on every in the room turned red. She took out her phone, sighed with relief, and sent Hubble a single word.

Done.

Hubble received Twyla’s message as he got out of the van at the dueling grounds. He quickly pushed a button on his communication device and thirty seconds later the Rapid Transit Headquarters on Atlantia was alerted. Exactly three minutes later, Fatali and Samali were standing on receiving pads on Atlantia, mouths agape, their stomachs queasy from vertigo, and surrounded by five Atlantians with stun guns. They were placed in handcuffs and put in holding cells in an adjacent building. Minutes later, Twyla materialized on one of the same pads, put her hand to her head, and gasped. “Well done, Agent,” the Chairman’s assistant said.

“Welcome to your new home.”

HUBBLE GAVE THE GROUP A THUMB’S UP AS THEY WALKED TO THE closest section of bleachers. The Satonian contingent composed of the Supreme General, his aide, and the Director of the Covert Agents Bureau, walked to the opposite side and found seats. Stricker ed them, and after a brief interchange, sauntered to the middle of the dueling area. He faced them, spread his legs, and crossed his arms over his immense chest. Evie, you are looking beautiful today,” he said as he folded his muscular arms across his chest. “I see you came dressed to die.” Wayne felt his stomach go cold and fear grip him so hard he could barely breathe. He turned to Evie and begged her not to go with his eyes. She ignored him and walked onto the field to face Sticker at a distance of ten paces. “Take your best shot.” She rolled her shoulders back and clenched her fists at her sides. He laughed and bowed. “Ladies first, I insist.”

She bent her knees and effortlessly sprang into the air. She sailed over his head, landed five feet behind him, and fired a kick at his knee. Before it could land, he made quick forward roll that ended with him facing her from the same distance as before. He shook his finger at her. “I bet you thought that would actually work.” She jumped straight up, rising an impossible thirty feet into the air. His eyes flashed surprise that quickly changed to resolve, and he ran to where she would land, brass knuckles in place and right arm cocked to strike. Ten feet from the ground she put her body into a spin, arms folded on her chest, like a skater on perfect ice. Three feet above him, she extended her right leg, so it came powerfully around, and struck his left side. The crack of his ribs could be heard over the entire dueling grounds. The impact propelled his body five feet to his right, and he collapsed in a heap of writhing agony. She landed in a crouch, sprang to his side, and put one knee on his throat. “Don’t want to kill you,” she said. “But you can’t hurt my people or my planet.” His eyes were glazed with pain, and he spoke through the blood in his mouth. “You broke … my … ribs … lung punctured.” “I need your word,” she said, and put pressure on this throat with her knee. “You will never raise a hand against me or mine again.” He groaned and spit blood. It landed in a frothy bubble on his shoulder. His words gurgled out. “Why would you … believe me?” “Promise me, Stricker.” His breathing got worse, ragged and labored. “Hurry,” she said. “Swear it.” “Done,” he gasped, and groaned from deep inside. She stood, turned to the Director, and yelled, “Get him medical care!”

The Director looked anxiously at the hillside, his eyes searching. “What are they waiting for?” The Supreme General demanded. “They are gone,” the Chairman yelled across the field. “And so are you.” “Activate,” Hubble said into his communicator. The Supreme General, his aide, and the Director disappeared in a pool of shimmering light.

They got a cool reception on Atlantia.

A’SHA’NAH AND RISER WERE IN THE BACKYARD WHEN THEY HEARD THE door on the air buggy close at the front of the house, A’Sha’Nah tore around the side and Riser sailed over the roof. They arrived at the same time. A young agent stood on the walkway with his arms open wide. “It worked,” he said. “Everyone is fine!” A’Sha’Nah jumped repeatedly in place and yapped at the top of each leap. Riser launched himself into the air, gained altitude quickly, and the executed a perfect downward dive into the front yard. “Thank you for coming,” Riser said. “We beamed the snipers up before they had a chance,” the agent said, excitement in every syllable. “Evie bested Stricker and she and the rest are coming back on the shuttle. We beamed up their Supreme General and the Agent Director. Told Satonian authorities we would return them as soon as our people were safely home.” “A perfectly executed plan,” said A’Sha’Nah.

“Yes,” said the agent. “It was.”

Evie came to the back of the shuttle where Wayne sat alone and took a seat beside him. “Glad that’s over,” she said. He looked down. “You were magnificent.” “You still plan to go to Earth?” “Yes.” “When?” “Immediately, I get the feeling time is of the essence.” “You’re probably right,” she said. “I’ll wait for you as long as I can.” “Not asking you to.” He looked out of the window. “No, but will anyway.” “Don’t know,” he said, resignation in his voice. “Today was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Why didn’t you kill him?” She sighed deeply. “Didn’t want to live with it. Killing Buzz was hard enough, and I ed that.” “Good for you,” he said. “You know where I’ll be.” She stood and went back to her seat. “He still leaving?” Fex asked. She brushed hair out of her face. “Yeah, his feelings haven’t changed.” “I’m sorry,” Fex said. “So, do you agree with him?” She looked at her lap and sighed. He thought for a few seconds before answering. “It’s not whether to agree or disagree. It’s about not pretending. You risked everything today … that’s just a

fact.” “But I knew I could do it. It wasn’t a risk.” “Appears you were correct,” he said. “So, how do you feel, that’s the important thing. Are you happy?”

No pretending? Then she‘d have to say no.

PART THREE

Earth

WAYNE WAS SURPRISED TO FIND LITTLE TIME HAD ELAPSED ON EARTH during his absence. People reported he had only been gone a week. He returned to the university, moved back into his house, and told them he’d needed time to settle a personal issue. They accepted this explanation, but cautioned that it could never happen again. His car had been impounded, but the lot was happy to return it once he paid the storage fee. He didn’t go back to the jail and they were willing to let the mysterious disappearance of a prisoner fade away. His major difficulty was that he was back on Earth. After Limbo and Atlantia, it seemed more unpleasant than ever, more apparent it was like Satonia. After being to the stars and back it was a letdown of major proportions. And, of course, there was the absence of Evie, A’Sha’Nah, and Riser. He coped by pouring himself into the writing, and felt a time pressure he couldn’t explain, as if his days were numbered. He told himself this was irrational, but it persisted. The writing saved him by giving him less time to focus on the emptiness he felt. He fell into a succession of days where he taught his graduate classes, kept a low profile on campus, had no social life, and worked on his book. Urban life was like sandpaper. He hated the traffic, smog, and perpetual wars, both political and militarily that never seemed to end. Slowly his time on Limbo and Atlantia felt like a distant dream. He wrote about it anyway.

It was the only time he wasn’t numb.

SUMMER CAME, AND HE WASN’T TEACHING, SO HE HAD TIME ON HIS hands and nothing much to do with it. The days dragged by and the writing stalled. He realized he was moderately depressed and had been for some time. It became harder to keep on keeping on. It was as if he’d been dropped on the wrong planet at birth, was an alien among strangers, and could find no refuge. So, for the first time in months, he found himself in a bar, nursing a beer, his eyes on the table top between his elbows. At least the bar was his kind of place.

It was old, off the beaten track, and was called ‘Charlie’s t’. It was a rectangular medium-sized room, with a row of booths on one of the long sides, a line of tables in the middle, and a high back antique bar on the opposite long wall. It was decorated in old hub caps and license plates, and the clientele were mostly in his age group. He sat, practiced being numb, and drank beer to further the process. After his third draft Dos Equis he sensed a presence at his elbow, tossed it off to imagination and alcohol, and continued to ponder the grain of the wood. “Hi, Wayner.” He figured he was having an auditory hallucination, but felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw her fingertips out of the corner of his eye. “Can I sit down?” Jesus, God, its Evie! He raised his eyes, and there she was, hands on her tight-jeans-hips, a western shirt, straw hat, and eyes going blue/green/blue. “Uh … sure.” It was all he could manage. She pulled out a chair and folded into it. He’d forgotten how silky smooth she moved. “You Ok?” She asked. His mind was going crazy and his stomach was churning out digestive juices in record amounts. “You want a beer?” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “I can always drink an Earth-made brewsky.” He went to the bar and brought her an Anchor Steam. She took a sip. “Yummy!” “You hungry?” He drew lines in the moisture on his beer mug. “They got decent

burgers.” She set the beer on the table. “No food, thanks.” Her brow furrowed. “Wayner, you don’t look so good.” “That always makes a guy feel good,” he said. “Thanks.” Her eyes went soft. “I mean you look like you’re sick or something. Are you?” He took a long pull on his beer and shrugged. “Not sure I could tell. You’re kind of thin yourself.” She nodded. “I’ve lost 15 pounds in the three months you’ve been gone.” His brow furrowed. “Is that how long it’s been?” “You haven’t noticed?” She put her elbows on the table and tipped the hat back. He motioned to the waitress and she brought two more beers. He drank half of his in a series of gulps. “I’m not all that aware these days.” “You’re not happy to see me?” Her eyes changed to a blue so deep it was almost black. “Too scared.” He swirled the beer in the glass. Her eyes squinted. “You don’t trust me.” “I don’t trust anything,” he said. She watched as he peeled the label off her empty beer bottle. “You got room at your place for me to stay a while? We don’t have to sleep together, but can’t believe what we had is gone. Can we at least talk about it?” He crushed the label in his hands. Half of him was throwing a gala celebration and the other said to duck and cover. “I’m not a big enough man to lose you again.” He tossed the paper at a trash can at the end of the bar, but missed. The waitress picked it up. “Don’t quit your day job to play in the NBA.” “I hear that,” he said, and turned back to Evie.

“I’ve been miserable without you,” she said “Me too,” he squirmed in the chair. “But not sure I can ever believe again … I told you it’s as much about me as you.” “Is there anything we can do to change that?” She put her hand on his. He slid his out from under hers. “No pretending, Evie. Do you trust me after the last three months?” There was an edge on his voice he couldn’t help. She looked down. “Not completely, I thought you’d understand more.” “I get that,” he said. “What would have to happen for you to regain it?” “I don’t know,” she said, and looked up. “But I’m willing to try and find out. That’s why I’m here.” “Does Fex know?” “Of course, he’s the one that told me to pack my bags.” “Bags?” His stomach did double back flips. “Yeah, they’ll beam them here if I send word. And by the way, Fex agrees with you about Stricker.” “What?” He raised the glass to his lips and noticed it was empty. She grimaced. “Both of the men in my life think I was a selfish, fool hardy, idiot.” He started to speak, but she held up her hand. “I can see your point. Now, I got to ask you to try and see mine.” “That’s fair,” he said. “Did you see any indication during the duel that I would lose?” She took off her hat, laid it on the table, and shook her hair into place. “That didn’t stop me from worrying. He’s a big guy.”

She looked up as two customers entered and sat at the bar. “My concern was that Twyla wouldn’t get the beam unblocked, but that’s a chance we all took. Stricker never had a chance, Wayner.” “But, you were gonna fight him even if he had.” He motioned the waitress for another beer. “Tell me that isn’t true.” “It was hard on you and Fex, and I’m here for us to work on it.” The waitress brought his beer and he sat studying the foam run down its side. After a long pause, he said, “You coming means a lot, but I can’t guarantee anything.” “So, you aren’t going to ravage me when we get to your house?”

“As hard as that might be, no, I’m not.”

It’s crazy how addicted one can get to another’s presence, he thought, as he lay in bed the next morning. He could hear her in the shower and imagined the water flowing down her beautiful … Stop it! As a student and teacher of psychology, he was familiar with the research that suggests that people you love trigger an endorphin release inside your body; an opiate-like natural substance that creates a literal physical addiction. This led to a theory that a broken heart is actually withdrawal caused by the absence of the loved one. On this particular morning, Wayne was a card-carrying believer. It was the first time in three months that his first thought had not been how miserable he felt without her. She slept in the guest bedroom, after they snuggled on the couch for thirty minutes, holding each other, and basking in the relief it provided. Her wet-haired head appeared around the door frame. “I came on a Friday, hoping you wouldn’t have to work.” “I’m off for the summer.” She stepped into the doorway, wrapped in a towel. He sat and let his eyes feast on a smorgasbord of a woman. “Excellent!” She said. “What would you like to do?” “Explore the city where you live, the place you work, and stuff like that. I haven’t even been able to imagine where you were and what you might be doing.” “It’s pretty ugly compared to Atlantia.” “It is what it is, and I want to see it, smell it, feel it, and taste it … especially taste it, I’m starving.” He got out bed and slipped into his jeans. “We can do that,” he said, as he went

to brush his teeth. “I like your house,” she said. “Not what I expected. How old is it?” He spit toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth. “Early 1900s, I remodeled it two years ago.” “Did you live here with your wife?” “Yeah, one of the reasons I remodeled … too many ghosts and memories.” She tightened her grip on the towel. “I love the old wooden floors.” “Actually not old,” he said, as he slipped on a shirt. “Just made to look that way.” “Wow, good job … the plaster on the walls too?” “Yep, all new. It’s a mixture of plaster, Elmer’s glue, and sand, put on with large rubber trowels.” She ran her hand across the surface. “Yeah, I can see and feel the sand. They look a hundred years old. The kitchen is spectacular, especially the tin backsplash and ceiling.” “Thanks,” he said. “And, uh … Evie …” She raised her eyebrows. “Could you maybe … put on some clothes?” “How come, Wayner?” Her eyes flashed gold for just an instant. Then she took her hand away from the towel and it dropped to the floor. “Evie!” “I’m not going to make it easy for you, Wayner.” “No,” he said. “You’re making it hard.” “I can see that,” she said, and leaned against the door jamb.

“Evie, damn it.” “If you want me dressed, you’ll have to do it yourself.” She left the room and returned with a pair of scant panties in her hand. “You can start with these,” she said, and tossed them to him. “Aw, shit,” he said, and sat on the side of the bed. She walked slowly across the room and had her way with him.

Twice.

