1

Kunar Province, Afghanistan

October 12, 2013

 

“Hello?” a sweet young woman’s voice fluttered over the computer’s speakers, but no video was being received, only a screen name and profile photograph.

“Hello?” a man replied. “Can you see me?”

“No,” the woman’s voice answered. “I suppose you can’t see me either.”

“No, just the profile pic. It’s a good picture, though.”

The profile picture of Skype user LatinaChic89, known to her friends as Christina Flores, showcased the young Latina’s big brown eyes, curly brown hair, and flawless caramel skin. A shining smile pushed her cheeks up into plump dimples. That day, her laptop camera took a photo of her sitting with a simple white blouse and a comfortable living space in the background. The man’s profile picture showed a soldier wearing his dress uniform and posed in front of an American flag. Specialist Adam Rodriguez could only be described as looking like a soldier, proud and stoic with a masculine chin and edgy features. His hair was cut in a tight, medium fade, and his face was clean shaven.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, but don’t they ever let you guys smile in those pictures?” Christina asked.

“Some of the higher-ranking officers smile, but at that rank, they actually have something to smile about.”

“Army life getting you down?”

“There are less irritating ways to almost qualify for food stamps,” Adam quipped.

“You do sound bitter,” Christina said. “You weren’t always like that.”

“Sorry. This place . . . this life tends to wear on you.”

“I guess it must.”

“Sorry,” Adam repeated.

“No, it’s okay,” Christina said. “It’s understandable. It’s actually kind of refreshing. You’re always acting like you’re indestructible. I want you to be yourself. That’s the Adam I like. You probably don’t get many chances to just be yourself in the Army.”

“No,” Adam replied, “I suppose not.”

Suddenly, the screen flickered, and the two could finally see each other in near real time. Adam could finally see his beautiful girlfriend. She still looked as vibrant as her photo, relaxing in her parent’s house. It was day in California, and the room behind Christina was framed by pleasant sunlight. Conversely, Adam no longer lived up to the peerless stoicism portrayed in his Army profile photograph. Adam’s eyes were hooded, and dark circles had grown in prominence around them. His hair had become matted and slightly unkempt during his time overseas. In place of the pristine US Army dress uniform was a rumpled digital-patterned combat uniform. It looked almost as haggard as Adam. Even Adam’s facial expression was haggard and lacked animation. He was sitting in a tight cubicle at a cafe run by the Military’s Welfare and Recreation organization.

“Oh, you look so tired,” Christina commented. “What time is it over there?”

Adam shrugged listlessly. “Late, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to stay up just to talk to me.”

Adam shook his head. “No, I do. It’s important to me, and you look really beautiful.”

Christina smiled warmly. “Thanks.”

There was so much love in Christina’s eyes when she looked into the camera. Adam’s typically icy heart melted. The two lovers just sat for a long moment, looking into each other’s eyes and not saying a word.

Eventually, Christina broke the silence. She bit her lip and said, “You must be going outside of the wire again.”

Adam sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing both of his eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“You always call when you’re about to go somewhere.”

Adam shrugged. “It’s important, you know, to call. You never know when it could be the last time.”

Christina shook her head. Just then, the service dropped most of the frames, so it appeared to Adam as a series of blurred-motion snapshots. “Don’t say that,” she admonished. “You’ll be fine. I thought everyone called you the angel of death over there.”

Adam smirked. “Yeah. Azrael, the angel of death.”

“Then what do you have to be worried about?” Christina jibed. “The angel of death has nothing to worry about.”

Adam shrugged, slouching in his chair and putting on a smug expression. “I guess you’re right about that.”

Christina smiled and shook her head. “You can be so full of yourself.”

“You seem to like it.”

“Don’t push it.”

Adam chuckled, and then his mood changed. He looked pensive. “I just wish I could shake this feeling I have. It’s different this time.”

Christina looked at Adam with adoration. She tried to assuage his fears. “Different? Why? Where are you going?”

“I’m not supposed tell you,” Adam admitted. “It’s classified.”

Christina appeared taken aback by this. “Are you serious?”

Adam exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I am. This one is big. They’re hardly even telling us anything, but I know it has to be big just because of everyone involved.”

“Like wha—” Christina cut her herself off. In the next moment, the video feed on Adam’s monitor went dark. Christina’s profile picture reappeared.

“Ugh, dammit.” Adam started clicking on the screen as if that would bring her back.

Christina’s voice sounded over the speakers. “Adam?”

“Chrissy?”

“Did your video just drop too?”

“Yeah, what kind of crappy internet are you using over there?”

Christina laughed. “Me? You’re the one in Nowhere, Afghanistan!”

Adam only chuckled.

“It’s okay. We can keep going like this,” Christina suggested.

Adam nodded to himself. “So what’s going on back home?”

“Oh, nothing much, with me, really. Téa and I talked a little yesterday. She called me out of the blue. It was a little awkward.”

Adam smiled. He found that amusing. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I think she was, like, trying to relate to me or something. She was asking a lot about me and wanted to get together. I don’t know. It was nice that she was trying to get to know me better, but either I weird her out or she’s just shy or . . . something. Like I said, it was awkward.”

Adam continued to nod. Téa could be like that. She was his best friend back in the States, but she was the reserved type, even more so around stronger personalities, like Christina’s.

“Oh, the animals might be going a little crazy around here,” Christina continued.

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

“There’ve been attacks, like, on people. The news called it a chupacabra.”

Adam found that kind of amusing. “Really? That’s funny. No one saw what bit them?”

Christina’s tone was dire. She always lent more credence to paranormal events because of her upbringing. “No one’s lived to tell the tale. They weren’t just bites, the bodies were discovered all torn apart. Organs were missing.”

Adam was shocked. “What? Really? Shit.”

“They don’t want people travelling alone at night anymore,” Christina finished.

Adam was awestruck. “Yeah, that’s probably smart. You got someone to buddy around with at night?”

“Yeah, you know, some friends from school, coworkers. Danny’s been real nice.”

“Danny?” Adam asked. Adam remembered Danny, and if it was the Danny he was thinking about, he didn’t want him hanging around his girl while he was gone. Adam and Danny Lacey had been in a bitter feud since high school, and Adam knew the guy wanted to steal Christina away from him. That natural suspicion and jealousy any soldier would have while deployed welled up in Adam’s chest. His face grew hot with anger. If he ever found out Danny put the moves on Christina, god help him—especially if it worked—Adam would beat him until he begged for mercy . . . twice.

“I can feel you stewing over there,” Christina said.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Can you blame me?”

“He’s just being nice.”

Adam shook his head. “That’s . . . that’s downright delusional thinking.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Christina said with a biting tone. “Jesus, I can’t believe how you talk to me nowadays. You sound more bitter every time you call. Sometimes I think maybe the Army changed you too much, that . . . if I ever see you again, the Adam that left won’t be the one I get back.”

Adam sighed. He had to admit, Christina was right. Every time they talked online, it felt like they’d strayed farther apart and had less in common. Adam knew he had changed. There were times he felt like he was only a shell. He’d spent so long in the Army only feeling irritation or anger or fear. Whenever he spoke to Christina, he had to pretend to be jovial, to affect a superficial charm, only it seemed that Christina could always see through it. He was afraid that it would drive her away from him. Adam cared less and less about things that used to matter to him, but he put on a brave face because he didn’t want to lose her.

Adam started to speak. He wanted to smooth things over, but then the computer sounded a tonal alert, and the screen popped up with a “duration of call” report. The call had been dropped.

Adam rolled his eyes and sighed, hunching over the desk with his hands on his face. “Dammit,” he muttered. He just couldn’t catch a break. Never mind. He was tired anyway, and he could just send her a text later. The next day was planned to be an early morning, so Adam picked himself up. He grabbed his hat on his way from the desk and pulled it on before he reached the door. He heard the wind raging outside, and it stopped him short. No doubt the tempest was kicking up sand in all directions. Sighing, Adam tugged the hat more tightly onto his head and opened the door.

The wind tried to yank the door from Adam’s grip the moment it was pushed outward. Not releasing the handle, Adam was simply dragged right along with it. The door pulled him into the wake of the raging sand. He stumbled off the stoop before regaining his balance. Adam moved around the door to set his full weight against it and then pressed the door closed like an old-timey farm hand trying to shift a cart with a broken wheel. All the while, it felt as if the wind would swing under the bill of his hat and scoop it off his head.

Gripping his hat in his hand and squinting against the barrage of sand, Adam trudged back to his housing unit. It was the dead of night, and the wind was whipping sand in every direction. Adam could hardly see the buildings ten feet from him. More than once, a random soldier, contractor, or local would emerge from the cloud like a phantom. To Adam’s great dismay, they were always wearing goggles over their eyes and a neck gaiter or towel over their mouths. When Adam first went to the MWR, he didn’t have the presence of mind to bring anything like that, so he just ducked his head into the current of sand and trudged on.

Stumbling, sliding, and feeling his way back, Adam finally returned to his housing unit, which was little more than a Conex that the Army allowed Adam and his roommate to live inside. Still, for Afghanistan, it was pretty sweet.

When Adam opened the door, his roommate, Specialist Alvarez, shielded his body from the onslaught of militant sand that erupted from the door in Adam’s wake. Considering that the young soldier was wearing nothing but boxers with his feet kicked up onto the desk in front of him, it was probably a losing battle.

“Ai! Cabron!” Alvarez exclaimed.

After Adam pulled the door shut, he looked skeptically at the near-naked soldier. Then he pulled off his hat as he squeezed between Alvarez’s chair and cot on the way to his area in the back of the unit. Sand had saturated Adam’s clothing and drizzled from his hair once it was released from the hat. Battered from his talk with Christina, how it ended, and his difficult march through the desert sand, Adam lowered himself onto his cot with his head hanging. It presented a very grizzled image with Adam’s moisture-starved hair sparking in all directions and the fine layer of sand dying his combat uniform a muted tan.

“You look beat, A-Rod.” Alvarez hadn’t even looked away from the video game he was playing on his laptop. “How are things at home with your girl?”

Alvarez was a shorter and stockier soldier than Specialist Rodriguez, and he’d opted for a clean-shaven head where Adam had a medium fade, but otherwise, the Army had endeavored to make them indistinguishable from each other and had succeeded for the most part. When Adam first got to the unit, he’d gone out for drinks with some of the other soldiers. He had a good time and affected his boyish charm, but Alvarez was the only one of them whose company he wasn’t only pretending to appreciate. He wasn’t a phony. In a world that seemed to Adam as if it were made out of plastic, Benito Alvarez was like old rugged steel; that’s why they were friends.

Adam brushed the sand out of the parts of his hair that had not been covered by the hat. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Alvarez paused his game and gave Adam a look. “Fine?”

Adam just shook his head, dismissing it.

Alvarez sighed and dropped his feet off the desk, thrusting himself up. He lumbered over to where Adam sat and plopped down onto the bed. Adam’s eyes darted disconcertedly about the scene of Alvarez’s near nakedness being where he slept every day, but Alvarez took no notice.

“Tell me what’s going on, man.” Alvarez’s tone was bordering on a sigh as he spoke. “What’s Christina doing?”

Adam looked at him, unamused. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know. Look, it’s probably nothing. I’m just not giving her the benefit of the doubt, that’s all.”

“Well, tell me, man.”

Adam sighed and cracked his neck. The words came with great difficulty. “It’s just . . . there’s, like, been animal attacks. For safety”—Adam threw up air quotes with his fingers—“she’s been hanging out with this guy that we both know from high school.” Adam waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just being paranoid, that’s all.”

Alvarez gave Adam another look that made Adam feel foolish. “I don’t think so, man.”

“What?” Adam asked.

“I don’t think you’re just being paranoid.”

Adam sighed and shook his head. “You know, you’re a real fucking help, Benny.”

Alvarez scoffed. “Well, that’s what I think, man. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it.” He hunched over and braced his right elbow against his knee, turning toward Adam. “How long have you been in the Army?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“How long have you been in the Army?” Alvarez stressed the words further on the repetition.

Adam lowered his head in exasperation and stared at the floor as he spoke. “Two years, three months, and seventeen days . . . but who’s counting?”

“She’s cheating on you.”

Adam threw his hands up. “Why?”

To Alvarez, this question was absurd. “Think about it, man! Even when we were at Lewis, you maybe got down to California to see her once every couple of weeks.”

Adam shrugged. “What? That’s good!”

“Yeah, maybe for a soldier that’s good, but you say you guys were high school sweethearts.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So you’ve been seeing this girl, this love of your life, once every couple of weeks for the last two years? She’s cheating on you.”

Adam was getting sick of it. “No, man! Why is that the conclusion?”

Whoever had hurt Benito in the past left a bitter man in their wake. His distrust of women was blunt and unapologetic. “Because women are sluts, dude!”

Adam’s mouth fell open. Outrage grew in his stomach as tingling heat and constriction. He did not need those words spoken to him.

Alvarez continued, undaunted. “After probably three years of being together, once every couple of weeks is not enough. She craves the dick just like every other girl, and if she can’t get it from you, the moment she wants it, she’ll get it from somewhere else. She probably didn’t even make it through you being at basic training without spreading her le—”

Alvarez hardly saw the punch coming. Only a blur crossed his vision before the knuckles of Adam’s left hand crashed into his lips and jaw. Alvarez’s lips split open, and his head was rocked to the side. He had to brace against the edge of the bed to prevent himself from falling to the floor. Adam knew how to throw a punch, and he was right-handed too. It could have been worse had Alvarez not been sitting on Adam’s right side.

Alvarez groaned, cradling the wound in his hand. “Fuck!” he shouted into his hand. “Fuck’d you do that for?”

Adam had sprung to his feet and was breathing heavily. “Are you serious?” he growled.

“Puto!” Alvarez stood and swung his right fist at Adam’s face. Adam threw his hands up instinctually, blocking the blow, and then they latched onto each other in a juvenile contest of strength. Alvarez managed to slip his leg behind Adam’s and threw him to the ground. Not releasing Alvarez, Adam dragged him along for the ride. Their bodies crashed into the desk that had been provided for Adam, and then they flopped onto the floor in a heap.

Alvarez climbed on top of Adam, growling curses in English and Spanish. He fired several quick jabs at Adam’s face. They were poorly aimed and executed, but even with Adam’s hands thrown up in defense, two of the strikes landed square on Adam’s cheekbone. Adam defended himself further by wrapping his legs around Alvarez’s back and hugging Alvarez’s head to his chest. In the constricted space, Alvarez could hardly move. He tried to punch blindly at Adam’s ribs. It was ineffectual at first, but once Alvarez figured out exactly where they were, he stuck hard and sure.

Adam groaned from the pain, released Alvarez’s head, and quickly grabbed his opponent’s right arm. Adam then unwrapped his legs from around Alvarez’s body and attempted to twist his own body sideways, slipping his legs into position across Alvarez’s chest. Alvarez recognized what Adam was attempting and restrained Adam’s right leg against the floor. Then Alvarez wriggled out of Adam’s grasp and scrambled away.

Separated and with time to think, the two soldiers got back to their feet. The only sound that filled the housing unit was their labored breathing and the howling of the wind outside. They glared at each other angrily for a long time, threatening to continue fighting.

In the end, reason won out. Alvarez shook his head angrily, muttering another curse under his breath and plopping back down into his chair. He threw his expensive headphones over his ears and started listening to music. With the two of them trapped in the room together and the storm raging outside, all he could do was try to pretend Adam didn’t exist.

Adam was sort of relieved when Alvarez decided not to continue the fight. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes as his body untensed. Still huffing breaths in and out, his heart hammering in his chest, Adam turned and unzipped his jacket. The motion stressed the freshly bruised muscles over his ribcage, and a quiet groan escaped Adam’s throat. Just then, Adam noticed that there was something missing from his desk. Adam didn’t have much on his desk to begin with, seeing as he wasn’t into video games nearly as much as Alvarez, so it was very noticeable. Only the small laptop still stood in place. Adam scanned the top of the desk from side to side and then down to the floor adjacent. There Adam discovered his small hinged picture frame facedown.

Gingerly, Adam lowered himself to one knee and lifted it from the floor. He had hoped there would be no damage, but the moment the floor was no longer holding it all in place, shards of cheap glass fell from the frame. Adam turned it over to discover that the picture on the left side, which was of him and his friend Téa had become the sole victim of his and Alvarez’s stupidity. The glass was shattered, but worse yet was the fact that the loose glass had gnawed into the photograph, leaving a white gash across the length of Téa’s torso.

“I’m sorry.”

Adam looked up at Alvarez. His headphones had been pushed up off his ears, and he was watching Adam pick up the pieces.

“I wouldn’t have had that happen,” Alvarez continued. “I know you don’t really have much out here and those pictures mean a lot to you.”

Adam didn’t have the heart to respond positively or negatively. He just looked forlorn, like a kicked puppy.

“You and that Tee-girl together too?” Alvarez asked.

Adam furrowed his eyebrows when he looked at Alvarez. “What do you mean T-girl?”

Alvarez quickly realized how that must have sounded. “I don’t mean . . . I mean . . . I’m sure she’s not a T-girl. What I meant was her name. I saw it before.”

Adam found this amusing. A playful grin actually started growing on his face. “You mean tay-uh?”

“Oh, yeah. It looks like tea, you know? Like the kind you drink?”

Adam chuckled, just a little. “Yeah, I know. It’s like Croatian or something.”

“So are you with her on the side or something?” Alvarez restated.

“No! Don’t be stupid. Téa and I are just friends. We’ve been friends forever.”

Alvarez leaned back in his chair, looking critically at the photographs from across the room. “Yeah, you two are close.”

Adam considered the pictures. On the left side of the hinge, there was a picture of Adam and Christina. They were at a bar. They both had a drink in their hands. Adam’s arm was around Chrissy’s waist, and both were smiling for the camera. On the right side were Adam and Téa. They were outside in the sun. Adam had his arm over Téa’s shoulders, but instead, Téa was tucking her face shyly into the crook of Adam’s neck. They did look closer. Both were smiling, but it wasn’t posing.

All Benito could see of Téa’s face was the sneaky grin and the chin that hinted at the rest of her slim features. She may have been a real cutie, but what was left of her face was covered by her playful bob, dyed a dark, shimmering red. She was wearing an army “Never Quit” T-shirt over a body that was so thin it was almost boyish. Adam must have given the shirt to her. She would never join the Army the same way they had. From what Adam had told him, she was too independent and too artistic for it to be wasted.

“Téa and I . . .” Adam started, “we’re not confused about our relationship. We were once, sort of. But . . . I guess there was just nothing there.”

Benito didn’t get it at all. He shook his head at the absurdity. “What?”

“It’s easy between us, you know?” Adam said. “We’re comfortable around each other, and that’s . . . just not how passionate relationships are. We’re like . . . old sweaters to each other.”

Benito didn’t even bother asking “what” again. He just gave Adam a look.

Adam exhaled sharply. He knew he wasn’t explaining very well. “Téa and I are just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Believe me, I know.”

Alvarez knew he wasn’t really standing on thick-enough ice to suggest Adam change deodorant, much less admonish him for what sounded like cruel and thoughtless friend-zoning, so he simply nodded. “I get it, I think.”

Alvarez powered down his gear in silence while Adam undressed and got ready for bed. They flicked off the light, and Adam was left to contemplate his future in the inky blackness. He couldn’t shake a heavy apprehension weighing on his heart. The next day would be bloody. There was no avoiding it, but the howl of the mighty wind outside the housing unit served to relax Adam, and before he knew how tired he was, sleep overtook him.

 

2

Adam and Benito’s morning alarm sounded harshly before the sun even had a chance to rise over the mountains of Afghanistan. Groggy and anxious, the two soldiers nevertheless climbed out of bed with little hesitation. The inherent seriousness of the day’s projected events motivated them with grave purpose. In short order, Adam and Benito emerged from their housing unit clad in the battle dress of the modern soldier: combat helmets, ballistic eye protection, improved outer tactical vests, knee and elbow pads, and pouches for everything from first-aid kits to weapons magazines. On their backs were small digital pattern assault packs holding the minimum supplies for a short-range mission. They carried their M4 carbine assault rifles as they walked to the designated formation area.

The squall from the previous night had completely died down. In its absence, the wind only blew a calm, chill breeze through the base. Other infantrymen from the soldiers’ platoon could be seen funneling toward the formation area. A half moon shone brightly amid a sea of twinkling stars, uninterrupted by cloud or shade.

After trundling through the loose sand for some minutes, the two soldiers came upon the formation. Soldiers milled about without form, but their bags had been lined up in a box shape with stout rifles leaned against them to keep the muzzles out of the sand. Adam and Benito piled their equipment with the rest of their comrades and then joined in on their idle conversation. So much about the Army involves just waiting for enough time to pass.

Without much of a delay, someone called for the soldiers to fall in on their gear, and a roll call was performed to ensure accountability of all the troops. No one was missing. Everyone was aware of the seriousness of the situation. Another lull passed while the soldiers stood by their gear, and Adam became aware of all the people who had surrounded him. More than just the other infantrymen, another neat formation had formed off to the side, with nearly as many soldiers. These other men wore the distinctive “Ranger” tab above their unit crest. Adam had qualified to jump out of a plane in his time, but these guys had taken it further. Their demeanor was surprisingly similar to that of his own platoon. He’d never seen a group of rangers altogether like that before, but he’d expected them to be more taut, quiet, and serious, like their heads went somewhere else. This did not appear to be the case.

On top of the rangers and standard infantry, there were even more men. This third group had a few more years on the earth in comparison. They took no formation whatsoever, and instead stood around looking very relaxed. Each of their ranks denoted them as officers and warrant officers of varying degree. Helicopter pilots, Adam decided. This guy they were after, Adam had only gotten the warning order earlier, but for some reason, his house was getting smashed on, up close and personal.

A master sergeant stepped outside of the hangar nearest the gathering of soldiers. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Mission brief, inside!”

Arduously, everyone milling around made their way, single file, through the entrance adjacent to the giant rolling door that dominated one end of the hangar. Inside was devoid of any aircraft. Only two rows of tables, one on either side of the building, still stood. They provided support for forms, ruggedized computers, and many other items, most of which Adam had not been taught to use. At the far end of the hangar, another table had been placed with a projector resting on top. It cast the image of the impending presentation’s title over the bare wall: “Operation Lone Prairie.”

Adam shook his head. Where did they get these names from?

“Make it tight!” the master sergeant shouted. “Make it tight! We’re burning daylight.”

Adam heard Alvarez imitate the sound of scratching a vinyl record behind him. It made him smile.

There were no chairs. The soldiers in front just started sitting cross-legged on the floor. Adam was about to follow suit when someone shouted, “Attention!” Adam didn’t even see who had entered the room, but he stood rigid, just as he had been conditioned to. Adam knew that there was already at least one colonel in the room, which meant for someone to call attention.

“Relax, everybody,” the incoming general said in a silvery old voice.

Adam did as he was told and then turned around to gaze upon the general. He’d seen generals up close before, but discovering a new one never ceased to be a novelty. This particular one was surprisingly short. He wasn’t just an old white guy quite yet, appearing perhaps to be in his late forties or early fifties. He hid male-pattern baldness by shaving his head to a chrome-dome sheen. Two-stars on his chest put him in charge of the entire division, yet he took time out to attend that mission brief. No doubt it was under his authority that the Army rangers and all of these helicopters became involved too. Hopefully the mission brief would enlighten Adam as to why it was so important.

The general walked silently to the front of the room, offering a quick smile and nod to the soldiers staring as he passed. “How’s everyone doing this morning?” he asked before he reached his destination.

The crowd responded with a loud “Hooah!” Except Adam, of course. He didn’t usually participate in being loud just to impress a high-ranking officer. He had no doubt he wasn’t going to appreciate the patronizing introductory speech the general would inevitably give either.

“That’s good. It’s good to see that you guys are so motivated this early in the morning. But I didn’t expect anything less. Nothing but heartbreakers and life-takers in this formation, am I right?”

“Hooah!”

“And the drone guys!” one of the rangers put in. This elicited a small chuckle from the group.

The general smirked and shrugged. “That’s right. The UAV guys are going to be watching every inch so no target escapes our net. Eye in the sky!” he finished with a flourish.

“Hooah!” the dozen or so drone operators in the room sounded off.

Adam rubbed his forehead. The amount of “hooah” in the room could give anyone a headache, and it would only get worse. The general proceeded to list off all the other groups in the room. Each of them responded with “Hooah”—the Apache and Blackhawk pilots, the rangers, the Stryker troops, and finally the regular infantry.

The general bobbed his head in approval. “That’s some good motivation, and we’re going to need every ounce of it. Today’s operation is a special one. You all got the WARNO, and you know that we are going after an HVT on his home turf. We are taking the fight right to him, and we want him alive. This operation is high visibility. The media already has its eye on Mr. El-Hashem because of his lucrative human trafficking scheme that he runs out of the compound. Well, Captain Donowitz will be able to tell you more, but we cannot afford to screw this up. All right? I have no doubt that we have the right men assembled here for the job. I don’t want to talk all morning. You guys have work to do, so I would like to hand it over to your battle captain for this operation, Captain Donowitz. Good luck, Godspeed. Light, silent, and deadly.”

“And smelly,” Alvarez muttered.

The general moved away from the front table with a few more “Hooahs” in his wake. The captain walked up and shook his hand as they exchanged some platitudes Adam couldn’t hear. The general then continued on his way out of the building, and the captain took his place for the full mission brief. Adam couldn’t wait.

The captain was a broad-shouldered black man, also with a shaven head, who appeared to not have even reached his mid-thirties yet, but the shape he was in, it could have just been hard to tell. He held a short stack of papers in one hand. “All right, good morning, light fighters.”

“Hooah” again.

“All right, hooah, hooah. This is the mission brief for Operation Lone Prairie. Its classification is Secret, and the risk level has been approved by the division commander, who you just saw, obviously.” Like most soldiers giving a presentation, Captain Donowitz fidgeted while speaking. “Next slide, please.”

The soldier operating the computer advanced the image, and the title was replaced by a short paragraph, which the captain read nearly verbatim.

“Operation Lone Prairie is a joint effort, clandestine in nature, between the Seventh Infantry Division and the Second Ranger Battalion, with other supporting units. The mission is to, using simultaneous air, ground, and reconnaissance forces, breach the enemy compound and detain the high value target. Next slide, please.”

Once again, the presentation advanced, switching to a picture of a man and a short profile. The man was Middle Eastern, slight of build, in his mid-thirties, and wearing a plain taqiyah atop his head. A few weeks’ worth of beard growth carpeted his cheeks. The picture had been taken at some sort of gathering. Many more people, perhaps thousands, stood in the back ground, all facing the same direction.

“Our target,” the captain continued, “Harun El-Hashem, is a known Taliban sympathizer and the leader of the Scorched Sand, a criminal organization very active in the region. It is suspected that they have been supplying the Taliban in the region with a majority of their small weapons, as well as maintaining operations smuggling large quantities of opium and human trafficking. It’s this link that we are trying to exploit.” The captain began pacing from side to side in front of the presentation and talking with his hands. “Hashem is officially a high-level target. We want him brought in for interrogation, which means that you need to familiarize yourselves with this face. We want him alive. Now, luckily, we know right where he is. Next slide, please.”

The slide advanced to a top-down satellite image of a walled compound. Inside the walls were eight smaller buildings, about the size of duplexes, and one very large house at the far end. The large house was enormous, probably mansion-sized, and not nearly as decrepit as the others. Adam surmised that the smaller buildings were for workers or working. Two elongated buildings looked like they could be barracks, and the mansion, of course, was for El-Hashem and his buddies to swap stories, drugs, and people, too, apparently. Desert still dominated the ground inside the compound, but an area in the corner appeared to be tilled and was growing vegetation, either grass or perhaps farming.

“This is Hashem’s compound outside of the town of Kohsān,” the captain continued. “Because we are trying to avoid a conflict altogether, the first step will be surrounding the compound on all sides as fast as we can. We give Hashem no escape and no options, and hopefully, he will just surrender.” There the captain looked at his group and shrugged. “We’ll see. Anyway, in the event that he does not surrender, our objective will be the swift neutralization of his guards, breach and clear on all the buildings, and finally, securing Hashem. It’s important to remember that it’s not just bad guys in there. These other buildings surrounding the mansion are where Hashem keeps workers from the nearby town. These people are likely to be unarmed, and beyond that, their only allegiance to Hashem is a reliance on the money he pays them, and it’s probably not much. There may also be slaves on the property. Hashem is known to traffic in persons. These are girls and women, some of them probably no more than teenagers, or God help me, younger, so the name of the game here is PID. Know exactly what it is you’re aiming at. The media has already done a profile on Hashem and his activities. The world knows who this guy is, and once word is out about this operation, we’ll be under the microscope. So I remind you, keep the collateral damage to an absolute minimum, and we may come out of this heroes yet.”

The captain used a laser pointer to circle areas along the walls of the pictured compound. “Each element will have a specific compartmentalized task and direction of approach. Seventh I-D will cover most sides. The rangers, as well as a contingent of the infantry, will approach from the southeast, the area closest to the mansion. The rangers will breach the mansion to engage any hostiles and search for the target, while the rest of the element pulls security outside. This is both to watch the rangers’ backs and also to prevent Hashem from attempting an escape. Inside the mansion is likely where Hashem shows off the merchandise to his rich friends, so this is where it’s most crucial to keep a clear head. And remember, we want Hashem alive for interrogation.

“Now, the wall surrounding the compound is nothing special. It’s not even wide enough to allow for Hashem’s guards to patrol them, so taking fire on our approach is unlikely. In the event that Hashem does not surrender himself, we will use Strykers to breach the wall and, using appropriate force, clear each building simultaneously. Your assigned area will be briefed to your leadership and passed on to you. Right now, we have soldiers handing out little range cards in plastic bags. These are an inspectable item . . .”

The captain droned on, and Adam spaced out. The apprehension from earlier in the day dissipated, replaced instead by the day-in, day-out monotony of army procedure. Five-hour convoy . . . net, hop, freq., yada, yada, yada . . .

The congregation was eventually dismissed. Adam was given his folding range card, and he walked back out to his gear amid the flow of bored and tired soldiers. He sat in silence next to his pile of expensive and ever-increasingly sand-coated equipment while the voices of people around him provided a cacophony of background noise. Everyone suddenly fell into formation around him, and then the squad leaders came by and checked to make sure everyone had everything they were supposed to have before the group disbanded again. Adam continued to sit idly, and his mind did the same. With nothing to fill the void, Adam began to hum a tune. He couldn’t place the name of it, but he knew that it was old. The seconds ticked away while Adam tapped his foot in time with the rhythm in his head.

Suddenly, Alvarez plopped down on top of his gear, actually startling Adam a little. It shook him from his senseless brooding.

“You look to be a deep well of thought.”

Adam didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Alvarez asked.

Adam took a deep breath, and then simply sighed. “Nothing, man.”

“Nothing? You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Alvarez gave him a look. “Don’t worry about it, man. This might be some heavy shit, but we’ll be fine. We always survive, you and I. We’re invincible, angels of death.”

Adam smirked inconspicuously. “Is that why I’m called Azrael?”

Alvarez looked confused. “Who calls you that?”

Suddenly, there was the booming voice of the master sergeant. “All right! Everyone secure your gear! We’re moving out to the trucks!”

Real apprehension swelled in Adam’s chest suddenly, like he was faced with the edge of a cliff and he couldn’t see the bottom. With a great huff of his breath, he hoisted himself to his feet and geared up. The body armor he slid over his head, the pack was slung over his shoulder, and his helmet completed the look. Adam marched to the motor pool among the waves of other soldiers and once again fell into formation.

The motor pool was a field of sand, much like everything else. Only there the sand had been driven over by multi-ton trucks and tracked vehicles thousands of times and ground into fine, light moon dust. Even the slightest wind could displace it, throwing it into the waiting eyes and mouths of hapless troops. Military vehicles of all types stood in long, neat rows among the ripples of sand, Humvees, LMTVs, Strykers. Some of them had box-shaped compartments on the back that hid or protected much more specialized equipment.

“All right!” another soldier shouted. It was a lieutenant with a clipboard. “Before we start staging vehicles for the convoy, you’re going to be assigned to your task force. This will determine how the vehicles are staged, so listen closely! The first group is the mansion breach team. If you’re a part of any of these groups, move to the first line and mount up! Second ranger battalion! First and second platoon, alpha troop, of three-two SBCT! And last: the Strykers! First platoon, delta troop, of three-two SBCT! Mount up! On the double!”

Adam had been playing with the bolt on his rifle. He looked up at the speaker suddenly, and his eyes widened. He had not expected to learn his fate quite so suddenly. First platoon of alpha troop was his and Alvarez’s platoon. They were assigned to pull security around the mansion while the rangers cleared inside and secured the target. Not a bad assignment, actually. It would keep Adam out of the more immediate danger involved in clearing the other buildings. All they had to do was make sure no one snuck up on them, and no one escaped.

More than sixty soldiers fell out of formation and trudged to the line. There, a noncommissioned officer directed them to the trucks they were intended to occupy. Adam clambered into the back of a covered truck and took his seat among a dozen of his fellow soldiers. The truck was soon moved to the staging area. As the sun climbed further into the sky, the inside of the truck heated quickly. Nearly another hour passed while the soldiers waited, making small talk. Finally, the truck lumbered from its resting place, and everyone cheered.

Adam was impressed. It was actually a short turnaround time for moving a battalion’s worth of soldiers. Then his mood darkened quickly as he remembered how long he would be sitting in the back of that damn truck.

The time passed slowly while the heat ate away at Adam’s resolve. Most of the time, only sand could be seen passing by in the gaps between the folds of the tarp. Every once in a while, there would be a flash of a destroyed car, a person or two in their robes, and maybe a camel if he was lucky. The numerous soldiers who were used to chewing or dipping tobacco would periodically spit a large dark glob through gaps in the cover while they chatted about small things, ragged on each other, and cracked jokes. Eventually, Adam tilted his head back against a cross bar and closed his eyes. Sleep would make the trip pass by much faster, and the oppressive heat did wonders to drop him into a deep slumber.

Sleeping on the truck was no simple task. Every once in a while, Adam would be jerked from his rest by an abrupt movement of the truck or an unruly guffaw from one of his battle buddies. The last time this happened was accompanied by a hydraulic hiss and the truck coming to a complete stop.

“A-Rod, we’re there,” Alvarez said.

Adam quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes, and his body went on alert. They had reached the terrorist compound, and he had no idea what was waiting for him outside of the bedcover. Adam heard the passenger door open and shut. Footsteps sounded alongside the truck, and then the locks on the tailgate clicked open one after the other.

The tailgate dropped to reveal the sergeant who had ridden in the front. “All right. Everybody out! Get three-sixty security around the trucks.”

Soldiers folded up the rear tarpaulin, and the early noon sunlight flooded into the dank bed of the truck. Adam flinched from the sudden change in illumination and quickly fumbled for his shaded safety glasses. By twos, the soldiers hopped out of the truck bed, dashing to evenly spaced positions around the truck. There, they dropped to one knee and kept vigilant watch. Dozens of other vehicles parked in the same patch of sand. They unloaded more soldiers and added to the security of the staging area. Soon the area was alive with activity and the sound of idling engines.

Adam took up post away from the mountains and the compound, leaving him staring out into a vast, quiet expanse of sand. The heat was interrupted only by a weak, stray breeze that graced Adam’s exposed cheeks. The rest of his body was left to sweat under the multiple layers of clothing and equipment. Over his shoulder, he could see little of the compound. El-Hashem’s beautiful mansion-sized house towered over the cruddy mud wall. The contrast was typical of the region, to be honest. Everyone would be living in poor hovels, driving twenty-year-old—or older—beater cars, and then that one rich motherfucker would blow down the highway in a brand-new Lamborghini. A person could look over the wall out of any of the second-floor windows on the mansion. El-Hashem had to know they were there. It was foolish from a strategic point of view. Then again, Adam supposed the point was to show El-Hashem what he had coming, like sticking a big gun in his face.

Adam shook his head and went back to his field of fire just as the distant sound of helicopter blades whispered in his ear. They approached from the east, along the mountain range. The rapid beating of their spinning blades grew in volume and intensity until it finally reached deafening levels as the four Apache Longbows passed directly over Adam’s head. Adam looked up to get a glimpse, but only saw their dark silhouettes as they passed under the noon sun. The glare caused him to flinch and look away.

The choppers moved to hover directly over the compound. Beneath them, workers and guards armed with AK-47s ran for cover like roaches when the lights come on. The guards were quick to herd the people into the nearest buildings.

The board was set. El-Hashem’s compound had been surrounded by the United States Army on every side. Warbirds and drones watched from the sky. Captain Donowitz stood next to his command truck with a CB microphone in hand. The twisting cord was connected to the bullhorns installed onto the top of the Humvee.

The captain lifted the microphone to his mouth and pressed the key. Feedback echoed from the speakers, and then a tense quiet fell over the desert while he continued formulating his message in his head. The soldiers around him stood in a stalwart silence with stone-faced expressions, the anxiety in their hearts not showing at all.

“Harun El-Hashem,” Captain Donowitz started. “This is the United States Army. We have you surrounded. We order you and your men to lay down your arms and for you to surrender yourself into our custody. If you do not comply, we will enter your compound and detain you by force! You have ten minutes to comply!”

The captain handed the microphone to the soldier nearest him, and the troop repeated the message in Arabic.

The radios in the command truck on the clear other side of the compound crackled to life with the news. “Bayonet 3 just issued the warning. Ten-minute time limit. Stand by for further instruction. Breach only on my mark.”

Alvarez hustled up next to Adam and took a knee. “Hey, buddy. Doing checks. How are you on water?”

“Good,” Adam replied. Of course, Alvarez smacked the two canteens anyway.

“All right, good, and you’ve been drinking out of them. How are you doing otherwise? Shit might pop off in another few minutes, your head in the game?”

“I have a song stuck in my head,” Adam said dryly.

Alvarez snorted. “All right. Well, I have to go get the rest of these reports. See ya.”

Adam offered a short nod just before Alvarez bounded off to the next soldier. Ten more minutes. With a timer on it, Adam’s anxiety quickly wrapped a hand around his heart that tingled as if charged with electricity.

The compound had completely emptied. Not a worker or guard walked the paths between the buildings while the attack choppers hovered overhead. No move was made to surrender. When this report was given to Captain Donowitz, he shook his head.

“Dammit. We thought Hashem might try this. He’s not surrendering. His men are hiding in the buildings and will probably use the workers as hostages. Tell the soldiers gas masks and CS gas when breaching the buildings, and tell them the breach will commence on my order.”

The word was passed on and then down to every soldier. Adam cursed when he heard the news, tearing his mask pouch open and knocking the helmet from his head.

The mask made Adam’s face sweat even worse than it had been. Every breath became laborious as he marched closer to the wall, surrounded by Humvees and Strykers on every side. The procession ground to a halt several dozen yards away, and the Strykers pulled to the front, awaiting the order to breach.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when the order was sounded. There were too many vehicles around for Adam to hear the radio, but the commander of the formation wasted no time in relaying the order to the three Strykers in the front. Their mighty diesel engines roared to a fever pitch, and then they rocketed forward with an agility not expected of such large armors. As they barreled for the meager partitions, the Humvees and soldiers on foot followed behind at jogging speed.

The three Strykers crashed through the wall so easily, it may as well have been made of saltine crackers. Neat Stryker-sized holes were made in the facade, and large chunks of sod were launched haplessly through the air. The Strykers then pulled to the side to affect cover as the soldiers of the Seventh Infantry Division and Army rangers entered the compound. Soldiers surrounding the area performed a similar tactic simultaneously. Strykers broke down the walls on every side of the stronghold, and American soldiers rushed in.

Adam stuck close to his squad leader, and the sergeant led the squad to their assigned guard point at the front of the building. Adam and the other seven soldiers ran, crouched under the windows of the mansion, and took position at regular intervals along the wall. Each of them pointed their weapons in a different direction to be sure no one snuck up on them. Another squad passed them on the way to the other side of the large front double door that led inside. Adam found himself next to a window. His heart thumped in his chest, and the gas mask served to echo every labored breath in his ears.

The mansion was quickly surrounded by the infantry while the rangers stayed close to the Strykers. They had no intention of entering the building through the front door. The main foyer would be a shooting gallery. Instead, a squad of the rangers moved up to the east wall. One soldier snuck up to a window there and trepidatiously peeked inside. When he lowered back down to his crouch, he signaled a thumbs-up to another soldier holding a pack of plastic explosive and moved away. The room was confirmed to be empty, so the soldier with the bomb stalked up to the window and installed the explosive on the wall below while the rest of his squad pulled security. The process was complete in seconds, and the squad ran back to the safety of the Strykers.

“Clear!” the demolitions soldier shouted.

Dozens of soldiers echoed, “Clear!”

With that, the demolitions soldier ducked his head for better protection behind the armored Stryker and pressed the detonator. That small portion of wall exploded in flame, spraying dust and debris that bounced harmlessly off the Strykers and rolled, smoking, through the sand.

The squad of rangers converged on the breach quickly and efficiently. They stacked up on the rubble next to the hole and then, one after the other, filed inside with their weapons held ready to fire at any threat.

The entire compound came alive with the sounds of gunfire as infantrymen charged expeditiously up its length. The soldiers knocked the front doors of the small buildings open and shouted the Arabic phrase for “Throw down your weapons and release the hostages!” Every time, the response was either gunfire or an angry Arabic response.

The soldiers then pulled out their CS gas grenades, pulled the pins, and threw them into the building. Within seconds, the flood of chemical smoke filled the room, and coughing could be heard. The armed men inside, without the protection of gas masks, succumbed to fits of hacking cough and hopelessly watering eyes. The workers they held in front of them, also suffering from the gas, doubled over, covering their mouths as they wheezed.

The soldiers entered the building, protected by their gear. They quickly identified guards by their dress and weaponry, and then eliminated them with extreme prejudice. Quick, precise shots punched through their chests, and they fell to the ground in limp heaps. The workers were guided outside for some fresh air.

Casualties were inevitable, both for the workers and soldiers. More than once, a jittery soldier failed in his identification and killed a worker. More than once, a soldier caught a bullet in an unarmored part of his body.

Meanwhile, all Adam could do was sit, tense, while he scanned the area in front of him. Gunfire was the only sound. A part of him felt guilty that he wasn’t in the real fight; a part of him was glad of it.

Inside the mansion, the rangers cleared the first room. The door leading to the rest of the house was open, and they filed through, kicking open doors as they advanced down the hall. Another squad of rangers followed through the breach behind them, and another after that.

A ranger kicked a door open to what looked like a small bedroom. One of El-Hashem’s guards was crouched down in the corner with his back to the door. When he turned to see who had entered, the soldier fired two bullets into his torso. The guard fell onto his stomach next to the device he had been operating. It looked like a small box with an antenna standing on top.

“Sergeant!” the soldier yelled.

A staff sergeant entered the room in another second. The soldier pointed to the device. “I think this guy was setting up an IED.”

The staff sergeant knelt down next to the device and gingerly pulled the detonator out. It was a simple electrical conduit connected to a receiver. “Looks like it’s not much.”

Suddenly, there was more gunfire down the hall. It sounded like the Army weapons at first, but then there was the reply of the guards’ heavier Russian assault rifles. The heavier rounds could be heard striking walls. The staff sergeant stood quickly and walked out into the hall. At the far end of the corridor, three guards were running away. Doors had been left hanging open on either side of the hall in their wake. The last guard in the group was running and then fired his weapon in a panic behind him. The staff sergeant ducked back into the room as more of the poorly aimed bullets destroyed the wallpaper all around.

The other soldiers in the hallway, undaunted, took firing positions and fired well-placed rounds down the hall. The last guard in line screamed and fell to the floor, flailing his arms about on the way down. The other two reached the end of the hallway and escaped the line of fire as fast as they could.