“THE AIR SMELLS FUNNY,” SHE SAID. “MY THROAT BURNS.” He steered the car into the slow lane on the freeway and frowned. “That’s called smog. It’s from car exhaust, big industry emitted gases, and inversion layers; a type of weather produced dome that holds everything under it.” “Is that why things look so hazy?” “One and the same.” “Is it like this all the time?” She asked. “Some days are worse than others, but it’s here to some degree every day.” She turned in the enger seat to face him. “And the people of Earth are Ok with this?” He turned the air conditioner fan down. “Crazy isn’t it? We moan and gripe, but accept it, rather than do what is necessary to correct it. The oil company lobby controls most of the votes in the House and Senate anyway.” She frowned and squenched her face the way she did when she was thinking. “We studied the Earth’s political system when I was younger. The U.S. Constitution is a remarkable document, but we were taught that its major intent

got lost along the way.” “Can’t argue with that,” he said. “How did that happen?” “I’m no expert on the constitution or political science,” he said. “But a good friend of mine did his doctoral dissertation on that topic.” “And what is his opinion?” “He makes several key points. First, and perhaps most important, is a change in the way the two legislative bodies function when enacting laws. He maintains that in the beginning most of the work was done on the floor of the House and Senate. A particular issue that might need a bill was discussed by the delegates in of what it would mean for various parts of the nation. The point of the discussion was to determine if a bill should be written. If the decision was affirmative, a temporary committee was formed to author it.” Her brow creased with lines of concentration. “That makes perfect sense. It’s the way we’ve done it on Atlantia for thousands of years.” “It made sense to the constitutional framers too,” he said, and changed lanes to go around an area under construction. “But over time it stopped being done that way and morphed into a system of specific standing committees composed of about nine delegates … who write bills and present them to the general body for discussion and vote. The bills are written by the committees prior to dialogue on the floor rather than after.” “You don’t have to be a genius to see the problem,” she said, as she gazed out the window toward the heart of the city. “A few people are much more easily swayed.” “Exactly,” he said. “Special interest groups had a field day and money and favors started changing hands,” she said, with her eyes flashing red. “You’ve got it,” he said. “A few delegates control what comes to the general assembly on a given topic.”

“Such a system is at risk for the corruption of power and money.” Her voice rose in volume. He grunted, steered the car onto an exit ramp, and stopped at a red light. “It is corrupt and has been for a long time. Lobby money controls the vast majority of what goes on in Washington. Recently it’s come to light that lobbyists are actually authoring some bills.” “You have to be kidding!” “Wish I was.” “If that happened on Atlantia, the delegates involved would lose their seats.” She turned toward him. “Those are big buildings.” “Oil money,” he replied. “An example of what we are talking about. On Earth there is little regulation or ability in Congress. Delegates can vote themselves raises and many of the laws they favor big business … especially the oil industry.” Her eyes flashed orange. “They get paid and can give themselves raises? On Atlantia being a delegate is a service you perform, and you can only sit on the Council for eight years.” “Once again, I wish that was the case here. On Earth they even get better retirement and health insurance packages than common people.” “Wayne,” her eyes were bright red now. “The system you are describing actually promotes a privileged class that has most of the power.” “Yes, and it gets worse. My friend’s second point concerns political parties” He turned into a parking lot that fronted a large building. “But that discussion will have to wait. For the next few hours we’re gonna be busy at The National Cowboy Hall of Fame.” “Wayner, how’d you know I love the cowboy history of Earth?” “I’m not totally stupid. Look how you dress.” He chuckled and pulled into a parking space.

She nodded. “Not too subtle, uh?”

Three hours later they got back to the car. Her eyes were bluer than blue, and her face was flushed with excitement. “Oh, my God,” she said. “The whole trip to Earth would have been worth just seeing that.” “Thought you might like it.” “I loved it,” she said. “One thing about Earth people, you have incredible art.” “Yep.” “How ironic,” she said, “The same species that did all the beautiful art we just looked at, also changed their representational democracy into a front for special interest groups and money.” He shook his head and fastened his seat belt. “Throughout our history, there’s been the duel influence of Atlantia and Satonia. What we saw today has a whole lot of Atlantia written on it, but Satonia was in there too.” She looked down. “You mean the genocide of the Native Americans?” “That’s exactly what I mean. Over fifty million of them were killed in the conquest of North, South, and Central America.” Her eyes went wide and she turned toward him. “I read several histories of Earth and that wasn’t mentioned.” He laughed ruefully, shook his head, and guided the car out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. “History is written by the winners. What you read was authored by educated and privileged white heterosexual males who were Christians. There’s another history about the decimation of cultures being conquered in the name of Manifest Destiny.” “Of course.” She slapped herself on the forehead. “The history Native Americans would write would be very different.” “In their , we were the terrorists,” he said. “That puts it into perspective. But that is represented in what we saw today too.

The incredible sculpture by James Earl Fraser of the sad Native American on his exhausted horse … ’End of the Trail’, isn’t that what it’s called?” “Yep, that’s it. I can’t look at it without getting tears in my eyes.” He heard her sniff and looked over to find her eyes wet, too. “I’ve missed you, Evie!” She took his hand and let the tears trail across her cheeks. “I wouldn’t trade you for a thousand Strickers. I was young, inexperienced, in grief, and made a bad error in judgment. Please don’t let it destroy us.” “We can see how that goes. You caring enough to come here and understand helps. Most women I’ve been with assume the man is wrong and has to change.” She squeezed his hand. “Am willing to do my part, but first I need something to eat, I’m about to out. Typical U.S. food, please.” “You didn’t say healthy food, did you?” “No.” “You ever had chicken fried steak and cream gravy.” “What?” He took an off ramp and turned onto a major avenue. “That’s what I thought, some good old mid-U.S. country cooking.”

“Here we come.”

She got into the car, put her hand on her stomach, and groaned. “Holy cow,” she said. “Don’t know what I liked best, the steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, okra, or the blackberry cobbler. I think maybe the answer is all of them.” “You did sign your name on the wall, didn’t you?” “Yeah, while you were paying the bill. You think I’m the first alien?” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows? Where did you say you were from?” “Atlantia,” she giggled. “They’ll think I meant Atlanta.” “Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect.” He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Nap time?”

“Perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”

EVIE WAS A SENSATION AT THE MID-SUMMER FACULTY PARTY, HELD IN THE backyard of the Dean’s place. Wayne had never seen so many eyes pop, or jaws drop, as when he rounded the corner of the house with her on his arm and approached the flagstone patio where everyone was gathered. Evie had selected a long Santa Fe inspired coral red skirt, topped with a turquoise blouse that was gathered by a Concho belt at the waist. Her raven hair fell to her shoulders and provided a wonderful contrast. Wayne had on his usual blue jeans, a t-shirt that said ‘It Is What It Is’ on the front, and sandals on his feet. Evie, of course, wore western boots that were as weathered as her clothes were new. Jane Aldridge, a new faculty member who had indicated an interest in Wayne, couldn’t take her eyes off Evie. The men couldn’t either and stole glance after glance when they thought their wives or girlfriends weren’t watching. Wayne led Evie to the no-host bar by the swimming pool, making introductions along the way, and bought them each a beer. They were standing by the pool

drinking them when the Dean came down the stairs that divided the upper terrace from the pool area and ambled over. “Chisholm,” he said, while steadfastly keeping his eyes on Evie. “Please introduce me to this ravishing creature, and tell me how you got so lucky.” Before Wayne could respond, Evie stepped forward, and put out her hand. “I’m Evie, and I believe I’m the lucky one.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows at Wayne. “Dean Jack Blanchard, what a pleasure.” “Likewise,” she said. “So you’re lucky too, you have him on your faculty.” The Dean took her outstretched hand and leaned over to kiss it. “Are there any more at home like you?” Wayne choked on his beer, but managed to control himself. “As a matter of fact,” she stepped back to look him over. “There are, you in the market?” The Dean scanned the patio and feigned a look of fear. “Is my wife within ear shot?” “Oh, you’re married … and I had someone just perfect in mind,” she said, with her eyes getting bluer. Wayne gulped and hoped the Dean didn’t notice. The Dean turned to Wayne. “You’ve been holding out on us. Where did you find her?” Wayne choked back a laugh. “In a galaxy far, far, away.” “You don’t have to convince me of that,” the Dean laughed. “Evie, it’s been an absolute pleasure. I trust I’ll see you again?” She flashed her best smile, which was plenty good enough, and found his eyes with hers. “I hope so, if Wayne lets me stick around.”

He looked the way men do when they are being entranced by a woman … stunned and delighted at the same time. “If he doesn’t, please call and I’ll fire him for being too dumb to be on my faculty.” She reached out and touched his forearm lightly. “That’s good to know, I can use it for blackmail.” “Chisholm, you have completely outdone yourself!” “Yep, I’m totally outta my league.” “Indeed,” said the Dean. “I’d better go find the missus and see if she needs my help.” As he walked away, Evie said, “If she gives you any grief, send her my way, and I’ll tell her you were busy being a perfect host to the new girl on the block.” The Dean shook his head. “Jesus, Chisholm, I wish you luck.”

“I’ll need it, sir.”

On the way home, Wayne turned to Evie, who had demanded to drive, and raised his eyebrows. “So, where did you get training in how to be the perfect faculty wife?” She pulled into parking lot in front of a supermarket, parked, and turned off the engine. Wayne’s looked at her in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?” She turned to face him and fixed him with her eyes … her gold eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. You’ve seen what I can do physically, and you just got a glimpse of how smart I am … and charming … enough to play inane social games.” “Got it,” he said. “I’m a believer, what else?” She leaned toward him, her eyes golder than gold, like an eagle’s. “It’s an important something else,” her voice was slow and measured. “You just used the words faculty wife.” “Shit,” he stammered. “I’m sorry; I know you don’t get married on Atlantia.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh, you big dumb Earthling! Were you just playing with me?” “Uh, what?” He asked, as a wave of confusion consumed him. She sighed. “Forget the word wife, if it was life mate, would you have still said it?” “Oh,” he said. “Oh!” She rolled her eyes. “Praise the lord, Dr. Chisholm is finally at home and answering the phone.” He scratched his head. “Nope, didn’t think about it, came out as natural as can be.”

Her lower lip started to quiver, her eyes turned even more gold than was possible, and tears filled her eyes. “So … we’re … oh, damn it, you’ve turned me into a crier; I’ve never been a crier … so we’re mates?” He shook his head. “Felt like that tonight, that’s all I can say.” She nodded, started the car, and pulled onto the street.

“That will do for now.”

THEY SLEPT TILL NOON, WOKE, MADE COFFEE, AND WENT INTO THE backyard to find the air quality bad enough for a smog alert. It was so thick they could barely see the end of the block. Evie coughed and sneezed, and her eyes ran like waterfalls. Wayne took one look and sprang into action. “We’re getting outta here. Put on some hiking clothes while I fill the cooler with ice, beer, and water. We’re going on a drive.” An hour later they were on a freeway headed southwest, going as fast as they dared away from the city. Evie turned to Wayne, and asked, “Where we going?” “To what’s left of some mountains that once were taller than Mt. Everest.” “That’s the tallest mountain on Earth, right?” “Yeah.” “And these used to be taller … must be really old.” He nodded. “Old, and subject to lots of weather, wind, and erosion.” He put the car on cruise and settled back. “We’re gonna see some big piles of rock and a few Buffalo.” “Buffalo! Real buffalo?”

He chuckled. “Sure not fake ones.” “I’ve always wanted to see a Bison.” Her stomach growled and she put her hand on it. “Hope there’s some eats in the picture.” He exited the freeway onto a smaller two lane. “Not to worry, a mile down the road we’re gonna eat the best onion burger in the world.” “Onion burger?” “Yep, more authentic mid-American food, but with peach cobbler this time.” He steered around a sweeping curve and pointed. “There it be.” She looked through the window at an impossibly old building, its walls leaning, and paint peeling off the sides. It had once been white, but was now ash gray with a faded red shingle roof. The parking lot was full of cars, and a line came out the front door. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I know the owner. We’ll go in the back.” She stared, mouth agape. “Is it safe?” “Been standing for over a hundred years, it’ll probably make one more day.” He pulled around the building and parked between two pickups next to the back door. The smell of grease, meat, and onions frying were thick in the air. “God,” she said. “That smells good!” He held the screen door open and they entered a kitchen that was monopolized by a larger than life hooded grille. There were at least 50 patties sizzling away, along with piles of sliced onions. They were tended by a man that must have weighed 300 hundred pounds. He looked up, saw Wayne, and a grin that matched his size broke out on his face. “Jed, I need you,” he yelled. A younger version of him came through the double swinging doors from the dining area. “Watch the grille,” the big man said. “Wayne is here.”

“Wayne!” Yelled Jed, and took over the grille. “Long time no see,” the man said as he approached. “Lum,” Wayne said. “This is Evie … Evie; this is Lum Dickerson, the owner of the t.” Lum looked Evie up and down. “Lordy, momma, God didn’t leave nothin’ out on you did he? I’ll pay you $50.00 an hour just to stand in front of my restaurant.” She returned the smile. “Damn nice to meet you too, Lum.” “Wayne, you must be livin’ right. You two wanna eat?” “A’course,” said Wayne. “You bring yer guitar?” Lum asked. “ed to toss it in the trunk this time,” Wayne said. “Well, hell, don’t just stand there, go get it. I’ll get Evie set up in front of the stage and turn on the P.A.” Evie peered at Wayne, question marks shooting from her eyes. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Be right back, you go with Lum.” Lum took Evie through the swinging doors into a dining area that was crammed with twenty foot long picnic tables with bench seats. The dining was family style and you sat where they put you. The place was packed, not an empty spot to be found. In one corner there was a small stage, with a microphone on a stand, a folding chair, and two large speakers suspended from the ceiling. Lum set up a card table in front of the stage and brought two chairs. “Sit down, Missie,” he said. “Before somebody fights you for it.” He stepped on the stage with a grunt, flipped a switch on a mixer board off to one side, and stepped up to the mic. “Ladies and rednecks,” he said. “Special noon time treat for ya’ll. Scoot together real close to make room for those outside. Wayne Chisholm is in the house.”

The place erupted in applause, everyone scooted closer, and some of the men got up to stand against the back wall. Those at the head of the line took their places eagerly. Evie realized that her mouth was hanging open and shut it just in time to see Wayne come out of the kitchen with a large acoustic guitar. He stopped at the table, bent over, and whispered, “I’ll explain later. Enjoy your onion burger and beer.” He stepped onto the stage, sat, and plugged his guitar into the P.A. system. He adjusted the height of the microphone and looked out over the crowd who were still buzzing. Many of them obviously knew Wayne and waved. Evie saw huge pitchers of beer being served to each table and equally large burgers everywhere. A waitress appeared at her elbow, plopped down a burger and fries, and said, “Beer, hon?” Evie nodded and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She realized at a deep level, for the first time since coming to Earth, that she was an alien! She was on a strange planet and was amazed, awed, and excited. Wayne tuned his guitar and tapped the mic with his finger. The noise subsided. “Howdy,” he said. “HOWDY,” the crowd responded. “Hope you don’t mind a little music with those burgers and beer.” “Do it to us, Wayne,” a gruff male voice said from the back. Wayne grinned. “I ordered one of Lum’s burgers, and realized I didn’t have any money, so I got to sing for my meal.” “I see you got a sweetie with you,” a female voice said. “It’s about damn time!” Laughter and applause broke out all around. “First song I’m gonna do is for her. Evie, stand up and let em’ get a look at you.”

She looked daggers at him, but stood to generous applause. “You done real good, Wayne,” came a male voice as she sat back down. “Be kind, ya’ll,” Wayne said. “This is her first time here and it feels kinda alien.” They hooted and clapped some more, so he started strumming the guitar. The noise stopped and all eyes turned to the stage. So he sang.

“So ya got a piece of my heart now, baby So you run deep inside my blood I been thinkin’ a lot I don’t mean maybe Wonderin’ when enough will be enough.

So, you got a little piece of my soul Just how much further do ya want this thing to go?”

Thirty minutes later he left the stage and ed Evie. She had grease on her nose, chin, and hands, and was halfway through her third beer. She was also beaming. “Damn, Wayner, you are a good time.” “Told you the burgers were good.” He took a large bite and chugged his beer. “Did you plan this … to surprise me?” “Nope,” he said, around the onions in his mouth. “Just a spontaneous day that happened to work out.” “You’re very good, you know that don’t you?” “I’m just a strummer, and a able singer, nothing more.” “Did you write that first song?” He nodded; his mouth was too full to talk. “Mighty nice,” she said. “Thanks.”

He concentrated on his burger.

One hour, two pitchers of beer, a short drive, and a brief hike later, they sat between two house-sized boulders, and gazed at a small stream fifty feet below. It flowed through a cut in the rocks made from years of persistence. Cedars, scrub oaks, and elms dotted the landscape, and thigh deep prairie grass grew in abundance. Across the small canyon a herd of twenty Buffalo were grazing, while two more watered at the stream. “What a magical day, Wayner. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Earth does have its good points.” “Yeah,” he said. “Could be an absolute paradise if we could just stop hating and killing each other.” “Think that will happen?” “No.” He put his hands behind him and leaned back. “I don’t.”

She sighed, but didn’t answer, and they sat until the sun went down.

A’SHA’NAH AND RISER WERE LIVING WITH MELODY AND JACK, AFTER having spent time with Fex and Angelica and Hubble and Twyla. They were happy on Atlantia, life was easy, food was plenty, and danger was less. But, they missed Wayne and Evie. A’Sah’Nah had taken to howling at the moon and Riser did less dances. They’d asked many times, but were assured they could not go to Earth, where there were more guns per square mile than there were soft hearts for predators. Fex beamed them to the mountain range on Atlantia twice a month, where they could run and fly to their heart’s content. There were small wild dogs that lived there, but they definitely weren’t wolves and were scared of A’Sha’Nah. The closest thing to Riser was a yellow hawk that was about a tenth of his size. The boys chased small game while there, but didn’t kill them.

There was no need.

The debate over The Earth Experiment waged on in the Council, and the vote remained two short of ratification. However, the assembly did extend the termination deadline for an additional year to see what effect Wayne’s book would have on Earth.

At least there was still hope.

The mood on Satonia was dour. The Director was no longer the Director, but was instead, a garbage collector. He was lucky his fate was not the same as the young man that had fallen to Twyla’s ruse … execution. The new Director was even more ruthless and had a history of off-planet war experience. He had subdued three smaller worlds and was anxious to make Earth the fourth notch on his gun. He decided his initial efforts would focus on trying to influence enough delegates in the Council to insure a no vote. He was also determined to see that Twyla didn’t survive the year.

Twyla, that conniving bitch and traitor.

Fatali and Samali were imprisoned on Atlantia and attended daily classes on non-violence and increased awareness. Samali seemed responsive, but Fatali was deemed hopeless. The only thing that kept him in line was the threat that Evie would pay him a visit.

Anyone who could immobilize Stricker in two minutes had his attention.

Fex and Angelica were happy and enjoying life immensely. Their chief concern was the probability calculation on Wayne that continued to predict his demise, especially if he remained on Earth.

They decided to pay a visit to the Blue Planet.

EVIE CAME BOUNDING OUT THE BACK DOOR WITH A HUGE SMILE ON HER face. Wayne was resting after a five mile run. He was in a hammock strung between two oak trees. He was trying to get back in shape after three months of lazing around the house. He took one look at her face, and asked, “What’s up?” She leaped fifteen feet, landed beside the hammock, grabbed the side, and spilled him onto the lawn … giggled and slapped her hands together. “Fex and Angelica want to beam down for a visit! Is that Ok with you?” “Hell, yeah,” he said, as he lay on his back looking up. “When?” She couldn’t stand still and sprang up to a limb that was ten feet above her. “Any time we tell them. They’re already packed.” “Can they get here in time for dinner?” She giggled harder, sat, and swung her feet beneath the limb. “They’ll be here in an hour.” He sat up. “What if I had said no?” She couldn’t stop the wind chimes coming from her throat. “I gave myself an hour to convince you.” “Fair enough … how exactly were you gonna do that?” “Meet me in the bedroom.” She jumped out of the tree and landed halfway

across the yard. “I’m all sweaty from my run.”

“Shower up, dude, and make it quick.”

While Wayne lay gasping for breath thirty minutes later, Evie continued their previous conversation about Earth politics and processes. “So, you said the second point your political science friend made concerned political parties.” “Yep, but it’s connected to the standing committee issue too.” “How so?” Wayne took several deep breaths to still his rapidly beating heart. “The party that holds the majority in the House and Senate gets to select the chairmen of the various committees, so they have an advantage concerning the content and wording of the bills.” She gasped and shook her head. “So not only do the lobbyists partially control the content of bills, but the agendas of political parties and their ers do as well. The bills are being written based on proprietary interests rather than what’s in the best interest of the nation.” Wayne’s breathing rate was almost back to normal. “You got it. More specifically, the bills are written to favor the party in power, be they Republicans or Democrats.” She fluffed a pillow behind her and leaned against the head board. “Do most of these delegates retire rich?” “Almost without exception.” “Aren’t there limits to how much can receive from lobby sources?” “Yep,” he flipped over and lay on his stomach. “But there are easy ways around them. They can hold fund raising conferences in various exotic places, and what is given to their re-election s doesn’t have to be declared. Also, the U.S. Supreme Court voted several years ago that contributors can form ‘superpacts’ and give unlimited amounts of money without disclosing the source.” Her face wrinkled in disgust, like she had eaten something rotten. “You’re telling me that it’s legal to buy delegates on Earth!”

“Yep, everyday day of the week and every week of the year. The Supreme Court, in all its questionable wisdom, made it so.” Her eyes flashed red. “On Atlantia such behavior is illegal.” “As it should be,” he said. “My friend believes that political parties and lobbyists should be against the law and there should be term limits.” “Amen to that.” She looked at the clock, gasped, and jumped out of bed. “They’ll be here in ten minutes!”

“They’d understand,” Wayne said.

THE NEW DIRECTOR OF THE COVERT AGENT BUREAU ON SATONIA WAS waiting for Demoni Hati, his recently designated number one agent. They had been friends since early childhood, and had a great deal of trust in each other, something rare on Satonia. He went to the mirror in his private bathroom and peered at himself. The man he saw was tall and thin, both of body and face, with a shaved head, long narrow nose, prominent bones under black eyes, and sunken cheeks. He had a large mouth with narrow lips, over a small chin and sinewy neck. Arms so long they reached to mid-thigh and huge hands to match. He was formidable in hand-to-hand combat due to a consistent reach advantage over his opponents. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and the balance of power over Earth was going to shift, he had promised himself. There was a knock on his office door, he turned, and said, “Come.” Demoni entered and they shook hands in the middle of the room. “Sit,” the Director said. “I’ll have some Earthian coffee brought in.” “Excellent,” said Demoni. He buzzed the secretary and sat behind his desk. “You look much the same, old friend, how long has it been?”

“A couple of years, all that business on Astroidia kept me away.” The Director looked at him, a man small in stature, but large in talent. He was 5’8” tall, but with large muscular shoulders for his size. Short cropped brown hair, and a large, bushy, mustache. He had small eyes that were an unusual shade of green. They demanded attention, as did the large scar on his left cheek, remnants of an ancient battle. “Let’s get right to business,” the Director said. “I want you to make it a first priority to see that The Earth Experiment is defeated on Atlantia.” “I agree,” Demoni replied. “The Earth is rightfully ours and can only be controlled by force. We need to subdue every square mile of it militarily … otherwise the idiots will mess it up, especially the ego-maniacal United States.” “We are in tune as usual,” said the Director, and waited as the secretary brought the coffee, poured two cups, and exited. Demoni watched her leave with raised eyebrows. The Director stirred some sugar into his coffee. “We need to get some of the most influential delegates on the Atlantian Council to see things our way. I will leave that job in your capable hands.” “What are the limits of my actions, if indeed there are any?” “I want to try persuasion before we move to more coercive methods. We need to avoid assassinations though. The Atlantian patience is wearing thin due to the recent mishandling of several attempts.” “Understood,” said Demoni. “Let me test the waters and we will talk again.” “Can you get on the surface without being detected?” The Director asked. Demoni nodded. “If the new cloaking technology es its last test, we are home free.” The Director nodded. “Let me know as soon as you do.” Demoni drank his coffee and looked at the Director. “Are you involved sexually

with your secretary?” The Director smiled. “No, are you interested?” “Yes, it’s been a long time since I’ve been with a fiery Satonian woman. Would you mind?”

“Be my guest, but see that she isn’t late for work.”

“LONG TIME SINCE I’VE BEEN TO THE UNITED STATES,” SAID FEX. “Eight years or so.” “You’re way ahead of me,” said Angelica. “This is my first trip.” They were sitting in Wayne’s living room, where the outside heat had driven them for the comfort of air conditioning. They all had a fresh rye in their hand and stomachs full of the green chili stew that Wayne had thrown together. “The U.S. is a great country,” Wayne said, “but it has an irrational culture.” “What do you mean?” Angelica asked. “Can you give some examples?” Evie chuckled. “You’ve opened a can of worms now.” Wayne ignored her. “For starters, the people that began the process that led to the formation of the United States were Europeans who wanted religious freedom, so they came here and started colonies. Then subsequently became as religiously oppressive as those they were trying to escape. Is that logical?” Fex chimed in. “No, but it happens quite often.” “It sure does here,” Wayne said. “People came to this country for various reasons, but usually it was to escape oppression, excessive taxation, bondage, and the like. Many of those very people ended up as part of a large culture that ed slavery.” “So,” Evie said. “The home of the free, and the land of the brave, only allowed

freedom for some.” “Yeah, and it was a narrow swath.” Wayne shook his head. “The constitution says all men are created equal and have certain rights, but in actual practice ‘all men’ were white, educated, male, Christian, and wealthy. The very basis of our constitution was violated immediately.” “Don’t forget heterosexual,” Evie said. “A ‘course,” said Wayne. “And that persists to this day, gay and lesbian couples do not have equal rights under the law in most states.” Fex drank some rye, and said, “Religion plays a role in this, doesn’t it?” Wayne chortled. “That’s like asking if Noah thought it was gonna rain. Religious freedom in the United States is guaranteed, but not practiced. You are free to believe in Christianity that is based upon a literal interpretation of the Bible. There isn’t much tolerance for other belief systems.” Angelica shifted her position and frowned. “So the weirdness you speak of culturally is a type of hypocrisy where you don’t actually practice what you say you believe.” “Well put,” said Wayne. “Here are some examples that would be comical if they weren’t so accurate. We regularly give medals to people that are good at killing others, but if a woman wants to give someone orgasms for money, we put her in jail. I think we should give her the medal since orgasms are a lot more pleasant than being killed.” Angelica laughed. “On Atlantia, although prostitution isn’t widely practiced, it’s certainly not against the law. It’s viewed as a matter of personal choice.” “That makes sense to me,” said Wayne. “We also have a formally declared war on drugs, but have legalized the two drugs that probably are the most dangerous in of health and cost. Cigarettes, that cause four hundred and eighty thousand deaths per year with the accompanying health costs, and alcohol which holds its own in both categories. We also say that we stand against terrorism wherever we find it, but that doesn’t include the type that we perpetrate. We are a peace loving nation, yet we have more guns, crime, and violent deaths than most every other industrialized nation … 4.7 deaths per one hundred thousand