The staff sergeant stepped back out into the hallway and peered down the hall. The three doors the men had left open caught his attention. His face hardened, and he began a quick stride down the hall, past his comrades. His walk slowly grew into a jog, and then a run. He cared nothing for the other rooms they hadn’t checked yet. When he reached the first open door, he caught himself and glanced around inside. Sitting on the floor conspicuously was another improvised explosive.

The sergeant backed out of the room, realization dawning on him. Standing in the hall, he grimaced and turned to the soldiers waiting further up. “Get out!” he screamed and ran toward them. “We have IEDs in the building! Everyone out! The place is rigged!”

The soldiers turned tail and ran at a full sprint, echoing the command to the others further away.

“Get out!” the staff sergeant continued to scream, becoming more shrill with terror and exertion. “Get—”

The sergeant never finished his sentence. The loudest sound he had ever heard erupted all around him, and the earth shook. He stumbled and fell as fire flowed up the hallway, tearing down the walls. The ceiling collapsed, and fire rained down from above.

Outside, fire engulfed the entire east side of the building as not just the first floor but also the second and third floors exploded when the IEDs emplaced there were activated. The structural integrity of the east wing failed, collapsing like a house of cards, leaving the west wing all by its lonesome.

One of the Apache pilots hovering overhead exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

Adam heard the staff sergeant screaming as if he were in the room right above him. Curious and concerned, Adam stood and peered in the window. The room was empty, and the door was closed. The guy must have been just on the other side of the door for Adam to hear. Adam dropped back down to one knee and continued scanning for threats. Then the sergeant’s speech continued unintelligibly down the hallway. This gave Adam pause. The sergeant was running. Adam furrowed his eyebrows in concern, and then he turned to his sergeant, who was kneeling further down the line.

Only Adam didn’t even get as far as the staff sergeant inside did. Before Adam could open his mouth, the wall behind him gave birth to a fiery cataclysm. Rock, glass, and flame became Adam’s whole world. The rifle was ripped from his hands, and he was thrown, screaming, into the air. He didn’t know how far he had flown before landing, face-first in the debris, but it felt like diving from a high board into a pool.

The “pool” was a pile of smoking and flaming masonry in the coat of sand that hid the hard ground underneath. Much like diving into a pool, Adam’s breath was stolen upon impact. He lay, incapacitated and gasping. His lungs harvested no air, and no sound reached his ears besides the intense ringing his brain invented to fill the void. Adam’s head throbbed like someone had tried to temper his nerves on an anvil, and the skin on his neck was seared so badly it felt like the pain was in motion, flowing and ebbing from one part of his body to another.

Slowly, Adam regained strength in his lungs, and breaths came in short spasmodic huffs. His mask had been knocked crooked on his face, funneling his every breath up into his own nostrils. Everything was dark and strangling. He forced his eyes open, but there was only the dark. No light shone from any direction. The whole right side of Adam’s body refused to move. He grasped blindly with his left hand, exploring his surroundings like an insect with quivering, shattered antennae.

Suddenly there was gunfire. Adam was still mostly deaf, but the rhythm and the percussion of it were unmistakable. It was sporadic at first, but it escalated into a ferocious gun battle in the blink of an eye. The soft thoothoothoothoothoo surrounded him on all sides. In his mind, he could see the soldiers and the remnants of El-Hashem’s thugs battling it out. Bullets whizzed over his head while he lay helpless on the ground they fought over. The tune the battle made was quickly interrupted by a much-deeper bass line that rumbled in the earth to Adam’s left from the direction of the part of the mansion that hadn’t perished in flames quite yet. Adam was hoping the order hadn’t been given for the Apache’s to dump on what remained of the house. He could easily be trampled under a carpet of gigantic bullets and hellfire missiles. Then again, maybe that would be for the best. However bad his injuries actually were, he doubted that they were the kind you just walk away from. His head was filled with thunder and pain, and no matter how furiously he blinked, Adam’s eyes could only see the dark. His skin was burned, but at least he could feel the burning. That was good. It was likely that whatever the damage, it probably wasn’t that serious. But the pain was incredible, and the last thing he saw before he lost his vision was fire. It was basically all he could see. What if he was still on fire? Nightmare images of his clothes melting to his skin passed through Adam’s mind in the daze, and his brain was becoming a whirlwind of muddled thoughts.

Adam’s panicking was rudely interrupted by someone grabbing him brusquely by his dragon harness and hauling him as fast as possible over the rubble. Then three reports from a weapon sounded directly above his head. It was so loud it hurt. That was good, Adam’s hearing was improving. More good news in the form of unbelievable pain, which exploded all over his body as he was dragged unceremoniously over the hot sand; he could feel his right side. His spinal cord was intact. He was being dragged to his left too. That was good. His buddies were over on his left.

Suddenly, Adam was just dropped onto his back. His helmeted head landed sharply somewhere surprisingly cozy. Fearing the comfort to be a delusion, Adam turned his head from side to side. Two objects of similar composition yielded to his movements. It felt like two feet. Uh oh . . . two feet on either side. His savior had fallen on his back suddenly. Adam couldn’t speak, so he could only will the man back up in his head. He begged for the soldier to stand. There was no way he could accept someone getting shot for him after everything, not for him.

The feet stayed where they were, so Adam lay in the debris, motionless, his head resting between the feet of a hero who was probably bleeding to death from a gunshot wound. Adam’s soul actually relaxed, finding melancholy in some distant place inside his head. He wriggled the fingers on his right hand absently, testing the fact that they still worked. His brain seemed to be recovering from the shock and trauma. Or . . . no. It was something else. He felt tired . . . sleepy. Sleep could be good. He didn’t see any reason to resist it, so he let his body relax. The pain slipped away. Everything slipped away.

3

“Hey, bro.”

What?

“Hey, wake up.” A man with a soft Middle Eastern accent roused Adam from his sleep. He tapped his hand lightly on the side of Adam’s face.

What do you want? Adam stirred a little, his face quickly communicating his irritation.

“There you are,” the man said. “Come on, stay with me.”

Adam attempted to open his eyes but managed only a flutter at first. The light in the room was too intense for his tender vision.

“Open your eyes,” the man goaded. “Do you know where you are?”

Doing as he was told, Adam continued to force his eyes open. The light, soft as it turned out to be, stung. Shapes registered only as blurry outlines. At least he could see something. His vision was returning, though his head still throbbed. His muscles ached, his skin was burning, and his throat was dry, but somehow, he’d survived the explosion.

“Talk to me, bro,” the man’s voice persisted. “Do you know where you are?”

Adam shook his head as much as he dared. “No,” he croaked.

“Ahh, you see? He’s parched. Give me your water.”

A shape Adam hadn’t realized was another person moved across his field of vision and handed a canteen to the man sitting in front of him. The man unscrewed the canteen and held the opening gently to Adam’s lips. Adam leaned forward to receive the water, only to discover that his range of motion was limited by the ties securing his hands behind the chair on which he was seated. This frightened and confused Adam, but the revelation that he was somehow a prisoner fell to the wayside for a moment as the water poured from the opening and Adam received it gratefully. He drank greedily, but the man removed the canteen before Adam was completely satisfied, and water dribbled down his dirty chin.

“Not too fast. Not too fast, my friend. Not smart to be drinking so much,” the man chided.

Adam’s eyes were slowly focusing. Shapes began to define. He was inside a room, a nice room decorated by well-crafted furniture and beautiful carpet. The chair Adam was tied to was simple but strong. From his vantage point, he could only see two captors. The man on Adam’s right was an armed guard. He wore fatigue pants and a black shirt, with a light equipment holster. A balaclava hid the man’s face, and he cradled an old AK-47 in his arms as he leaned against a bureau.

The man seated directly in front of Adam, who had served him the water, was dressed far more casually with a plain black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His face was uncovered except for a neat beard, and he wore a checkered taqiyah atop his head. Adam eyed him with anger and suspicion upon recognizing him.

“Ahh, hey! It looks like you’re coming around! How do you feel?” the man in front of Adam asked.

Adam didn’t answer; he simply continued to hold the man with his fierce gaze.

The man continued to behave sociably. “Ohh, now. No need to be like that, bro. Do you know who I am?”

“Harun El-Hashem,” Adam answered plainly.

“That’s right. I assume you and your friends came here for me, though I can’t imagine why.” El-Hashem lifted a pair of dog tags on a chain to read what they said. “And you are Rodriguez, Adam, H. Social Security number six-zero-two, six-two-six, five-one-eight-three. Blood type: A-positive. Religious preference: Catholic.”

Adam hadn’t noticed that his dog tags weren’t around his neck anymore. Since he was thinking about it, a lot of his equipment had been removed. He no longer wore his helmet, gas mask, body armor, or pads. His combat jacket had been removed. He sat, tied to the chair, in only his shirt, pants, and boots.

El-Hashem leaned in closer to Adam. “Are you really Catholic, or is that just how you were raised? I hear it’s real common among your uh . . . people.”

Adam remained silent. He was not in the mood to entertain El-Hashem’s patronizing questions.

El-Hashem dropped the subject. “You’re probably wondering how you ended up here, aren’t you? What with all of your friends so close to where you fell, how could you be in my hands now? You guys have the best army in the world!”

Quiet permeated the room as Adam simply let the question hang in the air. Seconds passed before Harun continued in his smug rhetoric.

“Well, I can tell you that it was not easy. Your friends do not like to give up, but once they came to realize just how many grenades and grenade launchers we had, they had no choice but to retreat. We could have pressed the attack, but, well . . .” Harun paused to tap his skull with his index finger. “I’m a little smarter than that. What with your American choppers in the air and many bullets and tomahawk missiles, I thought it best not to provoke them. Instead, I wait here. We regroup, and I make a plan. You see?”

Adam didn’t know how much more of that he could take. He just wanted to go to sleep, and the pain covering his body was quickly becoming unbearable. He groaned and shifted in his seat.

El-Hashem continued, no longer expecting Adam to participate. “We pulled you from the rubble and the fire and brought you here. I sent one of my men to speak with your commanding officer to tell him that I want to speak with him. I am leaving this place. I will not be captured, you see? So me and your boss are going to come to an agreement.”

“We don’t negotiate,” Adam deigned to contribute.

“So I hear,” El-Hashem replied, “but your boss, he will negotiate with me. You see, because if he doesn’t . . . I will be forced to destroy the other half of my mansion.”

“Shame,” Adam quipped.

“Yes,” Harun shook his head solemnly. “It would be a shame to destroy this place. It’s very nice. I got it from the son of an oil baron for cheap when he angered his father and had to give it up.” El-Hashem chuckled warmly at the thought. “But you know what I think would be worse for you and your boss? When I blow it up with all the women and children that I house here inside.”

El-Hashem’s facial expressions went dead, and he looked into Adam’s eyes with the cold, thoughtless determination of a murderer. Adam’s conviction wavered, and it showed on his face when his jaw slacked ever so subtly and his eyes softened.

El-Hashem continued to speak, though no longer feigning kindness. His voice was flat and as serious as a heart attack. “You can’t have that, can you? No. Your whole country couldn’t possibly abide that. You’re . . . you’re all so convinced of your righteousness. You’re all so pure. That’s why you had to come here and bring war: so you could ‘purify’ the rest of the world too.” El-Hashem paused briefly to gather his thoughts. “You got the revenge you wanted for the attack on your country a long time ago, but here you are still, and is it still about that? Do you feel that you have not caused enough pain?”

Adam’s gaze hardened once more. He couldn’t believe he was going to be at the mercy of this terrorist’s “devil America” speech.

Harun squinted his eyes at Adam. “I think it is not that. I think when your American public was exposed to the way life is here, on your American news, that it couldn’t possibly leave us alone. Life here is different from life in your country, and you just couldn’t have that. We had to be like you. We had to have democracy. We had to have stability. Never mind that we already had it. We just didn’t have it in a way that you could accept. You think it is your job to police the world, to mold it into your vision of perfection.” El-Hashem stuck his finger in Adam’s face. “But you are not perfect. Your country is diseased, and instead of staying at home, you spread that disease to all around you. We do not want your help, American. We don’t need it.”

After El-Hashem finished his speech, Adam continued to stare at him in silence. He couldn’t help but be amazed at the man’s twisted point of view. Finally, Adam asked, “Why do you have women and children housed here?”

El-Hashem was silent, his face still taut.

Adam answered for him. “When you say ‘house’ what you really mean is ‘hold here against their will until you can auction them off,’ right? That’s who you’re holding hostage: slaves.”

“Does that bother you?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Adam understated.

“Well, too bad.” El-Hashem stood and moved his moved his chair to the side. “Your feelings have no bearing here. Your foolish idealism is impotent in the face of hard reality, and your hard reality is that your commander will negotiate with me. He will let me go, and all this will be for nothing. This isn’t a comic book. This is the real shit. The bad guy wins.”

“What if he refuses?” Adam asked.

Harun leveled a hard gaze at Adam.

“What if the captain doesn’t just let you go?” Adam restated. “What if he sticks to the American policy of not negotiating with terrorists and decides instead to take his chances with blowing your silly head off?”

Harun bent over and braced his weight on the back of Adam’s chair aggressively. He tilted Adam backward to make getting right in his face that much easier.

Harun did not shout, but instead spoke quietly. “Then I will torch the soft skin off every innocent woman under my control, you, the commander, myself, and anyone else close enough to feel the power of my wrath. I will not be taken prisoner by your American pig politicians . . . posturing . . . using my capture to further their ridiculous crusades. The crusade of their own advancement in a society that worships status over all else. A paradise for those who have it and a living nightmare for those who don’t. Even people who don’t live in your country are infected by its sickness, and for as long as you and your friends are here, we are all at its mercy. I will not be taken in.”

Adam had been stricken silent. All his cynicism melted away uselessly. The man that stood before him was the real deal. In Harun El-Hashem’s frosted eyes, Adam saw no remorse, only the conviction of a psychopath who would do whatever it took to avoid capture.

Harun stood erect, lowering Adam’s chair to the floor gently. His baleful eyes never wavered but continued holding Adam under the weight of their indignation.

“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” Adam managed to say, “but what does this have to do with me?”

An expression that Adam would have sworn looked like satisfaction grew on El-Hashem’s countenance. “Huh, smart man. Now you ask the right question. Why would I repel your compatriots’ assault just so I could pull your broken corpse from the debris?”

Adam didn’t speculate aloud. He waited, fearfully then, for the inevitable smug explanation. Harun may have deigned to massage his ego, too, had something not diverted his attention. His eyes suddenly flashed toward the room’s lone door, and he waited in silence. Adam didn’t know what sight or sound had distracted the drug lord. His ears were still mostly useless, and he’d been bound facing away from the exit.

El-Hashem’s twisted smirk grew, and he looked at Adam, knowingly. “You’ll see. I think it may be time.”

The sound of heavy footsteps running up the hall finally reached Adam’s damaged eardrums just before an armed thug wearing a balaclava bounded into the room. Short of breath, the thug spoke urgently to El-Hashem in Arabic. Harun responded tersely, and the masked thug swiftly exited after spitting what Adam could only imagine was the Arabic equivalent of “Yes, sir!”

Harun huffed a quick sigh and moseyed over to where Adam sat. “All right, Adam,” he said, “it’s time.” Harun then tilted Adam’s chair forward. “Stand,” he ordered.

The ties did not have Adam secured to the chair as he had thought; they only bound his hands behind the back support, so he stood, with the only difficulty being how his right kneecap screamed in disapproval. Adam hid the pain, stifling a plaintive groan that threatened to escape his throat.

“Take him with us,” Harun ordered to the thug leaning on the bureau. The man stood and grabbed Adam by the crook of his arm. Harun walked out, and the thug forced Adam to follow, pushing him with a surprising strength.

Adam stumbled forward and did his best to keep up. He didn’t have full mobility in his right leg and limped every time he was forced to put his weight on it. Of course, the thug dragging him up the hallway was in some kind of damn hurry. He walked with long, swift strides, and Adam nearly jogged to keep up without the use of his arms to propel himself.

Harun led the way down the hall. Harsh daylight waited at the far end, where the other half of the mansion lay in a charred smoking heap. What used to be the foyer was littered with debris. One-half of the grand stairwell had been taken in the collapse. The clean, polished elegance abruptly gave way to ruin and death that baked in the relentless Afghani sun.

When the trio emerged from the hallway that led into the newly installed open-air atrium, El-Hashem grabbed Adam by the arm and yanked him brusquely to the fore. Adam reeled toward the bannister on the second-floor balcony and peered down into the foyer just in time to see four soldiers aim their weapons at his chest from the ground. His heart jumped. For a split second, he was sure they would open fire and turn him into Swiss cheese, but they didn’t. Recognizing one of their own, the four soldiers hesitated. One of them stared in awe that it was a battered soldier who appeared, lowering his gun absentmindedly.

Adam looked like hell. Dried, crusted blood stained his forehead, and he was covered head to toe in dirt. Black streaks of soot crossed from his right side in a ballistic pattern from when the flames licked his skin right before he was sent screaming into the air and landed in a pile of charred earth and ashes. Adam’s eyes were unfocused, and he swayed uncertainly, favoring the numerous injuries hidden just under his clothes and skin. He was a man in desperate need of help.

Harun pulled Adam close, placing Adam between himself and the bullets. “I wouldn’t do that, bro!” Harun shouted. He unclipped a radio from his belt and waved it around for the troops on the ground to see. “My men are listening in! They’ll know if I’m harmed.”

One of the soldiers lowered his weapon, and the others followed suit, then the soldier stepped forward and spoke. “We got your message, and I have authorization to negotiate with you. What do you want?” It was Captain Donowitz.

“I want to leave!” Harun replied over Adam’s shoulder. “No more death! I just get in my car and drive out of here! I already called! It will arrive shortly to take me away!”

“And why would I let that happen? You’re holding one of my men hostage. Specialist, are you all right?”

Adam coughed once.

“He’s fine,” Harun said. “We haven’t harmed him any further than when we found him. You will let me leave, or I will execute the women and children I have in the back. You will see.”

Harun keyed his radio and spoke Arabic into it, then he spoke to the soldiers in English. “Look. There is a TV against the wall below me. Look at it.”

The captain and the other soldiers turned their attention to the space under the balcony. Sitting there was a large flat-screen TV on a table. It was on. In another moment, the screen flickered from “no signal” to a video of one of El-Hashem’s thugs operating the camera. The man stepped out of the frame to reveal a room full of destitute women and children. There could have been no less than two dozen. Most of them were terrified and crying. A few only stared at the floor, blank and hopeless. Another thug wearing a balaclava stood at the front with a little girl. She looked to be no more than thirteen, and the thug held a pistol to her head. The girl was brave. She looked frightened but did not cry.

Normally, Harun would have used the TV to display the merchandise for his rich, perverted friends to buy with money. That day, he was displaying the merchandise for Captain Donowitz to buy with the promise of freedom. It made Captain Donowitz’s breathing intensify as a flame of righteous fury burned in the pit of his stomach. All the soldiers felt it. Their faces grew even harder.

Adam couldn’t see the display. Frankly, his vision was faltering. He struggled to stay conscious and swayed gently on his feet like a cattail in the wind. His body cried out for rest. He might have slept for hours or even days, had El-Hashem not roused him back to consciousness.

Harun squeezed Adam’s arm hard and growled in his ear. “Stay awake.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

Harun raised his voice to speak with the captain. “You see? Their lives are in your hands!”

The captain glared at the drug lord. “You won’t kill them. They’re your only leverage. With them gone, there’s nothing to stop us from taking you in. You’re in a no-win situation.”

“You misunderstand,” El-Hashem retorted. “It is you who is in the no-win situation, bro. You see, the other half of this building has been rigged with bombs as well. If I give the word, it will be destroyed.”

“Ridiculous. You’d kill yourself. You’d kill your men.”

El-Hashem stared at the captain blankly. “Yes. I would. It is a far better fate than becoming your prisoners. I will destroy this place. Adam here knows. Go on. Tell him, Adam.”

Adam exhaled slowly through his nose. After a moment, he reluctantly nodded.

“You see? The specialist here, we have talked. He knows of my conviction. He knows you are without option. This is not a negotiation, as you say. I am informing you of your situation. Killing me does nothing for you, and I know allowing these women and children to die is unacceptable for you. You let me go, I don’t die, the information you seek doesn’t die, the women don’t die, the children don’t die . . .” El-Hashem paused and added playfully, “Let me go, maybe you catch me another day, huh?”

The captain was quiet. Only his enraged exhalations could be heard. His eyes searched for the answer in the walls and floor. Finally, he shook his head and looked up at El-Hashem. “No. I can’t let you go.”

Harun sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.” He raised his radio to his mouth and spoke an order into it. On the TV screen, there was a loud report, and a splash of blood sprayed from the young girl’s skull. Her body went limp, and she crumpled to the floor.

The three other soldiers in the foyer immediately aimed their rifles at Adam and El-Hashem.

“You killed one?” Adam growled.

Harun slapped a hand over Adam’s mouth and pulled his head back. He shouted to the captain below. “Do not think for a second that I am not serious! I will bathe everyone in this building in the fire! Withdraw your men and allow us to walk out of here!”

“I cannot give that order!” Captain Donowitz barked in reply.

“I’m going to count to three! If you do not order your men to withdraw, this negotiation is over, and we can all burn in hell!”

The captain replied, “I could have my soldiers or any of the choppers outside gun you down right now! You back down from this, or you’ll be the first to go!”

“One!” El-Hashem shouted simply.

Anxiety welled up in Adam’s chest. He had it figured that he was a dead man earlier, but hearing it approach was terrifying.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Donowitz roared. “You have no right to drag all of us down with you! You have no right to kill all of those people!”

“Two!”

Adam’s heart beat so furiously in his chest he could hear it inside his head. His eyes darted about wildly. He could probably struggle free of El-Hashem’s grasp and move out of the way, then the soldiers would pepper the balcony with gunfire, but then his thugs might hear all the shooting and really level the place. Adam was terrified to a standstill. He could only hope the captain would make a move and that it would be the right one.

All three of the other soldiers in the foyer stood their ground. They made no move to run or fire. Adam couldn’t believe it. They were ready to die for . . . what? For what reason would they die? Duty? Was that good enough?

“Thr—”

“All right, goddammit!” Captain Donowitz screamed. “Wait! Just . . . just wait, all right?”

There was a quiet moment, tense with the expectation of catastrophe. A soft wind stirred the loose sand. El-Hashem glared at the captain with hate and furious conviction like burning coal behind his eyes. Captain Donowitz hesitated a moment more, still trying to reconcile in his head the terrible gauntlet placed before him. He really was in a no-win situation.

He turned to his soldiers. “We’re going to withdraw,” he said.

Adam’s heart sank into what felt like relief at first, but it couldn’t be called that. His heart continued to sink ever lower, into defeat. The captain had saved his life. The captain had saved everyone’s life, but it felt so wrong to quit. He couldn’t quite rationalize it with words.

A sick grin of satisfaction grew like a profane flower between Harun’s cheeks.

“We’re going to withdraw!” Donowitz called. “Just don’t . . . kill anyone. Release Specialist Rodriguez, and we’ll give you space to escape.”

El-Hashem chuckled. “No . . . no no no. I’ll be keeping Adam.”

Adam’s face flushed with anger. El-Hashem stubbornly insisted that Adam was to continue to be his captive and that they were on a first name basis.

Donowitz was incensed. He fidgeted angrily, his lips forming silent words while his eyes searched for meaning in this nonsense. Finally, his chest heaved in preparation, and he shouted in a furious, thunderous voice. “You bastard!”

El-Hashem’s thug aimed his weapon at the captain, and all three of Donowitz’s soldiers aimed back before another heartbeat could pump blood back into Adam’s face. The two sides managed not to squeeze their triggers and fry everyone in holy fire.

“Unacceptable!” Captain Donowitz continued his tirade as if nothing happened. He wasn’t used to being denied, threatened, or manipulated. “You will give me my soldier back!”

Harun didn’t flinch. “Why? So your chopper can blow up my car as soon as everyone is clear?” He shook his head at the captain’s absurdity. “Negative. I will keep Specialist Rodriguez as my hostage until I reach my destination safely.”

“No,” Captain Donowitz denied him flatly. “You will release him, and then we will let you go. You already have all the women. You don’t need to leave with that soldier!”

“This is not a negotiation!” Harun’s voice broke. “Maybe I need to execute another young girl to remind you!” There was a short pause where all the two sides could do was give each other dirty looks. El-Hashem continued, “Don’t play the chicken with me, Captain. I’ll go farther than you every time.”

It slowly dawned on Adam why his continued captivity was non-negotiable for Captain Donowitz. If Adam left that mansion with El-Hashem, he was dead. El-Hashem would blow his brains out the moment he didn’t need him anymore. It didn’t faze Adam as much as he thought it would. The realization was just a quiet shudder among all the turmoil that had been going on around him. Somehow, it felt almost comfortable.

“It’s all right, sir.”

That Adam had spoken up appeared to come as a surprise to the soldiers in the foyer. All their eyes averted to him. He could see how nervous they all were. They didn’t want to die. No one needed to.

“Shut up, Adam,” Captain Donowitz replied simply. “This isn’t your decision.”

Adam was not prepared to tolerate that position. He’d had just about enough of not being in charge of himself when he wasn’t staring death in the face. At that moment, when he finally had the chance to be the hero, he wasn’t going to let “chain of command” dictate his destiny at the cost of so many lives.

His face bunched up in outrage. “The hell it’s not!”

One of the soldiers with his weapon still poised to eliminate El-Hashem’s thug actually flinched a little at Adam’s insubordination. His eyes darted from his target, to Adam, to the captain, and then back again.

“If the price of all those girls’ lives is my life”—Adam chuckled nervously—“I’m ready to pay.” He could have avoided the nasty reality of his nearly inevitable death, but he didn’t want the captain to think he wasn’t aware of the gravity of his situation. He didn’t want the captain to think he was just being a valiant moron.

El-Hashem didn’t bother to correct him if the situation had been any different. He didn’t even try to lie.

“I don’t care!” Donowitz shouted at Adam. He just couldn’t get his mind past the idea of abandoning a soldier, even for such a reason. “Now shut your mouth!”

Adam was shocked at the captain’s arrogance and stubbornness. “There’s no way you can stop me! Even if you don’t allow me to, I will go with him on my own! So back off! Let this go! Save some lives!”

Even shouting was exhausting for Adam. When he was done, his headache resurfaced, pounding at the back of his skull. He knew he was violating orders and maybe even breaking a law by leaving with El-Hashem, but it was right. He knew that too. It was unusual for Adam to feel so much conviction, but he knew it when he felt it.

The captain had been stepped all over again. He was caught powerless. The look of rage and determination eventually faded from his face, and he looked up at Adam with new eyes. They were softer, almost sad. He had resigned his conviction.

“Let’s pull out,” he said to his soldiers, and then he turned and walked away, back out into the desert, no more hesitation.

The other soldiers did hesitate a brief moment, exchanging glances. They still couldn’t believe it. All their loyalty, duty, and programming was being violated, but orders were orders, and there was nothing they could do. Even though it hurt, they lowered their weapons, turned, and followed the commander.

“Wow, bro.”

Adam turned to look at El-Hashem. He was sick of his stupid face.

“You stood up to your commanding officer and offered yourself to escort me out of here. You saved everyone’s lives.”

Adam could hear the mocking in Harun’s voice. He wasn’t in the mood. The altercation had left Adam physically and emotionally drained, so he simply turned away in silence. “Let’s get this over with.”

4

The car El-Hashem was waiting on arrived not long after the meeting with the captain. It was a large black SUV with opaque windows. It made the mistake of approaching from the direction of the nearest town, where the Seventh Infantry Division had set up their operations while they waited. Soldiers pulling security aimed their weapons at the vehicle and ordered it to stop. The terrified driver, who had probably been surprised with this task, was pulled out and detained. He was patted down while every inch of his car was searched. A translator and interrogator questioned him as quickly as they could. He didn’t know anything useful. He was just a villager from Kohsān who had been conscripted to drive the vehicle for a small fee. The SUV didn’t belong to him; he just happened to know how to drive. Not wanting to test El-Hashem’s patience, the commanders cleared the man’s release so he could continue on his errand.

Word reached El-Hashem via his handheld radio, and he led the way out of the mansion with Adam in tow. Adam took the long walk, battered, arms tied behind his back. He looked less like a martyr to be sacrificed for the greater good and more like an outlaw on his way to the gallows with El-Hashem leading him by the arm. They stepped out into the harsh sunlight with the faceless thug just behind.

The car waited diligently at the front gate of the compound, clear on the other side from the mansion, and Adam was made to walk again. He was exhausted. His every laborious footstep launched small plumes of sand into the air around his feet. The path before him sloped downhill, and he could see the soldiers standing guard on either side of the road. This horrified Adam. He was already ashamed, first at his defeat and then his complicity in that scheme. He didn’t want his fellow soldiers seeing him like that. All he could do was lower his eyes to the ground as Harun goaded him along.

Adam was not accustomed to walking with his head down. Periodically, he would glance at the face one of the passing soldiers out of the corner of his eye. They stood as sentries on either side of the path, straight and dutiful, with their rifles held low. Their expressions hid boiling rage just beneath the surface. They were enraged, appropriately so, that that they should have to stand and watch as another soldier was dragged off to his death. Worse yet, they had to guard the perpetrator and ensure he left safely. Adam never held the gaze of these soldiers for more than a split second. He looked away as fast as he could once their eyes met.

During one of these interactions, Adam had the misfortune of finding his friend Benito. Their eyes met, and Adam didn’t look away as fast as he should have. At first, Specialist Alvarez observed with the same grim look as the other soldiers, but then recognition slowly took hold. It took a moment for Alvarez to recognize Adam through the blood and the dirt, the defeat and depression on Adam’s face, but once he did, his jaw unclenched. A look of shock grew—outrage. It was his friend that Harun El-Hashem held hostage to make his escape.

Benito started searching to his left and right, looking around for someone to tell. He knew then, more than before, that he should do something, but he didn’t know what. He couldn’t do anything, so he searched frantically from his post for someone who could. There was no one and nothing. If he just shot El-Hashem, he condemned the hostages still inside. All Benito could do was watch as Adam was led away. Hopelessly, Adam tried to affect a reassuring smile, but he just couldn’t.

The large SUV waited just outside the gate at the bottom of the hill. Harun drove Adam forward, and the three men hopped inside without a word. Adam was shoved into the back first, and Harun entered afterward. The masked thug sat in the front passenger seat. Harun then ordered to the driver in Arabic, and the SUV slowly pulled away. The driver maneuvered around the Army camp and got on the road to Kohsān.

Adam leaned his head against the window and looked up into the sky. It was over. He was a prisoner, and El-Hashem got away, but perhaps, not quite. No helicopters followed the SUV, but they would have been too obvious. Adam knew the Army also had reconnaissance drones watching all the events that had transpired. Doubtless they were watching El-Hashem’s progress through the desert even then, flying higher than any of the passengers could see or hear.

Suddenly, El-Hashem smacked Adam on the shoulder. “Buck up, bro!” he said.

Adam turned to look at El-Hashem in irritation. The man was grinning like a thief.

“You did it!” El-Hashem was nearly shouting in his joviality. “You helped me escape, and now all the hostages are safe! My men will eventually surrender to your Army, and the women and children will be released!”

“I can’t believe you got your men to agree to something like that,” Adam mused.

Harun shook his head, still smiling. “Oh, I didn’t.”

Adam looked at him like he was an idiot.

“My men had no idea I was just going to leave them,” Harun explained, “and there was no way I was going to blow myself up either!”

Adam was immediately outraged while Harun started chortling like a newborn.

Once he’d gained enough control over himself to speak, Harun continued, “I convinced my men that if they rigged explosives and we threatened to blow ourselves up, I could make it convincing enough to secure release for all of us. If I succeeded, we would all be free, and if I failed, we would all be captured, which is what would have happened anyway. It was all a show!”

Adam couldn’t believe it. He’d been tricked; they all had. Harun wasn’t a psycho. He was an asshole, albeit a convincing actor. He’d lied, cheated, and betrayed all to secure his own freedom while his hired thugs were arrested in his place, and Adam had fallen for it.

Harun continued chuckling while he shifted in his seat and sat back. He sighed contentedly. Meanwhile, a cold rage covered Adam’s heart like thin sheet of frost, and it showed on his face. He stared at the side of El-Hashem’s smug, self-absorbed countenance with a contempt he hadn’t felt since Billy Mathers destroyed his sandcastle in the third grade. He wanted to strangle Harun and watch the light go out in his eyes. Adam was tied, and tied well, but he knew he could break free. All it would take was time, and the hate gave Adam dark patience that simply wouldn’t quit.

Adam tilted his head back and settled into the chair, closing his eyes as if he were going to sleep. He was very tired, and the chair in the brand-new SUV was comfortable; but if he was going to die, there was something he had to take care of first. Adam started working at his binds as inconspicuously as possible. It was difficult. The binds were tight, and any strength he used to loosen a knot might have been noticed, so he took to slowly wiggling the rope. It would take time, and Adam didn’t know if he had the time to spare.

The drive proved to be disappointingly short. “Wake up, Adam!” Harun ordered. Adam opened his eyes in irritation. “I want you ready to go as soon as we arrive. Look, we’re almost there.”

Harun pointed toward the windshield of the SUV and Adam leaned forward to see his destination while continuing to work at the rope. Ahead of them stood the town of Kohsān. The low buildings were made of mud, timber, and clay. On every side were neat, square patches of well-irrigated grass, the work of countless engineers and farmers to make the desolate area more livable.

“Great,” Adam said listlessly. “You got away. Can I go now?”

Harun looked over at Adam. All the humor had been drained from his face. “You go when I say you can go.” He turned to look out the windshield. “I know I haven’t gotten away yet. One of your American drones is doubtless watching us even now.” A short smirk appeared on his lips before he continued, and he nodded to himself. “But I have a plan for that too.” When he turned his head to look at Adam once again, he looked like a snake appraising a defenseless little rodent. Adam absentmindedly stopped tugging at his binds, and he would have shivered if his muscles weren’t already so defeated.

“I’ll need your help just one more time, Specialist,” Harun finished.

El-Hashem’s predatory gaze held Adam for a moment, but he managed to tear his eyes away and look outside to see what had the snake so excited. The vehicle had driven into the town and was advancing toward its center. It being the middle of the afternoon, the Kohsān market was in full swing, and Adam quickly figured out Harun’s angle. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of stalls set up in the square and reaching deeply into every connecting street. Many of them had awnings to defend the merchants from the sunlight, which cast long shadows in cascading streaks across the ground. Thousands of animals and people moved in every direction, bleating and shouting.

The driver stopped the SUV at the edge of the marketplace, and El-Hashem snapped orders at the other men. The two in the front seats immediately exited, and the masked thug moved around to the door next to Adam. He opened the door and tore Adam out of the vehicle by the arm. Harun scooted out of the same door just after. He took control of Adam and held out his hand, into which the masked thug deposited a pistol. Adam watched the pistol disappear behind him and then felt the muzzle pressed into the soft flesh just under his ribcage.

Harun growled into Adam’s ear. “Keep up. Don’t try anything stupid.” He turned to the other men and barked another order. Immediately the two walked quickly into the crowd. Harun shoved Adam ahead, and the drone operators, who were absolutely watching from the sky, observed their glowing white shapes join with the huddled masses.

Adam staggered along, jostled by nearly every passerby while Harun motivated him brusquely in the trail of the two men before them. They zigzagged through the market, cutting under open awnings and pushing into closely knit groups. This actually served to assist Adam. He was able to put more strength behind escaping from the ropes tied around his wrists. It just felt like Adam resisting the crowd to El-Hashem.

In the middle of a particularly large crowd, Harun shouted to the other two men in Arabic. Adam only understood the meaning when the other two split up and disappeared from sight. The driver turned left, the thug turned right, and Harun continued shoving Adam straight forward. The people of the crowd were standing so close together that El-Hashem actually started using Adam as a shield, a battering ram as he forced his way through. Just as they were about to escape the mess and daylight appeared before them, a man towing a herd of goats on crude leather leashes crossed Adam’s path. In Harun’s haste, he shoved Adam forward, and Adam tripped over one of the small animals. He staggered forward. His arm was pulled from Harun’s grasp, and he tried to steady himself, taking two large steps before falling to one smashed-up knee. The pain was excruciating. By some miracle, he prevented himself from falling flat on his face.

Harun cursed. If he had lost the drone, hopefully that stumble was not enough to draw its attention. He stomped over to Adam and grabbed him by the arm once again before the soldier could get back to his feet. Harun took the lead, towing Adam along in his wake. Adam was yanked to his feet suddenly and struggled to catch himself once more. He regained his footing and followed as best as he could, groaning aloud from the pain.

What Harun hadn’t realized was that tugging on Adam’s arm had given the troop the force he needed to slip his left hand from under one of the loops in the binding. It hurt like hell. The human hand was not meant to bend so sharply in that direction, but it proved to be worth it. The rope wasn’t off, but it was a giant step toward being freed. The rest could be loosened much faster and less painfully.

Adam glared at the back of Harun’s head like the drug lord was already dead. That was two mistakes El-Hashem had made. The first was assisting Adam in releasing himself, and second was taking the lead. Harun held the pistol uselessly at his side, pointed at the dirt, and his eyes stared straight ahead.

Adam seized the opportunity, dropping his right knee into the crook of El-Hashem’s left knee. Harun buckled and pitched forward, his knee striking the ground hard before falling to his face. In shock, he squeezed the trigger and a negligent bullet seared through the air. It embedded itself harmlessly into a nearby building, but the loud report was enough to frighten every pedestrian within a half mile. With screams and clamor, the distraught shoppers scampered away in every direction, clutching however little they owned to their chests and hurrying their confused animals out of the square.

Adam’s gambit paid off, but he, too, was driven into the ground face-first. Quickly, he pushed himself to his feet with his hands, the rope dangling uselessly from his right arm. He lunged forward and kicked at Harun’s wrist, nailing it with the tip of his boot, knocking the pistol from Harun’s hand. The gun skittered across the ground, and Adam gave chase. Grimacing, Harun grabbed Adam’s left foot as he passed, and Adam was sent sprawling to ground once again. Adam managed to catch himself with his hands, and he kicked backward with his free leg. He didn’t manage to hit Harun with his foot, and Harun pulled him back, using Adam to get to his own feet. Harun threw himself on top of Adam, and Adam was slammed into the dirt.

Every muscle in Adam’s body screamed from the injuries he’d already sustained. The ribs on his left side shifted from the impact and made him cry out. The adrenaline in his blood could only do so much. Adam’s head was already killing him by the time Harun wrapped his arms around Adam’s throat.

Luckily, Harun didn’t know how to apply a proper chokehold; otherwise, Adam would have passed out in seconds. He could still see the gun. It was only a few yards away. So he rallied his strength, bracing his hands against the ground. He bucked his rear and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Adam scurried across the ground in a magnificent burst of speed with Harun still clinging to his back. Adam fell on top of the gun with both hands and quickly aimed it back over his shoulder. Harun moved his head out of the way and released Adam’s neck, trying instead to regain control of the gun. Adam squeezed the trigger, and the bullet was launched into the clear blue sky. Both men were left with ringing in their left eardrums as they struggled over control of the weapon.

Frightened pedestrians huddled around nearby buildings as they watched the spectacle. They could have run, but they needed to see who would win. Harun El-Hashem kept them living under a dark cloud of fear, and they wanted to see him die. They just couldn’t bring themselves to oppose him directly. The terror of that man hung fresh in the air and in their minds.

Adam clung to the gun valiantly, but Harun had the much stronger position. While still struggling for the gun, Harun got to his knees and sat on Adam. Putting his whole back into it, Harun then forced the gun from Adam’s hands. Adam had nothing left. The gun was torn away, and Adam was left defenseless.

Enraged, Harun furiously struck Adam on the back of his head with the handle of the gun. For good measure, he then did it two more times. The blows nearly split Adam’s skull, and he was left whimpering with his face in the dirt.

Harun ran his hand through his hair, the taqiyah long knocked from his head. He sniffled and stood, stepping on Adam’s back to push himself to his feet. The drone operators watched as his glowing white form began stalking around the open square. His head snapped from left to right. All the onlookers and people hiding in adjoining alleyways each received nasty glares from the triumphant drug lord. His teeth slowly bared as he realized why they were so interested in the business that had just taken place. The insult boiled in his stomach until he raised the gun toward them. A woman and her daughter were threatened first. They flinched, and the mother held the girl to her chest in fear. Quickly Harun re-aimed the pistol to menace more folks standing within range.

Arduously, Adam pushed himself from the ground. It felt like his brain was still bouncing around inside his skull, testing out a new pogo stick while jamming out to heavy metal music. Dirt coated the whole front of his body and more than half of his face. He only managed to get to his knees before his strength, and whatever was left of his determination failed him. He ended up falling, sitting on his ankles while his head bowed to spare his concussed brain from trying to process the savage light from the sun.

Harun was still stomping around the square. He shouted something in furious guttural Arabic, and all the onlookers recoiled. “You were hoping for a different outcome, weren’t you?” he barked. “You were hoping against hope that the Americans had finally arrived to save you from your lives here!” Harun indicated the back of Adam’s head with the barrel of the pistol. “This is what you pin your hopes on? This weak excuse for a savior?” He stomped away and pointed to his own chest with the barrel. “I protect you! I own this town! The Americans do not have the strength to defeat me! I bring money into this town! You survive because of me!” He stopped waving the gun around and lowered it to his side, pausing while he considered his next move. “You want the Americans to bring you their democracy? You want them to save you? Look! This is what happens to heroes!”

Harun stalked back over to Adam and pressed the gun against the soldier’s skull. In English he snarled, “Say goodnight, bro!”

Harun pulled the trigger, and the watching drone operators witnessed a plume of warm liquid spray onto the ground. Adam’s body slumped over in a lifeless heap, like sack of potatoes. His spectacle complete, Harun reached one hand into the sky and raised his middle finger in defiance. He knew enough about American culture to know it wasn’t nice. Then being without cover, the drug lord ran down an adjoining street, and the camera followed him until he ducked into a building.

5

Adam didn’t even hear the gunshot. Before his brain could process it, the bullet pierced his cranium and severed his neurons, scorching them and melting the ends. There was the click of the hammer striking the primer, but then everything went dark. All of Adam’s senses strayed from him, like he was trapped in a dream. The taste of the Afghani sand finally left his mouth. The hot wind stopped irritating his burns. No rogue thoughts troubled his mind. There was a welcome tranquility to the emptiness.

It all just felt like a strange dream, but Adam supposed he was due a little hysteria after all that had happened to him before he blacked out. He hoped in vain that someone would come to retrieve him. Maybe someone already had. He would probably wake up in the hospital soon. Hours would have passed, maybe even days. That’s how it always goes down in the movies. The protagonist wakes up, and they think it’s been a couple of minutes, but really they’ve been delirious for a week or something. You’d think with that kind of time distortion they wouldn’t have any dreams.

The tranquility of the abyss did not last. Suddenly Adam’s heart began to panic. It was that same indescribable feeling of plummeting to your death just before you wake. Normally, that feeling lasts maybe a few seconds before the dreamer is roused, but for Adam, it felt like his heart was being gripped by the hand of the devil, and the prick simply refused to let go. A rhythmic noise broke the silence. It was the sound of ragged desperate huffs of air, Adam’s own terrified breathing. The hollow echoes of it reverberated, lonely in Adam’s ears. Then still suspended in the impermeable abyss, a light wind began to blow through the space. Even without form, Adam could feel it pass over and through him. It started as a breeze and then gradually increased in intensity until a gale buffeted the soldier. The dream was returning his senses, and Adam didn’t know if it was a good thing.

In another moment, that ambiguity was demolished. There was burning, and it didn’t slowly introduce itself the way the breeze did. It was instantaneous, prolific, and unbearable. The source was still unknown. Some twisted, undetectable tormentor was playing with the pain dial on Adam’s dream machine. At first, Adam tried to take the anguish. He grunted and groaned in short, plaintive, protestations. He sucked every breath through clenched teeth. Increasingly colorful curses spat from his lips. Little time passed before he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed aloud with shrill pain-riddled shrieks and thrashed about in the darkness with whatever imaginary corporeal form he possessed. He closed his eyes tight and flailed his arms as if trying to fight it away with violence, but the burning continued regardless.