people.” Wayne stopped and took a deep breath. “I could keep going, but you get the picture. Hell, women weren’t even granted the vote in this country until 1920.” “What?” Angelica said. “That’s accurate,” said Fex. “That’s when the 19th Amendment to the constitution was ratified.” Angelica sat on the edge of her chair. “How much money does your government allocate to education? That’s a particular interest of mine.” Wayne worked his fingers on his phone and reported his findings, “Last year education got just under four percent of the federal budget, this year it dropped to three percent.” “That’s very low,” she said. “Yeah,” said Fex. “If you want to know what the priorities are in a culture, follow the money.” “Here’s another sobering fact,” said Wayne. “We are the only country in the history of the planet to drop a nuclear weapon on other humans … twice.” “A very sobering fact,” Evie said. “And we militarily occupy more of the planet than any other country by far. We walk around secure that we are the good guys while history indicates that AngloSaxons have been among the most imperialistic groups on the planet. We have a long track record of taking land away from others, using it up, and moving on to the next attractive piece of real estate. The United States, and the exploitation of its natural resources for huge profits, is only the latest in a long list.” “You paint a bleak picture,” Angelica said. “I know, so let me explain. I am very grateful to have grown up in this country. Without doubt, it is one of the top five places to live on the planet. Contrary to what the ‘love it or leave it’ crowd believes about people like me, I love my country very much. That means stepping up to the plate and trying to make it better, and criticizing it when it isn’t. Pretending everything is Ok when it isn’t

doesn’t equal patriotism in my opinion.” “I understand,” said Angelica. “That coincides with how we feel on Atlantia. We love the Earth and want to help save it … at least some of us do … but there is a growing concern that we are throwing good money and energy after bad, that Earth is past the tipping point and it’s too late to make corrections.” Evie rose, refilled everyone’s glass, and asked, “What does the latest probability assessment indicate about Earth’s chances?” Fex’s brow creased and he shifted on the couch. “The figures stayed around fifty-fifty for a long time,” he said. “But after 9-11 they have gotten steadily worse. The focus on the Middle East, and U.S. continued involvement there, has tipped the scales. The odds are currently about sixty-five percent that the Earth will experience another mass extinction. There have been at least five already, and this time it will be caused by a combination of human influenced weather events, an energy crisis, virus epidemics, and global wars.” Wayne stood and paced. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say. It’s obvious what is happening, but when you tell that to the citizens of the United States, the vast majority of them rationalize it away. We pretend that things are going the way we want them to, so that no change is required. I believe we will continue that trend.” Angelica frowned and fidgeted in her seat. “What is it, Angelica?” Evie asked. Angelica looked pointedly at Wayne. “If you were on the Council would you vote to continue to help Earth, or give it up as hopeless?” The room got quiet. Wayne pondered the question. “Damn, had to open my big mouth, didn’t I? I want you to help, but whether you should is another question.” He drank some of his rye, and squirmed. The others waited. “Shit,” he said. “I’ve always thought that if people from another planet told

Earth we had 50 years to learn how to live together, or they would destroy us … we’d spend that time developing weapons to try and kill them. We wouldn’t change; we’d just get pissed off.” Fex sighed. “You know, Wayne, Atlantia could do that. We could vaporize Earth in a matter of hours. Makes me wonder if we gave Earthlings an ultimatum, would they become peaceful or opt to die?” Angelica leaned toward Fex. “What a notion! We could actually do that … give Earth some time to make changes … and if they don’t, just let Satonia have the place. We wouldn’t have to destroy it.” Wayne sat stunned, his head in his hands. “Do it,” he said. “Hold our feet to the fire. Do it!” Angelica ran one hand through her hair. “This merits some thought, I want to discuss it with the Chairman and some other delegates. It could get us out of our ime.” Fex sat back and nodded. “You’d get a majority to vote yes if it was worded right.”

“I think so too,” said Angelica.

DEMONI LANDED WITHOUT DETECTION ON ATLANTIA, KEPT HIS SHIP cloaked, and rented an apartment. He planned to blend into the population and research the voting tendencies of Council delegates over the last five years. He wished they had standing legislative committees so he would know who to target, but Atlantians were too smart. On the morning after getting settled in, he took a public airbus to the library, went up the granite steps, entered the building, and looked for the reference desk. Saw it after a few seconds, walked across the large expanse of the lobby, and put both hands on the counter. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need help in locating the records of the proceedings of

the Council of Elders.” He used his softest voice. “Hello,” the woman on duty turned to him and smiled. “My name is Melody. I’d be glad to help.” “Wonderful. I’m Steven, and am also interested in records of off-planet citizens who have recently immigrated. I’m a free-lance writer doing research for a piece.” He nervously adjusted the fake glasses he’d chosen to compliment his new identity and noticed how attractive she was. “I see,” said Melody. “Are you interested in interviewing them?” “That would be ideal.” She logged off the computer she was working on. “I have a new friend who fits that category. She might be willing.” “I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.” “No trouble at all,” she said. “Her name is Twyla. I’ll talk to her.” It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping. He took a quiet breath, and said, “This is so kind of you.” “Will you be in tomorrow? I can let you know then.” “Oh, yes,” he said. “I have days of work to do.” “Let me show you where the Council records are kept,” She came around the counter and pointed at the elevator. “They’re on the second floor.” “Excellent,” he said.

Perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone!

The Director was more than pleased. “You’ve already located our person of interest!” “Unless it’s a gigantic coincidence. I will know soon.” “Well done.” “Sometimes you get lucky,” Demoni said. “You want her taken care of, yes?” He chose his words carefully; who knew might be listening in. “Immediately, if not sooner.” “I understand.” “Keep me advised.

“As always.”

Melody saw Demoni enter the library the next morning five minutes after it opened. He came straight to her desk. “Thanks again,” he said. “Those records are just what I need.” “Glad to be of service,” she said. “I spoke with my friend, and she’d be happy to visit with you, but requested it be done at my home.” “Of course,” he said. “She doesn’t know me at all.” “Are you available for dinner tonight? She and her boyfriend can be there, and Jack and I would love to have you.” “Oh, goodness,” he said, and pushed his glasses back on his nose. “That seems such a bother.” “Not at all. Meet me here at five, ride over with me, and we can bring you back. I only live a few blocks away.” “My word,” he gushed. “I’ll be here.” “See you then,” she said. Can it be this easy? He thought.

The only way it could get better is if she was single.

FEX AND WAYNE WENT FOR A RUN THE NEXT MORNING, AN EASY THREE miler that ended at a city park where the women were to pick them up. The day was cloudless but hazy from smog rising from the commuter traffic. They sat on bench under a large tree and caught their breath. “Hot!” Fex wiped his brow.

“Yeah, summer isn’t my favorite season.” Fex stood, leaned on the bench, and stretched his right calf. “Wayne, Angelica and I came for more than a social visit.” Wayne raised his eyebrows. “What’s up?” “This isn’t a talk I ever wanted to have with you,” Fex said, sat, and massaged his leg. “It is about Evie?” Fex shook his head no. “It’s about your probability analysis.” Wayne found Fex with his eyes. “How long has that been going on?” “Since you went to Limbo. We keep careful records on those that go there.” “And, the news isn’t good?” Wayne walked to a water fountain and drank. Fex looked at the ground and signed. “No.” Wayne walked a few paces and stood with his back to Fex. He watched a flock of geese land in the field next to the park and start feeding. “Unreal how many geese come into cities these days,” he said. “Back when I was a kid you never saw any.” Fex sat waited. After a few moments Wayne faced him. “Am I gonna die, Fex?” Fex looked at the geese, his brow lined with creases. “If you stay on Earth and publish the book … the odds aren’t great.” “How bad?” Fex sighed. “Eighty-eight percent chance someone will kill you.” Wayne turned and went to the boundary between the park and the field the geese had selected. Several took flight and landed further away.

“And if I don’t finish the book?” He asked over his shoulder. “If you stay on Earth, it drops to twenty-five percent … if you move to Atlantia it’s down to ten. Satonia still might hold a grudge.” “The book is that important?” “If our analysis is accurate, it’s going to be controversial. Some will love it, but there will be a significant number that don’t.” Wayne noticed one of his shoes was untied and kneeled down to fix it. “Does Evie know?” “She does now, Angelica is telling her.” They heard a car and turned to see the women pull into the parking lot. “If you and Evie need time alone, Angie and I will get lost for a while.” “I’ll talk to her and let you know.” They waited while the women got out and came to them. Evie didn’t say a word as she put her arms around him. Angelica and Fex walked to a nearby bench and sat. After a couple of minutes Evie called to them. “Let’s go eat; Wayne says he knows a great place.” They got in the car. Wayne drove. There was no conversation.

That would come later.

MELODY AND DEMONI GOT OUT OF THE AIR BUGGY AND MADE THEIR way to her front door, where Jack greeted them and gave Melody a hug. They entered the living room, and Hubble and Twyla rose from the couch. “Steve,” Melody said, “This is Twyla, Hubble, and Jack, my partner. Folks, this is Steve.”

Holy shit, Hubble! Lucky he’s never seen me in person. “Pleased to meet you,” Demoni said. “Thanks for being so generous to a struggling writer.” It’s Twyla though, that’s for sure. How convenient! The men shook hands, and Melody said, “Let’s adjourn to the patio where there’s more room.” They walked through the house, out the sliding back door, and were immediately greeted by A’Sha’Nah and Riser. Demoni’s face ed alarm and he stepped back. Jack stepped between them. “My bad, I should have told you we have unusual pets.” “A’Sha’Nah and Riser, say hello to Steve,” Melody said. The hackles stood up the length of A’Sha’Nah’s back, and an ominous growl issued from his throat. “I don’t like him,” he mind-spoke. Hubble looked at Demoni to see if he had heard. “He can’t hear us, “Riser said. “Are you sure?” Hubble mind-spoke. “He is from Satonia,” A’Sha’Nah said. “His smell is unpure.” “What?” Jack asked out loud. Demoni looked at Jack in puzzlement. Hubble nodded at Fex and excused himself to go to the bathroom. He walked to his briefcase on the sofa and took out a stun gun. He returned quickly to the patio where Fex had kept Demoni occupied in conversation. Without a word he shot Demoni in the chest. His eyes bulged and he collapsed in a twitching heap. “Twyla, go to the car and get the cuffs,” Hubble said, as he rolled Demoni onto his stomach, pulled his arms behind his back, and sat on him. “We’ll run him

through the system and see what pops up.” A’Sha’Nah stood at Demoni’s head, lips curled, and teeth exposed. Riser placed one the talons of one foot on Demoni’s lower leg, ready to sink them in should he awaken. Twyla returned with the cuffs and Hubble snapped them in place. “Melody, we’ll have to take a rain check on dinner.” Hubble looked up. “I want to get him in a cell and processed as soon as possible. It’s my guess he was here to get Twyla.” “Oh, my God,” said Melody, and put her hands to her mouth. “What did I do?” Twyla went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Exactly the right thing. We got him before he could act … thanks to the boys.” She gave A’Sha’Nah a quick pat on the head. Jack nodded. “You saved the day again guys!” A’Sha’Nah’s tail was busy and Riser did his first full dance in three weeks.

They got all the petting they wanted … plus fresh trout.

An hour later, Hubble called from his office. “We got Demoni Hati, a long-time Satonian agent. We also know they’ve developed a new cloaking device since he got on-planet without detection. We are scanning for his ship, and if locate it, can counteract their new system. All-in-all a banner evening. Thank God for A’Sha’Nah and Riser.”

Everyone agreed.

The Director was mystified. He had tried to Demoni several times with no success. He was certain something was wrong. Damn, Atlantians! What did a person have to do to beat them?

He was beginning to understand the formidable nature of his foe.

“Jack,” Melody said. “I was naïve. I almost got Twyla killed.” “You’re just a sweet person, Mel. That’s why I love you so much.” “What?” “I, uh … oh damn it, it’s why I love you so much … Ok?” “It’s way more than Ok! I love you too.” He bear-hugged her. “But I need to be more careful,” she said. “Just fine with me.” “Jack, would you take me to bed now?”

“That would be fine too.”

Riser and A’Sha’Nah were happy. They felt useful and needed again. The Chairman ed them immediately to screen prisoners to see if any were from Satonia. They gleefully agreed.

The Satonian Director had no way of knowing the type of detection system he was dealing with.

FEX AND ANGELICA BID A RELUCTANT FAREWELL AND RETURNED TO Atlantia. They were anxious to run their new idea by the Chairman and time was of the essence given the increasingly aggressive Satonian tactics. If an Earth Ultimatum Strategy was adopted, there was a chance that Satonia would be caught off guard and have to regroup. They also believed that Wayne and Evie would wait until they were alone to talk about Wayne’s probability analysis. The Chairman arranged to see them immediately, and they were seated in his office within thirty minutes of their rapid transit arrival. He listened intently and sat deep in thought for a few minutes before speaking. “Let me sleep on it,” he said. “I want the techies to run an analysis before deciding whether to present it to the Council.” Fex and Angelica rose to leave, but were stopped by his voice. “Damn good work, you bring out the best in each other. Your idea may be just what we need.” Fex nodded. “Thanks, but Wayne deserves credit too.” “Yes,” said Angelica. “It was something he said that brought us to this point.” “I’m not surprised,” said the Chairman. “Is he going to stay on Earth and finish what he’s started?” “Of course,” said Fex. “The probability is 98% that he will.” “Did you tell Evie?”

“I did,” said Angelica. “She is resigned and sad about the likely outcome.” “Will she be Ok?” Fex sighed and wiped some moisture from his eyes. “She’ll survive, but won’t be the Evie we have known.” The Chairman stood, concern etched in every line of his face. “Of course, there’s a possibility he will live.” “The sooner he returns to Atlantia after publication, the better the odds,” Fex said. “And you are sure the book will be published?” The Chairman asked.

“There is no doubt,” said Fex. “None at all.”

WAYNE FIXED COFFEE, POURED TWO CUPS, AND SAT BY EVIE IN THE living room. She took his hand, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Do we need to talk?” He asked. “I know what you have to do. Hope we beat the odds.” “You aren’t going to tell me to forget the book, move to Atlantia, and live happily ever after?” “You can’t and be Wayner.” She nestled her head deeper into his arm. “I don’t deserve you,” he said. “Yes you do, you’ve paid your dues and earned me … I’ve earned you too.” He nodded, looked down, and sipped his coffee. “True enough,” he said. “It’s scary though.” “Yep.” She sat and took a sip of coffee. “Sometimes things aren’t Ok, and

delusions won’t change them.” “I’m sorry, Evie.” She put a finger on his lips. “Do me a favor and don’t say that again.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I won’t.”

THE CHAIRMAN MOTIONED FOR ANGELICA TO ENTER HIS OFFICE AND sit. His head was buried in a stack of printouts she assumed were probability reports on the Earth Ultimatum Strategy. She found a chair and waited. “These are conclusive,” he said, finally. “They suggest a solution to our dilemma.” She crossed her legs. “So the Council will vote yes?” He shoved the papers in her direction. “See for yourself.” She scanned the figures and whistled. “Much stronger likelihood than I would have predicted with only minimal disagreement. What plan is this analysis based on?” He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “The proposal will give Earth a clear choice between two outcomes and stop all interactions with Atlantia and Satonia for one year.” “I see,” she said. “And we live with the consequences no matter what.”

“And so will Earth,” he replied.

Wayne was working on the book at least eight hours a day. He wanted it done, behind him, so he could focus on beating the poor odds he’d been given. The writing was easy, the way it had been at the start with the words flowing. If not for the ominous nature of its completion, he would have thought it a good time. The end was in sight, the narrative path firmly in his mind, all that remained was time and execution.

He did his best to still the fear and just write.

Hubble’s team found Demoni’s craft and uncloaked it. The Atlantian engineers solved the riddle of the new technology within days and were able to alter their detection system to for it. It was back to the drawing board for Satonia. They learned this when the ship they sent to look for Demoni was met by Hubble’s greeting party.

Twyla and Hubble breathed a lot easier.

Riser and A’Sha’Nah achieved celebrity status, especially after uncovering two more Satonian agents. They were in constant demand for public appearances. Only one percent of the Atlantian population couldn’t hear them mind-speak and they were enrolled in increased awareness classes.

The boys were very happy … but still missed Wayne and Evie.

The special session convened, and the Earth Ultimatum Strategy created the expected stir. The assembly opted to take two weeks for deliberation and vote, finally and conclusively.

Most of them felt it would .

FEX HEARD HIS COMPUTER BEEP, WENT TO HIS DESK, AND SAW IT WAS Wayne. He hit the receive button and thirty seconds later Wayne’s face appeared on the screen. “Hi, Wayne,” said Fex. “What’s up?” “I’m curious about something that concerns the book … maybe.” “I see,” said Fex. “What’s on your mind?” Wayne cleared his throat and scratched his head. “Uh … what is Limbo … exactly?” “Oh, boy!” “Yeah, I know,” said Wayne. “Is it real, and if so, how?” Fex was silent. “That’s what I thought,” Wayne said. “It’s a mind blower, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” said Fex. “Not sure I should tell you and even less sure if I do that it should be in the book.” “Yep, that’s why I said maybe.” Fex thought for ten seconds. “The explanation of Limbo has wide-sweeping implications about the nature of reality.”

“Oh, is that all, well, in that case …” “The question of whether it’s real or not dives deep into the physics and nature of the cosmos.” “I always try to keep my questions simple,” Wayne said. Fex gave a wry grin. “That’s why the Earth Experiment, especially the Limbo Project, is so controversial on Atlantia … it’s frightfully expensive to maintain.” “Is it real? Can you give me a general answer?” “Not one you’ll like,” said Fex. “The answer is yes and no.” “I’ve heard that before.” Wayne scratched his head. “From your daughter.” “Exactly. Let me mull it over, I need to get some advice.” “Ok, I understand. Does Evie know the answer?” “Yes, but she’s honor sworn to not to tell you.” “Got it.” “I’ll be in touch.” “Thanks, Fex.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

THE COUNCIL CONVENED FOR DISCUSSION AND VOTE ON THE EARTH Ultimatum Strategy. The place was buzzing when the Chairman came down the aisle, took the podium, and called the meeting to order. The room quieted as the Chairman rapped the gavel on the lectern “I call this special session to order. All of you know its purpose, so we will proceed in order to not take more of your time than necessary. I have asked two

speakers, one for the strategy, and one against, to lead off the discussion as per our rules of order. We will flip a coin to see who speaks first. If the gold side lands up, Angelica will speak first, if the silver, Marcus will hold forth. He flipped the coin and let it hit the floor of the stage. “Delegate Jessica, will you the coin is silver before I pick it up.” She rose from her desk, peered at the coin, and nodded. “Esteemed Delegate Marcus, would you take the stage and present the position of those against the ratification of the Earth Ultimatum Strategy.” A delegate from the third row made his way to the stage, stood behind the podium, and looked at the audience for ten seconds before he spoke. “Colleagues,” he said. “I take no pleasure in the task assigned me. The issue of Earth has divided us much too long, and with consequences, in some instances, that we all agree are tragic. I consented to stand before you because I believe that a much larger issue is at stake than the fate of Earth. It is a question of whether we will remain true our long held policy of non-violence, or yield to the temptation to abandon it. The fact that it involves Earth is a secondary issue. The core component is who we are … Atlantians or Satonians. I cannot vote for violence as a solution, and make no mistake, if we turn the Earth over to Satonia there will be violence. I implore you to stay true to our heritage and hard won beliefs.” He left the stage and returned to his desk to a round of polite applause. Angelica stood and made her way to the podium. “I too am reluctant to speak. What I am going to say today I never believed I would utter, but the extreme of any teaching is potentially damaging. Believing in something without any chance of revision, change, or exception is not the Atlantian way either … even if it is non-violence. We have long held that unchallenged allegiance to any principle, including God, is not well advised. So, I leave you with this. We are deadlocked over the Earth question; it has been divisive and caused damage in this chamber. The compromise is for us to meet in the middle. Continue to Earth if they show signs of becoming an enlightened species. If not, they alone will bear the consequences of choice. It is time for an exception, not a philosophical change. The situation merits it, and Earthlings have historically shown they do not change until forced. We might be doing them a favor. I will vote in favor of the strategy. I leave it to each of you, as always, to vote your conscience.”

“Would anyone else care to speak?” The Chairman asked. A delegate in the back of the room stood and was recognized. “If the please the Chairman, I will speak from here as I only have a few things to say. We have had two weeks to discuss this issue. The two alternatives have been very clearly stated by our two colleagues. I call for the question.” “I second that motion,” said another. “Those in favor, indicate by a show of hands.” The motion carried unanimously. “Ballots will be distributed, and anonymous votes will be cast. Angelica and Marcus will count the ballots, and report the decision to me,” the Chairman said. Fifteen minutes later, the Chairman used the gavel to gain the attention of the delegates. He only had to rap twice. “The results are as follows: votes for the Earth Ultimatum Strategy, eighty-eight, votes opposed twelve. The motion has been ratified. I will form a committee to draft a proposal concerning the specifics of implementation of the strategy. It will be discussed openly on the floor, and a sixty percent majority will be required before any specific action is taken. I thank you for your service and time.”

Angelica sighed and hoped she would never regret what she had just done.

WAYNE WAS IN THE BACKYARD PETTING A’SHA’NAH WHEN EVIE TOLD him there was a call from Fex. His heart rate increased as he went inside. “Fex,” Wayne said. “Howdy.” “How are things?” Fex’s face was large on the screen. “Not bad considering, we’re dealing with it pretty well.” “Glad to hear it, you’ve been on our minds.”

“Appreciate that.” “I talked to the Chairman and several others about your question. Bottom line, they think you have the right to know, but need to be careful how you deal with it in the book.” “Deal,” said Wayne. “I’m gonna keep it as simple. That’ll have to do till you talk to somebody smarter than me.” “Got it.” Wayne squirmed in his seat. “Ok, here we go. There have been atoms, quarks, quantum theory, string theory, and other attempts to explain the building blocks of the cosmos. On Atlantia, based on our data, we believe the universe may be a three-dimensional hologram … a virtual reality.” There was a lengthy silence. Wayne’s mind was trying, but it just wouldn’t function for a brief interval. “Uh … a … simulation … everything.” “Yeah, and if that was accurate, we should be able to create one too. After quite a few failures we succeeded.” Fex sat back and waited. After a few seconds Wayne responded. “Limbo is a hologram Atlantia created?” “Yep … and a really cool one. It interacts with the mind of the people there and reflects their thinking almost immediately.” “Fex …” “I told you not to thank me too soon.” “But it’s real, you can touch it, taste it, feel it, and …” “The same as you can the entire universe.” “Holy shit!” “No,” said Fex. “Holygramic shit!”

Wayne groaned. Fex leaned forward, his face intense. “But all joking aside, it’s probably good you’re sitting down.” “Aw, geez,” Wayne said. “There’s more?” “Lots,” Fex responded. “Even if creation is not a holographic projection, there are some basic principles we believe are probably pertinent. I’ll do my best to explain them to you.” Wayne sat back in his chair and sighed. “And I’ll do my best to understand them.” Fex smiled, “Fair enough. The best place to start is the difference between experience and symbols. A state of being is an experience, while symbols are used to describe them. Symbols and experience function in different logical domains since there are significant differences between the world of the living and the non-living. Symbols are not alive; they are dead creations that seek to mimic lived experience. It is a very common mistake, one made on Earth regularly, to confuse the description of a state with what is being described.” Wayne scratched his head and frowned. “Language is the major symbol we use, yes?” “Exactly,” said Fex, “and it is not adequate to explain living interactive phenomena. Language only allows us to construct an incomplete imaginary picture in the effort to understand and communicate. This may be the original sin of humans; replacing experience with a description and pretending it describes reality. They forget there is no way to comprehensively represent living processes via symbolic means. Nature, despite our pretenses, is not bound by the constraints of our language.” Wayne held his head. “So we try and explain the way things are, and pretend our explanations are completely accurate?” Fex nodded. “In the world of symbols everything is either ‘this or it’s that’, in the world of experience there are infinite shades of gray. This is one of the major findings of quantum physics. From this frame there is no scientific truth, only assertions that are logically consistent.”

“That’s what led to the notion of reality as a probability wave with infinite possibilities?” “That’s correct,” Fex responded. “When a measurement or observation is made, one of the realities is realized while others are not.” Wayne slapped his forehead. “Just as a version of Limbo was created when I interacted with it, and other possible versions were not.” Fex beamed at him. “Exactamundo! Reality is not ‘one thing’, but rather is a composite of all the possibilities of the system being observed; an organic whole in which the parts are constantly changing, but is somehow a thing in itself anyway. This ‘thing’ continues on its ever changing way until an observation is made. In that instant one of possibilities actualizes and the others cease to exist. Realty is a wave function where all things are possible but none are actual.” “Like a movie that could change as it interacts with the audience?” Wayne asked. “That’s a great metaphor,” Fex said. “Physicists on Earth have been discovering this since the 1920’s, but the rest of the population, even some physicists, still cling to the notion that symbols and reality are the same. Applied psychology for example, a potential natural companion of quantum physics, has refused to listen.” “Amen to that,” said Wayne. “A good example is the notion that certain types of therapy are empirically valid and can be applied across diverse individuals in the same manner that an appendix operation can.” “Exactly,” Fex said. “It ignores the diversity of human experience and pretends that living beings can be treated as if they are identical … as if there’s only one way to become depressed and one specific way it should be treated.” Wayne scratched his head, and frowned. “That has been one of the most frustrating aspects of being involved with psychology as a profession. I keep thinking that of all the disciplines it should be the one that ‘gets it’, only to discover that it consistently refuses to budge off the ledge of cause and effect logic.” “That’s the same frustration we’ve had on Atlantia with the Earth in general,”

Fex said, and shook his head. “We have not been successful in altering the mental structures that limit and restrain psychological and social advances on the planet.” Wayne sighed. “The Earth could be so much more, but a significant psychological shift is needed if that is to occur.” “I agree, and that shift needs to include that human experience, and the nature of the cosmos, is too rich and varied to be limited to one form of logic. Every way of knowing, is also a way of not knowing. This is as true of science as anything else, including religion.” Wayne sat back in his chair. “,” Fex said, “we are also limited by our language symbols even this conversation. The best we can manage are incomplete metaphors. On Atlantia we believe that quantum physics is the most accurate metaphor that’s been developed so far … but it is still a metaphor.”

“Wonder what possibility will manifest where the Earth is concerned?” Wayne asked, and scratched his head.

EVIE AND WAYNE WERE IN BED, SPOONED TOGETHER, BUT NOT ASLEEP. They had pledged not to waste a second of their time since the probability analysis had been revealed. “A hologram simulated reality, huh?” he whispered in her ear. She sprang into a sitting position, snapped on a lamp, and stared at him. “Excuse me?” “I have concluded that everything, including Limbo, is a three dimensional hologram … that’s the true nature of what we think of as reality.” He said in his best professorial voice. “Where did you get such an idea?” She asked.

“I’ve been reading a lot of physics for the book, and it came to me. That has to be it, except Limbo is a more interactive hologram than the universe.” She slapped his arm. “Wayner, you … damn you … you’ve been holding out on me.” He pushed himself up and leaned against the head board. “Don’t you have that backward?” “What?” “If what I said is true, or at least very likely, and you already knew about it …” She looked down and put one hand to her mouth. “I couldn’t tell you, I just couldn’t, we are sworn to …” He stopped her with a raised hand and howled laughter at the ceiling. “Are you … playing me?” Her eyes flashed orange. He got himself back in control and put his hands up in front of him. “Fex got permission to tell me, he …” She threw a pillow at him. “Damn, you … you got me good.” She ed him in the laughter.

And then they made delicious, ultra-slow, love.

An hour later, they were spooned again, on the edge of sleep. “By the way,” he said. “I finished the book this afternoon.” He felt her body tense. “Wayne, that’s wonderful … and it’s horrible.” “I know.” It took her a long time to fall asleep. She lay still and listened to him breath.

And wondered how many more times she’d get to.