Adam didn’t know if seconds or minutes or an eternity had passed as he burned. Still screaming and thrashing, he finally opened his eyes to a horrifying sight; green flames engulfed his vision. They encased his entire body. He fell, tumbling through the white-hot fire and endless agony.

“Help me!” Adam shrieked. “Somebody, please wake me up!”

The dream did not cease. The fire crawled onto his eyes and into his skin. Adam tried to close his eyes and shield them from further harm but only to realize he no longer had eyelids. The flames had burned them away. Forced to observe the endless swirling conflagration, Adam slowly became more aware of the hellish world beyond. It was difficult to discern through the fire, but Adam could make out what he believed to be an enormous grinding wheel of green flame, the same flame that immolated his yielding flesh. From Adam’s point of view, it appeared taller than a skyscraper and perfect in its curvature. The wheel turned almost imperceptibly slow, and tendrils of fire skewed from it, seemingly in all directions.

Adam stared in unimaginable terror and incomprehension. The wheel was so massive he could have been gazing upon the radiant profile of the Milky Way. His eyes followed one of the tendrils along its lazy slope, down, closer, until finally realizing that the tendril was attached—to him! The burning skewer had him engulfed at the end and was pulling him in with every slow revolution of the immolating wheel. The life force it drained from Adam with every passing second flowed up the length of the tendril to be devoured.

Am I in hell? Adam wondered in terror, and then he called out to the deep. “Am I in hell? I’m in hell! Why? Why?”

Adam sobbed uncontrollably in despair. “Tell me why!”

Abruptly, Adam was released, and he fell once more. Utter silence once again dominated the abyss. The thunder of flame in Adam’s ears ceased. Cold comfort, like the embrace of a dark angel, replaced the pain. Once again lost in a dream, Adam’s eyes stared lidlessly but unseeing. Slowly, like a gentle leaf, he drifted. The terrible wheel shrank into the distance, and Adam slipped away into the dark. The tingling on his skin left over from the torturous flame wracked him to his very soul. Then whatever force removed him from his torment laid him gently on a cool, smooth stone surface. There he continued to shudder and tremble from the lingering pain and horror.

On his back, Adam slowly turned his head to examine his surroundings. He had landed in a large area walled by cavernous rock that sloped inward and transitioned seamlessly into the hewn stone on which he rested. Ambient light dyed everything in pale cyan. The great flaming wheel could still be seen in the infinite blackness above, but it seemed so far away then, harmless. It was no closer than the sun in the sky.

Tentatively, Adam lifted his head from the ground. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The tingle had already dissipated greatly. He was just exhausted from the constant spasms that wracked his quivering muscles, and it took a great deal of effort.

In front of Adam, as he lay prostrate and helpless, appeared to be some sort of totem, a large statue with a face carved on it reminiscent of pagan worship. It sat in all peculiarity as round as a giant tree trunk and infinitely tall. Its height extended into the darkness above and disappeared.

More disturbing was the view Adam got of his own body. It was burned beyond recognition with moist profane patches of under-flesh exposed where they shouldn’t have been. He was a grotesque facsimile of his former self, and he couldn’t help but utter a quiet shuddering sob.

Suddenly, a stern voice resonated within the cavern. It said simply, “Stand.” It sounded old and somehow powerful.

Adam flinched, and his eyes darted about the cavern. The voice sounded like it came from every direction or perhaps from inside his own head, and it caused his overworked heart to pump furiously once more.

“Stand,” the ancient presence repeated.

Somewhere in the deep parts of Adam’s brain that couldn’t help but respect such an authority, he found the will to respond. “I can’t,” he huffed.

“You can,” the voice rebutted evenly.

Adam’s breathing was laborious. “I’m too tired. My body is destroyed.”

“Not beyond use.” The voice had much more faith in Adam than Adam did.

After a few slow breaths, Adam decided it wasn’t any use arguing. He slowly and agonizingly rolled one of his shoulders off the ground. He steadied himself with his hand and got to his knees. From there, he pushed himself up to his feet.

His stance was unsteady, and he nearly fell right back over, but Adam’s remaining strength held. Successfully on his feet, Adam’s sight focused on the totem in front of him, and he looked at it tiredly. At least, he figured he was looking at it tiredly. Who knows of what his fried nerve endings were actually capable.

“Are you the devil?” Adam asked gruffly.

“I am not,” the voice replied. It possessed just a hint of insult. “The devil that humankind has invented does not exist, and this is not hell. This respite is the resting place of the Wheel of Fate.”

Adam looked up at the grinding green disk above him.

“Why was it killing me?”

“Killing you?” the voice asked.

Adam looked back at the emotionless face of the totem. He got the feeling he was thinking of all the questions that would insult the mysterious voice.

“The Wheel of Fate was not killing you,” the voice explained. “When souls are relieved of their corporeal form, they are simply returned here to rejoin the Wheel of Fate.”

“Rejoin?” Adam asked.

“Yes. Your soul is not your own. You are merely a fragment of the Wheel of Fate, a piece of the endlessly turning circle of life and death. You were to be dissolved in the crucible of its flame and recombined with the other souls awaiting reemergence, but I pulled you from its grasp before the process could be completed.”

Adam didn’t like the idea of being “processed.” “So then I—my soul was relieved of its corporeal form?”

“Yes, Adam. You have passed from the material world. This is the world beyond the pale curtain, where only the dead may walk.”

Adam’s eyes fell to the ground as he considered the idea. How could that have happened? Only then did it occur to Adam; Harun El-Hashem had killed him, blown his brains out, either from rage or to prove a point. Adam felt sorry for himself. He thought about Benito, his mother, his father, Christina, and Téa. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he never saw them again. They would all be at his funeral, a military funeral. Six gilded soldiers carrying his casket. The twenty-one-gun salute. A soldier would present a tri-folded American flag to his mother. Adam’s heart sank at the idea. His mother would be sobbing, Christina too. Téa would put on a brave face while secretly dying behind that black veil.

Tears began to well up in Adam’s eyes. When they fell down his cheeks, they did wonders to soothe his exposed skin. The tears drew cool glistening streams down his face that glowed in the eerie, pervasive, pale light.

Choked up and stumbling in his words, Adam asked, “How do you know so much about me?”

The voice answered succinctly. “You are a piece of the Wheel of Fate. I am the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate, forever in its service. I know everything about the Wheel of Fate. I know everything about you.”

Adam ran out of tears in that moment. There was only one question left, and he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “Why did you pull me out then?” he growled disdainfully.

“Finally, we come to the heart of the matter,” the voice said. “I pulled you from the Wheel of Fate so you could serve it as well.”

“Why would the all-powerful Wheel of Fate need my help?”

“Don’t blaspheme,” the Custodian scolded. “You especially have no right.”

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

“The human race has corrupted the world,” the Custodian explained. “For the millennia that you have been graced with your superior intelligence and dexterity, you have done nothing but make war upon your fellow man. You have increased your population over a million-fold and have increased the death toll with it. Your entire life was a symptom of this. Now there is no balance. Souls have been lost, scattered. I can no longer spin them in the Wheel of Fate. If it is not corrected, more souls will leave the care of the master. This light you see around you will instead shine onto the earth, and the world you knew will be desolated. And more than souls have become unhinged. The earth struggles hard now to shake off the pestilence that humans have wrought upon it. There are . . . monsters. Aberrations of nature have begun appearing on earth. They were unstable at first. They did not survive long enough on their paltry life force to become a real threat. Their energies were quickly returned to the Wheel. But now they are strong, and they have begun victimizing the human race.”

Adam did not hesitate. The implications were fantastic. “What do I do?”

Once again, the Custodian read him like a book. “You would be returned to earth, Adam. Your task would be to eliminate these aberrations and wrangle any and all lost souls you can find, but most importantly, investigate the cause of the imbalance.”

“The cause?” Adam asked. “I thought it was people?”

The Custodian actually hesitated a little before answering. “I am not in the habit of questioning the Wheel of Fate. I refuse to believe that it made a mistake when it propagated your evolution. You cannot be inherently evil, inherently injurious to the whole of life. I need you to help investigate the true cause, whatever it may be. Will you do this, or are you done sacrificing yourself for this world?”

Adam’s voice was ragged. His eyes were desperate and hungry. “I’ll do it. Send me back right now, and I’ll get started!”

“In time,” the Custodian said. “For now, you are weak. You must feed.”

Adam nodded. “That’s fine. Drop me off back home, and I’ll grab a Whopper, first thing.”

“No, Adam. You have changed. You can no longer be satiated by calories or proteins. Your craving for the unrefined energies of other organisms has been replaced by a deeper need.”

Adam did not like the way this was heading. “What are you saying?”

The Custodian continued, “As the champion of the Wheel of Fate, you are a conduit for the energies of this world. You can channel the energies of other organisms much more efficiently, much more directly.”

Adam became more agitated with every vague alien half-truth with which the Custodian was trying to ease him into the situation. “What. Does. That. Mean?”

“You have become a devourer of souls.”

Adam was quiet while he absorbed the information. “You must be joking,” he said.

“I would never,” the Custodian retorted.

Adam raised his arms to present his tortured grotesque corpse and said, “This is what you would have me be reduced to? A ghoul? Stalking the streets at night for some poor person to victimize in the name of your wheel? How does that make me different from the things you would have me hunt? I mean, how would you even make it so I could do that? Huh? You gonna give me some kind of a mosquito soul soul-sucking straw-organ that I stab people with and just start slurping away?”

“Nothing so barbaric. The soul siphon is our lord’s masterpiece. It will be as naturally a part of you as your own heart.”

“And what’s the process for that? Is it gonna hurt when you stick it in, or ya use lube?”

“I installed the soul siphon in your spirit before I released you from the crucible.”

Adam glared at the totem incredulously. “What? You just went ahead and put it in me? You made me into your monster without even giving me a heads-up?”

“Do you believe that the slaughtering of cows for your Whoppers is somehow more noble?” the Custodian tested. “If you want, you can feed from the cows your country keeps in its farms, waiting to be slaughtered. It is the same process, only you would draw the soul directly instead of ingesting its unrefined physical manifestation.”

Adam smiled a crooked smile. The Custodian was annoyingly efficient at pointing out flaws, but Adam shook his head. “There is no way I’m becoming a monster for you. No way. Why would you even do that? I could do what you want just fine eating what I was eating before!” He added sardonically, “I have more than twenty years of experience!”

“Impossible. The body that was designed with that function is rotting in the ground. The body I provide to you will use the soul siphon for sustenance. You will come to understand. There are benefits to consuming pure cosmic energy that you are unaware of. Your new body will be capable of processing the energy and using it to its full potential.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be Superman.” Adam pointed to his chest. “This is what makes me human, and I can’t just let it go. Not for this. Not for anything!”

The Custodian was silent for a time. Just when Adam was beginning to convince himself that he’d won that argument, the voice sounded once again. “I was hoping it would not come to this.”

In that moment, a hair-raising, inhuman, unearthly shriek rent the air. It almost sounded like a roar, but it sounded so painful. It sounded pitiful and tortured.

Adam turned around in the direction from which the sound registered. There was a tunnel-like exit to the room of the cavern that Adam was inside. It was bored directly into the face of the rock and then veered to the right, out of sight. Adam hadn’t noticed it before.

Adam stared expectantly at the tunnel, and then he glanced back at the totem. Adam didn’t know if the face on the solitary totem was supposed to be an artistic representation of the Custodian, but he treated it as such.

Adam peered down the tunnel and simply asked, “What was that?”

“I’ve just released a creature into the realm,” the Custodian explained.

Adam immediately looked back at the totem in shock and anger.

The Custodian continued, “I never bothered to give it a name. It is a conduit for soul energy, just as you are, only I don’t believe it has your reservations about it. It stalks the caverns of this plane, predatorizing wandering souls not tethered to the Wheel of Fate.”

Adam grew furious, and he took a couple of aggressive steps toward the totem. He truly didn’t know what he planned on doing. Even if the totem had some sort of connection to the Custodian himself, Adam didn’t know if he could do anything to harm something so godlike . . . or if he wanted to smash his fists against whatever the totem was created from.

The Custodian wasn’t surprised in the least at Adam’s reaction. “You are going to learn to use your new gifts, or the creature is going to devour you.”

Adam’s expression softened mildly. The idea was sobering.

The Custodian explained, “As the champion of the Wheel of Fate, you are capable of more than you ever were in life. You will see.”

The creature howled again, and Adam once more turned back to the tunnel exit. His expression was an attempt at determination, but eyelids and eyebrows were more important to achieving this than he originally thought.

“The creature awaits you in the caverns, Champion.”

Adam breathed heavily, trying to build his courage. He couldn’t just stand there and wait to be eaten. If not eating souls was part of being human, then it would seem so, too, was needing desperately not to be eaten.

Adam gathered his courage and bounded into the tunnel. Running was much less painful than he thought it would be. His ethereal form definitely did not communicate damage the same way his physical form did.

Adam followed the tunnel only around its first quick bend before it opened back up into a room. The room was in many ways different from the totem chamber. It was small and circular, and it actually had a roof. The pale hue was still prevalent, and the walls were rugged stone, but the floor was polished and had a design on it. The design was foreign to Adam. It was concentrically patterned with bizarre glyphs that he couldn’t understand, but there was something else too. The glyphs seemed to shift and confuse Adam’s eyes. Sometimes a glyph would appear to be there and sometimes not. It gave him double vision that was hard to shake off.

Adam moved further into the room to examine the pattern. It was so unusual and fascinating. He stepped into the circle, and as he did, the glyphs around his feet began to glow in pale green as if responding to his presence or perhaps the presence of his energy. He lifted a foot and examined the glyphs underneath it. Despite having the foot lifted from it, the glyph continued to glow. For a moment, Adam forgot all about the predator stalking him somewhere in the caves and experimented with this concept, moving his foot around in circles. The glyphs did not respond to this motion. Despite how far Adam extended his foot, no new glyphs illuminated. Instead, the ones glowing directly beneath him seemed to track where his torso and head stood above the floor.

As Adam wondered at this phenomenon, a small bright wisp floated into the room. It appeared from the wall as if it passed through without a care. Its shining core was only a little bigger than a softball, and small ghostly green flames wafted from it. Adam didn’t notice it at first. It made no noise and produced no ambient light to speak of. It was bright, but remarkably contained.

Despite Adam’s preoccupation with other things, the little wisp seemed very interested in him. It floated lazily in his direction and fluttered around his head like a curious little hummingbird.

It might have taken Adam an eternity to notice the whimsical wisp had not the creature, lost somewhere in the caverns, registered another pitiful howl. Adam stood erect to gaze upon the tunnel that extended out of the other end of the room and nearly smacked his head on the poor little wisp. The moment Adam saw the free-floating apparition, he flinched and waved his hands around as if it were a bee, running to safety in much the same manner. If he had hair left, Adam surely would have tried to brush it out.

“Oh! Whoa! Whoa!” he shouted as he scurried a reasonable distance away. Then Adam stopped and observed the form in wonderment.

The wisp did not react in any way to Adam’s flailing and whimpering. After a moment of his staring, it simply moseyed back up to him. Adam saw as it moved that the glyphs on the ground glowed in response even feet under it.

“It’s a soul,” Adam breathed. “It’s just like me.”

Adam couldn’t help but crack a short smirk. He lifted his right hand and cupped it under the spirit. There was a gentle heat coming off it, and it seemed to respond to his advance. The wisp lowered itself closer to Adam’s skin to better feel his warmth as well.

Adam smiled. It felt good. It felt like being with another person. The little wisp didn’t talk, and it didn’t have a face to look at, but somehow it was very charming.

Adam’s amusement manifested itself as a short chuckle. He inhaled sharply in preparation for a sigh of levity, and the soul shot itself into his mouth and slithered down his throat! Adam slapped his hand over his mouth to try to stop it, but it was far too late. He put his hand around his throat and coughed, hacking as hard as he could, but nothing regurgitated from his mouth. The warm sensation flowed down his chest cavity and wrapped itself around his heart. There, the intense euphoria quickly dissipated, but it was simultaneously replaced with an equal feeling of invigoration. The powerful sensation coursed through Adam’s body and reenergized him.

As Adam stood, having been hunched over from coughing, the brilliant sensation caused his eyes to water. Tears welled up and quickly dripped onto the runed floor. When he wiped them away, he had yet another revelation that boggled his mind. The hair on his legs had grown back. The charred skin was healed. Adam stood upright and examined more of his nakedness to discover that it had all healed. Every part of him had been repaired. Missing patches of skin had been replaced. Even when he reached up to the top of his head, he could feel his tacky army haircut.

A wave of relief washed over Adam as he gazed upon the gift he had been given. A new kind of smile cut across his cheeks as he marveled at his own two hands. But this euphoria did not last. It wasn’t induced like when the soul enraptured him. He defeated it with the quick realization that he had just devoured a soul. It felt good—really good—but it was wrong. He hadn’t meant to do it.

Adam tightened visibly when the Custodian’s voice once again resonated from nowhere. “Now you see some of the benefits of being the champion of the Wheel of Fate.”

Adam looked at his hands again, but with disdain. “I ate a soul! That was a person!”

The Custodian quickly interjected. “You are confused about the nature of souls. They are nothing more than the universe’s simplest form of energy, nothing more than vibrations of matter. Only when they are given a vessel on earth and they have life experiences do they develop a personality and memories. You have retained these in your ethereal form and continue to appear human and not as a wisp because you did not complete your re-assimilation into the Wheel of Fate. There you would have lost your memories and been reshuffled into the great cycle. When you feed on the soul of another, you need not feel guilty. There is no need for you to take their entire soul. You can leave them alive. They will feed on another soul in its unrefined form and recharge. Energy can be neither created nor destroyed. The only variation between one soul and another is the speed at which they vibrate, their frequency in the bandwidth of consciousness. That particular soul was attracted to you instinctively because it sensed a kindred spirit within you. I designed it to vibrate at your frequency. It wanted to join with you so it could become more complete. That’s why it did what it did. It didn’t die. It simply assimilated with you, and you benefitted each other. There are other people who vibrate at your same frequency still on earth who will seek out your soul. They may even give unto you willingly.”

Adam smiled. “So you were just faking it. You created some boogeyman noise to draw me out here just so you could show me this whole . . . soul mate thing?” The relief was apparent on Adam’s face.

“Not at all,” the Custodian said. “The creature is very much real.”

Another howl reached Adam’s ears. That time it sounded much closer, and Adam’s face went blank.

The Custodian continued, “I could hardly put the fate of the world in your hands without a test, could I?”

Adam’s heart started pounding in his ears. Something was still out there in the dark, looking to eat him. In that pale light, the food chain started with the creature at the top and ended with Adam at the bottom. And to think he’d spent his whole life sitting so comfortably at the top.

“It’s time we bring this to an end, Adam.”

Despite Adam’s reservations, he still had only one goal: survive. He was a fighter on earth, and things were no different in the ethereal realm. No way could he just wait for it. In the end, the question would be whether the creature was hunting Adam or if Adam would hunt the creature.

Gritting his teeth, Adam ran through the tunnel exit of the sigil room. It was another brief trip. Adam didn’t get far before the tunnel opened back up and he was standing in what looked like little more than another hall. Only the walls in the hall were smooth, and it had nothing more than dead ends on either side. Above was nothing but the limitless black of the abyss.

What interested Adam far more was that he could see where the walls to his front and back terminated, while the dead ends extended upward without end. They just disappeared into the void. He appeared to be in some sort of deep trench. It stretched for many yards to the left and right and was at least sixteen feet high.

Adam got the point quickly. The rooms seemed to serve no other purpose than to teach Adam the nature of his new abilities. Adam set himself and rubbed his hands together in preparation, and then he bounded forward, crouched low to the ground, and propelled himself upward as hard as he could. The result was an incredible vertical leap. It truly did defy human limitations. He sailed right up and was able to catch the ledge of the trench.

For a moment, Adam hung there, exhilarated. He smiled and laughed, then let out a loud whoop. The noise was immediately answered by the creature, which roared its bone-chilling howl. It felt so close that Adam yanked himself out of the chasm without hesitation. He possessed a new cat-like agility.

Out of the trench, Adam only saw another unfinished wall a few dozen yards in front of him. He turned around to see another expanse of polished flooring on the far side of the chasm. However, on the other side of the chasm, there was an exit. It was marked with an incredibly large out-of-place golden gate. Battlements as tall and thick as castle walls stood on either side. Beyond it was only darkness and mist. The gate hung open, and in no more than another few seconds did the creature come sliding into view just beyond it. The creature appeared to have been rushing to get to the meeting.

The two soul-eaters stared each other down for a moment. The creature was vaguely humanoid, with arms and legs, but it was covered in a thick pelt of white fur. Its head was bulbous with six small red dots for eyes in two vertical columns of three. Two slits populated the creature’s face where a nose might have been. Its mouth was a gaping maw that opened sideways and was filled with razor-like teeth. The creature’s arms were exceptionally long and nearly reached the ground standing fully erect on its two short legs. That is if you counted the curved claws that extended from the creature’s massive mitts. And the creature was tall. It had a foot and a half on Adam.

In that moment, Adam suddenly became very aware of how naked he was. It felt funny. There was no air temperature in that space. Would the monster want to fight a naked guy? The thing was naked, too, he supposed. Maybe they were both animals.

With no reason to hesitate, Adam gritted his teeth once again and bounded forward, jumping and clearing the gap of the trench. The creature sprinted for Adam. The broad sweeping of its arms gave it great speed. It charged with the intent of pouncing on Adam, but Adam jumped high over its head, and the animal simply tumbled into the chasm, squealing all the way down.

When Adam landed back on the ground, he looked coyly over his shoulder at the hole and smiled. “Dumb monster,” he quipped.

Adam bothered to mosey over to the trench and take a gander at the damage. When he leaned over the hole, the creature was already on its way back up. It sprung up from the ground and grabbed Adam’s head. Adam only managed one sharp breath in surprise. The creature dragged Adam down, and they both fell. Adam slapped onto the ground like a fish while the creature landed steadily. Not done yet, the creature retained its grasp of Adam’s skull in its impressive mitts and swung Adam over its head like a ragdoll, slamming the man onto the floor all at once.

Adam’s whole body hurt. It felt like he’d been hit by a train, especially the surface of Adam’s skin. For some reason being body-slammed naked felt so much worse.

Adam still had the will to move and tried to, but the creature grabbed him by his big head again and flipped him over lengthwise in one clean jerk. It stressed Adam’s neck muscles, and he smacked his head upon landing.

Adam groaned and held his head. The pain was incredible all over his body. He didn’t know if fractures were actually possible in the ethereal realm, but if they were, he definitely had one.

While Adam was busy feeling sorry for himself, the creature moved closer and crawled over Adam’s prostrate body on its knuckles like an ape. It sat its heavy body on Adam’s thighs and took hold of Adam’s head again, pulling him closer to its face.

Adam tried to pull the creature’s massive mitts off his temples with his hands but to no avail. The creature was incredibly strong. As their two faces grew closer, the creature’s disgusting mouth opened, and it breathed rancid breath into Adam’s face.

Adam’s heart immediately felt like it was trying to escape his ribcage. His deep primal fear of being eaten took hold. His muscles tensed, his hair stood on end, and time seemed to slow.

The ritual the creature was actually performing was not so simple. A warm feeling crawled up Adam’s throat and erupted from his mouth in the form of a stream of green energy. Adam began to feel increasingly weak and disoriented. He tried to choke and gag to stop the flow, but he couldn’t. Finally, in a feat of primal strength, Adam bucked his hips, bouncing the creature from its steady perch. The exchange of energy ceased immediately. Adam then grabbed the creature by the waist and tossed it to the side. The creature pitched into the wall of the trench, smacking its head.

Adam scurried backward and hopped to his feet. With distance between him and his predator, he had two choices, fight or flight. He chose flight. He turned to the wall and jumped, scrabbling for the ledge, but without a running start, he didn’t reach it. The creature lay sprawled on the floor but was getting to its feet. Its awkward anatomy made the task difficult.

Not wanting to cross the creature’s path to get to the exit, Adam jumped to the opposite wall. He kicked off it with one foot and achieved the height he needed. His hands clasped the ledge, and Adam started pulling himself up, but it proved far more difficult than the first time. His body ached. It was a pain unlike any he had felt before. It didn’t seem to have source or vary in intensity from area to area, and it didn’t ebb or flow. It simply hurt. It made Adam’s every action laborious.

Adam managed to pull himself up to the lip of the trench and slough his body over the top. He lay on the smooth stone, panting. He knew he couldn’t stay there. He knew he had to move, but some part of him just felt so resigned. Then the gruesome clawed digits of the creature appeared on the ledge to snap Adam out of that fatal mind-set. They latched onto the edge with a prominent, rapid, clicking sound that made Adam twitch and snap his head over to see. His eyes nearly bugged out of his skull at the sight, and he rolled over onto one knee. He slipped his fingers under the digits of one of the creature’s paws and pushed it off. Being left hanging from the ledge with just one paw, the creature’s plans for reaching the top were foiled. Before the creature could regain his hold with the other arm, Adam sprang to his feet and stomped on the remaining paw. The creature yelped and released its hold, falling back down into the trench below.

Not wanting to be caught unprepared again, Adam edged to the lip of the chasm and peered down to ascertain the disposition of the monster. It appeared to have landed on its feet, supplementing its short legs by steadying itself with its arms. The creature recovered quickly and leaped once again. The leap was mightier than the first. It wasn’t after the ledge; it was after Adam. It held its arms above its head to embrace its prey in a grip of death, nightmarish teeth bared and ready to tear flesh.

Thinking quickly, Adam extended one foot out and stomped it into the face of the creature as hard as he could. If he could leap a dozen feet into the air, he figured he had to have one hell of a kick. Sure enough, the creature’s momentum was completely reversed, and it fell back to the ground. It landed ungracefully and sprawling. It spread its massive jowls and roared angrily. Adam could feel the intensity of its frustration in his bones.

Stubbornly, the monster pushed itself back to its feet, pounding a fist on the ground. It gazed fearsomely up at the soldier above it and then jumped again. Adam simply reached his foot out and kicked it back down. The monster certainly didn’t appear to be too bright. At least Adam was winning. He wondered how long he would have to deny the thing before it gave up.

The creature landed back in the trench, seemingly more outraged than ever. It recovered and jumped right back up. It didn’t even bother extending its arms to grab its quarry. It simply launched itself into the air with its mighty stubby legs, face-first like a penguin diving into the ocean. Adam extended his leg to kick it back down, but instead, the monster opened its freakish jaws and caught the foot with its flesh-rending teeth! The monster allowed itself to fall back into the trench, pulling Adam’s foot with it. Adam was yanked off his remaining foot, and the weight of the creature dragged him off the edge of the chasm. Adam screamed in pain and fear. Panicking, Adam twisted his body and caught the ledge with his hands. Miraculously, he supported both his weight and the weight of the creature, but the creature still had its maw clamped onto Adam’s foot. It dangled there like a fish on a hook. The teeth shredded the flesh on Adam’s foot, and blood bubbled out of the gaping wounds, trickling onto the ravenous creature’s face and into its gruesome mouth.

The pain! Again, the pain! It flooded Adam’s body, not just from his mangled foot but from the roots of his hair to the tips of his fingers. The unyielding alien torment felt like electricity crawling through his nerves.

Adam kicked at the face of his determined nemesis with his free foot. He had to get it off. He had to do anything to stop the pain. Adam stomped again and again, each time more powerful than the last. He grunted louder and louder from the exertion until they became furious shouts. The creature’s skin broke, and dark-red blood oozed from the ruptures, but the stubborn, hungry monster held its grip. Finally, with one last mighty strike, Adam drove his heel into the slits where the creature’s nose should have been, and the monster fell, shrieking back into the pit.

Hastily, Adam clambered out of the trench and crawled away from the brink on all fours. His left foot smeared a trail of blood on the floor behind him. Panting, trembling from the pain, Adam collected himself. It wouldn’t be long before the monster recovered and renewed its pursuit. Adam knew that. The “thing” was too strong and entirely too committed. He had to escape it. To hell with learning about his new existence. To hell with being the champion of the Wheel of Fate. He wanted to live, and fighting that thing would get him killed, again!

Adam raised his head and peered at the area ahead of him. The peculiar golden gate stood a few dozen yards ahead, sturdy and gleaming with the towering walls on either side. It was perfect. Even if the creature could open the gate or scale the walls, Adam could lose the creature in the mist. He could even maneuver around and perhaps catch the creature by surprise.

Adam sprinted forward. At first, he favored his left foot, limping as fast he could, but it was pointless. The pain wasn’t localized. It didn’t feel like the foot was the source of the pain, and putting weight on it didn’t exacerbate the injury the way it should have. Adam quickly abandoned the posture and ran ahead properly. He reached the gate and turned back to see if he was being pursued. The creature didn’t even appear to have recovered from its last fall by then. It hadn’t climbed out of the trench.

Smirking, Adam turned away and made to cross the threshold, but something gave him pause. The moment he gazed upon the mist, he froze. He couldn’t have explained it if he tried, but the mist possessed an eerie quality Adam was having trouble accepting. Standing just before the threshold, it felt as if a deep cold were radiating from the vapor, like the chill that can be felt from a solid block of ice even when the hand is held just short of touching. Adam considered his nudity and weighed the possibility of him being able to tolerate what the chill portended. Even the coloring of the mist was odd. The droplets that hung in the air were tinged a sickly color just short of natural. A person not paying close attention could have easily missed it, but still, to Adam it felt like it was screaming in his face. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to go in there. He wondered if it was supposed to be like a marker for the bounds of that space, the same way a video game would place an impassable obstacle to limit a player’s advance.

Adam turned his head to check on the creature’s progress once more. Luckily, it still hadn’t emerged from the pit. He couldn’t risk it. Adam slipped through the opening of the gate and pulled it shut behind him, dropping the latch into place. The gate wasn’t well secured. The latch was available on both sides and had no method of locking, but it was possible the creature wasn’t smart enough to understand that concept. Adam pivoted from the gate and stepped into the mist.

Despite living in California his entire life, Adam had known cold. When he was shipped to Fort Benning just as fall was coming to a close, he got a crash course in what the drill sergeants called “cold weather training.” Then the years he spent at Fort Lewis and two deployments to Afghanistan furthered his education. The cold he felt in that pale mist was different. It felt tangible, like languid fingertips made of ice and ill will traced seductive lines on whatever skin it could access. Adam wrapped his arms around himself and walked with choppy steps while his eyes scanned the mist for threats. There appeared to be none. No malignant specter emerged to steal his exposed soul. No shapes darted about in the mist.

Adam’s teeth started chattering. He quickly realized that he didn’t have to worry about the creature chasing him. No one in their right mind would willingly reenter that place. He was foolish to have tried. He turned and went to head back the way he came but stopped short. The gate was nowhere to be seen. There was only a wall of the obscuring mist and darkness beyond. It was impossible. Adam didn’t think he’d gone that far, and the mist didn’t even appear that thick.

Still huddled and shivering, Adam ambled forward. The mist had closed in around him without his notice. Every meager step became uncertain. Soon, even the ground had seemingly vanished but not behind the mist. It simply wasn’t thick enough to affect that kind of obscuration. It was as if Adam had simply lost the faculty to detect it with his eyes. Still, he pushed onward. Whatever he’d walked into, he could walk out of.

Adam took a perilous step that did not meet with solid ground. It fell past, and Adam pitched forward. He found himself tumbling down a steep earthen slope, sliding and rolling, unable to slow his momentum. The only objects in sight were his flailing limbs as they popped in and out of view. The slope reached a termination point and transitioned into a sheer drop. Adam fell only few feet and landed on his back in a cheap mattress. His head was cradled by a clean pillow.

6

Adam held his eyes shut. He still expected his dome to strike the only rock on the ground and split open. There was no way he was really in a bed.

In time, Adam tried to open his eyes. It was difficult, like he’d just been sleeping for a thousand years and his eyelids couldn’t remember exactly how they worked. Luckily, the room was dimly lit. The only source of illumination was pleasant sunlight that streamed through the closed blinds in slim rays. Clean white linen covered Adam from the chest down, a lone chair stood in the far corner, and an ECG beeped quietly to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“A hospital,” Adam managed to deduce. He was confused at first, but then it all seemed to click together in his head. Of course, he was in a hospital. Where else did he think he would be? He’d been shot in the head.

Adam’s throat was dry, and his brain swam in murky water. He tried to raise his right hand, but it proved difficult. It felt like it weighed about . . . infinity pounds. Trying felt pointless. Some sort of monitor was clipped to the end of his index finger, and an IV needle had been inserted into his forearm, so Adam attempted to lift the opposite hand instead. It was being difficult as well, but it rose slightly from the bed.

Adam sighed and wriggled the fingers gingerly, trying to get more blood flowing, and then he tried the left hand a second time. It was arduous and took longer than Adam was hoping, but he finally raised his hand to his head. He explored the bandage that was wrapped around his cranium. It was probably the only thing holding him together, like Humpty Dumpty.

The call button rested next to his right hand, and Adam willed himself to reach for it, but the hand still did not respond. He tried again and again. He felt his hand attempting to move but was simply unable to do so, as if it were being restrained by an invisible force. Finally, Adam reached across his body with his left hand. It involved Adam twisting his torso, which quickly alerted him that he was not healed nearly well enough to be moving. Still, Adam persisted. He strained those last few inches. He pressed hard on the top of the button, and it glowed red, sounding a soft, tonal alert.

Adam fell heavily into the embrace of the bed with a grateful sigh. He hadn’t felt so accomplished since the last time he’d broken his personal lifting record at the gym.

As he waited, a genuine smile slowly spread across his cheeks. It had all been a dream. He didn’t know how to express his relief. It had all felt so real, even more real than the bed he lay on. Curious how nightmares can have that effect. At least the stories were true; if you fall in the dream, you wake up.

A plain nurse in mauve scrubs entered from the empty hallway, a suspicious look on her face. When she saw Adam, the expression softened and hurried to his side. “Oh my god! You’re awake.”

Adam smirked. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

The nurse seemed in a tizzy. “Uh, okay, uh . . . just relax. Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah, I’m in a hospital.” He eyed the nurse. She had one of those faces. He felt like he should recognize her.

“Right, good. Okay, uh, I want you to relax—”

“I’m relaxed.”

“You suffered a severe head trauma. You were, uh, shot in the head.”

“Yeah, I know, or uh . . .” Adam pondered that idea while the nurse prattled on. He only knew from his dream that he’d been shot in the head.

“You’ve been asleep for months.”

“I mean I guess I know that—whoa, wait, I was asleep for months?”

“Yeah, well, getting your brains blown out will do that to you.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything you want me to get you?”

Adam loved the sound of that. “Oh yes, please! Could you get me a glass of water and maybe some aspirin?”

“The doctor will decide what pain medications you need, honey.”

Adam was nearly taken aback by how passive-aggressive the nurse sounded. “Okay, uh, when can I see the doctor?”

“Should be soon, I’ll get right on that glass of water. Anything else I can get for you?”

“Uh, yeah . . .” Adam considered how empty his room was. Most hospital rooms had a TV or something in them; his was disappointingly empty. “Do you think I could get like a radio or something? I have had this damn song stuck in my head for a long time.”

The nurse hesitated, like she was getting ready to deny him. Eventually, she affected a smile. “Sure, hon. I guess you’ve earned a few eccentric ticks and such.”

“Uh, yeah.” Adam chuckled and tried to put on his charm. “Maybe I’ll start forgetting to wear pants out of the house. Maybe I’ll forget math entirely.”

The nurse was whisking out of the room. “Yeah, well, from what I hear, you weren’t that sharp to begin with.”

Adam snorted just before he realized it didn’t sound like a joke. “What?”

“Don’t go anywhere!” the nurse called over her shoulder. She was gone in another moment.

Adam furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. “Man, the nurse is a bitch,” he muttered.

Hours later, Adam lay with his hands behind his head, and the bed tilted up into recliner position, just staring at the ceiling. He wondered how anyone could be like that. How could anyone treat a patient like that? How could anyone treat a wounded soldier like that, and in an army hospital?

Adam squinted his eyes and scanned the room suspiciously. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He didn’t recall raising the recliner on the bed or moving his arms. It seemed just a second ago that the nurse had left the room, but he knew hours had passed. Maybe even days had passed, but he didn’t remember a single meal, a single bathroom break. It was like his brain was telling him two different things.

Or . . . no. Hold on. He’d lost time—blacked out. Adam’s right hand slipped from behind his head and touched the bandage wrapped tightly around it. He dreaded the idea of what that bullet had done to his brain functions. He could have short-term memory loss or maybe narcolepsy.

There was a knock on the doorjamb. Adam turned to see Benito Alvarez grinning like a thief just outside in the barren hall. He was wearing a clean army uniform. Adam smiled. It was good to see a friendly face.

“How’s it going, man?” Benito crossed the threshold and strode over to the chair, sitting in the corner.

“I have the hangover of the century,” Adam quipped.

Benito chuckled, passing over the chair and continuing to pace around. “Yeah, I’ll bet, but you’re not doing too bad, considering. Must’ve missed.” Benito held up his thumb and index finger. “Tiny target, can’t really blame him.”

Adam laughed heartily. “Uh-huh, all right . . . hey.”

Benito stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

“Did they catch him?”

Benito bowed his head and shook it. “Nah, man. You let him get away.”

Adam flipped his friend off dryly.

Benito hardly reacted the way Adam thought he would. “Seriously, man, what were you thinking?”

Adam was taken aback. “What?”

“Why did you bargain for that guy’s freedom? Why did you let him go and go with him on top of that?”

To Adam, the point was simple, and he looked at Benito like he was an idiot. “Ben, he was threatening to destroy the entire building with everyone in it! He was holding women and young girls hostage! They all would have died!”

“So fucking what?”

“Are you kidding?” Adam shouted. “That’s not right. Come on, even you know that.”

“A-Rod, they were not the mission. It’s a shame, yeah, but we wanted El-Hashem and the information he could have given us. It was not our mission to save those women. Our mission failed because of you.”

“Ridiculous!” Adam threw his hands in the air. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Why?” Benito asked. “Those girls would have died, but we’re looking at the big picture. We needed to know what he knew! We could have taken him.”

“Not if he blew himself up!”

“He wasn’t going to do that anyways!”

Adam looked at Benito incredulously. He was sick of the matter-of-fact way Benito said everything. “You don’t know that!” he argued.

Benito gave him a sideways look. “Come on, you saw that guy. He wouldn’t have done it. He would have pussed out, and then our guys would have taken him in, no problem. Instead, you literally offered to escort him out of our reach.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that. He was one of the few people on the planet that knew for certain Benito was right. El-Hashem never would have killed himself. Adam argued the point anyway. “We couldn’t risk it. That’s not right, and it’s not in keeping with what it is to be a soldier either!”

Benito scoffed. “Oh, don’t give me that! Like you were ever much of a soldier to begin with.”

Adam threw up his hands. “What is this shit, now?”

“What? You know it. You never liked the Army and did virtually nothing to advance yourself. You never went the extra mile. And why would you? You were just counting the days until you got out.” Benito chuckled suddenly at some internal joke, covering his mouth as he snickered away. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

Adam rolled his eyes in exasperation. He saw the rub as well.

Benito elaborated in between his cackling. “Now the next few years of your life are going to be spent in rehab!” Benito shrugged. “Or in Fort Leavenworth, it depends.”

“You know, you’re a real stand-up guy,” Adam said.

Benito shrugged again. “Eh, maybe I’m not so good. Could be worse. I could be a traitor.”

“Okay, how about this?” Adam shouted. “Fuck you, and get the fuck out!” Adam pointed a stiff army knife hand out the door.

Benito stood from the wall and walked expediently toward the exit. “Fine, shit bag. See how long you can keep fooling yourself into thinking you were anything besides a damn traitor in that scenario.”

“Would you shut up already?” Adam shouted after him.

“Just saying,” Benito replied and was gone. He had to get the last word.

Adam seethed with rage. His fists clenched tightly with the fury that he held caged with no outlet. “Why does that guy have to be such an asshole all the time?” It was those times that made Adam question why he ever hung out with him in the first place. Benito’s unique capacity to tell it like it was had a limited charm.

Adam’s heart sank. It was true. Benito did have a talent for telling things like they are, but the implications of that were awful. Adam didn’t want to think about it. All he could do was try to push it from his mind. “Traitor.” Ridiculous.

Adam rubbed his eyes with his right hand and then pulled it away from his face and stared at it. His right hand was working. It had been working that whole time. It had been working at least ever since he put his hands behind his head . . . whenever that was. He still couldn’t remember.

How much time had he lost? Adam quickly looked around the room. There was no clock. The sun still shone. The nurse hadn’t retrieved his radio. It was nowhere to be seen, so it couldn’t have been that long. Then again, considering how the nurse behaved, Adam figured it was possible he would never see the radio, ever.

Adam dropped his head heavily into the pillow and sighed. He thought being blown up was bad. Being dead was looking to be a nightmare, yet his time being alive again was quickly proving more painful.

“Where the hell is that nurse?” If nothing else good happened, however long he was going to be stuck in the hospital, Adam wanted his damn radio. Adam pressed the Call button hard and held it, drawing out the soft tone, and then he waited. Some indeterminate amount of time passed. Adam didn’t know how much; they saw fit to never give him a clock. It felt like enough, so he pressed it again and waited. The nurse was probably smoking a cigarette out behind the building. Or maybe she was listening to the tone sound and giggling to herself in one of the staff lounges. That possibility in mind, Adam pressed the button a third time. Then he pressed it a few more times in rapid succession.

Adam had worked himself into a fury and tossed the button aside. It landed on the floor with a clack. Even if the nurse was somewhere else or perhaps off shift, someone had to hear his request. Were there no other nurses in the hospital?

Adam looked out at the bare patch of hallway he could see outside his room. He had never seen a single person walk by. Hospitals are busy places. He shouldn’t have been able to go more than a couple of minutes without seeing someone hurry past. He supposed it was possible that he had seen someone and just lost the memory along with all the time he couldn’t account for. He could also be in a care home for coma patients and other invalids rather than a hospital. He heard those places could be awful.

Cursing, Adam tossed the covers off himself. He had been dressed in patient scrubs by someone during his sleep. Unthinking, Adam moved to roll off the bed. In response, many points on his body screamed out in agony, especially his ribcage and abdominal muscles. Adam quickly gave in to the pain and fell back. Whimpering, he reached down and pulled up the shirt. Underneath, a large bruise, yellowed with age, stained his left side, extending from his lower ribs down past the lap band on his marine-blue pants. Amorphous patches of discolored skin stood out from burns that could never fully heal.

Adam lowered the shirt. Staring resolutely at the ceiling and breathing heavily through his nose, he told himself it didn’t matter. He just needed to gather his willpower. Slowly, Adam played through the pain. Each breath was delivered through clenched teeth as he moved, but he managed to sit upright on the edge of the bed. He then took a brief respite to collect himself and pushed himself to his feet. More muscles ached in his legs—some from bruising, others from disuse. Electricity still shot through his right knee when any sort of force was applied on it, and the tissue between his left leg and pelvis felt as if it were being pinched in a vise grip. That, more than anything, made him cry out.

Adam’s plaintive cry finally drew someone’s attention. A well-built orderly rounded the corner and stepped into the room. He took one look at Adam and moved to support him. “Sir, I don’t think you should be up.”

Adam was grateful for the support. He nearly fell into the man’s shoulder. “Whoo, thanks. I just . . . I wanted to talk to somebody about my radio.”

“Yeah, all right. Just get back into bed, sir. There’s no need for you to be up and about.”

Adam resisted the orderly’s guiding hands. “No, man. I need to talk to someone. Where’s my doctor? Have I seen my doctor yet?”

“We’ll get your doctor, no problem. Just lie down.”