THE COUNCIL VOTED TO INITIATE THE EARTH ULTIMATUM IN A GRAND yet simple manner. There would be a display of power and superior technology, but also reason, concern, and negotiation. They set the day and hour, and started making preparations for its execution. There was much to be done since the Mother Ship hadn’t been used in some time. The Chairman, Angelica, and Fex were selected to play key roles.

Earth was in for a shock … and so was Satonia.

The Supreme General on Satonia wasn’t happy. He was in the Director’s office, looking out of the window that dominated one wall, and pondering the gigantic snake statue in the courtyard below. It had represented power and the willingness to strike quick and lethally. Where had that gone? How had they lost it? He went to a chair, sat, and stabbed the Director with his eyes. “Your first few weeks in this position have not been impressive.” The Director put on his most sincere face. “Sir, I know, but I inherited quite a

mess, and it will take me …” “Spare me the inane rhetoric! I know what you inherited. It was only a few weeks ago I was in a cell on Atlantia.” The Director held his tongue and nodded. “Let’s take inventory,” said the General. “Under your direction we have lost three agents, two ships, and our new cloaking device has been compromised. It that an accurate summation?” “Yes, sir, it is. But if I might be allowed to make a point … not an excuse, but a point.” “Very well.” “Something significant and very strange is happening on Atlantia. They are now able to identify agents that have been in place far in advance of my istration. The last two that disappeared have been undercover for three years and suddenly they are not reporting … and neither is Demoni.” “Could Demoni have given them up?” “That’s just the thing, sir. He doesn’t know about them, very few people do. I didn’t until I was assigned this post. Our sources say they have developed a detection system that can sense Satonians.” “Are you certain of this?” The General rose and went to look out the window at the mountainous terrain of Satonia. “It’s the only logical conclusion, and our remaining agents on Atlantia are very anxious to say the least.” The General turned, his immense 6’10” frame dominating the room. “Find out! I don’t care how, just get it done. Those peace loving Atlantians are kicking our ass!” He took two steps and slammed his fist on the top of the Director’s desk. The wood split into a crack that ran the width of the surface. “Do I make myself clear?”

“If they have such a device, destroy it.”

WAYNE AND EVIE WERE HEADED FOR A PARTY, AN UPSCALE BASH IN honor of the new president at the University. Wayne went strictly for political reasons; to keep from rocking the boat in his department. At functions like this role was taken as zealously as in most kindergartens, which as far as he was concerned, was not incongruous at all. Based on his experience, it made little difference who ran the institution as long as they minded their business and let him teach. But, it was prudent to go, and Evie was excited about being on campus, and meeting new people. She was still interested in how the systems on Earth actually worked. There was one aspect of the evening he looked forward to, walking into the room with her. He looked across the car and gave his eyes a treat. She was sporting a new haircut, and looked absolutely radiant. Secretly, he hadn’t been in favor of cutting off her long hair, but he had to it, she had been right. It was just above the ears, and collar length in back. She had it parted on the left, and it swept midway across her forehead to the right. It emphasized her face, put it on display, and with a face like Evie’s … well, enough said. She had selected a redder than red dress that fell to her ankles and followed her form as if it had been trained from the moment of birth. It was sleeveless, cut low in front, and a single turquoise nugget necklace was centered on her chest. She had earrings that matched dangling from each lobe, and dark black dress moccasins with red bead work on her feet. She didn’t wear high heels and that was one of the hardest things for her to understand about Earth women. Why would anyone do that to their feet? Wayne tried to explain that women in the U.S. wore whatever Wall Street advertising told them to, but she’d looked at him with a blank stare, and asked, “Why?” “To compete with other women,” he’d answered. “Compete for what?” “Men.” “What? You mean Earth men actually fall for that? Wall Street must control them too.”

“Good point,” he conceded. “If it didn’t work, it would stop.” “Wow,” she shook her head. “Earth is strange.” “I told you,” he said. He pulled into the parking lot in front of the Student Union and was relieved to find a parking space. For reasons beyond logic, someone at a high level had made the decision that not having enough parking spaces for faculty and students was a good idea. Wayne thought it a strange way to run a business. It would never occur to Walmart and Target to operate like that. The got out, went in, and up the stairs to the third floor where the banquet hall was located. Evie couldn’t help but giggle as she watched several women try to negotiate the steps in their five inch heels. Most of them opted to wait for the only elevator that was available. The banquet room was full of people and buzzing with conversation. Most of the floor space was occupied with round tables that would seat eight, and set with dinner ware. Blue and gold banners and streamers hung on the ceiling, and a quartet played classical music in one corner. “Where is the bar?” she asked. “I should have told you, no alcohol is allowed on campus.” Same blank stare as with the high heels. “Why?” “Probably because nobody trusts that the istration and faculty could drink responsibly,” he said. They were interrupted by the approach of a couple that emerged from the throng. “Chisholm,” said the man. “Didn’t know if you’d be here or not, I know how you loath these things.” “Evie, this is Greg and Jill, two of my closest friends on campus. Jill … Greg, this is Evie, my life-mate.” They both smiled, and Jill said, “Evie, it’s so nice to meet you. We are so glad that Wayne has someone special.”

“Thank, you,” Evie said. “I’m glad he does too.” Greg chuckled. “You’ve done wonders for him. All I have to do to see him grin is say your name.” “Is that so?” Evie looked at Wayne. “Wayner, do you do that when you talk about me?” “Guilty as charged,” Wayne said. “Can we sit together, or are those name cards I see on the tables?” “Another great istrative decision,” Greg said, and frowned. “Can we switch them?” Evie asked. “I’m going to like her,” Greg said. “Let’s get it done before it’s too late.” As if on cue, a voice crackled over a microphone. “Please find your places, and take your seats.” “Drinks after?” Greg asked, as they walked away. “You bet,” Wayne said. “Nice people,” Evie said. “The best,” Wayne nodded. The found their places and Wayne didn’t recognize anyone at the table. Introductions were made and dinner was served. Helen, a faculty member across from them said, “I was told they didn’t want us sitting in our usual cliques. The idea is for us to interact with faculty we don’t usually see.” Her husband said, “I didn’t realize that universities were so compartmentalized. I figured she knew everyone on campus.” Wayne said, “I’ve been here twenty years and I’ll bet I don’t know over twenty percent of the faculty.”

Roger Tibbits, a professor in the Math Department, looked at Wayne. “That’s true of me too. We don’t get out of our departments much, although you and I have a common friend, Wayne.” “Oh? Who is that?” “Greg” “You have a great friend then,” said Wayne. “Yeah,” said Roger, “What a class guy. He mentioned to me the other day that you were writing a novel.” “Shame on him,” said Wayne. “He was to keep that to himself.” “He finished it this week,” said Evie. “Now we get to look for an agent and publisher.” A man across the table looked up. “Hi, I’m Marc Stevens, the husband of this par excellent faculty member, Mary. It just so happens I’m a literary agent. What’s your novel about, Wayne?”

Evie nudged Wayne under the table with her knee and took quick breath.

Thirty minutes later, Marc and Wayne exchanged email addresses, and Wayne agreed to send him the first sixty pages the next morning. They had to cut their visit short to allow the new president to give a standard ‘it’s a new day full of opportunity’ speech. The music played, people mingled, and by 10:00 the crowd started to thin out. Wayne and Evie met Greg and Jill at a small bar, had two drinks each, and got home at 11:30. They went in, got into more comfortable attire, and sat in the living room and talked.

Neither of them was sleepy.

THE SUPREME GENERAL OF SATONIA JUMPED TO HIS FEET WHEN THE Chairman, Hubble, and two guards suddenly materialized in his office ten minutes after he arrived for the day. His eyes bulged and he spit a mouthful of coffee on his desk top. “Don’t be alarmed,” said the Chairman. “We wish you no harm. We are just here to talk.” The General dabbed at the coffee with a paper towel and peered at them through narrowed lids. “What do you want?” “May we be seated?” Hubble asked. “Of course,” said the General. “You took me by surprise.” They sat, and Hubble said, “No problem, completely understandable. We are here in a diplomatic capacity and hope we can lessen the hostilities between our planets.” The General nodded and sat. “Please continue.” The Chairman leaned forward. “We have made a decision concerning Earth. We

wanted to inform you personally. Our purpose is to ease the tension between us and hopefully arrive at a temporary truce.” “You have my attention,” the General said. “Thank you,” said Hubble. “Could we step to your window and open the curtains?” The General looked confused but he complied. They were treated to a magnificent view of the Snake Mountains under a clear blue sky. The General gave it several seconds, and said, “What is it we are supposed …” Hubble took out his communicator, hit the send button, and said, “Uncloak.” Within seconds the sky between them and the mountains filled with an Atlantian Mother Ship. It was shaped similar to the United States Pentagon; five sided, with the forward aspect coming to a point, and a hollow space inside. It shined bright gold with green trimmings and hung motionless in the air. The General gasped and sputtered. “You lied; you said you meant no harm, you …” The Chairman held up his hand. “And we meant it, no ill will come to your planet. This is for demonstration purposes only; to let you know we are serious.” Hubble spoke into the communicator. “Cloak and go into orbit over Satonia.” The ship vanished. “I don’t understand,” said the General. The Chairman motioned at the chairs and they sat. “We have decided to give Earth a choice,” the Chairman said, “and give them one year to reach a decision.” The General leaned forward over his desk. “What sort of choice?” The muscles in his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. The Chairman looked him in the eye. “Whether to align with Atlantia or

Satonia.” His jaw unclenched and his mouth fell open. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?” The Chairman spoke slowly. “We have been in conflict both internally and externally for too long over this issue. We have expended much time and resources. We believe it is time to stop.” “Your Council approved this?” “By a wide margin,” the Chairman said. The General sat back and rubbed his chin. “What exactly do you propose?” Hubble shifted in his chair. “The Earth will be given a year to decide which planet they wish to align with … Atlantia or Satonia. During that period, all with Earth will cease, neither planet will attempt to influence their decision. This is not a proposal, it is a demand. If you do not comply, the Mother Ship you saw will return.” The General’s eyes opened wide. “But you are non-violent!” “We have voted to make an exception,” the Director said. The General stood and paced behind his desk. “And if they pick us?” “We will honor their choice … you will do the same if they opt in our favor.” The General leaned forward and put his hands on the desk. “You’re serious about this?” “Absolutely,” Hubble responded. “Now for the unpleasant part,” said Hubble, as the guards stepped forward. “We are going to implant a chip behind your ear. You can either cooperate, or be beamed up to the Mother Ship to have the procedure performed.” The General took a step back, and his eyes widened in alarm. “You have no right …”

“You were prepared to kill all of us at the duel,” the Chairman countered. “We have every right in the world.” Hubble continued. “The chip will enable us to beam you to Atlantia at any time. We will also be able to monitor your thoughts. If you fail to comply with our demands, you will be in our custody within minutes.” “We can block your beam,” he said, and crossed his arms over his chest. The Chairman chuckled. “Not anymore you can’t. Our visit to the duel served multiple purposes.” Hubble took out a hypodermic device and went to the General’s side. “Will you cooperate, or should I signal the ship to beam you aboard?” The General stepped back. “Will it hurt?” “It will sting, but only briefly,” said Hubble. “I appear to have little choice,” the General said. Hubble placed the device behind the General’s ear and pressed a button. The General gasped and his face reddened. “If you tamper with the chip in any manner, it will detonate and kill you,” Hubble said. “It will be removed at the end of the year. Do you understand?” The General rubbed the side of his head and glared at them. “Yes,” he said, in a strained voice. “During this year, there will be a truce between our planets,” said the Chairman. “Do I have your word?” The General found the Chairman’s eyes. “Do I have yours?” “Yes.” The General extended his hand. “Done … I hope you realize that you have just given us the Earth.”

“That may be,” said the Chairman. “Time will tell.” “When will Earth be notified?” “Soon,” said the Chairman. “I will let you know when that happens.”

The General started to respond, but they were gone.

They rematerialized on the Mother Ship, and were greeted enthusiastically by Fex and Angelica. “Bravo,” said Fex, “An academy award-worthy performance.” They slapped each other on the back, walked down a hall to their quarters, and stopped outside their doors. “Next stop, Earth,” Fex said. “Yes,” said the Chairman. “Have they been ed?” Angelica asked. “We are beaming agents to speak with every United Nations ambassador. They will forward the information to their respective Heads of State. I predict they will all attend, but if not they will certainly view it on television. The media will be notified as well.” “Boy, are they going to be surprised,” Hubble said.

“That’s Ok,” said Fex. “They deserve it.”

MARC STEVENS CALLED WAYNE THE EVENING OF THE NEXT DAY. EVIE answered and handed the phone to him. “It’s Marc,” she said, in a whisper. “Hey, Marc,” Wayne said. “Going to be honest with you, Wayne. If the rest of the novel is this good, I’d love to represent you. I think we can sell it to a publisher very fast.” “In spite of it being controversial and unusual?” “That doesn’t matter as much as it used to,” he said. “It may even help with some publishing houses. If you are willing to send me the rest of it, I’ll email

you a copy of our standard contract. I’ll read it, you look over the contract, and we’ll go from there.” “Sounds good to me.” “It’s an intriguing read, Wayne.” “Thanks.” “I’ll be in touch soon,” said Marc. Wayne looked across the room at Evie. “He wants to read the rest of it and send me a contract to review.”

“Of course he does,” she said.

The Heads of State of the United Nations were busy gathering their advisors in an attempt to discover who the mysterious messengers were that had appeared to invite them to attend a special meeting. All they had said was that it was a matter of international importance and national security. They stressed that any country not in attendance would find it difficult to justify to their citizens after the fact. Yes indeed, there were some very concerned and intense meetings being held. In the end, they each decided they must show up at the UN Building, on the banks of the East River, in New York City at noon, two days hence, on the lawns and parking lots facing the river. Yes, it was emphasized, they were to meet outside the building. Their unanimous decision to attend was probably related to the fact that the messengers miraculously appeared to deliver the invitation.

And then vanished into thin air.

The major news networks, television companies, and newspapers were notified in the same manner. Every channel, talk show, and headline was dominated by the story, conjecture about what it meant, and the mysterious identity of the source. Opinions were abundant and varied. In short, every country was paranoid, everyone was blaming everyone, and intellectual chaos was rampant. A few thought the event would involve the first with extraterrestrial life forms, but this was largely discounted. Earth didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.

And they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Wayne and Evie watched the whole thing play out on television, smiled, and said nothing to anyone. Wayne fretted that what had been his idea might lead to the end of Earth, but realized it had the potential to save it as well. It was time for Earth to face reality.

It had fooled around long enough.

Marc read the book overnight and called to say he was excited about the prospects and potential. He felt he might even be able to negotiate a considerable advance by putting the work up for auction. Wayne signed the contract and Marc went to work. He sent seven copies out. Wayne and Evie’s excitement, and anxiety, grew in equal proportions.

Marc’s phone rang off the hook.

THE MORNING OF THE BIG EVENT, WAYNE FOUND EVIE IN THE BACKYARD where she was practicing Yoga. “We need to talk.” “What?” “The book is a done deal. Given the nature of its content, Marc thinks the publisher will give it first priority, and rush it. That will probably be even more likely after noon today.” She sat stone still, hands in her lap, and her face blank. “We knew this would happen,” she said. “It’s really no surprise.” “Granted,” he said, “But now it has and we get to live it instead of talk about it. Now the hard part starts.” She still didn’t move or look up. “You’re talking about me going back to Atlantia.” He came and sat by her. “We agreed if the danger was great you would go,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m going to ask Fex to do a probability study and think you need to go when it indicates you should … or before if you want get it over.” A slight, barely noticeable, tremble started in her lower lip. Then a small sound came from deep inside, the same one she’d made when she left Limbo. It was a catch, a twinge, a failure of denial, an unbearable acceptance, an acknowledgment of the bitter, inescapable, truth. A truth they were powerless to

change. He watched as she fought it, with every fiber of her being, and lost. It was the curse of reality, the crushing power of what is, and the intense desire for it not to be so. She reached for him, and crushed him against her. “Evie,” he gasped, “Easy, how strong you are.” She eased the pressure. “I’ve been trained all my life to not pretend.” Her voice trembled. “And now … and now …” “I know,” he said. “I feel the same way.” “I know it’s wrong,” she said. “But, I don’t … I … really don’t … want to live without you.” “Aw, shit,” he said, and wiped at his eyes. “I … was nothing before … after I left Limbo … nothing away from you,” she said, and sobbed into his shoulder. He thought for a moment the pain might kill him, might consume him, and he would cease to exist. Part of him wished he could. “Evie,” he finally choked out. “I wouldn’t be who I am, have done what I’ve done, or written the book without you. What would I be without that?” “Alive!” It spewed from the depths of her. “You’d be alive.” She cried in a complete and unrestrained way, an earnest, from the soul-wrenching kind, from her very core. “I’ve … oh, God … I’ve … don’t you see … I’ve … probably killed you!” He held her, let her cry herself out. It took five minutes before her body was still. “Don’t tell yourself that. You’ve done the just the opposite, you’ve given me life. I was dead, used up, and defeated before Limbo and you. Please, Evie.” “Damn you, Wayner … I’ll try.”

They held each other a long time without words.

THE AMBASSADORS, HEADS OF STATE, NEWS MEDIA, MILITARY GUARDS, and anybody who was anyone were standing on the lawns and parking lots on the side of the United Nations building. As directed, they faced the wide expanse of the East River. Conversation was sparse, but tension was not. Television cameras and crews occupied every inch of allotted space. All eyes were glued to the time displayed on their cell phones and pads. They waited, translation earphones in place, barely breathing, for the digits to read 12:00. And then they did. The Mother Ship materialized over the river, in all her immensity. There was little sound from the crowd, just a collective gasp, and a scattering of ‘oh, my god’ in many different languages. They stood, completely overwhelmed, mouths gaping. “Citizens of Earth,” a voice came from the ship. “You have nothing to fear. You will not be harmed in any manner. We are from the planet Atlantia and have much to tell you. We will do so in the General Assembly room in a few minutes. But first, we wanted you to see firsthand the type of technology we command. We have many such vessels at our disposal, a fact which will become more pertinent as events transpire. Let me repeat, no harm will come to you today. This is not a trick. Please go to the Assembly Room and we will you shortly. Do so in an orderly and calm fashion. We don’t want anyone to be hurt accidently.” The Mother ship vanished and there was a backwash of wind on the water and in the trees. The crowd stood for a few moments, and then led by the United States President and the Russian Premier, walked in silence into the building and made their way to the Assembly Room. Fifteen minutes later the room was full to capacity. The Chairman and Angelica materialized at the lectern and were greeted by another collective gasp. “Greetings,” Angelica said. “We are representatives from the planet of Atlantia. We have a brief history lesson to share with you and other information of interest. Historically, we have been involved with your planet for thousands of years, literally dating back to the beginnings of evolution on Earth.”

The crowd was spell-bound, expressions of disbelief on their faces, and the room was quiet. “We are relatives of yours,” Angelica continued. “Our gene pools were mixed long ago.” A murmur swept through the crowd in a wave. “Since that is the case, we have wished you well, and done our best to see that you prospered. We have also served as your protector from interstellar invasion. Our technology is so advanced that few can stand against us.” The room was a barely moving sea of stunned eyes and open mouths. “The decisions and values you have chosen across the years have been a consistent disappointment to us, and the amount of war and violence you perpetuate is appalling. Additionally, your consistent disregard for the welfare of your planet in the name of comfort, greed, and economic profit, concerns us greatly. Our probability data indicates that if you continue on your current path, you will destroy at least eighty percent of life on Earth over the next two hundred years.” The collective gasps increased dramatically. The Chairman stepped forward. “You have come to this point in your history primarily because of one reason … your belief that you know the truth and are infallibly correct. This has been especially true of your religious and political convictions. Your certainty that you are acting as agents of God has given you permission to slaughter each other in unbelievable numbers.” He stopped, and gave his words time to sink in. “Let us assure you that you are mere infants in your understanding of the cosmos and your place in it. None of you, not one, regardless of religion, race, or creed has a legitimate claim to truth. None of you, regardless of your culture or nation, is correct in forcing your beliefs on others. No one under the sound of my voice has the right to tell anyone what is true, because none of you have access to that knowledge. Christians, you are incorrect in many of your beliefs, Muslims, the same can be said of you. All others are of that club too. No one is exempt as the vast majority of you hold your opinions to be true and demand

that others comply.” He scanned the audience with his eyes. Heads dropped one-by-one under his gaze. “We believe in non-violence and have not engaged in armed conflict for thousands of years. We hoped that Earth would be the same, but our efforts to accomplish that have proven ineffective. We have grown weary of the process. However, we are here to give you a final chance to take advantage of our aid and protection. There is another planet that wants to occupy your surface called Satonia. Were it not for our protection, you would be under their control even now. They are a warring and violent people and have subdued several worlds.” The crowd moved almost as one and the murmur of bodies was audible. Angelica ed him, and said, “We are going to give you one year to decide whether you want to move toward non-violence, or take your chances with Satonia. If you opt to not change, we will remove our protection, and Satonia will occupy your planet within weeks. You will not be able to stop them.” The movement in the room stopped. Disbelief and stark terror quieted them. “Within a few days, all governments will receive a checklist of non-violent criteria that can be used in making your decision. Please do not delude yourselves into believing we are not serious.” Angelica held out her arms. “Our fondest hope is that you use this as a wake-up call to act wisely in the best interests of your planet. In the end it will depend on your collective choices. Thank you for your time and we bid you a fond goodbye.”

Their bodies shimmered briefly … and were gone.

WAYNE AND EVIE FOLLOWED THE EVENTS ON TELEVISION, SMILED, frowned, cried, stayed home, and talked to no one. If the evening news was any indication, most of the world was in a state of denial, terror, or

rationalization about what they had witnessed. By the next morning, every news and talk show was obsessed about what had happened, what it might mean, and who had done it. Wayne took out a notebook, and kept a log of the various responses during the day. They were not encouraging.

The ultra-Christian right rejected the entire event as a hoax, because Earth was not as old as the visitors had claimed. The Bible clearly stated this, so no further thought was required. Added to that was the fact that evolution hadn’t occurred. The story of creation was Adam and Eve in the Garden. Period. They believed an image of a ship had been projected and didn’t actually exist. In the very small chance the event was real they had nothing to fear anyway. God would initiate the Rapture, and they would be saved. Atheists claimed they had finally been proven correct and felt validated. People who believed in God had been unwittingly worshipping aliens all these years. They held parties, rallies, and fund raisers. They were encouraged by the number of converts that ed them. Political conservatives were convinced that the liberal left was behind the show in some manner, and had staged the event to try and convince people there was no such thing as truth. They were outraged, and took the stance that even if it was aliens; the only reason they would have had to say what they did was because of bleeding heart liberals … who had compromised the bedrock values the world was based on. Liberals knew they hadn’t staged the event, because it would have required far more organization than they were capable of creating. They felt the event was real and every word had been directed at conservative thoughts and beliefs. God knows, they had tried to tell them it would come to this! The Jewish community saw it as yet another in a long line of unjust persecution. They were certain it had been perpetrated by Palestinian terrorists. The Arabs blamed everyone, including some of their own people, and were sure the aliens were infidels. But in the end, they were certain it was sponsored by the Great Satan, the United States, as represented by a former President and VicePresident.

The Soviets felt vindicated along with the atheists and pointed out that their antireligious stance over the years had been correct. It was obvious the visitors had not been speaking to them. They hoped that the Western world and rampant capitalism would wake up before it was too late. Almost every fundamentalist Christian denomination attributed it to the intervention of Satan, who had the power to pull off such an exhibition. The Catholic Church volunteered to perform an exorcism on the U.N. complex. The Pope assured everyone that God had nothing to do with what had transpired or he would have known about it. The Mormons were excited at the prospects of having a Satonian population on Earth, and quadrupled the number of young men willing to go on a two year mission once that happened. They were confident they could convince the Satonians to convert by promising the men multiple wives. The Academic community rushed into an avalanche of research trying to prove or disprove the phenomena in an empirically validated fashion. Conferences were organized and new journals were planned. Few stopped to realize that they didn’t have time to do this in a scientifically sound manner. So, they did what they’d always done, and pretended that they did … and that their results were pertinent to the world at large. Most of the new journals would not be ready to publish before the allotted year transpired. They ignored this incongruity too. Insurance companies immediately begin a saturation ad campaign lauding their new Alien Invasion policies. They added small print that stated if the Earth did not respond in good faith that no claims would be honored. Democrats and Republicans organized against each other in the House and the Senate concerning the best course of action, and as a result did nothing of substance … except argue … and blame each other for the stalemate. Oil companies took the position that we need no longer worry about oil reserves running out and began drilling wells in every conceivable location. They also raised the price of gasoline by one dollar per gallon citing the added expense of new explorations as a rationale. As usual, the rich took advantage of events in order to get richer and figured they could buy their way out of any inconvenience caused by a Satonian takeover. Fracking, and the accompanying waste-water injection wells, was tripled as well. After all, we needed all the fuel we could get to fight the invaders.

The Pentagon put their lobbyists into overdrive, and campaigned vigorously for an increase in the military budget of one hundred percent. They promised if that was done, they would be able to defeat the Satonians by the end of the year. NASA, following the lead of the Pentagon, asked for an increased budget of two hundred percent toward establishing Earth colonies on other planets to insure the survival of our species. They knew of no such planets within reach, but decided to say they did anyway. Sensing a profit landfall, one of the richest men on Earth began advertising that by the end of the year he would have commercial off-planet flights available for relocation in another solar system for a mere five million dollars per ticket. He booked twenty engers within the first fourth-eight hours. It never occurred to the extremely wealthy that their money couldn’t save them. They were used to the way things worked on Earth. There were, of course, a few, a very few, that believed the entire thing was authentic; the Atlantians were genuinely trying to help the Earth get its act together. They suggested that the time be focused on learning how to live in peace on Earth. They were dismissed as insane since peaceful coexistence was deemed incongruent with human nature.

By 3:00 in the afternoon, Wayne gave up, turned to Evie, and said, “The brain, as evolved on Earth, is not capable of dealing with reality. It doesn’t know how.” Before she could respond, Wayne’s cell phone rang. It was Marc. “Wayne,” he said his voice tense. “Have you been watching all this?” “Along with everyone else I’m sure.” “It’s scaring me,” he said. “It is eerily like your book.” “You think so? What a coincidence.” “Wayne, get real, you know it is.” “What are you saying, Marc, that I have insider information?”

There was a several second silence before Marc responded. “Do you believe what happened was real?” “High probability, and, if it wasn’t, it should have been. It’s dangerous to know things for sure, isn’t that what this is all about?” There was a longer period of silence. “Uh, Wayne, are you sitting down?” “Yeah, why?” “Staten House Publishing just called, and offered you an advance of $250,000.00 for the publishing rights.” Wayne swallowed twice, his mouth suddenly dry. “Seriously? They’re a fairly large outfit aren’t they?” “Yeah, in the top three largest in the country,” said Marc. “I told them yes, is that Ok?” “Yeah, if … and I mean it … if they’ll rush to publication, no editing, just get it out there.” “I’ll call them and get back to you asap.” Wayne clicked off his phone, and said, “Evie.” She came out of the kitchen, her eye brows raised.

“We just made a lot of money … but I doubt it matters.”

An hour later Marc called. “I’ll be double-dogged damned, they bought it! The contract will be on my desk in the morning. As soon as you sign it, they’ll cut you a check.” “Damnation!” “I’ll call you tomorrow when I have it,” Marc said. Ok … thanks!”

“No, thank you,” he said. “, I get fifteen percent … twenty overseas.”