“No way, man,” Adam said. “I’ve seen how you people operate. I’ll just find him myself.”

“That’s not an option, sir,” the orderly replied firmly. “I’ll get him.” He turned to shout out the door. “Hey!”

Adam looked up to see another orderly just standing outside. He actually looked kind of familiar somehow.

“Get Mr. Rodriguez’s doctor.”

The orderly outside nodded and walked off.

“There. Will you lie down now?”

“No, man. Get off me. I told you.”

A man in a doctor’s coat walked in. He spoke with a Middle Eastern accent. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Adam saw him and nearly had a heart attack. The doctor was Harun El-Hashem. It wasn’t just a resemblance. There was no mistaking it. The doctor was Harun El-Hashem. The revelation actually caused Adam to stop struggling for a moment and just stare in mute horror. His body then began to fidget automatically. It was weak and absentminded at first, but then Adam committed to it. He started trying to forcefully jerk his arm from the grip of the orderly holding him firmly in place.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Rodriguez?” El-Hashem asked in all seriousness.

Adam growled at the drug lord. “You get the hell away from me!”

“Sir, what’s the problem?” the orderly asked.

“Get your damn hands off me!” Adam furiously twisted his body, trying to wriggle free.

The orderly planted his feet. “I need some help in here!” he called.

The other orderly rushed into the room from out of view. “Restrain him,” El-Hashem ordered calmly as the second orderly took hold of Adam’s free flailing appendages. The orderlies pushed Adam back to the bed and held him down as he kicked and screamed. His face was red with fury.

El-Hashem proceeded to calmly reach into the pocket of his coat, from which he removed a syringe. Adam’s vision blurred from the pain of his stressed injuries and the rage accompanying, but he could still see it clearly.

“I’m going to give you a shot, Mr. Rodriguez. It will help calm your nerves.”

“You’re not sticking me with anything!” Adam screamed as he floundered impotently.

“Relax. It will only take a moment.”

When Adam’s strength proved insufficient, he tried to bite one of the orderly’s hands, but it was just out of reach.

“Are you ready for your shot?” El-Hashem asked as if he were asking a child. “Here it comes!”

Adam turned back to the masquerading drug lord and looked right down the barrel of his nine-millimeter handgun. He was wearing his black outfit instead of the doctor’s costume.

Adam stopped struggling and only gaped in shock. The gun was pointed right at his head. Harun pulled the trigger and bored into Adam’s skull, coincidentally in the exact reverse of the path the bullet had taken before. Adam’s head bounced backward on his neck and blood spattered all over his pillow, but there was no darkness. Adam remained unmercifully awake and aware as a neat line of blood trickled from both ends of the hole.

Harun laughed like a comic-book villain. The satirical cackle echoed in Adam’s ventilated brain. Adam only stared at him in disbelief while he lamented the insanity. The whole scenario had flown right off the rails. He had to be in hell. He had to be.

Adam awoke with a start and an audible yelp, sitting up from the bed. His face was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The nurse, who was plugging in his radio at the end of the room, jumped. Having been startled by her presence, Adam jumped again. Then accepting the woman’s presence, his eyes scanned the room in paranoia. It appeared normal. It had always appeared normal.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked. The words might have been kind, had they not been spoken with her usual condescending attitude.

Adam’s response was almost automatic. “Yeah, fine.” He wasn’t sure it was the truth.

“Okay, well, I got that radio you wanted. I’ll find a cart or something to put your glass of water on in case you pass out again.”

Adam looked at her like she was insane. Had it really been easier to procure a small radio than a glass of water?

“Also,” the nurse continued, “your parents called about you. They said they would be arriving anytime, here.”

“Really?” Adam asked excitedly. “Wow. Everyone’s coming to visit me today.”

The nurse seemed confused. “Who else came to visit you today?”

“Uh, his name was Benito. He was a fellow soldier.” After saying that, Adam realized his mistake. The argument he and Benito had was all part of his paranoid nightmare.

“Oh, yes. I remember him,” the nurse said, and Adam pricked his ears up. “Hispanic man, yes? Shaven hair? That was days ago. It seemed like you two didn’t leave on the best terms.”

“Days ago?” Adam mused. It hadn’t felt like any time had passed at all since he arrived. Or no, wait. It did feel like days . . . maybe. He was having trouble deciding. But then that argument really did happen, right before El-Hashem put another bullet in his brain. Where did the dream start? Where did it end?

Adam looked at the nurse suspiciously, like she had grown demon horns and was deciding whether or not red wine would be a good pairing with his kidneys. How long had he been waiting on that radio? How long had he gone without his water?

The nurse saw this and gave him a strange look in return. “All right. I’m . . . just going to go.” She turned the radio on and moved to leave, but Adam had another question for her.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

The nurse hesitated. “Hm? Yes. I’m your nurse. I’ve been in and out of here many times.”

Adam shook his head. “No. No, I mean from before this. Haven’t I seen you before?”

The nurse seemed to think but then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling. He’d had it ever since he first saw her. Her face wasn’t just plain; it was familiar. He was good with faces and could recall having dealt with her somewhere before.

Having had enough, the nurse shuffled out to avoid more awkward conversation, and Adam watched her disappear out of the doorframe. With her gone, Adam relaxed a little, settling into his pillow. The radio was playing a somber country tune. Adam recognized it, too, but couldn’t recall the name. Much to his aggravation, it was the same song he had stuck in his head. It sounded like Johnny Cash singing. Adam didn’t really like country music.

Adam looked at the radio beyond the foot of his bed and grumbled. It was too far away. He didn’t want to aggravate his injuries just to change the channel.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Adam looked to see who it was. His excitement quickly died when he realized it wasn’t his parents. Instead, an older gentleman with white hair, wearing a very sharp suit and carrying an attaché case waited outside.

“May I come in?” the man asked.

Adam’s disappointment was apparent on his face. “Yeah,” he answered. “Who are you?”

The man bowed his head as he entered. “Mr. Rodriguez, I’m Anthony Hill. I’m from the inspector general’s office.”

Adam was instantaneously suspicious. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

Adam looked at the lone chair at the end of the room and the small radio sitting in it already. “Uh, yeah. Could you turn that thing off while you’re over there?”

Mr. Hill moseyed over to the chair. “Actually, I rather like this song.” As he set the radio on the floor, he began singing along. “Where the coyotes howl, and the wind blows free . . . where there’s not a soul that will care for me.” Before picking up the chair, he looked over his shoulder and offered a modest smile. It would have been charming, even comforting, if Adam weren’t internally questioning the man’s motives.

Mr. Hill repositioned the chair at the side of Adam’s bed and sat with his attaché case in his lap. “How are you doing, Adam? Do you mind if I call you Adam?”

“No, and I’m fine. What’s the purpose of your visit? You don’t look much like a soldier.”

“Ah, yes, I was told you were not much for pleasantries by your leadership.” Mr. Hill undid the band on his case of papers. “You’re right. I’m not a soldier. I was, but I haven’t been for a long time now. I was an army legal specialist, but now I work in the private sector as a contracting expert in Army law. I’m your court-appointed lawyer.”

Adam stitched his eyebrows nearly together. “Why would I need a court-appointed lawyer?”

Mr. Hill laced his fingers together on top of his case before responding. “Yes, Adam, it’s also my duty to inform you that you are about to be charged with treason.”

“Treason? Are you serious?”

“Yes, Adam, I’m afraid I am. Your actions on the battlefield are being called into question. Sworn statements were taken from everyone involved, and it came to light that you basically facilitated the escape of the Afghani drug lord Harun El-Hashem.”

“Because he was holding women and children hostage!” Adam snapped. “He was going to kill everyone! Why am I the only person who understands this?”

Mr. Hill held a hand up in a calming gesture. “I know, Adam. I know. Everyone knows. At this point, it’s more about how it looks. Your actions were in direct contradiction to your commander’s intent. He even specifically forbade you from taking that action. After that, you marched past your entire unit as an escort to Mr. El-Hashem so he could escape to safety.”

“He had his men threatening those people still! And I was his hostage as much as any of them! Did everyone miss that part where he shot me in the head?”

“I understand your anger, Adam, but try to understand. There was ambiguity in the nature of your actions. The inspector general wasn’t there. Your brigade commander wasn’t there. The public is aware only of what it hears and what it hears is . . . damning. Now, I’m not saying that they have a strong case. All I’m saying is that there are questions that need to be answered in an official capacity. There are public figures calling for your arrest, and they must be satisfied. You must go to court so your guilt or innocence can be determined. At the very least, you have to admit you disobeyed a lawful, direct order.”

“That’s bullshit!” Adam spat. “How . . . how can it possibly be this way? This is insane! Captain Donowitz let me leave.”

Mr. Hill shifted uneasily in his chair. “To be fair, there was nothing he could do to regain control of your insubordination in that moment. He couldn’t physically force you to come with him as he could have in any other situation because everyone was at Mr. El-Hashem’s mercy.”

“Exactly, we were all at his mercy. We couldn’t do anything besides what he said. How can I be a traitor for giving El-Hashem what he wanted when everyone else was doing the same thing?” Adam already felt like he was on the witness stand.

“Yes, I thought of that, Adam, and I’ll be using that as part of my argument. I’m your lawyer, and regardless of the truth of the scenario, it is my duty to present a defense. We just have to face facts here. It’s possible that—”

Mr. Hill cut himself off because Benito Alvarez appeared in the doorway with the intent of striding brazenly into the room. He stopped short and looked surprised that someone was already in the room with Adam. “Ooh, sorry. Is this a bad time?” He looked at Mr. Hill. “Aren’t you—ohh.” Benito sort of chuckled. “Is this about the—kllcchh!” Benito mimicked hanging himself with a noose. Adam wanted to leap from the bed and throttle him for real, but before Adam could even say anything, Benito laughed aloud and casually continued walking down the hall like that whole scenario had been a scene from TV that could be brushed off for the sake of the allotted time.

Adam couldn’t believe the bastard. Why did he have to be like that? What happened to him? And what was he doing back in the hospital? Just pacing around, waiting for good opportunities to take another cheap shot?

Mr. Hill shifted around in his chair slowly, looking uncomfortable. “Uhh, yes. Well, we’ll be able to speak more privately at a later date, when you’re well enough to walk. We can begin to formulate a plan for your hearing and hopefully avoid any unpleasantness with the possibility of capital punishment.”

Unpleasantness. Adam repeated the word in his head. The euphemism was actually insulting. The delicate manner in which the lawyer spoke was beginning to get on Adam’s nerves.

“They’ll release you from custody for a short time and allow you to come down to my office, perhaps, if they feel comfortable,” Mr. Hill finished.

Custody? The revelation hit Adam like a freight train. He was in the custody of the law. It explained so much, like why his wing wasn’t busy like a hospital should be and why he wasn’t allowed out of his room. It was entirely possible that someone was posted outside of his door at all times and he just couldn’t see them.

Mr. Hill dug into his case files and pulled out a thick stack of papers, holding them out to Adam. “While we wait, here are some publications I printed out that go over some of the laws and the procedures you’ll want to be familiar with for when your court date arrives. It seems like you’ll have nothing but time on your hands in here after I leave, so I expect you’ll be able to become quite familiar with them.”

Adam stared at the papers hesitantly. It was all so depressing. Eventually, he reached his right hand out, though with little more speed than a sloth. He took the papers and passively placed them on his lap. The light from his eyes had gone. He stared past the objects. Mr. Hill said something about needing to leave and offered his hand for a shake. Adam shook it absentmindedly, and the man left with his briefcase full of bad news.

Somehow a colorless world had fallen around Adam like a veil. He thought Harun El-Hashem had taken something from him when he’d shot him in the head, maybe he hadn’t.

A phone rang, a trill, digital ring that Adam recognized. He hadn’t known where it came from at first. The meagerly furnished cell had no place to hide a phone, really. On the second ring, Adam pinpointed it. He strained himself to roll over on the bed and peek under it. He’d forgotten about the papers on his lap, which spilled onto the floor. Adam cursed his absentmindedness and pressed onward. Sitting just beneath the edge of the bed was a phone—Adam’s cell phone. As it continued to ring, Adam puzzled at it. How long had it been sitting there? Why was it sitting there? It didn’t seem to be for a purpose. It looked as if someone just tossed it there as an afterthought, like they were throwing it away. Was he allowed to have his cellphone in his confinement?

Adam grabbed the phone and arduously pushed himself back into the bed, where he could relax. When he read the screen, all his concerns washed away, and he quickly answered it. “Chrissy?”

“Hi, Adam,” the beauty’s sweet voice said.

“Hey!” Adam smiled. Warm relief washed over his body. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Adam. I’m doing pretty good.” Her voice sounded kind of sad to Adam. “How are you?”

“Bah, it sucks here. Why haven’t you come to see me yet?” Adam asked. “Wait, did you come to see me already?”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t want to come see you.”

“Why not?”

“I just . . . couldn’t. I . . .”

“Look, Christina, if it’s about the things they’re saying about me, they’re not true. I’m not a traitor. I led Harun out of there to save lives—”

“No, Adam, it’s not about that, I just . . .” Christina sniffled. “I have something to tell you. I couldn’t tell you in person.”

A lump grew in Adam’s throat and his skin became clammy. “Okay.”

Christina took a moment to gather herself and then said, “While you were in a coma—no . . .” Adam heard Christina inhale sharply and then release a huge sigh before continuing. “It was actually before that, while you were in Afghanistan. I . . . I started seeing Danny Lacey. We’ve been together for a long time now, and things are getting really serious. I know I’m an awful person. I tried to stay faithful to you while you were away, but I was so lonely. If you were around more, maybe things could have been different, but now this is how it is. I love him. He was there for me, and he’s a good lover.”

Hot tears welled up in Adam’s eyes as Christina spoke, tears of disgust, betrayal, aggression, and terrible sadness. They wallowed, stinging his dry eyes at first and then finally released, racing down his cheeks. Adam wasn’t prone to crying, and it did not come naturally to him. He sniffled, sitting in stunned silence while Christina continued to try to explain in the background. She stumbled over her words and mostly could only reiterate points she’d already covered as if she could make it sound less horrible and Adam might come to understand better the second time around. Maybe she expected him to be mature about it, to be a man. Maybe she expected him to say, “Oh, okay! Danny sure does sound like a swell guy! I don’t see why you were ever with me with him around! I wish the both of you all the happiness in the world!” What a joke.

Even worse, Benito had been right about her. She had been calling Adam, pretending everything was good between them, and all the while she had been sleeping with Danny behind his back. Her smile was a mask she wore to hide the ugliness their relationship had become.

Adam reached up with his thumb and silenced Christina in the middle of one of her redundant sentences. He didn’t have anything to say to her anymore. He didn’t have any words for anybody. He wanted to retreat from the world, just go to sleep and never wake up, live in his dreams while eternity decayed outside the walls.

Later, Adam still sat in his bed, staring at one of the prints his new lawyer had given him. The pile of papers had been collected from the floor and tossed back onto the blankets in another crooked stack. Whoever had retrieved them didn’t care much—probably Adam.

The words Adam was trying to read blurred in front of his eyes. He couldn’t focus and was collecting no information. While he scanned the document, he did notice something strange in one of the sentences: “A trial counsel shall not file a notice of appeal under R.C.M. 908 HAVE A GOOD CRY? unless authorized to do so by the GCM authority or the SJA.” Adam blinked his tired eyes. The words he thought he saw remained. They stood out from the rest of the monotonous text like the only fresh grass in a torched field. Other similar phrases caught Adam’s eye further down the page.

Crybaby, it said.

Weakling.

It’s no wonder she left you.

Too weak.

Admit it.

Adam dropped the paper and rubbed his eyes. His headache quickly returned and stronger than ever. It rocketed past its previous intensity, and Adam cradled his head in his hands. He could feel the indentation in his bandage where his skull wasn’t there to support it underneath. There instead was the exit wound of a nine-millimeter bullet.

“What’s happening to me?” he whimpered. His brain was melting in his skull. He was seeing things and losing track of time. He didn’t even know how he’d gotten there. He didn’t remember how the papers got back onto his bed. He didn’t remember anything of what he’d been reading, and the words themselves were indecipherable to his addled mind.

Something wet and warm drizzled down Adam’s face in one neat strand. It traveled from his forehead, in between his nose and left eye, and past the corner of his mouth. Horrified, Adam touched two fingers to the fluid. When he pulled the hand away, he discovered the deep red of his own blood.

“I’m dreaming,” he told himself. “None of this is real. I’m seeing things again.” He closed his eyes. “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. I need to wake up.”

Adam’s eyes popped open to the plain white of the hospital ceiling above him. He didn’t panic like the first time. He only lay in bed quietly. He immediately wanted to know where the dream had begun. He so desperately hoped it had begun before he spoke on the phone with Christina. But if it had, then did he also imagine the exchange with the lawyer? Did he have his radio? Did he ever actually wake up?

There was a simple test for that. Adam looked to see if the papers he had been given were anywhere to be seen. To his dismay, he immediately spotted them stacked neatly next to his right arm. The person who discovered them and then stacked them with such care, sat at Adam’s bedside. Her legs were crossed, and half of her face was hidden behind a print copy of The Hobbit, which she read wearing her black-framed reading glasses.

“Téa?” Adam dared to ask.

Téa looked over the top of her book, and Adam saw her cheeks get pushed up from the smile that was hidden just beneath. When she lowered the book, she beamed. “Hi, Adam!”

Adam was wary. “Are you here to mess with me too?”

Téa looked concerned. “What? Adam, no. Of course not. How could you say that? What’s been happening to you in here?”

Adam sighed. Téa’s feelings were always fragile. “I’m sorry. It’s just that a lot of weird stuff’s kind of going on with me right now.”

Téa closed her book and set it in her lap. “Well, tell me. I want to help.”

Adam looked at Téa, the exhaustion and defeat apparent in his red eyes. “You can’t help, Téa. It’s nothing anyone can help with.”

Téa’s bright eyes pleaded with Adam. “I want to try.”

Téa had always been sensitive and sympathetic. A different kind of heart beat inside of her. Adam knew that, so he let go. Tears once again collected in his eyes, tears that didn’t sting, tears that felt natural and therapeutic, and Adam sobbed. “Téa, I think I might be going insane.”

The concern on Téa’s face grew deeper, and her eyes glistened. She said nothing, only listened.

“I think something bad happened to me when I got shot. I don’t know, but . . . I can’t think straight. I’ve been having these awful dreams, and . . . I don’t know if they’re dreams. I don’t even know if this is a dream. I can’t tell what’s real anymore! Do you know? Do you know anything about Christina? Is she with Danny? Did she leave me?”

A tear broke away and streamed down Téa’s reddening cheeks. She sniffled and looked down at the hands she’d started to wring together. Finally, reluctantly, she nodded.

“Oh god!” Adam cried. He lay back in his bed and raged at the ceiling. The tears soaking his face couldn’t soothe the pain. “Dammit! God dammit!”

“I’m sorry.” Téa had meant to say it louder than a whisper, but her throat was too choked up.

“And they’re calling me a traitor! They want to put me on trial and decide whether or not to put me down! I had a lawyer come by, and the bastard dropped off these stupid papers!” Adam smacked the stack of white papers off the bed. They burst like a firework in all directions, some of them swirling and twirling through the air on their way to the ground. Adam regretted it. He knew it was probably Téa who had picked them up in the first place. Téa didn’t really react. She just sniffled again and contemplated the hands in her lap.

“Goddamn Hashem was doing me a favor when he shot me.” Adam continued more quietly. “He freed me. I can’t take this. It’s some cruel joke that I ended up back here . . . and I just want to quit. I don’t want this anymore.”

To Adam’s surprise, Téa left her chair and reached for him. She took his head in her hands and pressed it to her chest in all the embrace she could manage with Adam bedridden. She cuddled her cheek against the top of Adam’s head and gently rocked him. It felt good. The fabric of Téa’s shirt wiped away the tears, and Adam felt cared for, for the first time in a long time.

“It just feels like everyone is out to get me. I’m in a lot of trouble, but I was just trying to do the right thing. There’s nothing you can do to help me.”

“I’m sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry. It’s all so awful.” Téa broke their embrace and the two friends gazed into each other’s eyes. “But there is something I can do for you.”

Adam gave her a questioning look as she sat down. Téa started fidgeting with her fingernails and avoiding Adam’s eyes. “You said that . . . you didn’t want this anymore—that you can’t take it. Well”—Téa looked at Adam with glistening eyes—“we can get you out. If you want to quit, we can.”

“What are you saying?” Adam asked.

Téa looked up at the IV bag hanging above Adam’s bed. It pumped essential nourishment into his arm through a long clear tube. “I can put something in this tube, something that’s not supposed to go in your blood. It will cause a clot. In time, that clot will reach something vital like your heart or brain. It will prevent blood from getting to important organs. Without oxygen, your brain will die. You’ll have an aneurysm, or perhaps a stroke. It will end it.”

“Are you serious?” Adam asked.

Téa pursed her lips and nodded sorrowfully. “You just give me the word, and I’ll do it. You just need to let go. You won’t ever have to stand trial. You won’t ever feel pain again. Maybe the next life you receive will be better, you know? You’ll fly among the stars.”

Adam’s face slowly became darker and then darker. Every word Téa spoke drove him into a rage. When he responded, his voice became gruff and menacing, a way he would never talk to Téa. “What is this?”

Téa looked at him, perplexed.

“I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?” Adam said. “I still haven’t woken up.”

Téa shook her head in forlorn concern. “No, Adam. You’re awake. This is real.” She reached out to gently rest her hand on Adam’s arm, but he pulled it away.

“Don’t touch me!” Adam barked. “What is this place? What’s happening to me?”

“Adam, just stop.”

Adam glanced around the room, his eyes like a wolf’s. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real. I need to escape this place.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Téa pleaded.

Adam turned to her, grave and focused. “Téa would never advocate me committing suicide. She loves me. I know that. She did everything she could to convince me not to join the Army. She never said it outright, but I knew it was because we weren’t going to see each other anymore. And you know what? For a moment there, I almost didn’t go. She’s my friend, and you . . . you’re not.”

Adam’s eyes flashed to the book Téa had been reading, and he quickly snatched it from her. He pulled it open to a random page and tried to read. There were words, but Adam couldn’t comprehend them. His brain saw them as blurs, lorem ipsum that made even less sense. “Of course,” Adam said to Téa as he threw the book to the floor. “Of course there’s nothing in it. I’ve never read that book before the same way I’ve never read UCMJ cover to cover. This is all a dream.”

Adam looked to the doorway. He’d still never stepped foot outside that infernal room. “I’m leaving,” he said simply. He braced his hands against the bed and pushed himself up. It proved difficult, far more difficult than the last time he’d tried to leave.

Téa was quick to stand. The phantom feigned concern and tried to coo Adam back into complacency while she placed her hands against his chest. “Adam, you’re going to hurt yourself. Stop this.”

“Yeahhh, right. I’m gonna hurt myself. I’ve heard that before.”

Adam’s nurse strode hurriedly into the room and bent over next to Téa. She too tried to restrain him. “Mr. Rodriguez, you know you cannot leave this room. You are in our custody.”

“No! I’m not listening to you people anymore! I’m getting out of here! Get your damn hands off me!” Some invisible force greater than the strength of the two women was trying to will Adam back into the bed.

Benito Alvarez appeared on the opposite side of the bed, seemingly from thin air, and added his hands to the effort. “Come on, man. Don’t be stupid. You leave this place, and you’ll be in a lot worse trouble. How is that gonna look?”

“You!” Adam snapped. “There’s no way you could have known that Hashem wasn’t going to do it! There’s no way!”

“Unless I told him.” Harun El-Hashem appeared next to Benito in his ridiculous white lab coat. He sneered at Adam.

Harun came to regret showing his face. Adam quickly swung his dominant right hand up into the drug lord’s face with all his strength. The punch landed with a force that would have made the real Benito shudder. Adam’s knuckles connected squarely on El-Hashem’s lips and front teeth. It rocked him. He collapsed against the wall and slumped to the floor.

“Doctor!” screeched the nurse.

Adam screamed like a maniac. “I’m not afraid of you anymore! Let me go! Let me go!” Adam gathered his strength and pushed mightily against the tide. “Let me gooooooooooo!”

Adam found that he was lifting himself from the unyielding ground. The hands of the friends attempting to restrain him were gone, replaced instead by the lazily swirling mist. The scrubs he had been prisoner in evaporated into utter nudity. His gaze darted around like that of a startled cat. To his sides and behind him, there was only mist and the unknown. To his front stood the golden gate and its accompanying battlements. He’d been deposited back at the starting point.

“It wasn’t real,” he assured himself, finally vindicated. “None of it was real.” Adam scanned around the space. He was questioning it all. He had been asleep, or . . . he was the dream? If he hallucinated that, he could be hallucinating all of it, even his release.

Slowly accepting that he was no longer threatened—quite so obviously, at least—Adam sat in front of the gate and regained control of his breathing. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he remembered. The mist wasn’t nearly as frigid or thick. It did not crowd against him. It seemed as though it were no longer interested.

“Interested mist.” Adam chuckled at the idea desperately. What had just happened to him was unaccountably strange. Something about the mist was hallucinogenic, but it was actively trying to break his spirit. It played with his mind and attempted to drive him to suicide like it had a will of its own. “Interested mist” was definitely possible on that plane; however, the implications of being released from the illusion were not comforting. It meant that the gate, the Custodian, the Wheel of Fate, and the monster waiting to eat him were back in the realm of possibility. That, too, was unaccountably strange. Adam didn’t have the faintest concept of the things in his new world. Anything was possible.

Not wanting to dally, Adam stood. He was still in the mist and therefore was not safe. He unlatched the gate, slipped through, and closed it quietly behind him. He made for certain that the latch was firmly in place. Some part of him didn’t want to disturb the mist or antagonize it in any way just in case it decided to slip through the insubstantial barrier and drag him back.

Adam hurriedly left the gate and tread across the smooth stone, toward the trench. Every other step left a bloody footprint. The creature was nowhere to be found. It didn’t howl, growl, hiss, or otherwise disturb the quiet if it were nearby.

“You live,” the Custodian’s deep voice reverberated in Adam’s ears.

Adam stopped short on his trek and looked up into the darkness above like a wary lemur. Then he rolled his eyes and spoke upward as if the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate were a god that dwelled in the black abyss that lay beyond the walls of the cavern. “Yeah, I live. What the hell just happened to me in there?”

The Custodian responded. “I was not planning to expose you to that life-form until much later. If I had a choice, I would not have had you exposed to it at all.”

“It is alive,” Adam said breathlessly. “I had a feeling, but . . . I just couldn’t . . . I . . . I don’t know . . . I just couldn’t—”

“Comprehend it,” the Custodian finished.

Adam didn’t like admitting his shortcomings, but in the face of so great a revelation, he couldn’t help but be dwarfed. “Yeah.”

“There are few that exist who can.”

Adam stared upward in awe. “What was it?”

The Custodian didn’t answer at first. The deity hesitated so long it began to appear as a refusal to answer. “It is old,” the Custodian finally said, “unaccountably so. It is not known where it came from or how it was created. It simply exists.”

“You don’t know where it came from? Is it older than your wheel?” Adam asked.

“The wheel,” the Custodian stressed. “The Wheel of Fate. It is your god. It created your species, and you only exist because it allows you to do so.”

Adam couldn’t help but feel annoyed. He didn’t like it when he would be preached to about the gods that humanity had invented on earth. Having a new god insisted upon him, however real, was irritating.

“That being said,” the Custodian continued, “it is unknown. The Wheel of Fate may be older, and it may be younger. The inception of both date back to time immemorial, and neither can be said for sure. It is known that the Wheel of Fate did not always occupy this plane. When it traveled here to engineer the creation of humanity, it discovered only the mist swirling in the dark. In the eons that it has inhabited this plane, the mist has made no effort to move from its resting place or otherwise act, but the danger it presents cannot be understated. That is why the Wheel of Fate erected the barrier.”

Adam turned and gazed skeptically at the golden gate that stood between him and the pale mist. He stuck a thumb out at it. “You mean this little gate here actually keeps the mist out?”

“That is only how you perceive the barrier,” The Custodian explained. “It is the result of your consciousness attempting to represent the barrier with an ideological equivalent. This entire space, the creature that pursues you, and the pain you feel are all representations of concepts you can comprehend only through association. If I attempted to show you the manner in which this plane actually exists, you would only be confused, perhaps to the point of sensory collapse.”

Adam put his hands on his hips, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “You use a lot of big words,” he grumbled. “So I’m imagining all of this?”

“In a sense.”

“In a sense,” Adam echoed dryly. “So how the hell is that supposed to be keeping the mist in there? I just walked right in!”

“Of course you did,” the Custodian replied, “for the same reason that you appear as your material form and the same reason you were able to defend yourself against the mist.”

Adam pantomimed listening intently.

The Custodian explained, “If a soul wanders into The Pale, the mist simply devours the soul, and it is not known where the energy goes. A more developed soul, such as you, can defend itself, and the mist must work for the soul’s surrender.”

“Surrender? So that’s why it was showing me all of those awful things. But . . . how did it know all those things about my life on earth? How did it know exactly how to get at me?”

“The faculties of the mist, how it uses them, and why are as mysterious as its origin. The only information I can provide to you was gleaned through . . . perilous experimentation.”

“But then those things that it showed me, they were real?” Adam asked.

“It knows only what it could learn from the resonations of your bared soul. The weaknesses it targeted were the weaknesses you exposed to it. Some may be true, some not. It is your perception that lent them credence.”

Adam ran his hands through his hair. Sinking desperation contorted his features and quickened his breath. “This is fucking insane. I don’t know how much more of this place I can take.”

“Then you wish to return to the world you knew? The world of the living?” the Custodian asked.

Adam sighed. “Of course I do.”

“Then destroy the creature.” It sounded more like an order than a direction. The Custodian was growing weary of Adam’s indecisiveness. “Devour its soul and gain the power to leave this place. You have only to take the control that was taken from you when you were sent here.”

Adam considered the idea. The Custodian was right again. El-Hashem stole his life, and he was being given the opportunity to take it back. He would take it back. The mist showed him a great many disturbing visions. The way he’d lived his previous life had left a residue of shame and uncertainty on Adam’s soul, and he would at the very least discover for himself what was real. He could live a second life and live it better, even in a dream. There are people who would kill for the chance. Adam was being asked to do just that.

“Where’s the monster now?” Adam asked.

“Hunt it down,” the Custodian said. “It awaits you yet in these catacombs.”

With a huff, Adam ran for the trench. A modicum of heat had returned to his heart, and he would need every ounce to face the monster. The tingling reminder of pain in his skin only served to fan the flame. The second time would have to be different. He knew he needed his head in the game. Adam hesitated for a split second at the mouth of the chasm but pushed himself forward and plummeted into the trench. The fall was exhilarating. Without being dragged, Adam enjoyed it. He was in control, and he felt strong.

Adam landed in a crouch to reduce the shock of the fall and immediately peered down the cavern leading back to the sigil room. He snuck into the hall, hoping to catch the creature by surprise if possible. As he approached the sigil room, he could hear a noise like soft chuffing. He slowed his movement even further and crept to the opening. Adam found the creature pacing back and forth. The chuffing noise was the sound of it snorting and growling. It actually appeared frustrated, like it was berating itself for losing Adam. It could be an opportunity. With the creature distracted and its head hanging, Adam had the perfect opportunity to catch it by surprise and perhaps club it over the head. The room was small, which he knew may not work to his advantage. There were plenty of hard surfaces with which to strike the creature’s head against.

Adam noticed the floor. As the creature moved, the sigils glowed green in response to its presence. Of course they did. The creature was a soul just like himself and the wisp. As Adam came to the realization, he remembered that he wasn’t just prey in the situation. He could eat the creature’s soul just as easily as it could eat his, but he would have to weaken it so it couldn’t fight back as he had.

Adam stood and walked confidently into the room. He didn’t understand why his body moved. It was as if it made the decision without him. He presented himself to the creature brazenly. In his heart, there was a full flame. He could be the predator. If it meant getting a second chance to do better for himself and the people around him—the world—he would be a predator.

The creature halted in its path and turned to Adam. It hesitated, flaring its slit nostrils and snorting at him. Adam’s display appeared to have at least left it momentarily confused. The creature then stood fully erect and puffed out its chest. Adam recognized that the creature was trying to look intimidating. It worked. He felt the fear well up in his chest, but he forced it back down. The excitement of the coming battle was too intense. His hair stood on end, and his muscles prickled in anticipation. He had to remind himself to stay calm and remember his fundamentals. He’d been prepared for these situations. Well, maybe not exactly that situation.

The creature spread its massive arms and roared. It was not like the painful howl Adam had heard when it first appeared. The howl was confident. The creature, too, seemed excited.

Adam bounded for the creature. The creature pounced for Adam. They collided in the middle of the sigil room, pushing against each other in a test of strength. Neither gave an inch. Despite Adam appearing to be much smaller, his strength proved comparable to that of the monster’s. The two souls’ eyes met. The creature’s growling pushed its rancid breath into Adam’s face as he grimaced, grunting with exertion.

The creature exploited an advantage in its design and snapped its crooked jaws at Adam’s face. Adam flinched, and that moment allowed the creature to shift the center of gravity. Adam was pushed off balance and fell to the floor, the creature landing heavily on top of him. The creature snarled and snapped its teeth at Adam, but Adam held the creature at bay with his right hand wrapped around the monster’s throat. Adam slipped his free hand around the creature’s arm and swung his clenched fist into the side of the creature’s drooling mouth. The sideways mandible design of the creature’s mouth proved too weak against Adam’s assault. He punched it again, and the right jawbone shattered. Loose blood drizzled from the creature’s limp jowl while the right mandible hung uselessly. The creature howled, and its strength faltered.

Adam took the opportunity to shift his position. He latched both hands onto the creature’s right arm and wrapped his legs around. The creature bucked and thrashed with its free mitt but did not know how to properly protect itself. Adam had complete control. He rolled his body and twisted the arm. The shrill tone of the creature’s howling increased with the pain. The creature bucked and tried to roll with the direction of force, but its broken face was pressed into the floor, and it couldn’t move. Adam knelt on top of the almost delightfully fuzzy, hyperextended appendage and jerked upward. The bone snapped in one clean motion. The creature whimpered and wailed with renewed vigor, kicking furiously.

The wounded animal proved more ferocious. It pushed itself from the floor and drove its shoulder into Adam’s behind. Adam pitched forward and fell onto all fours. He quickly scrambled away and jumped to his feet, not wanting to be caught in that position. When he turned around, he found the creature standing, cradling the broken arm with the healthy one in a remarkably human fashion. It was whimpering pitifully at first, lamenting the injury, but soon, it was huffing on the air energetically. A growl escaped with each exhalation, and it turned to glare at Adam with six angry, beady red eyes.

Adam watched closely for the next move. He knew wounded animals were capable of a great deal of masochistic fury. The creature roared and charged for Adam, all blood, spittle, and carnage. It swung its unbroken arm to tear Adam’s face off, but Adam ducked under it. Moving on instinct, Adam caught the creature under the arm and around the neck. He jumped onto the creature’s back and completed the chokehold just as he had been taught. He wasn’t sure it could work. The anatomical differences between a human and whatever the creature was supposed to be may have been too great. At any rate, the creature’s other arm could be incapacitated, or so Adam thought. The creature’s cartoonishly long arm proved capable of reaching all the way down to paw at Adam’s head and neck. The claws found soft flesh and dug in. Adam screamed as the pain reverberated throughout his body. He tried to restrain the rogue arm, but it meant loosening his chokehold. Without option, Adam dropped from the back of the beast and shoved it forward. The top-heavy creature stumbled forward and fell, trying to brace itself with its one good hand but failing. It landed ungracefully on its face.

Adam didn’t hesitate to leap on the creature’s back a second time. He grabbed the monster by its fuzzy dome and began furiously bashing it against the runed floor. He cried out loud with each strike, his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his face. Blood stained the floor in constantly increasing amounts. The creature stopped screaming, and still Adam smashed its head into the floor. Finally, Adam slipped one hand under the creature’s mangled jaw and the other behind its head. With one last mighty yell, he jerked upward and twisted. The creature’s neck snapped loudly, echoing in the chamber.

The champion then stood from the fallen foe and backed away. His steps were faltering. He pitched over in exhaustion, catching himself with his hands and knees. The sound of his panting filled the room, and sweat dripped onto the floor in front of his eyes. His muscles quaked.

“Oh my god,” Adam finally managed to huff. He’d killed before, but he’d never killed anything so up close and personal. He struggled to regain control of his breathing and heart rate for some time while he stared at the puddle he was accumulating.

The Custodian’s voice sounded throughout the cavern. “You are worthy . . .” it said. It didn’t startle Adam as it had before. His nerves were past that. “You need only devour its defenseless soul, and you will have the power you require to return to your world.”

Adam clenched his teeth. His body shook with rage. His voice increased in a crescendo of intensity as he spoke. “Do you have to phrase it like that?”

“It is the nature of your renewed existence,” the Custodian countered. “The soul siphon is no small gift, and it is not to be taken lightly. With its power, you will be able to sustain your new body and accomplish tasks for the Wheel of Fate. You will need to accept it. You will need to be comfortable with it.”

Adam sighed in despair, closing his eyes. When he reopened them, he turned his head and eyed the corpse of the creature disdainfully. He crawled and then walked over to it. The semantics of death in that otherworld be damned. The thing wasn’t moving, and it wasn’t about to. Adam rolled the monster over and took it brusquely by the fur as if it were a shirt collar. He lifted the creature from the ground and brought its mangled face to his. Without instruction, Adam opened his mouth as far as he could and inhaled. It felt so natural. The green miasma flowed from the monster’s broken mouth and into Adam’s. Once again, Adam was treated with the sweet, awful warmth of devouring a soul.

As the feeding proceeded, the creature’s physical form began to decay. As its life force was drained the creature’s ethereal manifestation dissolved. Eventually it vaporized completely. On that other plane, the soul is all anyone has. Without it, they are literally nothing.

Adam stared at empty hands. He felt strong, incredibly strong. The monster was a powerful opponent and had an equitable soul. The energy Adam received made him feel like he could do anything.

“By defeating the ethereal predator, you have proven yourself worthy of the title champion of the Wheel of Fate,” the Custodian said. “This world and its safety are entrusted to you, should you choose to accept the responsibility.”

Adam flexed his muscles as the Custodian spoke. He watched the tissues tighten and untighten. The power was intoxicating. He grimaced and let the words slip from between his clenched teeth. “Of course.” He looked up. “I’ll do anything to get back.”

The Custodian responded with, “And you shall be returned to the material plane. The energy you absorbed from the ethereal predator’s life force is more than enough to allow you to do this, but you are unfamiliar with your new abilities. You will need my help to guide you back. Once back on earth, you will use the powers that you have been given to enforce the will of the Wheel of Fate. Hunt down these aberrations of existence and restore balance to the energies of life and death.”

“I’m ready,” Adam said flatly. “Where to first?”

“I will be transporting you to your hometown of Farol Verde, California,” the Custodian answered.

Adam’s jaw slackened. He hadn’t expected that.

The Custodian continued, “It has come to my attention that a stable mutation has begun victimizing the populace there. However, the soul is unhinged from the Wheel of Fate. I cannot tell you an exact location.”

“There’s a monster in Farol Verde?” Adam asked. He bowed his head in thought. “Of course, the chupacabra,” he breathed.

“The chupacabra?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. I’ve heard about these attacks. People were calling it a chupacabra.”

The Custodian simply said, “Perhaps it is an apt name.”

Adam shook his head. He doubted goat sucker was the apt name. “But . . . that would mean that it’s not just in my city,” he said. “It’s in my old neighborhood! I need to leave right now!”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” the Custodian commented. “Very well. I will return you to the material plane. After that, I will not be able to affect your life and cannot help you.”

Adam was overexcited to be back home. He bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet. “That’s fine. I don’t need it. Let’s go.”

“Very well,” the Custodian said.

In the next moment, the world around Adam began to warp as if distorted in a funhouse mirror. Colors became amorphous, and shapes melded into one another like a lava lamp. The bizarre effect disoriented Adam. All at once, he felt as if he were upside down and spinning. He could feel his body being tugged at from every direction. Soon the melded colors began to realign in a different configuration. All Adam could tell of it at first was that the colors were much darker and more natural. The pale cyan was gone and was being replaced with a multifaceted darkness. Unclear shapes began to form. Adam could feel his body being pressed back together as if the air around him was incredibly dense and pushing on him from all sides.

When the world snapped back into place, Adam was assailed by somehow unfamiliar sensations. He was standing in a deep forest at night and the air was cool on his exposed skin. The full moon kissed the trees with its pale ambience, and a blanket of leaves coated the forest floor. The gravity of the world exerted its ever-present force on Adam, and in the wake of this turmoil, Adam simply tipped over like a fallen tree and flopped onto the ground, face-first.

The landing was soft, courtesy of the leaves, but still, Adam’s whole body ached. Supporting himself in the ethereal realm was so much easier than supporting his true weight in the material realm. He needed to rest. The toll phase-shifting had taken on Adam’s body was immense. He could tell why he needed the creature’s soul to accomplish it. Anything less might have killed him, if that made any sense.

Adam knew he should try to stand, but he was simply too demotivated. He didn’t want to move, so he just lay there, the cold breeze dancing over his back and bare buttocks. Even keeping his eyelids open was a chore. He didn’t see a reason to fight it. He allowed his eyes to close. Sleep came quickly. Funny, Adam didn’t think he would have to sleep anymore.

7

The sleep that came to Adam was peaceful, feeling empty and heavy all at once like the infinite stillness of death. Like the void that cradled him before he was thrust back into the agony of consciousness by the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate. His only concern was that he might wake to find that he was still dreaming. A part of him hoped to stay in that darkness. At least there he was safe.

In defiance of Adam’s wishes his eyes opened, and it was still the dead of night in the leafless white forest where he’d landed. The meager slice of earth he could see from his prone vantage was illuminated brightly by some unnatural light source other than the moon that cast mighty rays of light before Adam and equally deep shadows that obscured the forest beyond in pitch darkness. The shadows the leafless trees cast were hooked and clawed. The wind blew, and they grasped at the distant abyss.

A couple of loose dead leaves flittered past Adam’s vision, and he watched them pass from his slothful resting place. At least he could take solace that it wasn’t a hospital. There was no nurse and no harsh fluorescent lighting. No familiar faces were waiting to greet him to a new nightmare. It was the cold of the forest that had aggravated him from his exhausted slumber. His body simply wouldn’t abide it in his sleep. Some of the exhaustion had dissipated, but Adam still didn’t feel nearly as strong as he had before making the jump back to the world of the living. Point of fact, he still didn’t want to move. He felt a weight on him different than weakness. It was the same defeated reluctance to get out of bed he felt on mornings he would wake up just knowing the day was going to be hard.

But Adam had to come to terms with his reality. He’d asked to be sent back to earth for a reason, so he lifted his arms and braced them against the ground, then pushed and clambered to his feet. His stance wavered at first, but he maintained his balance by leaning against the nearest white-barked tree. The bright light illuminating his immediate area drew Adam’s attention to a house on the edge of the forest. The radiance was being produced by a kind of obnoxious floodlight some paranoid was using to light his back porch, only it boasted the sort of lumen count that made Adam feel like he was staring into the disapproving eyes of God.

At least it was civilization.

Adam blundered toward the light. Being newly reborn, he had to learn to walk again. He swayed in the wind like a drunkard for his first few steps, staggering into another tree. He still felt heavy, like he’d just waded from a swimming pool.

Each tree in Adam’s path served as goalposts for his forays into infantile movement. He would take a few steps and then support himself against one before his body had a chance to fail him. Pointy plant life poked at his tender feet and gusts of wind weaved their way through the trees. They assailed him with their chilling caress.

Adam recoiled and wrapped his arms around his nakedness. “Jesus,” he huffed. “I need some clothes.”

Adam had nearly reached his goal. Each of his footsteps had gradually become more assured. At the edge of the forest, he huddled up against a tree to conceal himself the least bit. From there, he could make out other houses in a neat row further on. The forest in which the Custodian had dropped him appeared to be at the end of a suburban cul-de-sac. Houses and streetlights lined each side of the road ahead. Adam didn’t recognize the stubby stretch of pavement. The houses were alien. Adam found it hard to believe the Custodian would transport him somewhere besides Farol Verde on accident, but in the dark, he was as lost as a child.

With no alternative, Adam stepped away from the meager camouflage of the white tree and onto the lawn of the house equipped with God’s laser eye. Adam didn’t want to walk on the street, especially naked, but he had to get somewhere he could recognize, so he cut across the neighborhood’s various backyards. None of them were fenced, at least not with wood panel fencing. The only fence Adam did see as he crossed the lawns was on a dog kennel. The dog was alerted by Adam’s presence and started barking incredibly loud. It jumped from its resting place and pounced on the chain-link. Adam wasn’t afraid of the dog or of the noise it was making. It was the kind of noise people usually ignored. Who knows how many times it had barked at far less interesting things in the dead of night while everyone was trying to sleep.

Before long, Adam had decided the area probably was Farol Verde, just the poor part of town. That’s why he didn’t recognize it. He had little to no dealings with the place in life. His family didn’t live there. They were well-to-do, and so were Adam’s friends. His best friend’s parents were both in medicine. Adam’s decision to join the Army had blown everyone away. He had the means to do anything, but he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his dad.

Adam continued down the lane, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Eventually, he came to the end of the block. Crossing the street was a unique experience. From a distance, he probably looked like something from Close Encounters. Someone could have taken a blurry picture of him sneaking around and sold it for money. He was that shifty and out of place.

For a good while, it seemed as if Adam wasn’t getting anywhere. The suburban sprawl continued without end in the distance. Adam desperately didn’t want to break into anyone’s home. Even if there did happen to be a man living in the house he entered—who he didn’t want to meet—there was no guarantee the clothes he found would even fit. He needed a clothing store. He needed a commercial district.

Finally, the residences parted to reveal local businesses. These buildings looked dilapidated as well, but that was good. In the richer part of town, people would still be walking the street at that late of an hour, and a small thrift store would do Adam just fine.

Trepidatiously, Adam crept down the sidewalks. No one was around. He could walk along, checking the facades of buildings to find what he sought. He found what looked like a specialty clothing store not even a full block from the end of the residential area. It was something like a boutique. Cupping his hand to the showcase window, Adam figured he could maybe make out men’s clothing at the back.

It was good enough. Adam slid over to the front door and tried to pull it open. The glass door held fast, of course. In a neighborhood like that, no one could be too careful. Then again, maybe the rich part of the city was worse for crime, he didn’t know.

What he did know was that the door wouldn’t budge. Adam looked down at his hand and slowly formed it into a fist. As awful as it sounded to admit, the concerns of this store owner over his or her wares was nothing compared to the immense gravity of concerns that weighed on the champion of the Wheel of Fate, and Adam possessed the means to take whatever he wanted if he felt it would help him accomplish his mission in any capacity.

Without much hesitation, Adam rammed his fist into the glass door. The glass cracked as if struck by a softball perhaps, but it wasn’t old low-grade residential glass. It was made to resist impact. The result was that Adam did little more than hurt himself. He recoiled in pain and held his throbbing hand with the other, making little hops.

As Adam groaned and hopped, he lamented his stupidity. He could have broken his hand. He very well might have. He was weak. The soul of the monster had been spent, assuming that any of that craziness had actually transpired, and Adam wasn’t still trapped in a traumatic nightmare. He likely didn’t have any more strength than a regular human being.

A car pulled around the corner down the street and drove in Adam’s direction. Adam quickly ran to the far side of the boutique and pressed himself against the rough brick of the alley, trying to make his body as thin as possible. The ’90s sedan passed noisily, but harmlessly. When it was gone, Adam emerged from the corner and checked for other people. None appeared.

Adam’s hand wasn’t going to stop hurting any time soon, so he refocused on his task and examined the door. He didn’t want to cut his foot, but with a strong kick, he could probably dislodge the whole sheet. A dumb idea, he quickly decided. He needed something to strike it with, so he scanned his immediate area. It was disappointingly void of stray baseball bats and mauls. The nearby dumpster possessed mostly smelly old food that made Adam quickly retreat and refuse to take a second breath before he was well away. Adam nearly tripped over a loose rock while tactfully fleeing from the stench. The alley had fallen into disrepair long ago, and a large chunk of pavement had been crushed and extricated from the ground. It sat in place like a happy puzzle piece, and Adam lifted it out easily. The chunk was of decent size and weight. Adam needed to hold it with two hands. It wasn’t perfect, but it was more than enough to do the job, so Adam carried it back to the door. There he hoisted the chunk above his head and smashed the dislocated rubble into the glass door like a Neanderthal. The glass held yet again, but at least Adam didn’t have to worry about medical bills for the rock. He struck it a few more times, and the glass shattered, falling onto the carpet inside. One careful reach through the new hole, and the front door was unlocked.

It was a small place. A good deal of their inventory seemed to be freshly outdated women’s fashion. The glass display counter that occupied the left side of the store was filled with perfume and cologne bottles. As Adam had determined earlier, scant men’s fashions were hanging on the wall in the back. All the clothing items were either jeans with a little embroidering on the back pockets or silk button-up shirts. The kind of thing a metrosexual man could just barely get away with at a club playing bad music for drunk women. Dress shoes lined the floor.

Adam quickly proceeded to tear the clothing items from their racks and slide them on. It was difficult because Adam came to realize that it hurt to open and close his right hand. The pants, though Adam’s size, were a little tight in the crotch region. Slick black socks helped cushion the otherwise uncomfortable shoes. The only bright side to the whole exchange was that the buttoned dress-shirt was surprisingly well made and practical.

Freshly clothed, Adam made his way over to the register. Though having no retail experience, Adam didn’t even know what to do to open it. He hit random keys for a time but achieved nothing positive. Finally, he decided there was probably some code involved and let it be.

Adam closed his eyes and sighed. He just couldn’t catch any breaks, but he didn’t know just how bad it could get. Suddenly, there was the sound of a well-maintained engine winding down just outside the shop. Before Adam even opened his eyes, he could see the flickering red-and-blue pattern through the thin veil of his eyelids.

In a panic, Adam’s eyes darted around the room for an exit. In the intermittent flashes of light, Adam saw a single door at the far back of the shop. It was a fire exit, but Adam disregarded the warning about the loud, persistent alarm and sprang for it without hesitation. Strangely, when he shoved the door open, a loud, persistent alarm sounded, immediately giving away his position. To Adam, it didn’t matter because he thought he could get away, but it really didn’t matter because there was already a police officer waiting for him in the alley.

On the order of “Freeze!” Adam halted instantly, with the irritation apparent on his face. The heavy emergency door started swinging closed, and Adam slyly braced it open with his closest foot.

The officer stood several yards away from Adam. He was young. Adam couldn’t see in the darkness of the alley, but he could hear it in the guy’s voice.

“Let the door close!” the cop shouted over the deafening noise of the alarm.

Adam didn’t exactly have a clever way to ruse his escape plan, so he sprang into action, ducking back inside the building and yanking the door shut behind him. The alarm stopped, and Adam was left with the echoes of it in his head.

“Hey! Freeze! Damn it!” the cop cursed.

Already the cop who was in the car had gotten out, drawn his weapon, and moved expeditiously into the store. Adam was trapped. His face was hot and slick with panic. His breaths filled his ears, and his heart pounded away. He couldn’t go to jail. No way. People would start asking questions. They’d run his prints. Someone would recognize him, and his face would be run through a database or something. It wouldn’t take them long to contact the Army. No one could see him there. No one. But he was already so weak and tired. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t flee. Despair quickly took hold, and his body urged him strongly to collapse to the floor in defeat. He could just await his inevitable incarceration. He could quit.

Adam heard the doorknob behind him jiggle. The officer in the alley had given chase but couldn’t get inside. The door was locked from outside entry. That gave Adam an idea. He couldn’t fight them both right then, but he did have one thing he could try. There was a chance none of it was a dream. There was a chance he really could harvest energy from other humans. There was a chance he really was the champion of the Wheel of Fate. That was a slim, crazy chance, but for Adam, it was better than quitting, and he didn’t have a moment to lose.

Adam pressed the crash bar and threw all his weight against the door. The alarm split the air once more as the door swung into the cop on the outside, who cried out in surprise as he was knocked to the ground. With an order to halt following him, Adam hurriedly dove on top of the officer sprawling on the pavement. He went for the cop’s gun, which the young man had managed to hold on to. Adam wrapped his hands around the weapon and squeezed his finger into the guard. His right hand was screaming for him to stop being so careless.

The two struggled for the gun. The cop was surprisingly strong, but Adam only wanted to aim the barrel in a general direction. He managed to point it into the opening of the back exit and squeeze off two shots. He didn’t want to hit the cop inside, only frighten him. He needed to the cop to believe the perp had control of his partner’s gun just long enough for Adam to take care of the cop he wrestled with on the ground.

The door closed a moment later, and only grunts of exertion occupied the dead air. Adam needed to end the fight quickly and incapacitate the cop so he wouldn’t be resisted when he tried to pull out a nice juicy portion of the guy’s soul. Luckily, the fight had already gone to the ground. It would be a problem for most people, but it was Adam’s home. The officer’s only concern was for the security of his gun, and he thought Adam wanted it. He was surprised when Adam arduously pressed the safety into place and took one hand out of the struggle. Adam bent his free arm and struck the young cop near the eye with a sharp elbow. When the cop didn’t show any signs of relenting, Adam hit him again.

Adam wished it weren’t so dark. He thought maybe he could feel the cop weaken in his resistance, but without being able to see the guy’s face, he didn’t know for certain if he was incapacitating him. All he could do was strike him in the skull a third time. On that last strike, the young officer’s body went suddenly limp. Adam’s occupied hand was suddenly less grappling for the gun and more holding up the young cop’s flaccid arm. The cop’s defeat was so sudden that Adam became concerned that he’d killed him. There was always a possibility that a hit could land a little too well. However, the cop’s body was still wriggling deliriously in a half-aware attempt to subdue his suspect. He was alive, mostly.

Adam hooked his free hand into the crook of the cop’s elbow and bent it, rolling into a more physically dominant position with the gun pointed in a safe direction. He mounted the cop’s chest, using one knee to subdue the cop’s thick left arm. The other knee he pressed into the cop’s chest to help hold him down. Adam then used both of his arms to wrest the pistol completely from the young cop’s weakening hand.

For good measure, Adam clicked the pistol’s safety off and fired two more shots into the sturdy emergency door in case the young cop’s partner was convincing himself it was safe to poke his head out of the fire exit. Adam actually heard one bullet ricochet off the building behind him, and he flinched, tucking his head into his shoulders like a turtle. He cringed inwardly for a brief moment. Then he sighed and took his leg off the poor officer’s chest. The cop’s consciousness was draining with every passing second. Adam had definitely given him a concussion. He hoped the cop would be all right, but it was time for the moment of truth. Adam rubbed his sore right hand briefly and then held the cop’s mouth open just as he had in death. The transference was effortless and immediate. The alleyway was illuminated by the green glow of the officer’s flowing soul, and Adam was filled with the warmth of pure life from his heart to the top of his scalp. But then, to Adam’s chagrin, the cop who he was victimizing opened his eyes. They focused in the exact way Adam hoped they wouldn’t, and the cop stared wide-eyed at the sight of the impossibility Adam was performing.

The cop began to struggle, and Adam held him down with all his strength, which was growing by the second. He didn’t know how much soul energy would be enough or too much. He didn’t know what would happen if the cop overpowered Adam or just moved in a way that vexed the process. Adam didn’t even know if the guy could survive having a piece of his soul taken after suffering a concussion. There was so much that Adam couldn’t account for, but in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that maybe he didn’t want the man to fight because he was enjoying the feast too much.

No longer content to wait, the officer inside the store kicked the emergency door open and beamed his flashlight right onto the scene of Adam feeding. The loud fire alarm split the night once more. The cop didn’t even know what he was looking at, but it froze him in the doorway. Startled, Adam cut his feeding short and looked into the light. His eyes had become freakishly green and luminescent, seen even against the intense beam of the large flashlight. They dimmed back to brown in another moment as Adam waited for the formless threat behind the light to make his move. Meanwhile, the young cop’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

The cop threatening Adam managed to speak. “Eh . . . um, freeze! Put your hands up!”

Adam hesitated. The cop was likely drawing down on him with a gun held just to the right of the overbearing flashlight, but Adam hesitated in following the order because he questioned internally if those kinds of things could even hurt him anymore.

“Put your hands up!” the cop repeated, louder and more forceful. “Get up and step away from the officer!”

Adam gave the silhouette a withering look. He’d learned to hate having orders barked at him somewhere along the line, but his cooler self prevailed. Grudgingly, Adam raised his hands to shoulder height and moved to release his unconscious foe. After standing, he faced the cop with the flashlight and backed away from the scene.

The intruding cop stepped closer to his fallen partner, allowing the fire door to close behind him. The resulting silence left Adam’s ears ringing, and when the officer shined his flashlight down on his partner, Adam blinked the photo-bleaching out of his eyes as fast as he could. He discerned first that the officer was a black man, older than his partner, and not as well muscled. His head had been shaven clean. The ambient light glow from the flashlight illuminated little else as the cop checked his partner’s pulse, but he used fingers from his flashlight hand to feel his partner’s neck because he didn’t want to otherwise occupy the gun in the other. If nothing else, the cop was cautious.

The cop directed the flashlight back up into Adam’s face. “What did you do to him?”

Adam should have run while the cop was even slightly distracted, but he didn’t. He needed to know what the cop discovered after checking on his partner. There was no grief or panic in the cop’s voice, but Adam asked, “Is he gonna be okay?”

The cop barely let Adam finish his sentence before repeating, “What did you do to him?” His posture was that of a man threatening another man with a gun.

Adam balked. “That would be hard to explain.”

“Then talk slow!” It was kind of touching to Adam how concerned the cop was for the welfare of his partner.

“Look, I just . . . can’t.” Adam grew agitated. “I can’t deal with this! I can’t have this! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“You got yourself into this,” the cop said. “You’re a criminal, and you’re . . . you’re some kind of monster.”

“No!” Adam stressed the word, exhausted. “I’m not! I’m not either of those!”

“No?” the officer mimicked rhetorically. “You think breaking into stores, stealing, and attacking police officers is—” The officer cut himself off, and for a few tense seconds, there was only silence on the dark side of the flashlight where Adam assumed the officer was talking himself out of riddling Adam with every bullet in his magazine. “Fine,” the cop said, at last. “Don’t tell me now. You can explain it down at the station.”

“I’m not going down—”

“You’re going down to the station so you can explain what you did to my partner, so the doctors can reverse it!”

“I am not—screw this!” Adam dropped his hands and lunged for the officer. Before another heartbeat passed, the cop pulled the trigger. Only there was no explosion of gunpowder. Instead, two coiled wires with barbs on the ends erupted from the barrel and stuck in Adam’s skin. He became the conduit that connected them, and an arc of electricity seized Adam in the space between. Adam shuddered and stumbled to the pavement, but he didn’t pratfall like he should have. The pain was incredible, and he could feel the muscles twitching from errant electrical signals, but whatever incredible power he’d gained from devouring just a portion of that man’s soul had held. He gritted his teeth and glared up at the silhouette of the second cop defiantly, not knowing that his eyes were glowing once again. Adam actually saw the officer’s stance waver uncertainly, probably strongly considering dropping his Taser and running for his life.

The standard seven-second burst of the Taser came to an end, and Adam had resisted. He braced a hand on one knee and started pushing himself to his feet. It was then that the officer retriggered the weapon and a second electrical surge wracked Adam’s body. This caused him to clench his teeth so mightily that it hurt, just to stifle his inevitable enraged cry of pain. He poured that iron will into his arm, gripped the wires and ripped them out in one clean jerk. It may have looked manly and heroic had Adam not yelped in a high-pitched voice when the barbs tore open a chunk of his flesh. He had to take another stretch of time to massage the violated muscle underneath.

“Ow,” he whined. “Dammit.”

When Adam refocused his attention on the silhouette of the horrified cop, he was quick to replace his scrunched-up pain expression to one of fury. His breaths became intimidating growls, and his heart sizzled with indignation. Adam’s muscles tensed to pounce on the officer. His body lurched forward in all the precursors of an attack, but then he stopped. He remained in place, knelt on the dark pavement.

The officer did want to run, but he could never abandon his partner, so he just stood, frozen with the same indecision becoming apparent on the face of the perpetrator on the ground in front of him. He watched Adam’s expression change from pain, to rage, then violence, but then suddenly to surprise, realization, indecision, contemplation, and then finally what looked to be . . . some kind of sadness.

Adam looked up at the officer, his eyes changed. They weren’t glowing, sure, but then there was the clarity. The officer recognized it. His perp looked peaceful. From there, Adam stood, unthreatening. He seemed to organize his thoughts, and then he spoke.

“I think we’re done here,” Adam sighed, his shoulders deflating. “You know that I’m not . . . normal. I don’t even know if you have a weapon that can hurt me. And . . . I won’t . . . hurt you.” Adam took another deep breath to get his heartbeat under control. “I’m not a bad guy. And I’m not a monster. So . . . I’m gonna leave now. You can take out a real gun and see if that works, but you’ll be shooting me in the back, and I don’t think you want to do that.”

The officer said nothing. He just kept his flashlight aimed at Adam’s face.

Adam continued, “Besides, you need to get him some help. I think he’ll be okay. I just . . . I just wish I had made a better impression . . .”

Adam tried to find more words that would maybe have a more positive impact, but there was nothing else to say. Even what he had already said probably landed on ears that were not interested in listening, so he just turned down the alley and walked away. Every step facing away from the officer, Adam suspected a bullet might just hit him in the back, but a dozen paces passed and nothing happened. Adam picked up speed. By the end of the alley, he was running at full, and he disappeared around the corner.

The officer he left behind waited like a statue until he was sure Adam was really gone. His sweat hung in beads on his bald head. Adam disappeared into the night, and still the officer waited. His mind reeled, wondering how he was even supposed to live after witnessing such a thing. But after a long while, he had to exhale, and it was released as a heavy sigh. His shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his firing stance. The spent Taser clattered to the pavement just a moment later.

The cop’s whole body felt numb as he moved to his partner and knelt beside him. “Gray!” he called, saliva catching in his throat. He shook his partner. “Gray!” The young officer on the pavement didn’t stir so his partner checked his pulse and his temperature. His pulse was good, but he felt a little cold. A nasty bruise was purpling on the side of his head. “Come on, man, don’t do this to me,” the attending officer said. “Don’t give up. Gray!”

The young Officer Gray flinched suddenly, having been roused from unconsciousness by the noise. He squinted his eyes against the harsh light and moved his arms weakly, groaning in irritation and disorientation. “Ughhh. Yeah? What? Ugh, what? Sergeant Fisher? Is that you?”

His partner sighed in relief. “Oh my god. You gave me a fright there for a minute.”

“What happened?” Gray asked.

His partner struggled to find the words. “I . . . I didn’t see much. Just don’t worry about that now. All right? Rest. I think you got hit on the head pretty hard. Just don’t stress yourself. I’m gonna call this in.” The officer stood. “And don’t fall asleep. You don’t know, you could have a concussion.”

Sergeant Fisher keyed the radio on his shoulder. “Dispatch, this is Unit 91.”

The reply over the radio was swift. “Go ahead, 91.”

“The B & E at Tracey’s went south. We have one officer injured, possible concussion from blunt force trauma. I request immediate emergency assistance.”

“Roger, Sergeant. An EMT is on the way. Keep him awake and hang tight.”

“Roger, Unit 91 out.” Sergeant Fisher crouched down beside his partner. “Still awake?”

“Hanging in there,” Gray replied tiredly. “Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get him?”

Fisher hesitated, considering how much was worth telling. “Nah, man. He gave me the slip. Don’t know what happened. Too old, probably.”

“Yeah, that’d be my guess,” Gray jibed.

Fisher smiled and chuckled lightly. “Yeah, right, right.”

“We can just find him later,” Gray added. “Everyone stops running sometime.”

Fisher nodded in solemn agreement. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, but he wondered if that thing he saw ever did need to stop running someplace. Even if it did, what then?

8

Adam was still running. He ran miles without cease, without tiring. He didn’t know how fast he was moving, but the wind whooshed past his ears in a constant cacophony that drowned out all other sounds. His new superhuman abilities, after having been recharged by that cop, were back to being amazing. The power of the human soul was more potent than Adam would have guessed.

However fast he was moving, Adam knew he still wasn’t going to outrun a police cruiser. He needed a place to duck into and hide. He needed a place to rest. It felt like he had been in a constant state of rage or anxiety or mortal terror ever since he jumped off the truck in Afghanistan. Luckily, salvation came in the form of a dance club. As Adam ran, cars began to line the street on either side. People had parked their cars blocks away from some destination they wanted to reach and walked the rest of the way. Adam followed the trail and arrived at a metal club called Shredded. He could hear the music all the way down the street. People in artfully torn black clothing, band shirts, studded belts, piercings, and funny hair stood outside the doors. The eye shadow budget was prolific.

Adam shook his head in amusement. He knew Téa would have liked the place. She might have even gotten Adam to enjoy it himself. Adam looked over his clothes, and he knew he was not dressed for the occasion, yet he had to go inside. There was no other place to go, and sometimes fate doesn’t hand you what you want; it hands you what you need. Adam needed to go inside to hide from the police.

There was no bouncer at the door or anyone checking IDs. It was only necessary for the bar, and Adam doubted they checked for IDs there, either. It was perfect seeing as how Adam would have had no identification to present. As he crossed the street and approached the door, the other patrons standing outside became increasingly aware of Adam. Almost all the dozen or so metalheads smoking in the night breeze turned to observe this new character, who was not dressed the part at all. However, Adam was not a small man, and the look of grim determination on his face saw that no one bothered him as he made his way past.

Inside the club was crowded. Men and women danced, banging their heads within inches of each other, some to the beat and some not. With all the tall, sharp Mohawks, Adam mused at the safety implications. All of the dyed hair created an interesting medley of colors, and many of their outfits were bondage inspired fashions that bordered on costume-like. Some even wore creepy masks. The intensity of the music could be felt in the floor, being fed from large speakers at every corner of the ceiling. Bizarre lighting dyed the entire scene in a fiery orange with some of the more dynamic light fixtures sweeping the length of the floor. The building itself looked like it used to be an old factory. The walls were more functional than fashionable, and a railed iron stairwell led up to an overseer’s office at the far end of the “dance floor.”

Adam started bouncing his heels to the sound as he moved into the crowd, his head nodding with increasing intensity. In his effort to blend in, he released the top two buttons on his shirt. If he had more hair, he would have tousled it so as not to look so clean, but the Army life had always had a way of ruining Adam’s plans.

Away from the tables and the bar at the entrance, the dance floor was crowded with people. Adam head-banged his way over there and tried to slip in, but everyone was basically pressing against each other in a breathing mass of sweat and mascara. Adam needed in. He didn’t know if the police were still on his trail, but that chaos was the perfect place to get lost. He pushed his way between two of the revelers and started forcing his path to the center.

The tremors from the bass and sheer volume from the speakers became stronger the closer Adam got to the center of the group. He could feel his insides trembling, and even his eyes. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling, but Adam was meeting more and more resistance from the dancers. The head-banging bondage enthusiasts were standing in a mighty cluster like a swarm of spiders, and Adam became frustrated quickly. He outright pushed the next reveler in his way only to meet another that was supported by the weight and enthusiasm of the people on either side. Adam absentmindedly used more and more of his considerable strength to carve a path, shoving people this way and that. The confusion and hysteria was affecting him, and he didn’t realize it.

Someone jostled Adam from behind, and Adam shoved him back in his frustration. The aggression throughout the entire group was escalating. Another person was pushed into Adam, and the aggravated soldier tossed him aside. Everyone was slowly being drawn into the mounting conflict. Men and women were engaging in a sweaty childish shoving match. Adam even saw one person throw a punch that dropped a smaller guy. Someone Adam didn’t see shoved him hard from behind. Adam was knocked off balance and stumbled into a bald man wearing a leather vest. The bald man swung his arm and struck Adam in the ribs with a hard elbow. It cut off Adam’s air as he was shoved, once again, into another direction.

Adam saw other people just as out of control of their lives as he was being fed to different groups of unnecessarily aggressive people as he barreled, wheezing and half-blind, toward a new group of tormentors. They picked Adam from the floor by his arms, only to toss him toward another group. Adam was livid. Whatever was happening there, he did not want to be a part of it, and no one was going to make him. Instead of trying to resist his new direction, he embraced it and enforced it. He regained his footing as best he could and charged toward the next group, collecting all his rage and strength. He crashed blindly into the people, and they were shocked to be bowled over en masse, falling like dominoes.

Adam stood over them, his shoulders and chest heaving with each heavy breath. He scanned the crowd while his eyes blurred with rage. His hot stare dared others to challenge his formidable strength, and those who met this gaze decided immediately that they dared not. Adam’s annoyance was given a chance to dissipate, and he realized that he was attracting far more attention than he intended. The pit was not the place for him.

The people Adam had victimized stared at him in mute awe and fear. Adam avoided this scrutiny and looked around for a place he could just sit. He strode from the dance floor, but then something caught his eye. It was just a shade of color, but one that struck a chord in his memory. Accompanying it was a flood of familiar emotions like comfort, ease, and joviality. Adam’s eyes passed over the color at first, but he quickly found it again. The hue had been dyed into a woman’s hair, but dare he dream?

The woman with the burgundy hair faced away from Adam as she sat at the bar with a man, but Adam recognized even the shape of her body. She was thin, and a little pale, with stray freckles here and there, and Adam knew for certain before she turned. It was his friend, Téa. She turned her head to search the crowd as nothing more than an idle fidget and Adam saw her petite angular profile. His heart fluttered. He hadn’t expected to be brought into such close proximity to someone he was familiar with. All the noisy, rumbling metal dance bars in all the world, and they’d both managed to wander into that one on the same night.

As luck would have it, Adam stood behind her, and she did not scan far enough to see him. He was frozen in place and could not have managed to dive into the nearest crowd and save her from the shock. His every neuron instead urged him to go over and speak with her, though he knew the damage that would cause. What could he say? How could he ever explain? “Hey, Téa, I don’t know if you’ve heard the lecherous rumors the Army is spreading about me getting shot and killed overseas, but I just wanted you to know that I’m totally . . . fine.” Nonsense.

“How are you alive?” she would ask.

“Well . . . start by throwing everything you ever knew about death out the window.” In short order, Adam extended this line of thinking to his mother and Christina as well. His head swam with negative thoughts, and he moved to sit down. He chose an empty booth well behind his friend and plopped into it, running his hand through his hair. He could at least watch over Téa, just for a bit.

It dawned on Adam that it was going to be hard hunting this chupacabra while in Farol Verde. Maybe that was what the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate wanted him to see by sending him there. It was going to be hard getting his old life back or even living to some standard similar. He’d wanted to do better for himself and the people around him, educated as he was by death, but with that wisdom also came the stark realization . . . that he may not be able to go back. It raised an interesting question: Had they even been told that Adam was dead yet? How long was he in the other world, and how fast does news like that travel?

Adam looked up at Téa and the man she was with. Téa wore one of her T-shirts so tight that Adam could make out the lines of her bra in the back. Adam smiled internally. It really showed off what her slight frame didn’t have. No doubt the front advertised the name of some band with a sound too hard for Adam to care for, not unlike the one playing over the club’s monstrous speaker system. Téa’s jeans likewise hugged every meager curve of her body, and her boots were edgy. It seemed Téa would never change. That was good. Adam adored who she was.

Conversely, Adam jeered internally at the man she spoke to. Adam had never seen him before and was instantly suspicious and protective. The man, of some Asian descent, was young. His face still sported some of the acne of adolescence. He dressed like a tool, too, at least Adam’s measure of one. He wore a hat with the bill turned off center, and his denim jacket hung open to reveal some graphic tee Adam couldn’t quite discern. What irked Adam most were the fingerless gloves. Damn, they were stupid. Was the guy trying to look tough? How did Téa even meet this guy? Were they on a date? Maybe, but it didn’t seem so. They were not close enough for any familiarity, and Téa’s body language didn’t convey any physical interest. Maybe they were on a first date and they’d met online or something. Téa had been involved in some chat rooms in her day.

Adam was left to only a burning speculation. He couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

Téa took a sip of her mixed drink through the straw in the glass in front of her. “Why did you want to meet here?” she shouted over the thrum of the music.

Her companion, a man she knew by the name of Davy Truong replied, “No cops! Cops don’t have an easy time in here. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you didn’t like metal.”

Téa shot him a quick indignant look before rolling her eyes. “That’s not true. I love metal! It’s just that we can hardly hear each other talk!”

Davy took a drink and nodded. “That’s another thing! No one can listen in on us! And it’s too crowded for anyone to mess with us.” Davy shrugged. “If you want, you can go back to your doctor. Valium is a lot less expensive with insurance.”

Téa smiled and shook her head. “I tried that,” she said with an edge. “The doctor cut me off. He said I fit the model of drug-seeking behavior.”

Davy laughed raucously at Téa’s story. “Ohhh! No shit!” He laughed so hard that Téa shot him another look but wasn’t able to contain her own little smirk. She had to admit, there was some humor in the irony.

The bartender dropped two shot glasses next to them. To Téa, this was completely unsolicited. She turned to Davy. “What’s this?”

Davy sniffled and tried to control his giggles. “What? You looked like you could use another drink. Don’t worry about it. It’s on me. Here.”

Davy grabbed his glass and held it up in offer of knocking his with hers. Téa hesitated, but she had come to appreciate a nice drink—especially a free one. She snatched up her glass, clinked it with his, offered a quick salute with it, and fired it down like a champ. The liquor burned all the way down, and Téa shuddered. The drink looked like it even threw Davy for a loop, who put on a sour face before shaking the nerves loose. “Whoo!” he exclaimed.

Téa exhaled heavily to try to relieve herself of some of the effervescence.

Davy cleared his throat before another stuttering chuckle. “All right. Hah. So? Do you have the money on you right now?”

Téa nodded, her face communicating that she wasn’t quite done processing the drink’s mighty proof. “Yeah. I came prepared. Do you have the junk on you?”

“Yeah, no worries, no worries. I got what you need. Actually”—Davy reached into a pocket in the lining of his jacket—“I like you. I like to do something for the customers that I like.” From his jacket, Davy proffered one small white pill and held it out for Téa between his thumb and index finger. “Here. One. On me. ’Cause I’d like to be friends.”

Téa couldn’t help but grin widely. A nervous chuckle rattled from her throat, and she wagged her finger at Davy. “Davy! Ahh! You’re gonna get me fucked up!”

The two giggled with each other like old friends.

Téa plucked the pill from Davy’s fingers. “What is it?” she asked.

Davy shook his head. “Valium. Nothing weird. I wouldn’t roll you, baby!”

Téa weighed her options. Her mental faculties hadn’t abandoned her, not by a long shot. She knew any sane woman would not take that pill. It could be anything, but if she couldn’t trust Davy with this, how could she trust anything he gave her? Ohh, and she wanted it too. It would be so easy. Just pop one pill and drift away, no more worries. Besides, Davy was probably just being nice. He seemed sweet. The pill looked normal enough, plain white with three letters etched into one side—TRU. Probably short for Truong. It was actually kind of a catchy brand.

Téa popped the pill into her mouth, swallowing it down. She was sick of weighing the pros and cons and just wanted to give in. She needed that numb release.

Davy grinned widely. “You are awesome,” he said. “I bet everyone just loves to hang out with you.”

Téa scoffed and shook her head. “Nah. I don’t hang out with too many people these days.”

“What? I’d think you’d have tons of friends. You seem like a cool chick.”

Téa shrugged, her eyes trailing away thoughtfully. “Guess I just started losing them somewhere.”

“Maybe you’re just not hanging out with the right people. Huh? You need people that appreciate you.”

As he finished his sentence, Davy noticed some Hispanic guy standing a ways behind Téa. He was staring at her hard. His hair was cut in a fade to look tough, and the shape of his muscles could be seen through the black button-down shirt he was wearing. Between the muscles and the grim look on his face, he cut an imposing figure. He almost looked sad. Davy wondered if he was, like, Téa’s ex-boyfriend or something. Whatever the case, the guy needed to step off.

Téa noticed Davy looking over her shoulder and fidgeted nervously. She checked around, but not behind her. Whatever was happening behind her, Téa’s awkwardness wouldn’t allow her to make a big deal out of it. Besides, she was already starting to feel pretty groovy from whatever Davy had given her.

In time, the Hispanic guy slunk over to a booth off to the side.

Téa shook her head. Her pleasant feeling was quickly plummeting into a murky tranquility and borderline nausea. It felt like her head was filled with cotton balls instead of brains. Of course, she figured that must be what’s in there. How could she have been so stupid as to take that pill? Oh well, a gambler has to lose sometimes.

Davy said something, but to Téa, it sounded like he was underwater.

“What?” she asked, holding her head.

“I said, are you all right?”

“Ugh,” Téa tried again to shake the cobwebs out of her skull. “No. I . . . I don’t think so. Are you sure that was a Valium?”

“Yeah,” Davy answered. “Well, mostly. It was like a knock off, but it’s supposed to be the same thing.”

Téa had started sweating and nearly toppled off her stool. Luckily, Davy caught her in his arms and pushed her upright. He looked around furtively. It seemed that no one had noticed this girl was falling out on him. He started to panic. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, but he knew he had to get her out of there before someone noticed.

“All right,” Davy whispered, pressing his lips close to Téa’s ear. “Stay with me. Don’t go doing anything stupid like passing out. Let’s get you out of here. I can get you someplace safe.”

Téa could hardly hear him and barely knew where she was anyway. Breathing was becoming a complicated task.

Davy hooked one of Téa’s arms over his shoulder and tried to carry her as inconspicuously as possible. Luckily, her feet were still moving. As he motivated her forward, her legs caught her weight almost autonomously.

Davy guided her away from the bar and around the dance floor. The reveling people were too busy with their dancing and drinking. No one seemed to be paying any attention, so Davy reached the iron stairwell that led up to the overlooking office without any trouble. He had to get the girl into Rick’s office. Rick owned the place and owed Davy’s brother more than a few favors. He could hide the bitch there.

Getting Téa up the stairs was a chore, but she was mostly cooperative. “Just keep walking,” Davy told her. “You’re doing good.”

Davy reached the top of the stairs, where Warren, Rick’s bodyguard, was standing outside the door to the office. Warren was a big old white guy in a gray suit, with broad shoulders and the kind of haircut a man looking to be tough would have. Davy wasn’t worried about him. He knew not to do anything that would upset Davy’s brother.

Warren’s face scrunched up at the sight of Davy dragging another half-awake girl up the stairs. The first time he’d seen Davy do it, the doorman had no intention of letting the boy into the office, but then the brat wanted to talk to Rick. Once he had Rick, he said some crap about his brother, and then Rick made Warren let him in. Every time Davy was in there with a girl, Warren just avoided the office. He didn’t want to know what was going on in there. Out of sight, out of mind.

Begrudgingly, the bodyguard stood to the side and opened the door for Davy to go through.

Rick, the bar owner, looked up from his desk to see Davy basically carrying some girl into his office, again. He was too old to be putting up with Davy’s shenanigans. Rick had worked hard for all he had in his middling age. He would have been enjoying his life if it weren’t for Davy’s brother and his thugs constantly putting pressure on him. Having to indulge Davy’s twisted fantasies was just a footnote in a whole library of degrading things Rick had to endure.

“Jesus, Davy,” Rick said in his gravelly voice. “How many is this now? You can’t keep doing this. You’re gonna get in trouble, and you’re gonna drag me down with you.”

Rick had renovated the office into a nice place. He replaced the old windows that looked down over the floor with thicker soundproof ones and renovated the interior with expensive carpeting and furniture. The room still vibrated with each bass note of the powerful speakers, but Rick had done a great deal to make the place comfortable. That’s why Davy kept coming back when he actually did roofie some poor girl.

“It’s not like that this time, man!” Davy decried as he let Téa fall into one of the couches. “I just gave her a valium. It wasn’t nothing weird. Now, I don’t know, she’s just dying on me or something!”

Rick shook his head and waved his hands as he stood from behind his desk. “Oh no. Oh, hell no! You did not bring this girl up here so she could OD in my office. Hell no. That’s where I draw the line. Get her the fuck out of here!”

Davy turned and stood up to Rick despite the kid’s clear size disadvantage. “Hey, man, fuck you! You have to help me here! I don’t know what to do!”

“You call an ambulance, and you move her outside!”

“I can’t do that! Then everyone would know I gave her the drugs! What if she doesn’t die? She can ID me!”

“Not my problem. You move her now!”

Davy wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Okay! All right! Let’s just . . . chill out. Okay? She’ll probably be fine. She’s not gonna die. Look, she’s breathing. She’ll probably be fine. She just needs to rest in here for a little bit.”

Rick looked over at Téa. Her chest was moving with each weak respiration. When he turned back to Davy, he stabbed a meaty finger in the kid’s face and said, “I’m gonna go out back and smoke. I don’t see anything. But when I get back, she better be gone, Davy, or I swear to God, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Without another word, Rick turned and left the room.

Alone in the room with Téa, Davy mocked the bar owner’s gruff voice. “I swear to God, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He looked at Téa’s unconscious form, worrying over what he was going to do. He didn’t know if she was just having some sort of reaction or what. He didn’t mean for it to happen, not that time. Maybe he just gave her the wrong pill. He paced nervously around the room, looking at Téa. Just looking. She was actually kind of beautiful. Davy didn’t think so much at first, but she looked so serene lying on the couch. She looked peaceful, like a dolled-up angel.

Davy hesitated in his pacing. Téa was very thin, her breasts were nearly nonexistent, and her face was kind of boyish, but . . . there was a brand of beauty to be seen.

Davy glanced at the door, and he sneered at Rick’s idle threat. “What is he really going to do? He wouldn’t hurt me. He’d just piss off my brother. That would be the last mistake he ever made. Nah. That prick isn’t going to do anything.”

Davy didn’t have anything in mind when he took Téa up to the office, but she was right there, beautiful and vulnerable. Davy felt a stirring he couldn’t ignore. It drove him forward. He moved to the couch where Téa rested and leaned over her. He studied her face like a piece of art, appreciating every line and pore. He admired the dainty curve of her jaw and the milky white of her skin. He brought his face so close that he could smell her. She had a pleasant smell. It was some perfume, like gentle prairie flowers. It could only be smelled if one got close. It gave Davy a rush, so he dared closer. He touched his lips to Téa’s cheek. He loved touching his lips to women’s skin. Something about it was just so pleasurable and made him feel blessed.

When he pulled away, Davy did so slowly and tenderly. His breathing had become heavier. His eyes explored Téa’s slight frame. Her body was a playground of taboo delights waiting to be explored. He didn’t want to hurt her. Nothing he wanted would hurt her. He just wanted to touch. Like her breasts. The modest slopes called to him from under her tight shirt, begging for the touch of his hand. Not bothering to resist, he reached out and grasped the left, giving it a firm squeeze.

Téa stirred slightly and uttered a light moan.

Davy pulled the errant hand away and covered his grinning mouth, holding back a gasp. She liked it. God, she wanted more. Davy was so excited, and his pants were getting tighter. When he reached for her again, his hand trembled with nervous excitement.

Adam had watched while Téa accepted the pill from that kid. He saw as she became disoriented and nearly collapsed out of her chair. He’d wanted to intervene. The first thought that crossed his mind was breaking the kid’s arm and taking Téa away with him. Her car was probably outside, and she might even still live in the same place, but that would cause a scene, and he’d already drawn too much attention. People would ask questions about the girl, and about him. People think he’s dead and he couldn’t have a spectacle made of him. It was no matter. He could just wait until the kid got her outside. He couldn’t very well do anything to Téa in the middle of the dance floor.

Adam was working himself into a rage. The thought of someone doing that to Téa boiled his blood. Already Téa didn’t have an easy life. Between her crippling awkwardness and introversion, her small frame and passive personality, she was already so vulnerable. And there was that kid taking advantage of her like a predator. A real monster. Unlucky for him that Adam had been brought back to earth to hunt monsters.

To Adam’s surprise and vexation, the kid did not take Téa outside where Adam could introduce the fiend to his own vulnerability. Instead, the kid led her up the iron stairwell toward the office at the top. After a brief exchange with the doorman, he was allowed inside. Adam sneered. That made things considerably more complicated. Why was he let in there? What’s he going to do? Maybe he really was trying to help her.

Adam shook his head.

Idiot.

He ran his hand through his hair and huffed out a big sigh. He was hesitating. He was stuck. Going up there involved risking so much, but how could he possibly leave Téa to suffer whatever she was being subjected to in that office? He would have to get past the doorman, and he knew that would be difficult. Like most bouncers and security, that doorman was large. He definitely hit the weights at the gym more than Adam ever had. If it turned violent, which it very well could, Adam didn’t know if he could take the gorilla. His brain and heart conflicted with urges to go and stay. Fear held him back while his conviction urged him to action.

Adam looked up at the doorman once again. The man squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he slowly descended the steps. He moseyed away from the office and leaned against the rail, shaking his head. To Adam, this looked to be a man amenable to the idea of putting a stop to whatever crime was being committed in that office. Maybe there was a path of lesser resistance.

Adam stood from his booth and started making his way through the crowd. His eyes were fixed on his destination. His one hope was the doorman and his attack of conscience.

Suddenly, the door to the office opened again. An older man wearing a snazzy shirt stepped out, and he too looked to be cursed with a terminal case of old man strength. His body language indicated questioning. The doorman stood upright and responded apologetically. This development prompted Adam to stop in his crusade toward the stairs and observe. Anything could happen. He didn’t know if he could muscle past the both of them or if the snazzy man could be reasoned with as well, but it began to look more and more like the only way out was through. He didn’t know if he could pull it off, even with whatever super power he’d gained devouring the fraction of that young cop’s soul.

To Adam’s great relief, the conversation ended. The doorman apparently acquiesced to whatever the snazzy man had been telling him, and they were going their separate ways. The snazzy man pulled out a pack of cigarettes and popped one in between his lips as he descended the stairs. Then he rounded the foot of the stairs and walked underneath. There was a back entrance to the club. That was good. Adam would probably have to carry Téa out, and it would be a lot easier that way. No alarm went off when the snazzy man opened the back exit, so Adam’s hopes continued to grow. He had options.

The situation was improving all the time, and Adam was motivated into action. He didn’t have a lot of time, so he began maneuvering his way through the crowd once again. He slipped through where he could, but he was not averse to pushing people out of the way. He’d force a path for himself here and there, so focused on his objective that he didn’t even realize he was exerting superfluous force on pedestrians who did not deserve it. Their complaints barely reached his ears.

Adam ascended the steps with purpose, his gaze locked unerringly on the head of the stairs and the doorman who had returned to his post. Halfway up the stairs, the doorman noticed Adam approaching. He seemed to lament his station in life briefly, and then he began descending the iron stairwell to meet Adam.

The doorman held up his hand. “This area is not for patrons, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to return to the floor.”

“I’m going to get Téa,” Adam said simply.

The doorman looked surprised, exactly the effect Adam was hoping to achieve.

“Yeah. Téa. That’s that girl’s name. I know her, and I know she’s in there with that creep.”

The doorman sighed, and his eyes broke contact with Adam. The man was fighting past his conscience, and Adam could tell his next sentence would be a lie before the man started speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. The owner just stepped out for a smoke, and there’s no one left in there.”

The lie worked quickly on Adam’s raw nerves. “Man, I get that you have a job to do and everything. I know a thing or two about orders, but, man, don’t lie to me. I already said I know she’s in there.”