TWO DAYS LATER EVERY GOVERNMENT ON EARTH RECEIVED A LIST OF criteria from Atlantia. After reading them, most agreed that the Earth only had one year of independent existence remaining. In the White House, the President plopped into a chair in a conference room, put her elbows on her desk, and her head in her hands. “We are screwed,” she said. “Totally and completely.” The Vice-President took the list from the President, looked like he had just swallowed a spoiled egg, and turned to the assembled Presidential Cabinet . “You may as well hear this,” he said. “I’ll read it if I can get my voice to work.” He cleared his throat:

List of Criteria for the Earth to Avoid Extinction.

1. All weapons of violence will be destroyed and no more will be manufactured. While it is true that people kill people, not guns … a person cannot kill another with a gun if none exist.

2. Individual religious and spiritual beliefs are matters of personal right, but organizations and institutions claiming knowledge of God-ordained truth will be discontinued. Any race, creed, or philosophical group claiming to represent God’s word on Earth will be cause to declare that the Earth has failed the test. 3. Non-religious institutions that claim to be privileged and inflexible in their thinking will be declared illegal. This particularly applies to political parties. No one that is a member of a political party may be elected to office. 4. If a weapons-based war that takes lives is waged based on religious differences, the Earth will have failed the test. 5. If a weapons-based war that takes lives is waged based upon race, nationality, skin color, or other forms of prejudice, the Earth will have failed the test. 6. All industry that damages the Earth’s ecology will reduce that impact by fifty percent over the next year. Oil companies, industries that burn coal, industries that dam rivers and logging companies should begin to remediate with all haste. 7. All military forces will be disbanded and bases will be closed. 8. Teachers that educate children will be paid more money than professional athletes. 9. Violent sports will not be practiced. 10. Schools will have classes dedicated to the difference between opinion and truth. 11. Earth governments will function at the consent of the people, and the words ‘for the people, by the people, and of the people’ will be practiced, not just spoken. 12. Privileges based upon rank, race, position, or religion will not be practiced. 13. Any elected delegate that is found to be taking money or presents from a special interest group will be removed from office immediately. 14. Lobbyists will be declared illegal and no longer exist. Anyone found guilty of being a lobbyist will serve ten years in prison.

15. Government service will be a service, not a paid position. A maximum of eight years may be served. 16. National income tax will be at a flat rate of ten percent. There will be no deductions and no exceptions. This includes churches if they can still exist without claiming to know the truth. 17. Laws will be kept to a minimum, but will be enforced consistently, expediently, and fairly. No one will be considered above the law … particularly Heads of State. 18. People will not be discriminated against based on color, gender, sexual preference, nationality, or beliefs … as long as they are not harming others or seriously violating their rights. 19. Organizations that exist totally to promote the supremacy of any race or group will not exist. 20. Any organized acts of terrorism will be grounds to declare a failure of the test. 21. No one, without exception, will claim to speak for God. 22. No book will be considered the direct word of God.

We must be convinced that the people of Earth are willing to demonstrate their ability to affect these changes over the course of a year. If this is the case, Earth will be given another year of probation to demonstrate the changes can be maintained. The Vice-President laid the list down, and glanced hopelessly around the room. “As Madam President has so succinctly stated, we are screwed.” “My, God,” the Secretary of State said, “Who do they think we are?” The President turned to her Press Secretary, and said, “Get a copy of this to all of the House and Senate. I am assuming that the press has already the information.”

“Yes, Madam President, they have.” She found the eyes of each cabinet member one-by-one. “If the Atlantians are serious, we are on borrowed time. However, I want us to do all we can to comply. I will start visiting with Representatives and Senators tomorrow. We need to find out how much we have, or don’t have, in that regard.” She raised her voice and stood. “They have called us on our collective foolishness.”

“Unless we can pull this off, none of us need worry about future elections.”

THE NEXT 60 DAYS WERE A BLUR OF NEWS EVENTS, TELEVISION COVERAGE, worldwide hysteria, and in the U.S. a complete gridlock between the Republicans and Democrats concerning what should be done about the situation. It became clear to Wayne that the U.S. was going to be as incapable of making the required changes as the rest of the world. He stopped watching the news, focused on his time with Evie, and made changes in his own life. He turned his resignation in at the University, who now that word was out he was going to have a major novel, were suddenly anxious for him to stay. He put his house on the market and sold it in three weeks for a nice profit. He and Evie drove to New Mexico and rented a small cabin in the mountains to spend the time they had left before she returned to Atlantia. They hiked, fished for trout, and made love. After three weeks of bliss, Marc called and said a publication date had been set for three weeks hence. The editor wanted Wayne in New York City for a gala book g to formally present Crossroads. They decided Evie would accompany him and return to Atlantia the morning after. Wayne would remain another 2-4 weeks and then her. They stayed in New Mexico until the day before they were to be in New York City, drove to Albuquerque, and caught a flight to the Big Apple. Marc, and the Editor-in-Chief of Staten House, was waiting for them at the airport gate. Marc saw Wayne and Evie and waved them over. “Wayne, Evie,” Marc said. “This is Seymour Goldman, the head honcho at Staten House Publishing.”

They shook hands, and walked toward the baggage area. “Good to meet you,” Seymour said. “Talking on the phone just goes so far. Your book is going to make us all very happy, trust me. It’s going over the moon … at least for a year.” “Yeah, there’s always that,” Wayne said. “Where is this shindig going be tomorrow night?” “It will be at The Peninsula, one of the top-rated hotels in the city. We have their banquet hall for the evening complete with catered goodies and open bar.” Seymour pointed toward the baggage claim area as he talked. “Well, I’ll sign books if anybody shows up,” said Wayne. Seymour laid a hand on Wayne’s shoulder, “Everybody who is anybody in the publishing world and media will be there. You won’t have a spare moment.” “Will we be staying at the same hotel?” Evie asked. “We have you booked for five nights.” “You should know,” said Wayne. “I don’t do formal attire.” Seymour chuckled. “Authors are expected to be eccentric and rebellious. Wear whatever you want.” He turned to Evie. “As for you, beautiful as you are, all you need to do is show up.” Evie smiled. “Aren’t you sweet? I dress up a bit more than Wayne.” “I’ll look forward to that,” said Marc. “The hotel will be able to tell us where I can take this lady shopping for a new dress?” Wayne asked. “Absolutely,” said Seymour. “Wayne, that’s not necessary, I brought plenty of clothes.” Evie said. “Damn, woman, let me play the big man for once in my life … let me buy you an expensive New York dress.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Be my guest.” Seymour looked at Wayne. “Don’t skimp on what you pay for it, a month from now you’re going to be a wealthy man. We’ve taken out a full page ad on ‘Crossroads’ in the Times. I hope you’re ready, because your world is about to change.” “All of our worlds are about to change.” Wayne smiled. “But I appreciate your effort and enthusiasm.” Seymour looked at Wayne and nodded. “Yeah, there is that.” Their bags tumbled down the conveyor belt. They grabbed them and headed for the exit. “We have a car waiting,” Marc said. “It’s not a limo, hope you don’t mind.” Wayne laughed and took Evie’s arm. “Life in the fast lane, my friends,” Marc said, and opened the door for Evie.

The hotel was magnificent.

BOOKS WERE FLYING OFF SHELVES ACROSS THE COUNTRY. THE EBOOK version was doing even better. Wayne sat in their hotel room and held his head. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Things this good don’t happen to me … other than Evie of course.” Marc smiled. “Oh, it’s happening alright. You’re a major celebrity in most circles, and a much despised man in others. The Christian-right has named you Satan incarnate. Of course, they didn’t believe in a great big space ship that appears right in front of them.” “It’s got to be really hard for them. Their whole world is being challenged.” Wayne walked across the room, took a beer out of the mini-fridge, and popped the top. “You want one?”

“Everyone has to grow up at some point,” Marc said, and shook his head no. “Now it’s their turn.” “I was telling Evie just the other day. I’m not sure that the human brain, the way that it evolved on Earth, is capable of examining its own processes. The belief that you are privileged and correct has always worked. They feel threatened and all their brains know how to do is get defensive. The Atlantian genetic infusion wasn’t enough, it got diluted too quickly.” “Wish I could argue with you,” Marc said. Wayne drank some of his beer. “The Earth Experiment … if you wanted to create a species that would kill each other for centuries over differences of opinion, it has been a rousing success. But, if the aim was to produce an enlightened group that could work together in harmony for mutual benefit, it’s a gigantic bust.” Marc shook his head. “On a happier note, you’ve been invited to do two major talks shows at the end of the week. Do you want to?” “Yeah,” said Wayne. “Let’s get them over so I can leave.” “Leave?” Wayne looked at Marc. “I owe you this, Marc. Wouldn’t be fair for you to not know.” Confusion spread across Marc’s face. “What do you mean?” “Evie has gone back to Atlantia.” Marc’s jaw dropped and he stared at Wayne. “Not kidding. She’s gone home, and in a few weeks I’ll be ing her.” “You’re serious, aren’t you?” “Yeah, it beats getting assassinated.”

“I’ll do the talk shows, and then I’m gone.”

After the book g Evie had left from Central Park. It hadn’t been as hard as they’d thought, since Wayne was ing her soon. His decision to leave earlier had lessened his risk to seventy percent. It was still higher than they wanted it to be, but he assured her he would be extra cautious.

She’d said, “Going on talk shows isn’t being cautious.”

THE TALK SHOWS WERE A BLUR OF TAXI CABS, TELLING PEOPLE HE DIDN’T want makeup, and questions. The hosts seemed most interested in the fact that he’d received several death threats. He played that down and tried to act unconcerned, but it didn’t help his mood or fatigue.

He was bone weary and missed his family.

After the second show he went straight to the airport, caught a late flight, and was in Albuquerque by mid-morning after a couple of layovers. He found his car in the parking lot and drove to the cabin he still had rented. He would spend tomorrow saying goodbye to Earth and his beloved Rocky Mountains, and then beam to Atlantia.

As for the rest of today, he planned to sleep.

He woke early, hiked to a high mountain lake, and caught two trout. Then sat on a large rock and looked across the surface of the water. He was at ten thousand feet on a bluebird morning, in the place he loved most on Earth. The Rockies, the glorious awe inspiring mountain cathedral that was the spine of the United States. He let a few tears fall down his cheeks into the lake. I’ll leave part of me here. He rose and made the downhill walk to the cabin in an hour and a half. Hid the keys to his car where he had told his neighbor he would and stood in the vacant expanse of grass between the cabin and the small storage shed some fifty yards distant. He activated his communicator, punched in the code, and hit send. “Yes, sir, Mr. Chisholm,” a voice said after thirty seconds. “I’m ready to come home,” he said. “Beam me up please.” “Affirmative, it will take a few minutes to lock in on your signal.” He waited and looked at a nearby peak. An eagle soared above it, all circles and glides. He dropped to one knee and waited for the vertigo he knew would come. Suddenly there was something wrong with his neck! He put his hand there, felt the wetness, and looked at it. It was covered in red. He was having trouble keeping his balance and his breathing was raspy. He tasted blood in his mouth, felt his legs go out from under him, and his head hit the ground. There was grass under his cheek. He felt cold. “Evie,” he said.

If anyone had been there to see, the car the two men with the rifle got in had Kansas plates … and a big cross in the back window.

The staff at the teleportation facility on Atlantia was shocked to see Wayne’s prone body materialize on the arrival pad. The head technician felt for a pulse and yelled to one of his assistants, “Quick, get the healer!” Fex, Angelica, and Evie ran to his side. The puddle under his shoulders was growing larger by the second. Evie tried to cradle his head in her lap but there was too much blood. She let it slip to the floor and rocked back and forth on her knees. “Wayne! Oh, God, Wayne! Please … don’t die, not now. Please!” Her voice made an etching of stark terror in the air around her. Fex looked at Angelica and shook his head. Angelica knelt and put her arms around Evie.

They watched the last drop of life run red out of Wayne’s neck.

Outside where he waited with Riser, A’Sha’Nah felt a cold knife of feeling through him. He looked at Riser and dropped his tail between his legs. “Something bad has happened to Wayne. He is gone.”

He threw back his head and howled all the pain it is possible to feel.

An hour later Fex, Angelica, Riser, Evie, Riser, and A’Sha’Nah sat in Angelica’s living room trying to cope with what had happened. Hubble, Twyla, Jack, Melody, Bartok, and the Chairman had ed them after receiving the news. Silence had filled the room for the last quarter of an hour except for the sound of sadness as it slid down their faces and escaped their lips. It was Evie that finally gave form to her grief in words. “We killed him,” her voice was husky and low. “He died trying to help us do something we had failed at … the redemption of Earth.” The soft sound of bodies shifting on chairs and sofas was the only reply other than Melody’s muffled moan and the Chairman blowing his nose. None dared speak, nor had the stomach for the words in their minds. Accept A’Sha’Nah. He sat in the middle of the room and spoke his mind. “Earthling evolution killed him,” he forced the words out. “The ages-old practice of using murder as a default solution … whether it is of the one or the many. He died because humans didn’t grow tired of excusing such actions and never grew up enough to quell the dark side of their evolutionary baggage. He died because he dared tell them this was so.” Riser hopped into place beside A’Sha’Nah and ruffled his feathers. “And now,” his mind words trembled as they came, “Satonia waits to show Earthlings exactly how that feels …

… when they are on the receiving end.”

ONE YEAR AND SIX MONTHS LATER, IF ANYONE HAD BEEN THERE TO observe the surface of the Earth, they would have found little to see … other than mounds of rubble, drifting columns of radiation-filled clouds and smoke, and decaying animal forms of all descriptions. As for living things? They would have only seen a few cockroaches scurrying from one rock to another.

And over the charred remains of a book called Crossroads.

On Atlantia, Fex, Angelica, and Evie led quiet, secluded lives … and took the boys on outings to the mountain range where Evie’s mother had died. There they raised toasts of Pendleton rye to the night sky, A’Sha’Nah howled his discontent at three full moons; Riser forgot that he used to dance, and they all agreed …

… The Earth Experiment had failed.