The doorman still wasn’t looking Adam in the eye. He shook his head and looked out over the dance floor.

Adam pressed. “Look, there’s some bad shit going on up there. I could call the police. I’m sure that’s attention that you don’t need, but if you just let me go up there and get her, I will forget about the whole thing. What do you say?”

The doorman’s facial expressions indicated his struggles only worsening, but he was taking too long to decide.

“Come on, man! We’re on a time frame!” Adam waited only another half second before he made the decision for the doorman. He moved to go past, but the doorman pressed a strong hand against Adam’s chest.

“I told you, sir. I can’t let you—”

In a flash of rage and impatience, Adam grabbed the doorman’s errant hand and squeezed it in his palm. He couldn’t hear the cracking over the music, but he could feel the bones give way in a fashion they were not meant to, accompanied by the sensation of soft, unpleasant popping. The doorman maintained enough of his manhood to not scream outright, but he clenched his teeth and fell to one knee, groaning.

Adam was surprised. Using only the power of his grip, he’d managed to crush the man’s hand. He was stronger than he’d given himself credit. Adam looked at the doorman’s flushed face. He’d probably already successfully intimidated the hapless doorman, but Adam felt the need to drive the point home.

“Stay out of my way!” Adam growled menacingly.

He released the doorman’s hand and continued stalking up the stairs.

Davy had excited himself to a point just short of salivating. He’d been touching Téa’s unconscious form all over, sampling her soft, feminine skin, even daring to slip his hands under her small shirt to caress the tender flesh of her abdomen. On each foray into this forbidden area, he explored higher. He lavished in the excruciating and exquisite escalation. The self-denial only enhanced the fantasy. He’d probably already become excited enough to pleasure himself thoroughly later when he would ruminate on the experience, but it was time for the big reveal.

The young dealer hooked both of his hands under Téa’s shirt. He took a sharp breath and held it, then slowly hiked the shirt up. Every inch of the young woman’s flat, pale tummy he uncovered was like a crescendo of epic music. His heart swelled with the orchestra, and his mouth hung more and more agape. He inhaled a slow gasp, further stretching his already full lungs.

At the top of Téa’s tummy was revealed a small black bra with yellow polka dots. This actually puzzled Davy a little. What a strange style choice. The pattern was kind of garish. She hardly needed a bra anyways.

It was quirky.

He loved it.

Davy finally let his pent-up breath escape gradually. He would need his lungs free for the next big step. He pinched the cups of the childish bra and lifted them off the unconscious girl’s breasts. No matter how many pairs Davy saw using this method, it never grew old. Each pair of breasts was like a flower he’d never smelled, and they evoked their own unique set of emotions. Now, Téa’s were small, a byproduct of being so scrawny; Davy had already known that would be the case, but to him, they were beautiful because in that moment they were his. The nipples became immediately peaked in the open air, and his mouth really did begin watering at the thought of his first instinct.

Davy was lowering his lips toward his new prize when the office door rattled. That damn Rick was already back. Damn him! Davy pulled away from the girl’s nudity in shame, standing and turning to the entrance. The door rattled again. Someone had tried the doorknob and did so again, this time pressing their full weight against the door. Rick had a key, and that fact made Davy wonder what was really coming into the room.

Adam was not pressing his weight against the door. He held the knob and pressed with one-arm superhuman strength and just a dash of determination fueled by rage and concern. The door stressed against the frame, but Adam, teeth clenched, could not apply enough force to break the lock with just one arm. No matter. Adam was a major league door-kicker, powers or not.

Adam braced himself with the iron railing and struck the point just left of the doorknob with one sharp kick. The bolt erupted through the doorframe on the opposite side, and the door swung open energetically, smacking against the doorstop on the other side. Adam breezed through the fresh opening like a hero come to save the day. Only Adam didn’t feel like a hero. He was maddened with a rage that only seemed to boil at higher and higher temperatures with every second that passed, and then God help him, he took in the scene.

The champion’s eyes focused quickly on the Asian kid standing near the center of the room. He looked appropriately spooked. Adam followed the shape of the kid’s outline down to the couch he stood near. On the couch was his friend, Téa, only not like Adam had ever seen her. She had been drugged and violated. Her shirt had been hiked up under her arms, revealing her slight, vulnerable frame and pale nubile complexion. Worse yet, her bra had been pulled askew from her breasts. Just as Adam had thought, that monster had dragged Téa up to a private room for his sick pleasure.

Adam’s temperature rose even further, and he glared at Davy murderously. His best friend was not a plaything, and no one hurts her and gets away with it.

Davy was startled at first. The man who had kicked his way into the room looked pissed. He immediately considered that he may have drugged the wrong girl, but then that old arrogance and sense of entitlement reared its ugly head. “What the hell do you want, huh? Where the fuck is the guard? There’s supposed to be someone at the door!”

Adam hardly even heard what the twerp had said. He stomped toward Davy, his muscles bulging and primed for teaching lessons.

Davy recoiled. “What are you doing, man? You better not do anything, or my broth—”

His sentence was punctuated with a yelp as Adam grabbed him by his collar with both hands. Adam brutishly overwhelmed the young man and punched him once in the gut. All the air was knocked out of Davy’s lungs in an instant, and he wanted to puke. Adam quickly followed up by tossing Davy into the nearest wall. Davy left the ground completely before slapping against the wall like a piece of bologna.

Adam could have stopped there. A part of him understood that. It told him to leave the poor, dumb kid alone. It told him to turn around and see if Téa was all right, to see if she needed help, but it was almost like his legs had a mind of their own. He stalked over to Davy’s coiled form and delivered a swift toe kick to the dirty molesting drug dealer’s ribs. Davy cried out, but his voice was lost amid the din of heavy metal. All he could do was curl into a tighter fetal position as another kick struck his side, and then another.

Adam had never been so angry in his life. It sliced through his every thought like a hot blade. He wanted only to hurt, to punish. It was as simple as that. There was no meaning beyond that. There was no goal to achieve. Adam understood that somewhere in his head, but it was almost like he wasn’t in control and someone else was kicking the kid.

Suddenly, a new threat captured Adam’s attention. He heard a loud, angry voice approaching from the stairwell. It became gradually clearer until the man speaking pushed open the office door that hung ajar. It was the guy in the snazzy shirt back from his smoke break.

“I pay you very well to do one very simple task: keep these psychos away from my front door. And look. Look at this shit. What is this?” He lamented the condition of what he called his “front door.” After he pushed his way inside, Rick immediately noticed the stoic man standing over the crumpled body of Davy Truong. The orange stadium lights swept behind the Latino intruder, momentarily obscuring most of his features but highlighting the peculiar luminescence of his green eyes. He stared arrogantly at Rick, as if the typically imposing club owner were made of glass.

Of course, Rick wasn’t worried about Adam. He was worried about what Adam had done to Davy in his office. The elder Truong would be furious at Rick. Never mind that he didn’t do anything. Just the fact that it had happened while he was in Davy’s vicinity was enough. Joshua Truong would hold Rick responsible, and he worried about what that would mean for him, his business, and his health.

“Step away from him,” Rick ordered. When Adam didn’t move even a fraction of an inch, Rick opened his stance inquisitively and paced toward Adam. “Now what the hell is this? You come in here, you rough up my employees? You break my things? You hurt my . . . friends? Not smart, little rat. Not too smart at all.” Rick stuck his finger in Adam’s hostile face. “You have just earned yourself one free toss out of here on your ass.” He turned to the doorman and snapped his fingers. “Warren. Get this guy.”

The doorman, still absentmindedly massaging his hand, sheepishly approached Adam for another confrontation. Adam saw the doorman was able to move his fingers. He was pleased to see he hadn’t completely shattered all the bones inside.

Flatly, Adam asked the doorman, “Do you really want to make this mistake a second time?”

Warren halted in his approach and looked almost pleadingly back at his employer. Rick couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What are you waiting for?”

This forced Warren to swallow down his pride and better sense with one dry gulp. He readied himself as Adam stared him down menacingly. Adam wasn’t even facing the doorman. He didn’t look ready for a fight at all. That was the worst part. That was what Warren found most intimidating. Oh well.

Warren reached for Adam’s right hand and shoulder blade, hoping to start and end the fight by pinning Adam’s arm. It would also save his injured hand. The practiced motion was quick and effective. Adam, in his arrogance, did not defend himself properly or in a timely fashion. The doorman applied quick and firm pressure to Adam’s stiff arm, bending it the wrong way. Adam tried to move around and release the pressure, but Warren’s sure expertise allowed him to maintain that pressure, chasing Adam in a circle. Adam tried to move faster and use his power to escape, but the maneuver was designed precisely to foil an enemy with superior strength. Adam’s speed and power were used against him. The more Adam put into escaping, the more he ceded control of his body to the doorman. Warren forced Adam to one knee with Adam’s arm hyperextended behind him.

Adam grimaced and a long grunt of exertion escaped his clenched teeth. He strained against the strength and leverage of the doorman, but to no avail.

“This guy has to be on something,” Warren stressed. Adam was exerting more force than Warren thought possible from his position and taking all the related pain. His opponent should have been on the ground begging for mercy.

Rick moseyed over to the combatants and leaned over to Adam’s ear. “Stop fighting. You’re only making things harder on yourself. Now be a good boy before my man here breaks your arm.”

Somehow, the club owner’s words cut through the dense fog of rage in Adam’s mind. It made it clear to Adam that he was losing, and it wasn’t because of anything as insurmountable as being outgunned. He was just being a fool. He’d been gifted with incredible strength but was being outmaneuvered because of his reliance on it. Like all that mattered was smashing mindlessly. He was a trained combatant and needed to get his head in the game.

Adam assessed the situation as fast as he could. Every fighting style and maneuver had a weakness. The doorman’s arm bar required stability. He had his feet planted in a wide stance that placed his dominant foot within reach of Adam’s free hand. That was enough.

Maintaining his posture with all his strength and willpower, Adam quickly reached up and struck the club owner in the larynx. It was a light hit. Adam did not want to kill or otherwise permanently injure the man. He’d brought his mind back to a calmer place.

The club owner retreated quickly, clasping his throat and coughing uncontrollably. Adam then reached back and found the doorman’s leg. He deftly slid his hand down the doorman’s calf muscle and found the Achilles’ tendon. Adam squeezed the delicate collection of nerves as hard as he could.

The pain was excruciating, and the doorman cried out in agony as he collapsed to one knee. He released his grip on Adam’s arm, and Adam nearly fell over. The relief was so great. He even took a moment to massage the sore areas. However, this gave the doorman an opening to surprise Adam with his determination. Adam felt the doorman’s arm wrap around his throat in time only to panic. The rear choke was quickly locked in, and the doorman’s left arm applied the appropriate pressure to cut circulation to Adam’s head. Adam had to think and act quickly, but he’d been trained for that exact situation. In one practiced motion, he clasped the doorman’s right hand and struck his left elbow. This released the pressure, allowing Adam to gain control of the arm wrapped around his neck. Adam turned, simultaneously pulling the arm loose. He rolled across the floor, twisting the doorman’s right arm and locking it an arm bar not dissimilar to the one used on him not moments ago. Adam then swung with his left fist and landed a mighty punch square on the doorman’s jaw.

It was as if Adam had found the doorman’s off switch. The man’s head bobbled cartoonishly, and then he fell to the floor in a limp heap. The inside of his cheek had broken open on his teeth and dark blood drizzled into a tiny puddle on the expensive rug.

Adam didn’t have even a moment to celebrate his hard-earned victory. Without warning, something impossibly hard struck him on the top of his head. It ranked right up there with some of the most intense pain he’d ever felt. He dropped to the floor and rolled away from whatever was assailing him. When he looked up into the light, he saw the shape of the snazzy club owner wielding a small blackjack. Adam didn’t even think people used those things anymore. It was like being hit with a rock, caveman style. He was lucky the club owner had elected to strike him on the thickest part of his skull.

Rick closed the distance to continue to assault his floored victim. Adam simply caught him by the wrist. Adam then pulled him down, wrapped his legs around the club owner’s head, and choked him in the scissor. The club owner loved the gym but clearly had no real fighting skill to speak of.

The bump on Adam’s head throbbed, and he couldn’t help but berate his increasingly unconscious assailant. “What is the matter with you? Who the hell hits someone with that thing?” Adam groaned. “Ow. Now, are you done? I just want to grab my friend and leave. Just let me leave. Okay?”

Rick’s face was turning blue, and eyes were just about ready to roll back in his head. It looked like he may have been trying to nod.

“Okay?” Adam repeated.

Rick nodded harder. “Okay,” he choked.

“Okay,” Adam released the club owner and allowed the man to breathe. Adam stood, and the man fell to all fours, savoring the air that once again filled his lungs.

“Now just . . . don’t bother me,” Adam said.

Adam hurried across the room to where Téa had slept through all the commotion. She’d hardly stirred. Adam knelt down beside her and placed his hand between her bare breasts. He placed his ear close to her mouth and listened for breathing. Adam felt her breath weakly on his ear and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her heart beat steadily. Breathing was becoming difficult for her. Adam tilted her head back to better free up the airway.

Téa’s limbs weren’t any more pale than usual and showed no hints of blue. She didn’t appear to be going into shock, so Adam decided to move her. He quickly tugged her shirt down and then began sliding his hands underneath her slight frame. Just then, he heard an audible and ominous “click” behind him.

Adam squinted his eyes and slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. There was just no way what he thought was happening could actually be happening.

But it was. Davy was standing and pointing some kind of tiny revolver at Adam’s back. “Made your last mistake,” he said.

“Really?” Adam asked, standing slowly.

“Don’t move! Don’t you fucking move!” Davy shouted, brandishing the pistol.

Adam heard no authority in the young man’s voice. He slowly turned to face Davy. “Look, kid, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I was just about to leave, no problem.” Adam raised his hands in surrender as a show of good faith.

“And just what the fuck makes you think that I would ever let you out of here alive after all this? Huh? After beating me up? Humiliating me?”

Adam answered, “Because you’re scared.” He took a small deliberate step forward.

Davy emitted a breathy chuckle. “What are you talking about? I ain’t scared! I’m a Truong! We ain’t scared of nothing! We ain’t got reason to be scared!”

“Yes, you are,” Adam said as he slowly approached the gunman. Behind Davy, Adam saw Rick get to his feet. The club owner saw the gun and immediately looked concerned. “I’ve seen a lot of kids with guns in their hands,” Adam continued. “They looked comfortable enough when it wasn’t serious, like when they were shooting a paper made to look like a man. Then I’ve seen those same kids aim it for the very first time at a real man with the expectation to do real harm. Some of them looked just like you do now. Those ones couldn’t quite pull the trigger.”

Davy renewed his threat with the gun, shouting, “Get the fuck back!” in his shrill voice.

Adam hesitated, his hands still at shoulder height.

Rick chimed in. “Davy, calm down. You don’t want to do this, son.” Apparently, the situation had gotten just a little too serious for the club owner.

“Shut up, old man!” Davy ordered. “This guy dissed me! Only one way to deal with that in the street!”

“But are you ready to go that far?” Adam attempted to renew his advance. He’d almost gotten within reach of the gun. “That’s a hell of a leap. I really don’t think you can do it.”

“That’s murder, Davy,” Rick supplied. “You can’t come back from that, and you’ll be looking at prison, maybe for the rest of your life.”

Davy seethed but didn’t otherwise react.

“I’ve done a stretch or two in my time, kid,” Rick continued. “Believe me, you don’t want that.”

Davy looked over his shoulder at the club owner. “Shut up! You’re lucky my brother isn’t here! When he finds out about how you let this happen, I don’t even know what he’ll do. Your life don’t mean shit!”

Adam sprang. He dodged out of the gun’s line of bore and grabbed it with his right hand. With his left hand, he chopped at Davy’s elbow. In a flash, it was over. By the time Davy turned to see what was happening to him, the barrel of the gun was aimed up one of his nostrils. Adam forced Davy against the wall and glared into the kid’s eyes. Meanwhile, Davy stared bug-eyed down the barrel of his own gun. Adam could have easily pulled the trigger and blown the kid’s fool head off. It would serve him right. He should know that in the street or on the battlefield . . . in life, any man who points a gun at another man is inviting death.

As Adam ruminated, an unpleasant scent violated his nostrils. Adam sneered and looked down to discover that Davy was developing a dark, wet patch in the crotch of his faded jeans.

Adam sighed sharply in exasperation. The kid was not worth the stain on his conscience, so he quickly grabbed Davy by the forehead and sharply cracked his skull against the wall. Adam’s strength made it effortless. After Davy collapsed to the floor, Adam checked his pulse. The kid would live to be a bastard another day. Adam rolled him onto his side in the recovery position just like he’d been trained. He didn’t want the kid to choke on his own vomit.

When Adam stood from his work, he caught the eye of the club owner. In a moment, the man couldn’t look Adam in the eye, either because he was ashamed or just forlorn.

“Go on, kid,” Rick said. “Go take care of your girl. I’ll pick up the pieces from this.”

Adam didn’t respond verbally. He just turned and strode back to Téa’s side. He checked her vitals one more time to confirm he wasn’t too late and then picked her from the couch with ease. He knew that the best option for her was to call an ambulance and get her real medical attention, but he couldn’t be seen. He couldn’t be questioned. If he did that, he would have to abandon her. For some reason, that felt like a worse crime. A crime against what? He didn’t know. A crime against their friendship, maybe. He couldn’t leave her care to anyone else, certainly no one there.

No, Adam carried Téa out of the office and hurriedly descended the stairs. None of the metalheads looked up from their reveling to show concern for the unconscious girl being carried out of the building. Adam swiftly rounded the foot of the stairwell and pushed the door open with his backside. In seconds, he was out in the night air with Téa in his arms.

In the dark, Adam took a moment to fish Téa’s keys from her pocket. Given how tight her jeans were, it proved a difficult task, as his hands were not nearly as slender and practiced as Téa’s. When he pulled the keys out, a pile of green bills were launched from the crevice, mostly twenties. The wad broke apart on the pavement and then tumbled away down the alley on urgings of a gentle California breeze. Adam watched them go and knew Téa was there to buy drugs. He couldn’t believe it.

Adam gathered Téa back into both of his arms and hurried toward the street. Thankfully, he recognized the keys. He had expected that Téa would still be driving the same car she had been when he’d last seen her. Téa was meek. She valued safe, consistent routine, and her old fuel-efficient lime-green hybrid stood out like a sore thumb among the row of cars lining the street. Adam beeped the car open and placed Téa gently inside. Her inhalations were still soft, but steady. Adam became increasingly confident that she was going to be okay. He just needed to get her home and watch after her. He just needed to care for her, like he had always done.

After buckling Téa’s limp form into the seat Adam stole her wallet and looked at the driver’s license. It had a good picture, but more importantly, it had her home address. Adam jumped into the driver’s seat. Just as he closed the door, a police cruiser appeared approaching from the opposite direction. Adam reflexively ducked behind the steering wheel. The headlights illuminated the entire interior, and Adam used the resultant fear to shrink himself past what he thought was possible. Well out of the beam, Adam held his breath and waited for the cruiser to pass. He’d had enough stress for one night, and silently willed the police to leave him alone.

Just go away. Just go away.

The car darkened as the police cruiser passed harmlessly and then Adam allowed himself to exhale. He sat upright and watched the cruiser slowly motivate away. They were definitely looking for something.

The cruiser turned the corner, and Adam quickly started the car. He inched himself out of the crowded parking spot and pulled inconspicuously into the street. Inconspicuousness. He knew that was the key. Just drive normally. Don’t attract attention. As he left, he saw in his rearview mirror that a couple of people from the club had noticed the money blowing around. They ran into the street to gather it. Adam only hoped they didn’t use it to buy drugs.

9

Away from the pandemonium of the club, the world felt dark and empty, but at least it was peaceful. As Adam rode toward the suburban part of the city, it became only more so. Finally, Adam’s body, heart, and mind could rest for the first time since before his death. Of course, the person whose boots hit the sand for the last time that day was a different person.

Adam kept the radio off, but the screen on the dashboard gave him the time of day. It was after midnight, and Adam was wired beyond belief. He didn’t think he could sleep if he tried. No matter. Téa needed looking after, and Adam couldn’t rest until she recovered fully and her eyes opened again. She looked so tranquil in the passenger seat. The light from passing streetlights illuminated her face only in short gasps and made each glimpse even more special. Adam didn’t realize how much he’d missed her until right then. He missed everything familiar. He’d visited Farol Verde here and there while he was in the Army but never realized just how far removed he was from his life. Staring at the side of Téa’s face, Adam felt like he’d finally come home.

Adam looked back at the road and immediately swerved back into his lane.

Time passed quickly while Adam brooded. He absentmindedly rubbed at the bruise on the back of his head where the owner of the club had struck him with a blackjack. It already felt a lot better. Maybe he wasn’t hit as hard as he thought. His hand, too, had significantly improved. It seemed as though everything was going to be okay as Adam pulled into the empty driveway at the address on Téa’s license. It was a pleasant-looking, modern one-story home. The neighborhood was decorated with tastefully placed leafy trees, and the grass on every lawn was healthy. It was far-flung from her parent’s stately home in the richer part of town, though. Adam wondered if they were financing it, or if Téa was paying for it herself. Maybe she had a roommate or a boyfriend living with her. That could be a problem.

Adam took the keys out of the vehicle ignition and bounded up to the front door. There he thought a moment. He considered the evidence. There was no other vehicle in the driveway when he pulled up. The size of the house said “one bedroom,” but that didn’t rule out Téa having someone sharing her bed. The thought was actually kind of pleasant. Téa deserved love. Adam thought that would be nice, if someone was waiting in there for her.

Adam shook his head and got back on task. Could someone be in there? Téa could afford a house all on her own with help from the trust fund that her parents set up for her long ago. No lights were on in the house. If someone was waiting, it was so they could flick on a lamplight to reveal themselves conniving in an adjacent old chair made for steepling your fingers in relative comfort. There, Téa would find out that the mysterious figure knew what she had been up to. Adam exhaled through his nose. After all his silly consternation, there just wasn’t any way for him to know by looking. He had to take a risk, so he reached his hand up and found the doorbell in the meager light provided by the moon. Adam resolutely pressed the button . . . and quickly bounded around the side of the house.

Around the corner, Adam turned and fell into a crouch, hiding under the nearby window. His heart was pounding in adolescent glee. He hadn’t ding-dong-ditched in years.

Seconds passed, and Adam tentatively inched his face around the corner to spy the front stoop of the house. No lights were turned on to betray life inside. More time passed as Adam held his breath, trying to hear the faintest shuffle of feet on carpet or perhaps creaking wood. It would simplify Adam’s life so much if someone would check the front door and discover Téa in need of help. If they did, Adam could disappear again. He wouldn’t have to care for her and make sure she opened her eyes. She wouldn’t have to awaken and find her friend whom she thought was dead standing over her.

Adam turned his head and looked over at the car in which Téa slept. He knew she was already basically stabilized. Her breathing was normal, and there was no reason to believe she wouldn’t wake up, but Adam couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her, leaving her to be cared for by paramedics in a hospital. Téa hated hospitals. Maybe Adam was just resisting all the reasons he had to leave. Maybe he was digging through the mud for just one good excuse to stay. Maybe fate had something else in mind.

Adam stood and took a deep breath at his full height. He didn’t have an out, none that he was willing to accept, anyway. It was time for him to take responsibility.

He opened the passenger side door, unbuckled Téa, and lifted her out of the seat. Adam struggled to open the front door of the house while still holding her in his arms. She was light but still made it difficult to slide the key in. It may have been a little warped. Adam was getting frustrated. His body grew hot while he fiddled with the lock. He finally forced the key through the tumblers, but the force caused his body to lurch, and he knocked Téa’s head into the doorframe. Her head bobbled from side to side.

Adam hissed. “Ooh! Sorry. Sorry.”

Téa stirred and uttered a slight groan. It looked as if she could wake up at any moment. Adam quickly and tenderly turned the key in the lock. He turned the knob and kicked the door open, then hurried through the dark to what looked to be a couch. He placed her as gently as he could and held his breath.

Téa groaned again and shifted on the couch to better embrace its comfort. Her face looked distressed, either from her experiences or perhaps the fresh and reddening welt on her forehead. Maybe she was having a bad dream. Adam couldn’t be sure. He knelt on one knee beside her and stroked her crown, hoping to ease her transition back to consciousness. It was more than he’d gotten.

To his terrible delight, Adam witnessed Téa’s eyes flutter and open, only a little. She squinted into the meager light, not ready to open her eyes. Near as Adam could tell, she was looking right at him. She didn’t appear too distraught.

“Adam?” she managed to squeak.

Adam didn’t know how she could properly see him, but he was glad the sight of him wasn’t troubling her terribly. He smiled a genuine smile of relief and glee and nodded.

Téa didn’t seem quite as relieved. She didn’t seem ready to react to Adam’s presence one way or the other. She simply asked him, “Did you come here to get me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?” Adam asked.

Téa rephrased, “Did you come to take me to the other side?”

Adam sighed. Téa was delirious. She thought he was the angel of death.

“I’m not Azrael, Téa.”

Téa closed her eyes and shook her head. “No . . .”

Adam was relieved that she accepted that kernel of truth so easily. He didn’t want her giving in to death.

“No one calls you that,” Téa finished.

Adam gave Téa an exasperated, withering look. He didn’t know if she was struggling to maintain coherent thought or just messing with him. It could be hard to tell with her sometimes, even on her best days. To Adam’s great annoyance, while he tried to formulate the appropriate response, Téa’s face relaxed, and her breathing became even and calm.

Adam rolled his eyes and stood. That was Téa making sure his life was nice and confounding.

He hoped she would never change.

But of course, she had. Adam had never known Téa to be a risk-taker, quite the opposite, so why did she accept that pill from that sleazy kid? Why was she hanging out in that place? Why did she have all that cash on her? None of it made sense to him. It couldn’t be true. That wasn’t the Téa he knew.

Adam turned on an unobtrusive lamp sitting on a table near the door. Also on the table was a key plate, a half-read gaming magazine, and an unopened letter soliciting for insurance. Adam wanted more. He wanted a look into Téa’s life. He wondered if this was a recent change in her behavior or if she was hiding something from him all those times they talked on the phone before his deployment overseas.

He breezed into the kitchen. There were no pictures on the door of the refrigerator, not of Adam’s mom, Christina, or even Adam. Téa used to have those kinds of keepsakes. Had something changed? Was Téa not even hanging out with them anymore? Had she become estranged from Adam’s family? If it was true, why did no one tell him about it? Why didn’t Christina or his mom mention it? Adam tore open the refrigerator and was surprised to find two bottles of half-drunk rum. There were mixers, too, like orange juice, coconut, and grenadine. Adam knew it to be difficult to get Téa to even accept a drink at a party, much less for her to have party mixers in her house. Téa was uptight, a neurotic, and a borderline overplanner. She built a portfolio and campaigned hard to secure a graphic design job by age twenty because she worried about having to rely on her controlling parents. She got the job too. Hopefully she still had it.

None of what Adam had discovered in her refrigerator was damning by any means—growing to enjoy a drink was nothing pioneering—but her idiotic behavior at the dance club was downright disturbing. Why did she take that pill? Téa is a smart girl, even by smart girl standards. Why take a pill from some rando? Did she . . . trust that guy? They didn’t look cozy or anything.

Adam sighed and closed the refrigerator. Maybe if he’d stopped to ask those kinds of questions instead of just throwing his weight around . . . he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He was just so insane with rage. He’d never felt that way before, even in combat. Then again, he’d never seen Téa in so much trouble.

Adam trudged over to Téa’s bedroom. The door was open. He flicked the light on and started rummaging shamelessly. A few articles of clothing were strewn on the floor. She had a stained wood wardrobe and a downright cozy-looking bed. Most of her decor was burgundy, her favorite color. However, she didn’t have any of her other typical decorations. Téa used to have posters of anime and video games on her walls, the types of things that sparked her love of design. Her weird anime body pillow and other more classical Japanese memorabilia were nowhere to be seen either. The place should have been exploding with her personality. Where was it? Where was his friend?

A dresser stood near the door with a facial mirror on top surrounded by oft-used cosmetics. Tucked next to the mirror, finally, was an old picture of Adam. It was the last one she took of him before he deployed and the last time they saw each other before his death. At least she would never have to know it was the last time if he stuck around.

Adam lingered on the picture and his thoughts for a time but then pulled open Téa’s top drawer. It was an assortment of T-shirts and panties, probably all she would wear alone in the house arranged for easy access. Upon pushing the loose pile of clothes aside, the first thing Adam noticed was the smooth veneer of a vibrator. Not shocking. Then he noticed the assortment of pills arranged concentrically in a plastic case. It was labeled with dates. Adam knew a birth control regimen when he saw one. It looked like she hadn’t been taking them for a long time. A part of Adam actually wished this was indicative of a riskier nature growing within her, because the more likely alternative was that she just didn’t have a consistent reason to use them.

In the same corner of the drawer as the conservative vibrator and the neglected birth control was another clear plastic box. This was also full of pills, but many different kinds, enough to require arranging by type. Adam didn’t know enough to identify them, but the colorful ones were rarely good . . . in a manner of speaking.

Adam exhaled through his nose. The revelation was disappointing, and it made Adam’s head swirl with the same questions. How had Téa become so disconnected from Adam’s family and her own that no one noticed her isolating herself and taking drugs? More aggravating was, Why had no one told him?

Adam dropped the box of pills into the drawer and left without closing it. He strode into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. If narcotics were the end of the story, then it began with the booze, and in the middle . . . the prescription drugs in her bathroom. The labels he read told a story of anxiety and depression. “Why did she hide this?” he agonized. “Why did she have to be alone?” He grabbed every bottle to know exactly what they were for. “Ambien . . . yeesh . . . shit will hit you like a brick . . . Fluoxitine . . . take once daily . . . selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor . . . issued 18 Sept. 17 . . . Do not use after 18 Sept. 18—”

Adam blinked his eyes and reread the information: “18 Sept. 17.” How could that . . .

Suddenly Adam broke off and ran back into the living room. His eyes darted about the room, looking for a calendar, but there was none. He needed desperately to know what day it was, so he lunged at Téa and dug into her front pocket. This disturbed Téa’s rest, of course. She stirred and weakly tried to resist Adam. Adam pulled her hands away in annoyance, ignoring that she may be having some sort of terrible rape dream, and fished out her phone. It was protected by a shape code, but Adam only needed to see the first screen and his heart sank.

The phone read “September 31, 2018.”

Adam’s hand muscles went limp, and the phone slowly slipped from his hand. So much time had passed. He thought he would have a heart attack. It was incredible, impossible . . . awful. In that short time between his death and resurrection, years had apparently passed. Téa . . . she did know he was dead. She’d known for a long time, and she’d aged years since then. Was he the reason behind her fall? Did she never manage to pick up the pieces of her life and move on?

Adam moved to Téa’s side and gently brushed her cheek with his thumb. His eyes stung with the fresh tears that blurred his vision. “What did I do to you?”

Adam’s thoughts swirled around to the others in his life. Where were his parents? How had Christina dealt with his death? How were they living? He clenched his teeth. The pain was incredible. It felt like his heart was giving up, abandoning him. Adam had to cover his mouth to keep from outright sobbing as he sat on the edge of a nearby recliner. He tried to resist his emotions. The tears broke free, and Adam wiped them away, sniffling. Each breath he took came ragged and shuddering.

Five years of time that could have been spent taking care of his family had escaped Adam, and that loss of life made its weight felt in his every shivering muscle. Adam bit the meat of one of his fingers to help hold himself together, and his visible shaking was just the surface. A flood of emotion Adam was unprepared for threatened every passing second to overwhelm him. One thing kept him together. He did not want to do a single thing that would disturb that fragile girl who slept motionless on the couch before him. That ache Adam was feeling was exactly what she felt when he died, taking a part of her with him. Only she actually had to live through those same five years. It didn’t pass unnoticed for her the way it had for Adam. She became miserable and dejected. She’d turned to alcohol and drugs to relieve the pain, but it just kept coming. Five years of feeling like that? Adam understood why she might want to take any sort of trip.

She needed him, and he needed her. He was lucky to have run into her. It was providence. It was his chance to do better just like he’d intended. Téa needed saving, and Adam was getting his chance to stay there and do just that. He would. He would stay by her side until she woke up and however long after that she needed him. Adam wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t have if he wanted to, so he sat quietly and maintained his vigil. While the sun crept back up, illuminating just the fringe of the horizon, Adam watched. It was a new day for him, and the world.

10

The night wasn’t over for Sgt. Lamont Fisher of the Sacramento Police Department. He sat alone in his captain’s office and waited quietly in the wee hours of the morning, passing his eyes over the assorted binders on the shelves, awards and decorations on one wall, and the bulletin board on the other covered with policies and memos. The desk in front of him had all the usual clutter a man as busy as a captain was expected to have. Meanwhile, the clock on the wall annoyingly punctuated each passing second with a noisy tick that Lamont could have sworn got louder and more insistent as time wore on.

Lamont’s nerves worked hard to convince him he was about to be assigned to a desk or worse. He’d taken mostly the right actions. He stayed with his partner until the EMT’s arrived. He described Gray’s head injury but left out the part where it looked like his soul was getting sucked out of his body. He answered the other officer’s questions to the best of his ability and described the perpetrator, but it was when he got back to the precinct that he may have made a mistake. It came time to give his statement in writing, and he finally told the whole story in unabashed detail, right down to the bright-green fluid light that the perpetrator drew out of Gray’s body. Lamont probably could have left that part out. The perp was guilty either way, and Lamont got a good look at him, but Lamont was nothing if not honest. Any detail could prove instrumental in catching the criminal and saving the lives of any officers who gave it a try.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about that man, if that’s what he was. Literally devouring that energy from Gray the way he had, he could have been anything, like a vampire or a demon. Lamont had never seen anything like that. To his knowledge, no one had. A dozen loony explanations and excuses spun around in Lamont’s head, but some uneducated old-world superstition still prescient in the human mind always brought him back to terms like, supernatural, evil, and devil. Thoughts like that filled him with a steadily increasing trickle of dread.

Tick, tick, tick. The clock on the wall wormed its way into Lamont’s attention again, and he gave it a begrudging read. As loud as it had become, Lamont assumed he’d been musing for an eternity, but only about a minute and a half had passed since he last checked it. It felt like he was going to grow old in that chair.

The office’s only door opened behind Lamont, and his captain bustled inside, carrying more papers to clutter his desk with. Captain Michalis was a middle-aged man with pale skin, wispy red hair, and a bushy red mustache. Years of sitting at the desk he was currently stuffing himself behind had left him with a mounting gut, but Lamont knew him to be a tough old coot. He was a hard man, set in his ways, and morally stout. He was tough on the officers of his precinct and didn’t tolerate funny business. That was what worried Lamont. The captain had, in all likelihood, read his statement. He was just waiting for the shit to roll downhill.

Michalis laid his papers on his desk and slouched in his high-backed chair with his fingers interlaced on his gut like an old man getting ready for a nap in his own house. He sat like that for a moment, and Lamont began to wonder if he should say something. Like, maybe he should get ahead of the problem. Captain Michalis frowned, then grunted thoughtfully, and then sat up. He grabbed his glasses off his desk and slipped them on his ruddy nose. He still hadn’t actually looked at Sergeant Fisher. He was deciding where to start.

Finally, the captain looked pointedly into Lamont’s eyes. After another short time, he spoke.

“Do you—” the captain cut himself short. He exhaled through his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked in his hoarse voice.

Lamont saw that question coming before the captain even knew he was going to ask it. “I’m good.” He indicated his own head with his hand. “I’m fine up here. How is Gray doing?”

“He’s doing just fine up there too,” the captain said. “They have him at the hospital, and they’re letting him sleep. His skull isn’t too roughed up. They say it’s definitely not as bad as it looks. They say he’s just, experiencing a state of lethargy not uncommon for people who have taken a blow to the head like he has. He just needs rest. In a couple of days, he’ll be all right.”

Lamont was relieved to hear it. He sighed and almost smiled, but he had trouble believing that was all he was suffering. “So that’s it? No other symptoms or anything like that?”

“No,” the captain answered. “There’s nothing weird going on with his body.”

Both men fidgeted awkwardly. Eventually, the captain leaned forward and clasped his hands together on his desk. “Fisher . . . I gotta talk to you about your statement.”

“Okay,” Lamont said coyly.

“Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes.” Lamont nodded pensively. “I’m ready to answer any questions you have.”

The captain sighed sharply and picked out one of the papers on his desk. Lamont could tell that it was a copy of his statement. “It starts out with you and Officer Gray discovering the hole in the front door of Tracey’s Boutique.”

“Yes,” Lamont said. “We were on routine patrol and happened to see that the glass had been broken.”

“But you didn’t go in right away?”

“No. I thought it would be better to cover the rear entrance, and then I could funnel whoever was in there toward Officer Gray. Catch them by surprise. I proposed this to Officer Gray, and he agreed. He was actually excited about the idea and wanted to be the one to catch him.”

“So you drove to another alley down the block and dropped off Officer Gray, who proceeded to cover the fire exit?”

Lamont nodded, his eyes indicative of a man trying to remember every detail. “Yes. Then I drove to the front and flashed my lights. The plan was working. The perp saw the car lights and ran for the fire exit. I heard the fire alarm go off, so I hurried to back up my partner. I approached—”

“Is this where you drew your stun gun?”

Lamont was struck dumb by the captain’s question. It would have been nothing for other officers, but for Sergeant Fisher, it portended more probing questions to come. “Uhh, yeah.” He tried to recover. “I drew my stun gun and approached the scene through the store. It was the fastest route. The perp . . . came back inside but then went back out again. I don’t really know why. I think it was to surprise Officer Gray. From what I saw before the door closed, he was trying to gain control of Officer Gray’s gun. He actually shot at me inside the store while Officer Gray was still trying to resist him. Officer Gray’s interference might be the only reason why I’m still alive.”

Captain Michalis waited in quiet thought for a moment. “And then what did you do?”

“I . . . I hesitated,” Lamont answered. “I took cover inside the store. The perp had enough control of Officer Gray’s gun to shoot at me, so I backed off. I was counting on Officer Gray’s ability to at least point the gun in a safer direction so I could approach.”

“And how long did you wait?” Michalis asked.

Lamont shook his head. “Maybe fifteen seconds—twenty. There was a second round of gunfire. Both bullets were right into the door. I didn’t wait much longer after that. Gray clearly needed my help, so I chanced it and went outside. That’s when I saw him, um, do that . . . do that thing.”

“Yes.” Captain Michalis looked down his nose at the paper in his hand. “That’s where you saw him . . . absorbing some kind of energy out of Officer Gray’s mouth. It was glowing bright green and flowing from Officer Gray’s mouth into the mouth of the offender.”

The captain looked to Lamont for some kind of response. Sergeant Fisher could only awkwardly nod.

“This is what you think you saw?” Michalis asked.

Lamont sighed. “I know I saw it. I know it sounds crazy—”

“No. No.” Captain Michalis shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. His hands opened calmingly. “No one’s saying that—”

“I’m not crazy,” Lamont insisted. “I know what I saw. I am . . . I am of sound mind and body, and I am telling you that’s what happened out there. I had my flashlight, and I got a real good look. I saw the perp’s face perfectly too. He was definitely real, and he’s definitely guilty, and I can find this guy.”

“Okay, okay,” Captain Michalis interrupted to prevent Lamont from overexciting himself. “I know there was a perp. I know there was a crime committed, and I know you got a good look at him. We have everything we need to put out an APB.”

“I’m not talking about an APB. I’m talking about a manhunt. We need to find this guy—this thing, whatever he is.”

“That’s the thing, Lamont,” Michalis said. “Everything you say up until that point has credence.”

“It all has credence. That’s what happened. Has Gray said anything yet?”

“No. We’re letting him rest, like I said. We will get his statement later. For now, the situation is that your statement is in question. It doesn’t look good on you, especially after the incident you—”

“This has nothing to do with that!” Lamont hissed. “I haven’t lost my grip on reality! I’m fine! It’s not affecting me anymore.”

“Really?”

Lamont nodded, breathing a little heavier in his hysteria.

“Then why did you never pull your service weapon?”

Lamont was taken aback. In the commotion, he’d forgotten that point.

“Why didn’t you draw your pistol, even after it was clear the perp was going to use lethal force against you and your partner?” Michalis asked.

Lamont was quiet. He didn’t have an answer.

Captain Michalis raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Can you honestly tell me it didn’t have anything to do with the Blume girl?”

Lamont sighed, rubbing his temple. “It shouldn’t change anything,” he said finally. “He needs to be found before he does what he did to Gray to someone else.”

“It does change things,” Michalis retorted. “Even if we used all our resources and brought this guy in, your statement is on record. Your history is on record. Any good lawyer would be able to discredit your testimony all day long.”

Lamont sighed again. It was late in his shift, and he might as well have been going twelve rounds with a brick wall.

“I’ll put out an APB for persons matching your description,” Michalis continued. “Though you know we’d have to get insanely lucky without a photo or something to use. And . . .” the captain read more of Lamont’s statement, “clean-shaven Hispanic man with a fade haircut in his early twenties isn’t exactly unique. He can change his haircut, and now we know the clothes he was wearing were stolen.”

“So dust for prints. Canvas the neighborhood. His hands were all over Gray’s gun.”

“We will, Lamont. We will. You can even work with the sketch artist when she comes in. But in the meantime . . .” Here it comes. “I want you to take some time off.”

Lamont cocked his head to one side. “Come on, boss. Don’t do that. That’s not necessary.”

“It’s with pay,” Michalis offered. “I want you to see Dr. Harrington again too.”

Lamont rolled his eyes. “Aggh! No. Boss, that’s really not necessary.”

Michalis held his hands up. “I know you don’t like it, but it’s procedure, and it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t need to see her again—”

“It’s also an order from me,” Michalis said with finality. “Until she confirms you’re okay, I’ll hold on to your gun.” He held his hand over the desk.

Lamont was incensed. “Oh, so one minute I can’t bring myself to draw my gun, and now you’re afraid I’m gonna do something stupid with it?”

The captain didn’t dignify that with a response, he just beckoned with his hand. “Come on.”

Lamont hesitated, but then sighed and stood. He unclipped his holster, dropped the magazine, cleared the weapon, and then placed the separate pieces into the captain’s hand.

The captain opened his top drawer and placed the gun inside. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll be back in no time. Just relax. You’re a good cop. I hate to lose you even for a little while, but I’m sure we’ll be able to pick up the slack.”

“Roger, boss,” Lamont said.

It was clear to the captain that his officer had checked out of the conversation. “Just go on home. Get some sleep. You’re overdue for it. You should visit Officer Gray later when you get the chance too.”

Lamont nodded and opened the office door. He wished there was something more he could say, but there wasn’t. He kept looking for something to change the captain’s mind right until the door was closed behind him. He was beaten, at least about the suspension.

11

Téa’s eyelids slid open to the shining light of day like heavy stones being shifted across a sandy floor. The sun was well over the horizon and thus cast brilliant rays through the blinds covering the large picture window in her living room.

Téa, not being a fan of the sun to begin with, quickly shielded her eyes with one hand. She yawned while her body lengthened and bent until her waking muscles and tendons were stretched nearly to the point of pain. She could feel it down to the very tip of her right toe, which extended to a dainty point over the arm of the couch. Whatever was in that pill she got last night, it sure gave her a good night’s sleep. She might have to ask for more later.

As Téa came out of her stupor, she came to the realization that she was not where she expected to be. She peered quizzically about as she discovered her own living room. Someone drove her home and set her on her couch.

Did Davy do that? Hell of a nice guy.

No hero was in her living room in that moment to take credit. She wondered if he’d taken any liberties with her body while she was out.

Hmm. Jeans are on all right. Bra’s a little crooked. Maybe. Maybe I just slept funny.

Téa sat up on the couch and stretched again, twisting her body to get some good pressure on that spine. She felt refreshed, better than she had in a while. Of course, it was the weekend. After she pushed herself from the couch, she moved to the window and drew the blinds open. The sun was intense, but Téa felt like it was going to be a good day. She also felt the urge to urinate, and she’d be damned if she didn’t kick off her shoes and pad her bare feet right over to the bathroom.

While sitting on the toilet, just listening to the tinkle with her head braced on her hand, she became suddenly cognizant of the weight of the air. Her bathroom still held the faint humidity of a room where someone had taken a shower maybe an hour or so before.

It was only then that Téa considered that whoever had brought her home may still be there. Her eyes immediately jumped to the open threshold of the room where she hadn’t bothered to close the door. She lived alone and usually never thought about it. Even worse, she’d completely removed yesterday’s pants in preparation for her current task. Slowly, dread crept into Téa’s face in the form of a deep shade of red. The worst part was the fact that she couldn’t reach the door to close it from her perch. Tense seconds passed as Téa tried to hurry and finish in what was probably the most terrifying thing anyone had ever experienced.

Téa thankfully completed her business undisturbed and hurriedly pulled her discarded pants back on. Her heart was pounding, but no one had come. She began to suspect that she was just having another panic attack. There was no one in her house. She was safe. But then why didn’t she feel that way?

The young woman, her hands trembling, yanked open her medicine cabinet. Her antianxiety medication was right where she always left it—in an old mislabeled pill bottle. The drugs were supplied to her by Dr. Feelgood after she lost her legitimate prescription. Phrases like short term and habit forming were hardly obstacles when she had Mommy and Daddy’s money.

When Téa closed the medicine cabinet, she revealed a man dressed in black standing in her doorway with his arms folded.

“Need another fix?” he said.

Téa yelped and visibly jumped. The bottle of pills fell from her hand and into the sink. When she recognized the face, her jaw went slack. Her big hazel eyes dilated, and she became even paler than she already was. Her face grew hot, and her stomach churned as her feet tried to back away. Her weak legs managed only inches.

Adam spent a good length of time during the night deciding how he was going to break the news to Téa. This definitely wasn’t what he had decided on, but after a long time of sitting quietly at Téa’s side, Adam got bored. After cleaning himself of the grime he’d accumulated the previous night, he decided to sit on Téa’s bed and pass the time trying to read from her collection of Japanese graphic novels, which he found ignored in a closet. While he was reading, Téa had awoken. He heard her shifting around on the couch, and the groans of her intense stretching routine. He listened as she opened the blinds and then made her way to the bathroom. He could have emerged and confronted her at any time in between, but something strange happened.

He froze.

Adam sat motionless on her bed. He could barely breathe, and he discovered that there was a part of him that still wanted to run. It dawned on him just how traumatizing seeing him again would be for Téa, and if he revealed himself, there would be no going back. The thought of taking that plunge with Téa kept him rooted in place. It was a different kind of terror Adam had never felt before. He found himself debating the pros and cons in his head in a microcosm of time that felt like an eternity. In the end, he reminded himself that he had a responsibility to her. She needed saving, no matter how hard it was on the both of them.

He decided that he just had to do it. There was no way to make it truly pleasant, like ripping off a bandage. Adam stepped into the doorway of the bathroom to find Téa already digging through her medicine cabinet, and his mouth moved before his mind.

Adam knew he’d blown it with his little comment. He’d spooked the living daylights out of her, and then she was stunned. Téa was immediately in a fragile state, and Adam tried not to make it worse. He made no sudden movements or otherwise approached her. He tried to speak in a calming voice.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean . . . for that.”

Téa’s wide, dilated eyes were fixed on Adam. Her breathing was steadily intensifying toward hyperventilation, and she was lost for words. Her eyes became shiny, irritated, and red.

Adam tried to soothe her. “It’s okay. Breathe, Téa. Take your time. I know this is a shock.”

Téa looked to the bottle of pills in her sink.

Adam intervened. “No, Téa. I’m real. It’s okay. Please try to breathe.” He dared to extend an open palm in offering. “It’s all right,” he cooed. “I’m real. Here. Feel.”

Téa looked at the hand. Her skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Then Adam swore he saw a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. It was a ray of hope, but brief, as Téa immediately lunged for the pills in the sink. Adam simply reacted, grabbing her reaching hand and gathering her up in his arms as gently as he could manage.

“Téa, stop! You don’t need that!”

Adam wanted to make his action more embrace than restraint, but Téa tried to resist him, crying out. Her face was a deep shade of red from the stress.

“Téa, please—”

She sobbed, still struggling feebly against Adam’s superior strength. She was having a panic attack and had become inconsolable. In a historically uncharacteristic moment of clarity, Adam quickly realized he was only making it worse. He released Téa and backed away. Free, Téa stopped sobbing and wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding Adam’s gaze like a whipped dog. Her cheeks had the wet sheen of loose tears.

Adam berated himself. Why am I so stupid? Why is everything action with me, everything force?

“Téa, I’m sorry,” Adam said. He looked away, in shame. “I . . . I didn’t think . . .” Adam couldn’t find the right words to finish his sentence, and then he realized that he had finished his sentence.

Téa was trying to inhale through her nose to control her breaths and slow her heart rate, but it wasn’t doing much good as her nostrils had become clogged with mucus. At least this demonstrated to Adam that she wasn’t hysterical. She was already recovering and taking steps to put herself back together. Some part of her mind was already clear. Adam envied that.

“That’s good, Téa,” Adam dared. “You’re doing so good.”

Téa still wasn’t looking at Adam. Her eyes were far off, like she was more in her own head than in the real world. Maybe that was exactly where she needed to be to process the shock.

“Can you look at me?” Adam asked. He didn’t want to lose her in there. Téa didn’t respond, and he tried again. “Please? Will you look at my face?”

Téa looked out the corner of her eye at Adam. There was still fear in there, vulnerability.

Adam smiled his best disarming smile. “That’s good. Stay with me. Look at my face and breathe, okay? In . . . and out.”

Téa did her best to follow Adam’s instructions. She was listening and wanted to get better. She just could not reconcile what her eyes were showing her. Meanwhile, Adam appeared to be pleased beyond measure, and his glee at reaching his friend was apparent in his widening smile. Téa recognized that smile, and it touched her somewhere deep. Her heart calmed quickly, wrapped in the warm glow of that mudita. Her breathing finally came under control. In another moment, the seeds of a gentle smile sprouted in her lips.

Adam gave a breathy chuckle. “Hey,” he whispered.

Téa had a thousand words and thoughts in her head but managed only an equally weak “Hey” in return. It was like the squeak of a mouse. The two stared into each other’s eyes until Adam took the first action. That time, it was the gentle offering of his hand, and he held it for as long as Téa needed until she reached up and placed hers inside it. Adam then turned and led her out of the bathroom. In the short hallway, into the living room, and long after being sat down on her couch, Téa stared in awe at her friend’s face. Seeing this, Adam only smiled back.

Sitting across from each other, Adam in the nearby recliner, the two reunited friends sat in a long silence. Each waited patiently for the other to speak first. Adam waited for Téa to ask her questions, and Téa expected Adam to explain himself the moment he felt ready. This resulted in the two doing nothing productive for some minutes. Adam bit his lip, wondering what the first question was going to be. Téa fidgeted restlessly in her own manner, trying very hard not to glare at Adam accusatorially.

Adam, being the impatient one, was beginning to think that he was going to have to drive this conversation. It was actually the first time he had known Téa not to be open with him since they had met. He knew Téa had questions. What was she waiting for?

Téa saw Adam eyeing her. His expression was slowly growing into irritation. To the untrained eye, it may not have looked it, but Téa recognized it. She wondered what Adam was doing. Without context, there were a million explanations for why Adam had returned to her after all those years. The more irritated he grew, the more she began to expect that it had something to do with her. What was his motivation? Why had Adam come to her? And why was he angry? Finally, Téa realized that Adam was probably the one who had taken her home. He’d seen her completely out of her mind on drugs. Maybe he was judging her. How dare he? I know we’re friends and all, but you’re not my dad. If you were so concerned about my habits, why did you abandon me? Why did you leave for five years? Worse yet, why did you pretend you were dead?

Suddenly, Téa looked angry, and Adam found himself a little taken aback. He replayed all the events that had led up to that moment in his mind, trying to figure out how he had screwed up. The feeling that he had some explaining to do had turned into full-blown guilt under Téa’s disdainful glare.

Under that pressure, Adam broke down and spoke first. “You probably have some—”

Téa took Adam starting a sentence as an invitation to start her own. “What do you want here?”

Adam looked at Téa incredulously. Of all the questions he thought Téa would ask, a rude interrogative was not one of them. “Excuse me?”

Téa folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs. “You’ve been gone for five years. That whole time, you didn’t call. You didn’t tell us you were actually alive. You very specifically hid your existence from us. So why did you come back now? And why did you contact me?”

Adam was dumbstruck. He had expected questions, but Téa was attacking from a strange angle that Adam hadn’t considered at all. She was a seriously strange girl. “Well, it looked like you were in trouble, Téa,” he answered indignantly.

“What? So you just happened to be in town and just happened to be in the same place I was?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, basically.”

Téa looked at him skeptically. “Then what brought you back here? What have you been doing all this time?”

Adam had an answer ready for that one. “Well, a mission brought me here.”

Téa was intrigued. “A mission?”

Adam smirked. He knew Téa would bite. “Yeah. Téa, for the last five years, I’ve been working for the government. I was selected for a special task force. It’s very secretive. They plucked me out of the Army. They gave me special training. They’re the ones who faked my death.”

Téa wondered why Adam was lying to her. The smirk gave him away in a heartbeat. He never could control his deceiver’s delight. “Really?” she asked. The word came out flatter than she’d intended. “I guess it was a closed casket.”

Adam nodded. He knew soldiers rarely had open caskets. Of course, he also knew the exit wound would have been on his face. “Right. My work, where I’ve been the last five years, it’s led me back here, but it’s secret, very secret. I don’t get cool spy gadgets or air support. I’m on my own. That’s why I’m here. I need your help. I need clothes—”

Téa nodded in near insulting agreement with her eyebrows raised.

“I need money, and I need a place to stay, at least until my work is done.”

“What kind of work would that be?” Téa asked.

Adam took a moment to think, looking at the floor. “I’m . . .” he hesitated. He bounced around the idea of continuing to lie, but really, what was the point? Téa would probably find the whole idea incredible. Then again, she might be so into the idea that she wants to see the thing for herself. “I’m . . . tracking down a serial killer.”

Téa leaned in to affect interest and Adam continued.

“You know those killings that were going on five years ag—”

Adam stopped short. That was five years ago. He hadn’t known that when the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate explained his mission.

“Those murders are still going on?” Adam asked aloud.

Téa looked confused. “Murders?”

Adam returned the look, and then he realized his mistake. “Oh.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I mean, there were attacks. Five years ago. People were found dead and torn apart by wild animals. Do you remember that?”

Téa shrugged, shaking her head.

“Really? Uh, okay. People were saying that it was probably a chupacabra. There weren’t any survivors to describe what had—”

“Oh, yeah.” Téa shook her head. “The animal attacks.” She chuckled. “That wasn’t a chupacabra. That was just a pack of wolves. Those stopped. Some local guys took it upon themselves to go hunting for whatever did it. They killed a pack of wolves, and then the attacks stopped. That was a while back.”

Adam looked confused and even a little mad having heard this new information. Téa began to suspect that she was just poking holes in his story, but he seemed genuine.

“Are you . . . trying to tell me something else?” Téa asked.

“Yes.” Adam breathed. “They . . . were only made to look like animal attacks. My agency . . . believes that it’s not over. It’s . . . a man, a sociopath with intent.” Adam’s lies were starting to pile up, and the more he spoke, the more the whole situation didn’t make any sense to him. “He just . . . he stopped. He knew if he stopped, just then, that people would stop looking for him.”

Adam paused, thoughts racing through his head. The fact that his web of lies carried real weight halted his speech. The implications were awful. He stood, faced away from Téa, and stroked his bottom lip as he thought. Quiet mutterings escaped his lips.

“It did too,” he said. “The thing left. The creature saw its opportunity to escape, and it did. That’s . . . smart. It’s, like . . . smart.” Adam wiped his hand down his face. “Why did it do that? How did it know to do that?”

“You really get into your work.”

Adam turned around to look at Téa. She was still sitting in the chair, just watching him, nonplussed by the information.

“Um . . . yeah.” Adam tried to get back on track, but the realization that he was five years behind on his investigation had thrown him off quite a bit. He couldn’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to him before. Worse yet, it was starting to seem like the chupacabra was actively changing its patterns to avoid capture.

“How long ago did that happen when those hunters killed those wolves?” Adam asked.

Téa paused to think. “Uhh, it must have been . . . like a year and a half ago now.”

Adam’s heart sank. The damn thing could be anywhere. “So you haven’t heard anything about mutilations like that since?”

Téa shrugged and shook her head. “Your . . . guys in intelligence sure the killer is still around here?”

Adam blinked furiously, still giving away his lies. “Yeah, they seemed pretty sure.”

Adam’s tells were lighting up, but Téa was still on his side. He seemed distraught. He seemed genuine even though he was lying. There was something Adam wasn’t telling her, that was for sure; but whatever it was, she knew he was hiding it for a reason. She knew if it was bad enough to hide from her, it was plenty bad. She might just have to earn the truth. It was actually kind of saddening that, sometime while he was gone, Adam had learned not to trust.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Téa offered.

Adam looked at her, and a genuine smile peeked out into the sun. “Yeah?”

Téa smiled back. “Yeah! Of course!” She stood and wrapped her arms around her friend returned to her. Adam hugged her back too. His firm squeeze felt good, like suddenly things were okay, at least better than they had been in a long time.

After their embrace, they looked at each other, and it was like a circuit completed. Adam’s heart was at peace, and Téa felt like herself. She stepped back, looked Adam up and down, and then said, “So are these the clothes they dropped you off here with?”

Adam spat from the suddenness of his laughter. “Yeah. Yeah, this is pretty much my A outfit.”

Téa covered her smile with one hand and shook her head, and then she put her hands on her hips. “Well, I suppose the first thing I could do is take you to get your old clothes from your mom.” Suddenly, Téa gasped, and her mood flipped in sudden realization. “Oh! Your mom is gonna freak when she sees you!”

Adam brought his hands up, pleading with her. “No. No, Téa. I don’t want anyone else to know I’m here.”

To Téa, this was ridiculous. She scoffed as she spoke. “Why not?”

Adam quickly became frustrated with her misunderstanding. He flexed his fingers in the air and paced around. “Téa,” he sighed, “you accepted my return very quickly, and it is fantastic, but if my mom knew I was back . . . Jesus Christ, she’d have a heart attack. I’m just not ready for anyone else to know I’m here yet, not my mom, not my dad, and not Christina.”

Téa suddenly looked very forlorn. “Uh, yeah.” She ran her hand through her dark, dyed hair and sat back down.

Adam didn’t understand this change in her mood. He furrowed his eyebrows and sat down across from her. A dread feeling touched his heart. “What is it?”

Téa was having trouble looking Adam in the eye, and it only made Adam’s anxiety worse as she hesitated. She released a long, heavy sigh before finally speaking. “Adam . . . your dad he . . . he died. He died not long after . . . you did.”

Adam looked away from Téa as his eyes stung with fresh tears. He could’ve expected that after five years, things would be different, but it had quickly become too much. His breath was ragged as he spoke. “H-h-h-how did he die?”

“Heart disease,” Téa answered simply in a hushed voice. “Nothing . . . unusual. They just didn’t catch it in time. That’s all. He was under a lot of stress that day, and . . . I guess . . . it just kind of got to him.”

Adam nodded. He was trying to process the information in a calm and objective manner, but heart disease was no picnic, and that would mean that his mom was alone. She would have been for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Téa breathed.

Adam sniffled sharply. “It’s fine.” His voice was raspy. “How . . . how is everyone else? Nothing’s going on with my mom, right? Nothing I should know about?”

Téa shook her head. The action coaxed a tear from its hiding place, and it fell onto her thigh. “No. No, your mom’s fine. She’s been getting along just fine. She used to call me a lot. She wants me to visit all the time. Christina is a lot better than me about that, though. It’s good.” Téa paused a moment to wipe another tear from her eye. “It’s good that she’s still trying to be social. She’s still trying to be close to the other people still left in her life.”

Adam continued to bounce his right foot tensely. “So . . . what about Christina? What has she been up to?” The smile he manufactured between his cheeks was painfully false.

Téa looked at him, understanding but unamused. She couldn’t believe he was still hung up on her. You’d think no time had passed at all. “Why?” Téa asked.

“What do you mean?”

Téa shrugged. “Why do you want to know about Christina all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean all of a sudden? I just got back. I want to know what everyone has been up to.”

Téa’s voice broke as she spoke. “I mean, why do you suddenly care about everyone you left behind?”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, and he was struck dumb. The air was filled with a tense silence while he tried to think of a response. Meanwhile, he had to gaze into Téa’s glistening eyes. She looked to be in a lot of pain. Adam could understand why she would feel betrayed. As far as she knew, Adam was offered a job and he disappeared for five years to go do it, even faking his death. He’d willingly abandoned everyone. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he couldn’t. He just had to face the music.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Adam finally said. “I’m sorry that you haven’t heard from me, Téa. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to be here for everyone. I know it was hard on you.”

Téa scoffed. “Oh, don’t give me that! Don’t pretend that after five years, you can relate to me! You don’t even know me anymore!”

Adam was calm. He spoke in soothing tones, even managed a charming curl at one corner of his mouth. “I still know you, Téa. You haven’t changed so much as that.”

Téa glared at Adam and waited for him to finish.

“You’re still strong . . . and fragile,” Adam cooed. “You’re still smart. You still . . .” Adam exhaled sharply. “You still internalize things and try to deal with them on your own.”

His friend’s gaze softened just a little.

“You still don’t have a very positive relationship with the sun,” Adam said playfully.

Téa chuckled in spite of herself, looking away shyly.

“You’re still into hentai.”

Téa mouth dropped open in mute shock. “It’s anime!”

Adam smiled confidently. “I was in this house by myself all night, Téa. I did some looking around . . . and I know the difference.”

Téa was beet red. Her inability to speak said more than words ever could.

Adam bit his lip. “And I saw a lot more. I’m aware of how you’ve changed since the last time I saw you. I know what kind of people you do hang out with and what you’re into. I do know.”

Téa turned away again. Her eyes betrayed some shame.

“It’s okay,” Adam said.

Téa looked at Adam, a little surprised.

“It’s okay,” Adam breathed, and that was all he said. “It’s okay.”

Téa didn’t even know how to respond. Her eyes were moistened with fresh tears, but they didn’t sting like the last ones. These new tears were refreshing, and the best she’d felt in a long time. She decided to acquiesce and answer Adam’s question. “Christina got married.”

“Yeah?”

Téa nodded. “They made it official about a year and a half ago now.”

Adam sighed, absorbing the information. “I guess I . . . I guess I kind of figured.” He sniffled again. “It’s been five years, you know?”

Téa nearly grimaced. She knew he was just putting on a brave face. “It’s not so bad,” she offered. “Surely while you were away, you had a couple of special girls in your life come and go?”

Adam chuckled wryly. “Not so much. Only had one real date before I came back, and she was a real beast.”

Téa tried not to laugh at his comment, nodding with a crooked smirk.

Adam plopped back down in his chair. “Wow. Christina’s married. Kind of hard to believe. Then again, I suppose she’s much older now. Maybe she’s a lot different too.”

Téa’s eyes bounced from side to side furtively. “Not so much older.”

Adam looked at her and smiled. Of course, Téa had aged as well, and she thought Adam had.

“Who’s the guy?” Adam asked.

Téa bit her lip. “Danny.”

Adam nearly exploded, springing from the chair. “Danny!”

Téa pleaded with him from her seat. “I know you don’t like him, Adam, but they’re married now. That’s the way it is.”

Adam looked at her incredulously.

Téa continued, “He was there for her after you left for the Army, and once we thought you were dead, he was still there. He was all she had, and I think . . . that it’s a lot, Adam.”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. Christina being with Danny Lacey was one of the nightmare scenarios the mist used to torment Adam in the afterlife, and it had come true!

Téa was trying her hardest to placate her friend. “Stop looking at me like that, Adam! He’s kind! He’s handsome! He’s good for her.”

A facial expression that Adam did not appreciate had spread over Téa’s face. It was as if she was silently musing at the idea of marrying Danny herself. The only thing Adam had heard from her about Danny in the past was at best dismissal and at worst disgust. Maybe the guy had been working out, Adam didn’t know, but he was starting to suspect that he was still trapped in the mist and it had just become more subtle with its torments.

“Adam, you have to let your hate for Danny go,” Téa said. “I know he was a dick to you in school, but that was a long time ago now, and you weren’t so innocent in that feud either. Do you even remember how it started?”

Adam had to admit that he did not, and he had the advantage of not actually living through the last five years. Still, Adam knew that if he had ever met someone whose soul was in tune with his during his lifetime, it was Christina. They were supposed to be together, and the thought of her with—Danny Lacey!—aggravated him to no end.

Adam sighed and cracked his neck.

“Oh, for the love of—look, calm down.” Téa stood and put her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “At the end of the day, do you really have a reason to be mad? You left her, Adam. I don’t understand why you’re so shocked that life here has moved on.”

Adam just shook his head, exasperated.

“Just calm down,” Téa said. “Stay here and relax a little. Surf the internet. Play a video game.”

Adam looked over at Téa’s computer. It actually gave him an idea.

“I’m gonna change into some fresh clothes, maybe get a shower in. Then I’ll go get your clothes from your mom,” Téa finished.

Adam turned his head quickly to look at her. “What are you going to say to her?” he asked.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell her that you’re back. I’ll give you a chance to do the right thing for yourself there.”

Adam rolled his eyes. The right thing would be giving his mother a heart attack, sure. “All right, at least you’ll be seeing her for a change.”

Téa had turned and was walking toward her bedroom. “Ha, yeah. I’m sure she’ll say the same thing.”

The first thing Téa noticed in her room was that the top drawer of her dresser was open. Her unmentionables had been tossed around, leaving her drugs, vibrator, and birth control pills out in the open. She frowned, angry that Adam had the gall to just go through her stuff. He was such a hothead and so self-righteous.

Téa absentmindedly rubbed the welt on her head and paced back out into the living room. “Adam? When you found me, what . . . like, happened? Anything unusual?”

Adam had already powered up Téa’s computer and was stuck at the lockout screen. He turned to see her rubbing the injury he’d given her the previous night. “You don’t remember anything?” Adam asked.

“I want to know what you know.”

Adam gave Téa a look before turning back to the computer. “When I found you, that guy you were with had dosed you up with something. He took you up to this loft and . . .”

Téa moved to Adam’s side and spoke her next question accusatorially. “And what did you do?”

Adam sighed. “I went and got you out of there, what do you think I did? You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you used your superior linguistic skills to win the day.”

Adam scoffed.

“Goddammit, Adam!” Téa paced away and rubbed her face in exasperation. “What about the guy I was with? Did you hurt him?”

Adam hesitated to answer, and his face told the story.

“What . . . What were you thinking?” Téa scolded.

“Hey! You were in trouble, and I got you out of there! Do you even know what he was doing when I caught up?”

“That’s not what’s important! Did you even think about the consequences?”

“What consequences? You don’t need drugs—”

“God! You just went in, swinging your fists aroun—”

“You had a problem, I solved it! End of story!”

“Not end of story!” Téa broke the chain with her volume. “You’re . . . you’re so obsessed with being the hero, but your version of a hero goes around using their strength to intimidate and force their will on others! You know who does that?”

“I did what I thought was right!”

“The bad guy!” Téa finished. “That’s who!”

His friend’s last sentence left Adam dumbstruck. He could only scoff nervously and shake his head, turning back to the keyboard.

Téa’s jaw was set, and she sighed slowly through her nose. She couldn’t waste any more time with Adam or any of his childishness. The situation had changed, and she would need to move fast to control the damage. She grabbed a new pair of underwear, pushed the rest back into place, and then closed the drawer in her room. When she passed back through on her way to the shower after gathering the rest of what she needed, she saw Adam just staring dumbly at her lock screen. “The pin is 1-1-5-1-9-9-3,” she offered in passing.

“Thanks,” Adam said, his throat dry. After unlocking the computer, he opened the web browser. He wanted to find out where Christina lived, but he didn’t want Téa to catch him doing it, so he waited until the bathroom door was closed and the shower was on, and then immediately opened Téa’s Facebook page. The program filled Téa’s e-mail address into the blank for him. Adam had only to guess Téa’s password. After a brief moment of thought, Adam typed in “wincestgurl” and hit the Enter key. He was connected to Téa’s account in a flash.

“Some things never change,” Adam muttered.

He clicked in the blank to search for people, places, and things, and in the space he typed “Christina Flores.” A few Christina Floreses showed up in a list from all over the world, but none of them were his Christina Flores. This puzzled Adam. He knew Christina had a Facebook page before he died, and he didn’t have the faintest clue why she would ever take it down. Then the answer dawned on him. A grimace congealed on his face at the thought, and he begrudgingly typed in “Christina Lacey.” It didn’t take Adam long to find the Christina Lacey he was looking for after that. When he clicked on her profile, he was assailed by all kinds of horrid images depicting her and her beloved husband in loving wedded bliss.

Adam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Came out of nowhere, this guy,” he breathed.

Adam clicked a few more times to get at Christina’s more private information. Luckily, Téa and Christina were friends. This made Christina’s likes and interests available but not her address, of course.

Adam seemed out of luck, but then he noticed that twelve of Téa’s 112 “friends” were online. He clicked on the icon and read down the list. The fourth name down . . . was his mother’s.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and a cold sweat broke out on his face. It was a perfect chance to talk to his mother and find out where Christina lived at the same time. He took a deep breath to calm himself and organize his thoughts. He had to imitate Téa’s mannerisms.

Adam typed, “Hiya, Mrs. rod.”

Moments passed, and then a reply was posted. “Hey, baby! It so good to hear from you! How have you been?”

Adam smiled. His mom always used good conventions, even on Facebook.

“hows life?” he typed.

“Always good when one of my girls sends me a message. How are you? I haven’t heard from you in so long!”

“im cool. u sure ur OK?”

“I’m fine, baby, really. Why do you ask?”

“no reason.”

Adam was idle for a moment. His concern probably seemed a little unwarranted after five years. He didn’t have much time until Téa finished with her shower, so he switched gears and typed a new subject in. “i was wondering if you had Chrissys street address still?”

“Honey, clean up your typing,” Adam’s mother responded. “You were doing so well before.”

Adam paused with his fingers floating over the keys. “Sorry. So do you have it?”

“Forgot it? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. How long has it been since you two have hung out? Do you even have her number anymore?”

Adam rolled his eyes. Téa really was going to get the business from his mom when she went to get his clothes. “Yeah, I probably haven’t hung out with her as much as I should have. Sorry.”

Some time passed where Adam simply waited. Finally, his mother responded, “Well, she’s at 102 35th St. Are you going to go see her?”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Rod! I think I am going to see her sometime soon, yeah.”

“That’s great, sweetie! Let me know! I would love to have a girls’ night out!”

Adam paused to think. He knew speaking too much for Téa would make his meddling that much more obvious when they talked, but he wanted Téa to be close to his family. “Sure, Mrs. Rod. I’ll try to keep in touch better too.” Adam heard the shower turn off. “I gotta go, Mrs. Rod. I’ll see you soon!”

“Sure, sweetie. Have a good day!” Adam’s mother responded.

“You too.”

Adam closed the window and hurriedly opened another one. He had to look like he was doing something that whole time, or Téa would be suspicious, so he typed in something else that interested him, “Harun El-Hashem.”

The first link the computer generated led him to the FBI’s website for the top ten most wanted men in the world. Adam’s “bro” had merited himself an invitation, and apparently, the other soldiers hadn’t managed to catch up with El-Hashem after he murdered Adam in the town square. That burned Adam. He sat back in the desk chair, glaring at the last known image of the Afghan drug lord. It was little more than a blurry screen capture from security footage in some far-off part of the world, but Adam could see it was his old enemy. That smug face fed Adam’s rage and indignation to the point of murderous hate.

“Who’s that?”

Adam jumped in his seat. He was so laser focused that he hadn’t heard Téa walk up behind him.

“Ooh! Sorry!” Téa giggled.

Adam turned to her to discover she was wrapped in only a bath towel. His eyes elevated just a little slowly from her dainty feet, up her legs, over the burgundy towel, and finally to her waiting eyes. “Uh . . . what?” Adam asked.

“Who’s that?”

Adam checked the face on the screen again, and then turned back to Téa, very confused. “You don’t know who that is?”

Téa shook her head.

Adam couldn’t believe it. “Did anyone ever explain to you how I died?”

“Not really. Why? Who is that?”

Adam thought, then scoffed and shook his head. “He’s just . . . the mission they said I was going to die in. They were going after him. Looks like I didn’t die for much.”

Téa nodded. “Huh. On your memorial page, it says you were shot during a combat patrol in uh . . . um, I don’t know, some foreign-sounding place.”

“I have a memorial page?”

“Mm-hmm. You should look yourself up.” Téa turned and walked briskly back to her room to get ready to leave. Adam watched as she pushed her door closed, but left just a crack. He mused at taking a peek but quickly caught himself. He’d been down that road once before with Téa, and it had gotten awkward before too long. He didn’t need that. He’d just been overseas too much.

Soon Téa emerged from her room freshly dressed in a much-too-large black hoodie with a flaming electric guitar on the back. Her jeans were torn in a couple visible places and a small book bag that she kept a bunch of maybe-useful junk in was slung over her shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to see about getting your stuff now,” Téa said as she breezed toward the front door. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

With just those words, Téa was out the door, and Adam was alone. Her goodbye was definitely curt. She seemed on edge to Adam, like she needed to get out, but Adam chalked it up to their not-so-friendly exchange.

Téa got in her car and was quickly on the road. Hardly any time passed at all before she was using her car’s voice command. “Call Davy Truong,” she ordered.

“Calling Davy Truong on their mobile phone . . . Calling.”

The phone rang while Téa waited tensely, trying to keep herself calm by breathing shakily through her nose. It rang again and again, and suddenly Téa realized that she forgot her medication.

The ringing stopped, and David Truong’s voice came over the line. “Hey, you’ve reached the truest Truong. Leave your number at the beep!”

Téa slapped the console twice to end the call before the recorder started. “Fuck! Fuck!” she screamed on each impact. She wiped the sweat from her brow and was on the verge of hyperventilating. She didn’t know what was going to happen if Davy held a grudge against her for what Adam did. His brother was a notoriously heavy-handed drug dealer. She just needed to explain things. Well, her plan was to lie and say she never knew what happened. She could only hope that was enough.

Nearly shaking, Téa unzipped her backpack and fished around inside with one hand. In short order, she decided that it was taking too long and just upended the entire thing. Lots of small items spilled all over the passenger seat and floor, but she was relieved to see a bottle of pills most of all. After scooping it up and reading the label, she discovered it was a sedative, not an antianxiety, but it was something. Not wanting to be too messed up before seeing Adam’s mom, Téa twisted open the bottle and shook out just one of the three pills she had left. She popped it in her mouth and choked it down without any water. The effects weren’t immediate, but it felt good just to take a pill. She visibly relaxed and felt her heart rate calm.

“Breathe . . . just breathe.”

12

By the time Téa made it to the bluff part of Farol Verde, she was dismally sleepy. The large picturesque houses supported partially by stilts, built by the crazy and bought by the rich and crazy, passed by as a blur. Téa would blink and find that entire blocks disappeared. Soon her eyes opened, and she was sitting in the driveway of the Rodriguez family residence, wondering how long she’d been there. She briefly considered that it may be a bad idea to see Adam’s mom in that state, but at least her anxiety wasn’t acting up.

Téa pulled the door handle on her car door and shouldered it open. She moseyed up to the front door of the house with all the enthusiasm of a kid on the second day of school and pressed the doorbell with her body weight supported by her index finger.

Lena Rodriguez was still at her computer when she heard the door tone. Like she did on most quiet days, she checked her Facebook, tried to get some work done on the great American novel she had rattling around in her head, and then got to work on her day trading. Her husband’s wealth allowed for many investments in his life, and he’d done well. She’d taken it upon herself to continue that success as a form of income. It was all she really had to take pride in when she wasn’t taking trips to exotic sites or raising money for more causes. She put Ernesto’s name on each one, working tirelessly to make it synonymous with hope and charity.

That morning, Lena was dressed in jeans and a black blouse. Her curly black hair fell over her shoulders in neat ringlets. Despite her age, the years of privileged living, exfoliating treatments, healthy diet, and plenty of free time to exercise kept her skin looking relatively young.

The widow was always happy to have a visitor, so she stood straightaway and opened the door to be greeted by Téa’s young face.

Lena smiled. “Téa!”

Téa smiled back deliriously. “Hello, Mrs. Rodriguez!”

The two embraced each other briefly.

“Oh, it’s good to see you!” Lena tittered. “Ooh! But you look so tired!”

Téa giggled and shook her head. “You know what, Mrs. Rod? I feel tired.”

She beckoned Téa inside with a wave of her hand. “Well, come in! Come in! Have a seat on the couch. Relax!”

Téa looked at the couch like it was a delicious bowl of ice cream. “Sweet.” She made for it in a heartbeat, but then pulled herself back, rubbing her face and eyes furiously to fight away the sleepiness. “Wait! No! I . . . I came here for a reason, and I can’t really hang out.”

Lena was already fluffing up the throw pillows to make it as homey as possible. Téa smiled wryly at the woman’s fawning. She truly loved having visitors. She gave Téa a look that instantly made the girl feel guilty.

“Ohh, sweetie, really?” Lena asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Téa awkwardly scanned the immediate area. “No Christina today?”

Lena dismissed the concern with a limp-wristed gesture. “You know how hard it is to tear her away from that husband of hers.”

Téa shrugged. “If he were my husband, I’d probably have a hard time tearing myself away.”

Lena twisted her face up comically. “I know! He’s a dish!”

They giggled, and Téa was reminded that Mrs. Rodriguez was still a woman who was no stranger to loving men. In fact, at over fifty years old, she was probably quite the woman. Téa had gotten her heart broken a few times, done some drugs, and laid with her fair share of men, but in the shadow of the panoply of heartbreak and regret that this woman had probably been through, she was but a girl.

Lena made for the kitchen. “You want a drink, baby?”

Even dopey, Téa knew that wasn’t a good idea. “Uhh, not really.”

Lena nodded. “Too early for you probably, huh? Eh. Way I figure, it’s happy hour somewhere. A couple of girls can have a drink.” She put her hands on her hips and leaned in like a diva, looking at Téa sideways. “You don’t want a drink, maybe you have other concerns? What is it this time, baby? Got more questions about a guy?”

Téa chuckled weakly, mostly at herself. “Uh, no. It’s not really a guy problem this time, Mrs. Rod.”

Lena was on a roll with her fawning and couldn’t be bothered to stop. “Speaking of which,” she spoke as she sauntered into the kitchen to make a small drink for herself, “you gonna have a date for the big Komen Fundraiser I’m throwing together?”

Téa had completely forgotten about Lena’s little masquerade ball. She’d gotten the e-mail but hadn’t responded. “Oh . . . maybe.”

Lena leaned her head out of the kitchen and looked at Téa admonishingly. “Baby, you do not want to come to one of these things stag, believe me.” She stepped out of the kitchen and put her hand on her chest. “I kinda get a pass. I think I deserve it, but you, no. With these types, it is socially unacceptable for a girl to be showing up alone.”

Téa shifted around and shrugged. “You know, I don’t really need to go.”

Lena approached her with a halting hand. “Oh, no. Téa, you need to come. I need you and Christina there to support me. You girls are my team. We’re Charlie’s Angels. You wouldn’t force me to deal with those awful people alone, would you?”

Téa had been guilted into service. She smiled nervously and gave in. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Lena smiled warmly. “Thank you.” There she switched gears again. “It shouldn’t be hard for someone with as much going for them as you to find a guy who will go with you. And someone with a suit, not those skinny guys I always see you hanging out with you find at the coffee shop or whatever. Just wear something showing a little more skin. This”—Lena indicated the clothes Téa was wearing with a meandering finger—“this ratty hoody look isn’t going to fly.”

Téa smiled and shook her head. “I’ll give it a shot, Mrs. Rodriguez.”

Lena smirked. She knew her victory had been won through no manner of high-minded guile. “Thanks. So what did you come here for, sweetie?”

Téa sucked in a bunch of air and held it for a few seconds before letting out a sharp sigh. “Uh, clothes, actually. I’m looking for clothes.”

Lena tilted her head slightly and squinted in consternation.

Téa continued nervously. She was about to probe a nerve, and she knew it. “I’ve been working on a charity project of my own, and I’m trying to get old clothes together for it. I know that . . . you have some of Adam’s clothes still, and . . . I know that you’re always trying to do good things with his . . . legacy, so . . .” Téa paused. Her tension was so apparent, her breaths were almost echoing in the room. She never did well in these situations. “Uhh . . .”

Of course, the whole time Téa had been talking, an increasingly large smile had been growing on Lena’s face. It was two parts adoration and eight parts hilarity at watching Téa crumble under enormous, imaginary pressure.

“What?” Téa finally asked.

Lena shook her head with the perfect white smile still carving up her cheeks. She walked right up to Téa and embraced the young woman’s shoulders. “You are not gonna have any trouble at all finding a guy to go with you to the fundraiser.” She pinched Téa’s cheeks. “You are adorable.”

At that, Lena walked away toward the stairs. Téa was left to puzzle.

“I’ll get those clothes for you right away,” Lena said as she climbed the stairs. Then her voice resounded through the house once again. “What’s the charity?”

Téa had to swallow down the urge to say, “The Human Fund.”

“Uh . . . it’s a church thing!” Téa shouted after her. “The homeless, you know. The church is . . .” Here Téa’s voice trailed off so Mrs. Rodriguez couldn’t hear. “Always trying to help . . . the homeless.” It sounded too stupid to say at full volume.

There was a period of silence, and then Téa could hear Lena’s heels on the stairs.

“Is that why you needed Christina’s address earlier,” Lena called, “to get old clothes from her?”

Téa didn’t remember this conversation and briefly questioned just how high she’d been. “When?”

“When what?”

“When did I ask you about Christina’s address?” She felt like she still knew Christina’s address by heart. Did they move?

Lena came back downstairs carrying a rather large cardboard box filled with old clothes. “Earlier, when we were on Facebook? You asked me how I was doing, I said I was doing fine, and then you asked me if I still had Christina’s address. Wasn’t that you? Does someone else have access to your account?”

Téa thought a moment, with her eyebrows furrowed from the stress of it. Finally, she figured it out, and her face relaxed. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Now I remember.” She shook her head and covered her face with her hand. “I’ve been busy lately.”

Lena smiled at Téa’s awkward behavior again. “You do seem pretty tired.”

The two girls giggled. Téa’s laughter was painfully awkward.

“Well,” Lena started, “these aren’t going to make the homeless any more stylish.”

Téa smiled when she looked at the clothes. It was mostly graphic tees and blue jeans. Adam never needed a good shirt between high school and the military. Téa took the box, and it almost immediately fell out of her tiny hands. Both girls giggled, and Téa thanked Mrs. Rodriguez for her help.

“No problem, sweetie,” Lena replied. “I’m just glad they’re finally coming in handy, and that Adam can still be a hero to someone.”

Téa smiled and nodded, licking her lips knowingly. “Yeah. It feels kinda good knowing that, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll see ya Mrs. Rod.”

Lena stabbed a finger at Téa. “I’ll hold you to that. I see precious little of you around here, and I know Christina won’t mind your visit either. A friendship starves when all it has is Facebook Messenger.”

Lena held the door open, and Téa took the clothes outside to her car. The small economy car didn’t offer much in the way of storage space, so she had to seat it all cattywompus on the passenger’s side. The askew position pointed the open box top toward her as she sat in the driver’s seat. After starting the car, she looked over, and it called her name. It looked so soft.

Téa sighed, her eyelids heavier than she’d ever felt before. She pitched over unintentionally, and the world was a blank space before her head even landed in the embrace of the cloth.

13

In a distant neighborhood, Christina Lacey and her husband, Daniel, left their house as the sun approached its peak and started a leisurely walk to the park. They lived no more than a couple of blocks away. As they took each other’s hands and started their stroll, they paid no attention to the slouching, hooded figure that watched them on the far side of the street.

Adam left Téa’s at nearly a run not long after Téa did and had arrived at Christina’s house just as they were about to leave. Luckily, some of Téa’s lazy sweatpants and baggy hoodies fit Adam, albeit tightly. He had been staring at the house from a distance and quickly turned away when the front door swung open by surprise. Once the happy couple had their backs to him, Adam dared to watch as they walked away. Seeing the two holding hands encouraged a fresh wave of envy and regret from the poor, dead soldier. He could only take a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the terrible feeling that was overcoming him.

Adam followed the duo all the way to their destination. As they walked, the leaves of the deciduous trees that lined the sidewalks in that part of town filtered the noon sun and painted a picturesque image of young love in the city. Danny did seem different somehow. He had been working out, that much was obvious to the naked eye, but there was something more. Danny possessed an uncanny allure about him. Adam noticed that the women who passed him by would sneak furtive looks at him over their shoulders. Some primal part of Adam hated him for that, mostly because somehow that allure had earned Danny Adam’s high school sweetheart as a wife.

Christina was still so beautiful. That day, she wore a blue blouse trimmed with a subdued floral pattern over a white tank top. Her caramel skin was as flawless as ever and was emphasized even more in the sunlight’s complementary glow. She was an angel. Her body had matured further in five years, and Adam looked thirsty staring at her sweet, sweet backside.

Too many times, Danny would check behind them and see Adam skulking in the shadows. Adam knew Danny saw him because their eyes met briefly before Adam could look away, but Danny made no case of it. He didn’t stop to confront Adam, and it didn’t appear as if he recognized Adam, but he was nonetheless very aware that he and his wife were being followed. Adam swore there was something like satisfaction in Danny’s eyes, as if he were daring this stalker to cause distress. The twisted confidence spurned Adam’s rage further. He stewed in impotent silence, and the heat was getting to him. It was not hoodie weather.

At the park, Christina sat down on a swing and Danny started pushing her higher and higher. Christina laughed with glee, the childish delight having been their sole reason for going out. It was a chance for them to be silly together. They looked happy, very happy, to the point that Adam couldn’t even imagine a world where he hadn’t died. That he’d intended to screw up this life of Christina’s was a cruel intention, and by then, a cruel joke. He couldn’t do that.

Adam walked to a distant part of the park and sat down on a bench with both hands stuffed in the front pocket of the hoodie. He could still see the happy couple’s shapes in the distance, and hear Christina’s gleeful chortles. He closed his eyes, hung his head, and sulked.

Adam breathed through his nose, just thinking. He was thinking about the future. All of this was to get back in contact with Christina. He thought about his condition. If he didn’t find his soul mate, he was going to have to keep feeding on human beings and nearly killing them to stay alive. This vampiric victimization would eventually get him into trouble. With Christina, she would understand him still being alive and accept it. That’s what soul mates do. Then he would have an unlimited supply of energy and never need another person again. But at this rate, he would be a ghoul or vampire or incubus or whatever forever. How could she want to be his soul mate if she’s with Danny?

Adam opened his eyes and sat back in his seat, sighing. It was all so complicated. The sun was beating down, and Adam had started to really sweat.

“Why does Téa put up with this?” he grumbled aloud.

Suddenly, a beat cop came walking from Adam’s right and sat down on the bench. Adam looked at the cop out of the corner of his eye, but quickly looked away. An expression of panic was all too apparent on his face. He wondered if the guy knew who he was sitting next to and was just trying not to make a scene out of his arrest.

The cop sat slouching over, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers. It appeared as if he was ignoring Adam at first, but then he turned his head and looked directly into Adam’s eyes with recognition. Adam was trying desperately not to look back. The cop peered down the way to see what Adam had been watching and then sat for a moment, considering the couple.

Finally, the cop said, “Is this what you’re doing with your time? Stalking your ex-girlfriend?”

And just when Adam thought his eyes couldn’t get any wider! His heart started pounding against his chest. How could this cop know him?

The cop looked at Adam and then scanned the horizon again. “Don’t worry. I expected this, but hanging onto her memory is only going to impede you in your duty.”

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed over the top of his bugging eyes. “You work for the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate?”

“I am the Custodian, Adam.”

Adam was quiet, blinking to refresh his drying eyes. Finally, he asked, “How are you here?”

“I transcommunicated myself here much in the same way I did to you, but I took the body of another rather than make my own.”

“You possessed someone?”

“Yes,” the Custodian answered without hesitation or remorse.

“Is he still in there? Does he know that you have him?”

“No. I am not a lowly dislocated spirit who has replaced another soul with my own. I have placed this policeman’s soul in a state of suspension. When I am gone, he will become aware once more, not knowing time has passed at all.”

Adam took what the Custodian said with a grain of salt. “I thought you weren’t going to be able to help me once I got here.”

“I’m not able to help you, not in any meaningful way,” the Custodian replied. “I can only speak with you. I cannot retrieve the disjointed souls, and I will not bring this body into any danger.”

Adam nodded. “You sure it’s okay to be here? To leave the wheel?”

The Custodian looked at Adam, and a short smirk curled the edge of his lips. Seeing the Custodian with a moving face and expressions was bizarre. Adam wondered if the disembodied voice he heard in the other dimension had a form somewhere that could smile and grimace and had been doing so as he explained to this ignorant mortal all about the true nature of the universe.

“The Wheel was getting along just fine before I came along,” the Custodian said. “It will continue to exist long after I am gone. It will continue to turn without its custodian while I take a moment to counsel with its champion.”

“So I’m the champion of the Wheel of Fate,” Adam started. “Did it choose me personally?”

The Custodian watched Christina and Danny. Danny had sat in the swing next to Christina, and they appeared to be talking of simple things.

“Well, I had a little say in the matter as well.” The Custodian turned to look at Adam. “You were chosen for a reason, and I don’t think we were mistaken. For instance, when confronted with a creature that could devour your everlasting soul, you did not cower. Not everyone could have done that. You faced a terrifying opponent—faced death—and even emerged victorious.”

Adam nearly blushed.

“You even accepted the mantle of the champion of the Wheel of Fate,” the Custodian continued. “Whatever your motivations, you accepted the immense responsibility of maintaining balance in the universe. That is no small thing. We saw this quality in you, Adam. The Wheel of Fate and I knew what we were bargaining for when we selected your soul from among the many that swirl about the crucible flame.”

“The Wheel speaks with you?” Adam asked. “It has thoughts and wants and things like that?”

The Custodian shook his head. “Not in a way that you could understand.”

Adam’s face betrayed a little insult.

“The connection I have with the Wheel of Fate is like nothing else in the universe,” the Custodian explained. “There’s nothing you could equate it with. I didn’t understand it myself when the Wheel and I were first joined.”

“You weren’t always connected to the Wheel of Fate?”

There was silence between the two for a moment. The Custodian didn’t seem ready to answer.

Adam continued his musing. “I guess I just assumed the Wheel of Fate was made, and you were right there with it. Hey . . . if the wheel made you and me, who made the wheel?”

The Custodian was getting tired of the conversation. “I think that is a subject for another time. You need to start focusing on your mission here. The world is in no less peril because your heart is pining for this girl.”

Adam looked at Christina. It appeared as if Danny was looking at him again, then Danny returned his focus to what his wife was saying. The man might have done something if a cop weren’t already talking to the stalker. A cop would usually be enough to scare someone off.

“Does Christina have a soul that resonates with mine, like you said? Do she and I belong together?” Adam asked.

“I won’t answer that,” the Custodian replied, “not to satisfy this need of yours to reconnect with the material realm in the same fashion you had before. But if it will help you forget her and focus on your mission, then no, she does not.”

Adam smiled at the Custodian. “That means she definitely does, right?”

The Custodian was not amused. “Adam, stop. Give up this poisonous infatuation. It will only lead to trouble.” He leaned closely to Adam, a gesture Danny probably would have found reassuring had he been watching. “Catch the chupacabra. It is your sole purpose in this life of yours that the Wheel of Fate has spared. And if you fail the Wheel, you fail the world.”

Adam observed the Custodian’s threatening body language out of the corner of his eye. “And just how am I supposed to do that? I don’t even really know how these powers work.”

The Custodian exhaled slowly, either gathering his thoughts or his patience. “The soul siphon was a . . . complicated creation, and so was designing a humanoid body capable of containing it.”

“A humanoid body?” Adam asked. “This isn’t my body? And it’s . . . not exactly . . . human.”

“Of course not,” the Custodian grumbled. “Your body can store and consume energy like no normal human body can.”

Adam stared at the Custodian witheringly, waiting for an answer he could understand. The Custodian was irritated with his attitude. “Souls are energy. They can be measured in calories and joules, just like any other. A normal human body can only accept and retain these values so much, but your body can store more without any ill effects, and it can spend it at an exponential rate.”

“Why don’t I just go and let you sit here and talk? You can spend the whole day just impressing yourself with your cosmic knowledge.”

“I have met fewer irritating men in all my years,” the Custodian snarled. “You can store and use the abilities of many, many people at once. This is what allows you to perform feats no mortal is capable of. This is the power the champion of the Wheel of Fate. This is the soul siphon. You can use it to store the chupacabra’s soul inside your vessel and return it to the great cycle.”

The two stared each other down for a solid few seconds, and then Adam shook his head. “I don’t even have any idea where to start with that.”

“Start with simplicity,” the Custodian said. “Consider this creature’s nature. How does it think? What is its motivation? It’s an animal. It might be a very strange animal, but it is still an animal, just like you. What was the first thing you did when you got back to the material plane?”

Adam answered with his tone still petulant. “I stole some clothes.”

“Why?”

Adam smiled devilishly. “’Cause walking around naked would’ve earned me more attention than I needed right then.”

“Exactly,” the Custodian said. “You needed to blend in.”

Adam sat forward on the bench and stroked his chin. “Yeah. I guess there might be reports of unusual creatures. Or maybe there aren’t. Maybe it’s blended in somewhere. There’s a lot of forests and hills around here for it to hide in.”

“You’re beginning to understand. What did you do after that?”

Adam chuckled. “Well, I kinda stopped off at a club.”

“Well, the chupacabra probably doesn’t have any other chupacabras to consort with. Well . . . hopefully.”

Adam smiled broadly. “Okay, uh, the next thing I did was I . . . I went to Téa’s house.” Adam considered the idea. “I needed shelter. I set up a place to live.”

Adam stood and began pacing slowly, muttering to himself as he always did when he was on to something. “It eats people. It requires privacy to do what it does. It probably has a nest . . . and a hunting pattern.”

Adam turned back to the Custodian as if looking for approval.

“It seems you have your work cut out for you,” the Custodian said.

“Yeah . . . yeah. I mean, his hideout could be anywhere, but it would have to be separated from society. It might roost out in the woods or in the sewers. There are also old abandoned factories and junk like that all over the city. I would need to know if it hangs around here or if it hunts in the surrounding area. Does it prefer humans, or will it eat anything? Does it keep the same haunts, or does it move around? Actually, Téa said it took advantage of an opportunity to escape a hunting party. That was weird. If it’s smart enough to do that, it could be really hard to catch up with.”

The Custodian had started looking at Adam like he was crazy. It made Adam halt in his monologue.

After a moment of just looking at each other, the Custodian said simply, “Huh?”

Adam furrowed his eyebrows at the god in cop’s clothing, wondering if what he’d said sounded stupid. “The chupacabra,” he tried to explain.

The Custodian responded, “I don’t know what you’re . . . how did I get here?”

Adam rolled his eyes as he came to understand that the Custodian had abandoned the cop’s body and simply not bothered to say anything.

“I don’t know,” Adam said. “You just sat down and said you wanted to hear about my screenplay.”

The cop’s expression changed to one of self-deprecation, finding it hard to accept that he’d actually said something that stupid. Writers could go on about their work all day. The cop didn’t even remember most of it, but knew he’d missed a lot. “Well, uhh . . . I gotta get back to work now.” The cop stood to leave.

Adam shot at the officer with his index finger and clicked his tongue. With a wink, he said, “Gotcha.”

The cop nodded in a daze and strolled off, probably to consider medical attention.

Adam watched the man leave and then took one last look over at the swing set. The swing seats were empty, and the couple was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t bother Adam that he’d lost them. They needed to move on with their lives, and he needed to move on with whatever life he had left.

14

The double door was pushed open, and intense daylight spilled over the Shredded metal club’s bar and dance floor. A young man, descended from Vietnamese immigrants, dressed in a sharp suit and wearing expensive sunglasses, marched through the portal. A retinue of thugs, all larger than he, followed close behind, also looking too cool in their designer labeled shades.

The bartender behind the counter paused in his cleaning and called to the group as they passed without even looking in his direction. “We don’t open for a little while yet. Are you here to see someone, sir?” He had all the sunglasses aimed in his direction, but the group never broke stride.

Their young leader spoke with abrasive wit. “Yeah, I’m here to see someone. If I have a task I think you can handle, I’ll let you know. Until then, shut your mouth.”

The exchange drew the attention of Warren, the doorman, who was sitting in the loft office. He poked his head out the door just as Joshua Truong started jogging up the iron steps. Truong looked up to see him. “Warren! Who’s this clown?” He stuck a thumb back at the hapless bartender.

Warren sighed and slipped back into the office. He spoke to the owner, Rick, who was sitting at his desk. “Joshua Truong is here.”

This news made Rick stop with his work and peer over his glasses at Warren. He cursed under his breath and closed his laptop. In another moment, Joshua was in the room. Two of his goons weren’t far behind. The other two were still downstairs. Warren chose a nice neutral spot to stand after the room was filled.

“What’s up, Rick? You look good, not a day over ninety-five,” Joshua said jovially.

“Thanks, Josh,” Rick replied dryly. “You too. New suit?”

Joshua Truong plopped himself down in one of the nice chairs in front of Rick’s desk. “Yeah. I like it. It’s gray, but then the shirt is like a velvet cake color, you know?”

“Right. Well, what brings you here, Joshua?”

Josh leveled a look at Rick. “You know why I’m here.”

“I know your brother needs to learn when to back out of a fight.”

“Way he tells it, the guy just burst in and attacked him.”

“Yeah, well, he drugged another girl and brought her up here to have another one of his private parties,” Rick explained. “Turns out it was the wrong girl, because before I even know what’s going on, there’s a guy beating him up and raising all kinds of hell in my office.”

Warren’s eyes darted about the room. He was surprised to hear that Rick was giving Joshua so much grief.

“Right,” Joshua said, “and this guy just muscled his way past your security?” He held up his index finger. “One guy?”

“He was really strong,” Warren put in.

Joshua looked over his shoulder at the doorman. “Strong?”

“Like, really strong.”

“Like, really strong?”

“Yeah,” Warren answered, “and he wasn’t really big or anything, so he was probably on PCP or some other drug.”

Rick chimed in. “Yeah, but, Warren, he wasn’t raging. The guy was lucid. He probably just caught you off guard. I don’t know why you didn’t just break his arm when you had the chance.”

“I tried,” Warren said.

Everyone looked at the doorman expectantly, and Warren fidgeted under the scrutiny. “Yeah, when I had him in an armbar, I tried to break his arm. He was too strong for it.”

Rick looked skeptically at Warren. “One of his arms was stronger than both of yours?”

Warren shrugged. “I told you, he was weird.”

Rick turned back to Josh. “Look, your brother was asking for trouble every time he pulled that shit. This time he got it, that’s all.”

A wry smile curled Joshua’s lips. “Is that what this is about? Did Davy need a lesson?”

“What?” Rick asked.

Joshua started fiddling with his cufflinks as he spoke. “Did you know him?”

“What?” Rick repeated.

Joshua sprang from his chair. “Did you fucking hire a guy to assault my brother?”

“What? Josh, no! I didn’t do that!” Rick was leaning all the way back in his chair in a subconscious effort to increase the distance between him and the fiery criminal. “I didn’t know the guy, and I didn’t know the girl, okay? Your brother just messed with the wrong girl, that’s all.”

“He asked for her by name,” Warren put in.

Rick shot his doorman a look.

Joshua seemed pleased with this information. “By name?”

Warren nodded. All eyes were on him again. “Yeah.”

“That’s interesting.”

Rick wanted to end this show. “All right, are we done? You get what you wanted?”

Joshua Truong looked at Rick with the eyes of a viper. He just stared unwaveringly for an uncomfortable stretch of time, like he was looking at lunch.

“I’d think you’d have more empathy for my brother. I’d think you’d be on his side. He said that the guy roughed you and yours up, too, and from the looks of things, he was telling the truth.”

The whole room was charged with electricity, and you could almost hear it crackle in the air. It was so quiet.

“My little brother may have some . . . untoward hobbies,” Joshua continued. “But he’s still my brother, and that’s what’s important here. That’s the issue.”

One of Joshua’s big thugs had been slowly circling the desk, and by then was very near to Rick.

“I actually don’t mind his little outbursts because at least when he gets in trouble it gives me the opportunity—”

Joshua snapped his fingers, and the thugs were on top of Rick and Warren in an instant. In a flurry of motion, Warren was pinned to the wall with a forearm across his throat, and Rick’s face was pressed into his desktop from behind by a guy with ape-like strength. The two did not take it lightly and made moves to resist.

“Hey!” Rick strained, spit bubbling from his face, reddening from rage and exertion. “Get your hands off me! I’ll fucking bury you, you motherfucker!”

All the struggling halted when Josh pulled the hammer back on a gun in Rick’s face. “Stop it.”

Rick stared into the barrel unblinkingly.

“It gives me an opportunity,” Joshua continued, “to remind all of you just who it is you all are messing with.”

“But . . . but I didn’t have anything to do with it!” Rick pleaded. “It wasn’t my fault! What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Joshua explained. “I’m just here to make a statement.”

Rick could see Joshua’s finger slowly tighten around the trigger. He clenched his eyes shut, and an errant tear was squeezed from its hiding place. “Oh god.”

Click!

Rick flinched, but the hammer struck home, and there was no explosion of gunpowder. His face was red but entirely intact. He stared dumbly up into the smug grin of Joshua Truong.

Josh rolled his eyes and put his gun back into his belt. The thugs released their captives. “Oh, Rick. I don’t want to kill you. There’s no point in it. You’re basically a good guy, and your loyalty is useful. You just . . . needed a lesson, that’s all.”

Rick massaged his sore neck as he was allowed to sit upright. Warren was released from the wall.

“Don’t get me wrong, this has been informative,” Josh said. “Téa Vardo’s house was going to be my next stop anyway, but at least now I can approach the situation a little more prepared. So thank you, really. I’ll be needing to use your space again to store my goods for the next week, so keep the doors unlocked.” Truong’s goons followed him out the door, and Josh shouted, “I’ll call you later with the particulars!”

Rick and Warren looked at each other with tired gazes. Rick wiped the sweat off his forehead. Neither of them knew what to say.

15

Kennedy Memorial Hospital was unusually quiet as the sun began its descent on Farol Verde. The halls had only milling doctors chatting idly between minor car collisions and household accidents. The rhythmic clopping of approaching boots was the only noise that broke the eerie quiet, heralding the dark, lanky form of Sgt. Lamont Fisher. He strolled down the hallway in jeans, a black leather jacket, and steel-shanked boots. Under his left arm, he carried a plain white binder, and in the opposite hand, a Farol Verde Conquistadors football helmet intended as a gift for his hospitalized partner. In the binder rested all the evidence Lamont was able to compile on the incident from the previous night. It consisted of exactly one artist rendering of John Doe. It took hours to get it just right, but Lamont had a mind like a steel trap, and even if he didn’t, the man’s face was stuck in the pit of his heart like a monster from a terrible dream.

Lamont had made it his mission to hunt this monster, alone if need be. Apparently, no one else was going to help. The only support he was going to get from his precinct was what he could network from friends inside the department. His captain would not authorize a manhunt, much less a task force, to assist. Funny, Lamont never imagined himself to be a renegade cop; even being out of uniform in the middle of the day felt somehow strange. He missed the feel of the fabric and the weight of his belt. At least visiting his partner was a great opportunity, not to just visit but also recruit Gray to the cause.

“Whoa! Looking bad to the bone there, Sarge. They let you off work too? You didn’t even get your ass beat.” Gray was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite lying in a hospital bed and wearing a paper dress. A giant, swelling bruise shaded his right eye in purples and yellows, but he already had his jibes and japes cocked and loaded for the day. It brought a smile to Lamont’s face the moment he walked through the door.

“Man, you’re too quick on the draw for me,” Lamont said.

“Darn right. That’s why they call me Gray Lightning! Fu-shaa! Fu-shaa!” the young police officer accompanied his sound effects with swift chops to the air.

“Oh, is that right?” Lamont gave him a comically skeptical look.

“That’s right.”

“Yeah? Well, those moves weren’t quick enough to save you last night.” Lamont proffered the helmet for Gray to take. “That’s why I got you this. I figured you could use it next time some petty criminal gives you the business so you don’t get brained.”

Gray tried and failed not to grin openly. “Yeaahh, right,” he said as he accepted the gift. “I’ll keep it in the car. Don’t know if it can save me, though.”

Gray’s mood had become suddenly somber by the end of his sentence. His eyes listed out of focus, and the smile faded.

“What do you mean?” Lamont asked.

Gray shrugged and shook his head. “Well, he just . . . really knew what he was doing. He had control the whole time. He had control of my gun, he had control of my arm, he had control of the fight. He knew jiu-jitsu or something, and he just beat me like I was nothing. He shouldn’t have even gotten that close.”

Lamont admonished Gray with a smirk and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re young, Gray. You made a rookie mistake, and you got beat in a fight. It could have happened to anyone. Besides, you’re doing better than I thought you would. I didn’t think you’d make past the first week, and instead, you’re good enough that you’re gonna live through a long career of me bringing this up every time you want to do anything by yourself.”

Gray tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. “Agggghhh! God!”

Lamont chuckled and pulled the sketch out of his new binder. “Besides, you’ll be the one laughing when we catch up to this guy. What do you think?”

Gray took the picture and gave it a look. “Pretty good.”

“You remember him pretty well?”

“Yeah. From what I remember, you pretty much nailed it. His chin was maybe a little more pronounced, and they should really use color in these. His eyes are what I remember most.”

Lamont wasn’t surprised; the eyes were also what stuck with him the most, but he was hoping for more. “Is that the only thing that . . . sticks out in your mind about the encounter?”

Gray nodded, his gaze was unfocused, and he seemed far away. “Pretty much. Just those eyes. I was pretty in and out, but they were definitely weird. Like two bright disks, just . . . pinpoints in the dark when he was on top of me. Ugh . . .”

Gray squeezed his eyes shut and put his hand to his head like he was having a migraine. It was on the opposite side from his bruising. “Now that you ask, actually, there was all the green. I don’t know where it was coming from. It felt real, but I think I was passing out. It was like he was choking me, you know. I felt like I was getting weaker. Tunnel vision was setting in, but I couldn’t feel his hands. Mmh.”

Lamont wanted to stop him from digging too much deeper in his weakened state. He took Gray’s hand from his head and held it. “Hey, relax, man. I’m not trying to interrogate you. You just rest. You don’t feel that way anymore, do you? You’re getting better?”

Gray nodded energetically. “Oh, yeah. I was sleepy as hell at first, but the docs let me get plenty of rest—and I ate. Oh, man, I ate, like, a lot. I’m already feeling way better. I wish I could get out of this bed, but I’m still under observation.”

“Really? So there’s not really a concussion or anything?”

“Nah, not a major one anyway. They said they just didn’t want me to try to get up and pass out randomly if it was aggravated, and my blood work was like of someone’s who’d spent days in a prolonged state of exhaustion. I just needed to recoup. The worst part is missing all the gym time. I want to move.”

“Uh-huh?” Lamont was intrigued. “Well, at least there’s no permanent damage—I mean, nothing since your birth, anyway.”

“Ugh, you are on fire today,” Gray said. “You got all the jokes.”

Lamont smiled. He was proud to have lifted Gray’s spirits. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go stay on top of our B & E case. Maybe I can get some info from CSI or ballistics. You take care of yourself. I’ll be back in to visit during the week if they still have you on lockdown.”

Lamont was out the door, but Gray spoke after him, “Don’t let the bastards bring you down, man.”

The sergeant stopped. “Huh?”

Gray watched him soberly. “I don’t know why you’re in civvies right now or why you’re doing your own detective work, but don’t let the bastards bring you down.”

A genuinely warm smile grew slowly on Lamont’s lips. “Thanks, Gray.”

With his partner’s blessing, Lamont strode up the hall. Even in his stupor, Gray had given him valuable information. Jiu-jitsu. Control of your opponent’s limbs. Their perpetrator was a trained fighter. It may be that the man’s haircut wasn’t just a fashion statement. He could be ex-military or even current military. Hopefully by tomorrow, the fingerprints would come back, and he could check them against military records.

16

Téa didn’t recall having dreams, only the lingering scent of clean laundry swirling about her as the ringing of her phone dragged her from that bliss. It wasn’t immediate by any means. She clung to her sleep with a death grip. The phone rang in her pocket but also vibrated pleasantly against her leg. It was working against itself. The phone continued playing its programmed tune, an intense opening theme from an anime, and Téa slowly became aware of what was actually happening. Her eyes creaked open and she muttered unintelligibly.

“Uh, wha—? Ugh, hell.” She discovered first that she was not face-first in laundry. She was, in fact, drooling on Mrs. Rodriguez’s den sofa. Téa had to briefly entertain the idea that Mrs. Rodriguez had somehow carried her inside.

Téa grumbled as she fished in the slim pocket of her tight jeans for her phone. She peered through dreary eyes at the screen. She read “Davy Truong” and bolted upright, stabbing the answer key.

“Hello?”

“I saw your call. You have some balls,” David Truong’s voice blistered over the phone.

Téa stumbled to recover. “Uhphh, why? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, bitch! I’m in the hospital ’cause that asshole friend of yours busted me in the head!”

“I . . . what frie—”

“My brother is already coming for you! We want that asshole!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Téa pleaded. “There’s no one!”

“He asked for you by name!” Davy screamed. “My brother is coming for you! If I were you, I’d have something to give him! Whoever it is, he’s not worth dying for!”

Téa didn’t get one more syllable out of her mouth before Davy hung up on her, and she felt her heart trying to hide in the pit of her stomach. An old familiar feeling crawled up her spine like a shadowy chitinous horror and roosted on her scalp just as her forehead broke out with sweat. Anxiety, and it felt like a waking nightmare. The walls swelled toward her. She could feel every tremor of her rapid heartbeat, and it threatened to drop her. She stood, and her vision blurred. She teetered like a flower in the breeze.

“No!” Téa barked out loud, gritting her teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the feeling down. She paused for a few quick, deep breaths. “I have to do something.” Téa opened her eyes. “I have to do something. I have to make a plan.”

She scanned the room and discovered a note next to a glass of water on the table. “Found you in your car,” it read in Mrs. Rodriguez’s pristine penmanship. “Walked you inside. You were so tired. Poor thing. I had to run off. Take it slow, now. XOXO.”

Téa crushed the note in her hand melodramatically, like in so many movies she’d seen. “Too late, Mrs. Rod. Now’s not the time for rest.”

Téa marched to the door but then had a splitting headache, so she pressed a hand against her temple and marched back. She picked up the glass of water and started chugging. She was so thirsty that she finished the whole thing in one try. With an “Ugh,” she put the glass back down and strode out to her car. A plan was already forming in her mind. She just had to make a couple of stops.

Adam had plenty of time to walk all the way back across town to Téa’s house before she returned to him. He was researching murders and animal attacks online, but the details were so scant he couldn’t tell the difference between a monster attack and just some psycho. He couldn’t establish a pattern without knowing the specifics that the police would know.

Téa pushed her way through the front door holding a couple of plastic bags filled with junk Adam couldn’t quite see. “Hey,” she said breathlessly, secretly relieved she wasn’t too late.

“Hey,” Adam replied, stroking his chin while he stared at the screen.

“Facebook stalking anyone?” Téa quipped.

That grabbed Adam’s attention. “Huh?”

Téa chuckled as she placed her burdens on her table.

Adam targeted her with a withering look. “I was actually working.”

“Uh-huh? You get anywhere?”

“Not exactly. The internet isn’t really good for this sort of thing.”

“Okay,” Téa said. She needed to move it along, and that was enough platitudes. “I got some presents for you.”

“Yeah?” Adam stood and walked over.

“Yeah, here’s one.” Téa pulled an inexpensive touchscreen phone sealed in tamper-proof plastic from one of the bags and handed it to Adam. “It’s prepaid. I didn’t want to put you on a plan. There’s a card, too, and take this money.” Téa bit her lip while she dug into her obnoxiously tight hip pocket and proffered a wad of twenty-dollar bills.

Adam took it and gave Téa a look. “Kay . . . Can you afford giving me all these gifts? I mean with your uh . . . extracurricular spending?”

Téa stopped digging around in the bags and looked him dead in the eye. “You don’t want to mess with me right now, Adam.”

Adam recoiled ever so slightly. “I guess I don’t. You seem very take-charge right about now.”

“Huh?”

“You know, just, like, you’re not your usual self.”

Téa turned back to her other items. “Yeah, well, I don’t really have time to be wimpy right now. I am . . . burdened.”

“Meaning?” Adam asked.

Téa sighed heavily and faced Adam. “Your mother and Christina are coming over tonight.”

“Really?” Adam was pleased.

Seeing his reaction, Téa didn’t want to keep lying to Adam’s face, so she busied herself with tying the bags up. “Yeah. Your mother and I really reconnected. She recommended a girls’ night in and wanted Christina to come too. We’re gonna have drinks and do, you know, stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah. Girl stuff. Mind your business.”

Adam chuckled. “All right, I get it.”

“Your clothes are in my car,” Téa explained. “You can take it to a hotel and spend the night. I just need you out of here.”

Adam stuffed the money in his pocket and started trying to tear open the phone packaging. “Wow, burner phone, spending money, getaway car, and a seedy hotel room? I feel like I’m going on the lam.”

Téa hesitated in her self-conscious fiddling. She briefly considered that she may have seen too many movies. “Think about it however you want.”

Adam reached past Téa to get at the bags. “What’s the rest of this stuff?”

Téa smacked his hand. “Feminine hygiene products! Mind your business!” She took her keys and pushed them into Adam’s hands along with the phone. “Stop hanging around! They could show up any minute! Go! Watch some hotel porn, drink yourself senseless, I don’t care.”

Adam allowed himself to be shoved out. “Okay, geez. Calm down. I’m going.”

Téa stood outside and watched while Adam pulled out of the driveway and even until he turned toward the setting sun, out of view. Only then did she relax, but just a little. She’d shooed Adam away, but it was only the beginning. Her “feminine hygiene products” would have to be prepared ahead of time if things went south.

Téa worked feverishly, but the doorbell rang while she was stripping a wire she’d plugged into a step-up transformer. Her eyes darted to the parts she still had lying on her bed, and the panic finally set in. She was out of time. She could only twist the newly exposed cables around a copper hook she’d bought from the hardware store. As she balanced the assembly precariously on an insulated pad, the person outside punched the doorbell a few more times to highlight their crippling lack of patience.

“Coming!” she called. If her visitor was who she thought it was, she didn’t want them knowing she was stalling for time. She flicked a switch on the transformer and strode quickly out to the front door. She unlocked it and pulled it open.

“Good evening,” Joshua Truong said ironically.

Téa affected her best ignorant expression. “Uhh, hello? Who are you?”

Joshua scoffed. He and the two goons he had standing on either side of him shared knowing glances. “That’s good. It’s cute. Davy said you were kind of cute.”

“Davy? Oh! Then I guess you’re Joshua! Look, I already talked to Davy. He told me what happened, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I wasn’t even awake for the whole thing. He said someone came and attacked him, but I really don’t know what happened.”

Joshua nodded sarcastically and stepped slowly toward her. Téa stumbled in her speech and was made to back away. Joshua casually paced over the threshold and into the house.

“Uhh, I just woke up here alone,” Téa explained. “I’m as clueless as you are.”

“Right. Nameless knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah.”

“Just trying to do a good thing for a stranger.”

“Seems like it.”

“Just asked for you by name at the club.”

“Doesn’t mean I ever saw him.”

“Just happened to be familiar with your car, which I notice isn’t in the driveway just now.”

Téa didn’t have anything for that one. It burned her to not have thought of everything.

Joshua continued without her. “Was just so pissed off by my brother’s actions that he broke his way into a locked office and singlehandedly beat everyone in there, just to take you home.”

Téa sighed. Resignation was apparent on her face.

Joshua said, “I’m not a patient guy, so I’m going to ask nicely only the first time. Tell me who attacked my brother.”

Téa remained silent, eyes averted and body unmoving. She just shut down.

“Fine,” Joshua spoke to his goons. “Take her. Leave the other two to watch the house.”

“All night?” one asked.

“Yes! All night!” Joshua shouted, suddenly erratic. “He has to come back sometime!”

The young boss started walking toward the exit, and one of his thugs reached to take hold of Téa. When he was in range, Téa quickly pulled out the Taser looped onto the back of her belt and stabbed it into the man’s stomach. With a crackle of electricity, the man shuddered and collapsed to the floor.

This all prompted Joshua to turn back. “Rrrgghhh,” he grumbled.

Téa sprang for her room. The other goon grasped for her, but she slipped away, slamming the door behind herself. The tremor caused the copper hook to fall from the dresser, catching on the brass doorknob. Téa knew brass wasn’t very conductive, so she didn’t try to climb out the window. Instead, she pulled her phone out and laid it on the floor.

Josh’s other lackey tried the doorknob and immediately seized with high amperage electricity. He couldn’t even let go of the knob as his knees gave and his spine hyperextended. His mouth refused to scream.

Joshua spit a curse and tried to stomp the poor man’s hand off the knob. The first time wasn’t enough, so he had to kick again, harder, and then harder. The last kick finally freed the goon’s hand, probably saving his life. He collapsed to the floor, his eyes dancing with lights. By then, Joshua’s first goon had recovered, and he shook off the comparably tame Taser shock.

“Kick it in!” Joshua ordered.

One swift strike, and the door was open, yanking the transformer off the dresser and dragging the many of the other items Téa kept there with it, including the picture of Adam. The twisted wires were torn from the hook.

The two intruders discovered that Téa had just pulled off her phone case and was desperately trying to smash the phone into oblivion with the Taser.

Joshua stomped into the room himself and took Téa roughly by the hair. She screamed as she was pulled away from her task and tried to shock him, but Joshua wasn’t caught off guard. He overpowered Téa and pressed her into her bed with his body.

Joshua growled into Téa’s ear. “Your Culkin bullshit is testing my not-patience!”

Téa struggled uselessly against his weight. Her face was red with stress. She roared. “Like I care!”

“You know I have you pinned to a bed.” Joshua hissed. “I would be really worried about just how much worse this can get if you keep running your mouth!”

“Do your worst, needle-dick!”

Joshua stood from the bed and pulled Téa with him, tossing her against the opposite wall. It jostled Téa but didn’t harm her. “Take her with us,” Joshua ordered, his breaths ragged, a vein bulging from the middle of his forehead.

A henchman took Téa in both hands and led her away.

“And gag her! I don’t want her crying to the whole neighborhood for help!” Joshua straightened his nice clothes and ran his hand through his hair. “We’ll see if her little hero comes to save her a second time.”

17

Night fell on Farol Verde with the roar of a lion as lightning split the sky. A tension followed. The air was noticeably thick, but rain had yet to fall. Just when it felt like it would be too much, sporadic sprinkles began to shade the landscape, as if teasing. It was steady like that for a time, the downpour intensifying imperceptibly slow. Before Christina Lacey realized, the rain was falling in a heavy, steady curtain outside her bedroom window. She sat cross-legged on top of the covers of her bed, reading a book. Her husband was taking a shower after returning from the gym, so she took the time to dive back into an old favorite from her younger days. The Graveyard Book, it was called. As he is known to do, the author spun her into a world where magic always seemed to be just on the other side of a thin veil, and if you believed with just a fraction of childish wonder, you could even reach out and touch it.

That’s why, when Christina first heard the unearthly, foreboding snarl, it didn’t even merit her attention. It barely competed with the din of the rain. It could have just as easily been her imagination run wild. The young protagonist in her book was at the mercy of terrible evil.

Another animalistic vocalization rent the air, louder than before. It was part hiss, part growl and disconcerting enough that Christina’s sugar brown eyes leapt from the page. It sounded like there was a monster in her world, and it was close. Slowly, Christina turned her head to the small picture window that overlooked their backyard. The white drapes were drawn shut, and with the rain pouring down just outside, she could see nothing from her perch. Lightning filled the window with light, but thankfully, there was no menacing shadow to threaten her safety.

She wondered if she was just imagining a monster, but the queer sounds had become a procession. Chuffing, snarling, even something like whimpering. Whatever creature had paused in Christina’s backyard on its way to a child’s nightmare sounded like it was in distress.

Christina marked her page and set the book aside. She stood from the bed and cautiously padded to the window in nothing but a T-shirt and panties. It crossed her mind that if Téa were there, the nerd would have to point out that this is how non-virginal twenty-somethings get killed off. The idea actually made Christina’s final steps to the window lighter, slower, and more cautious as the scene of a giant demonic hand crashing through the window played out in her brain. Christina’s hair stood on end. She did not want to be stolen out into the night.

The twenty-something reached the window without incident and warily lifted one of the drapes away to peer outside. The noise drew her attention toward the back corner of the yard, where Danny’s modular toolshed stood. It was hopelessly dark with the heavy clouds and rain, but something was definitely moving out there. Meager light from other houses glistened on the water that pummeled the shape, which shifted and shuddered. She could make out little else besides an impression because the light in the room played on the window, obscuring the scene, so Christina walked briskly to the light switch and swatted it off.

Darkness filled the room almost impenetrably. Christina moved back to the lone window, which stood out against the abyss, and peered out toward the activity by the toolshed. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and more details became apparent. The creature was massive. Knowing how big the shed was, Christina guessed the creature to be nearly the size of a bear, but it was leaner and somehow vaguely humanoid. It stood on long angular hind legs, almost like a bug’s—crooked and wicked. It’s equally alien arms were braced against the shed as if the thing needed some support. The rest of it was obscured oddly, as if it were wearing a dead brush for camouflage. Strange protrusions interrupted its silhouette that moved with each heave of deep guttural breath. It actually reminded Christina that she should probably breathe too.

The hulking form twisted and shifted about, as if trying to hit just the right spot while stretching. Meanwhile, the protrusions that obscured its form shifted. Incredibly, the creature appeared to be physically growing, but Christina couldn’t tell if it was true or just a trick of the meager light. The creature’s groans intensified, almost roaring, or almost crying. There was a flurry of motion, and then Christina heard a bang, as if something had been struck mightily. She couldn’t see what was happening, but the creature’s volume came down from its sudden crescendo. It appeared to be calming. Christina hoped it would move on after completing whatever it had done under the cover of dark. She also wished she could actually see the thing for what it was.

Christina’s second wish was answered. Lightning flashed silently in the distance, briefly illuminating the scene. It revealed the creature’s true menacing form. The protrusions Christina had gotten the impression of were spines. Blade-like spines, perhaps two hand widths long extended down the length of the monster’s back like a porcupine. It was facing away from her, so she saw it all. More smaller spines also curved from the monster’s head like a crown, and on its shoulders and even somewhat down its upper arms. It was only a brief strobe of light, but Christina’s brain had formed a snapshot. The monster had struck the shed in its distress, and a pronounced crater had been reamed into it from the monster’s mighty fist.

The woman stood motionless in the dark for tense seconds. Her breath was caught in her throat, and her brain struggled to keep her heart under control. Only one coherent thought found purchase in her mind: chupacabra. It was as if her grandmother had whispered the word into her ear, just as she had when Christina was very young. It was silly, just a part of her traditional upbringing, but somehow, a part of her knew it to be true with absolute certainty. How? She wondered. How could it be there? Danny and the other guys killed those wolves, and the maulings stopped. She couldn’t believe her eyes!

A sudden prolific clap of thunder answered the lightning’s call and rattled the windows in the house. Christina flinched and yelped reflexively. Her hands quickly tried to cover her mouth as if to catch the sound, but the noise escaped, and the monster reacted. It snorted and its head snapped to look. Somehow, the terrible, impossible thing had heard her over the din of the rain. Christina knew this because two horrible eyes swung around to see her. They glowed in the dark like a cat’s, possessing an unnatural yellow hue.

As quickly as she could, Christina dropped the drape and jumped from the window, pressing her back up against the adjoining wall. Her breaths were heavy, and her brain had given up on managing the heart. It pounded away with reckless abandon, filling her legs with all the blood they needed to run like the wind. Seconds passed, and Christina tried to gain control of herself. Specifically, she wanted her lungs and her heart to be quiet. Who knows how far away the nightmare could detect fiercely pumping blood.

Christina made headway in silencing her body’s flight responses and tuned her ears to hear even the slightest noise from outside. There was no monstrous growling, snarling, chuffing, or otherwise. Besides the patter of the weakening rain, there was nothing. Christina waited, not wanting to even cause a creak in the floorboards. Nothing shared the air with the rain. No light breathing of predatory excitement. No scratching on the roof. Christina was so quiet and still that she could detect the faint, eerie ring of natural tinnitus in her ear canal and nothing else.

Finally, Christina dared to move. Her body trembled as she leaned slowly over to the window and peered out surreptitiously. She allowed her face in front of the window only enough to catch the slightest sliver of the lawn in front of the toolshed, but there was nothing. The falling rain betrayed no lumbering form in the Lacey yard. Either it was waiting very cleverly to make its move, or it had simply run away upon having been discovered. Christina prayed for the latter to be true. At any rate, she had to move. Danny was downstairs, in the shower. She had to reach him.

Chrissy strode briskly to the door and pulled it open, immediately lamenting that she had grown so familiar with the house and always left the hallway light off. It was menacingly dark beyond the portal as well as in the room in which she stood, and Christina hesitated. Her sudden paranoia was getting the better of her. She wasn’t the type to be nervous, but she’d never seen anything like what she’d seen just outside her own house. Suddenly, even the floor beneath her was uncertain.

The young woman told herself that there was no way it could be in the house. Something that big, it would have a hard time even squeezing through the doorway. That was assuming it could turn a knob, but the door was locked. It would have to come through a window, or through the wall. What if it could come through the wall?

Christina realized her legs were making autonomous strides just as she reached halfway between the master bedroom and the stairwell down to the first floor. Her body was making decisions for her. She rounded the banister at the head of the stairs and bounced quickly down the steps, but then there was a loud thud, and Christina froze. It sounded like something heavy struck the house, perhaps even on the roof.

The thing might be looking for an entrance.

Christina hurried down the last of the stairs. She could hear the shower running. Danny was just inside the bathroom.

He would protect her. He was the only one that could.

Christina had to pass perilously close to the front door upon exiting the stairwell. She slowed her progression and crept by, the soles of her feet landing gradually. Lightning struck outside again, and the thunder soon followed. It sounded like it was moving on. She hoped the creature would too. She hoped that it loved the rain and would follow it.

The frightened woman had slowed to a complete stop without realizing it. Her dread had frozen her in place, eyes wide and fixated on the front door. If the thing wanted in, the front door was the weakest point, unless the thing dared shattered glass for entry. Then again, maybe something like that wasn’t even worried about glass.

Chrissy was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear a door behind her open. It was farther down the hall. Light spilled from the opening, and Danny Lacey stepped from the portal in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, showcasing that he was all about pecs, traps, and biceps when he went to the gym.

Danny noticed his wife zoning out in the entryway and stopped to observe her. She stood stock still. Her pose was almost like that of a monkey watching for something in the trees, head up, stance wide.

“What’s going on, babe?”

Chrissy snapped out of her trance and whirled to face her husband. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Everything all right?” Danny asked.

Christina tried to answer. “There was a . . . a thing. It was . . .”

Danny moved closer to her, supporting his towel with one hand. “A thing?”

Christina sputtered, and her vision was becoming cloudy with tears. “It’s like a monster. It was out by the toolshed. It might be coming in here.”

Danny wrapped his arms around his wife comfortingly, shushing her like a coddling parent. “It’s okay. I’m here. You say you saw a monster?”

Christina closed her eyes and pressed her face into Danny’s chest. It felt pleasantly cool. “Yes! It was back by the toolshed. It hit it. It punched a hole in the side! You can see it was there!”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Danny cooed, squeezing her. “It’s all right. I believe you. You want me to go outside and see about it?”

Christina looked urgently into Danny’s eyes. “No! You can’t go out there! You didn’t see this thing! It was huge! And ugly! And it had spikes and glowing yellow eyes like something out of nightmare!”

“Okay! Okay! Please, just calm down. Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Gosh, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“It was horrible!” Chrissy sobbed, resting her head against Danny’s chest. “And it saw me. It looked right at me with those eyes. And I heard something on the house, and I don’t know if it’s coming to get me!”

“Shh, shh, shh.” Danny kissed his wife’s forehead. “It’s okay. Do you want to leave? We can get out of here for tonight.”

“No . . . I don’t want to go out there.”

“Okay, we’ll just stay here. I’ll protect you. We can go upstairs and lay in bed, and in the morning, I’ll check around outside. It can’t hang around forever, something like that would be seen.”

Christina sniffled. “Okay. We should go to the cops too.”

Danny questioned that idea. He wanted to support his wife, but he knew it was a silly notion. “Sweetheart . . . I don’t know if they’ll believe you.”

“They have to believe me!” Christina said. “It was the chupacabra, Danny! I don’t know if it was the same one or another one, but I saw a chupacabra!”

“A chupacabra?” Danny asked skeptically. “Chrissy, there’s no such thing as a chupacabra. Those were wolf attacks all those years ago. We got them, remember? The attacks stopped.”

“I saw what I saw, Danny!” Chrissy cried. “It was a monster!”

“Okay! Okay!” Danny squeezed her. “All right. We’ll go to the police in the morning. It can’t hurt anything just to check in with them.”

Christina buried her face in Danny’s chest and wept for a time. Eventually, her husband guided her upstairs, and they lay together in bed, but it took another long while for her body to relax. The rise and fall of Danny’s breath and gentle touch did wonders for her. He nuzzled her neck and stroked in all the right ways only he knew. Then while she rested on his chest, the calm rhythm of Danny’s beating heart lulled Christina to sleep.

18

The rain stopped and the clouds parted just in time for the sun to arrive and clean up the mess. Sergeant Fisher was awakened from his pleasant sleep by the buzz of his alarm, but at least he could say that the sun was shining instead of descending, as was usually the case when he had to get up and go to the precinct. It was the first time he’d spent the night next to his wife in a long time, and she was delighted to have him. If nothing else, it meant he could get up to see what their infant daughter was crying about for a change.

Lamont made to get out of bed, and his wife’s long, smooth, dark leg extended from under the covers. May caught him by the waist. “Where you goin’?” she asked.

Lamont chuckled softly. “I gotta go in and see the shrink. Standard practice after something exciting actually happens for a change.”

“Mmm,” May groaned. “No kiss?”

Lamont smiled. “Of course.” He crawled over the bed and pulled the sheet from over his wife’s head. Her Afro was a mess, and she was exhausted from the baby giving her grief, but he thought she was a vision. She squinted into the sunlight coming through the blinds with a thin smirk on her face. Lamont planted a long kiss on those lips.

May approved. “Mmm.”

Even after breaking the kiss, Lamont hovered over her. “I should be back in just a few hours. I might pick some stuff up from the store on my way back.”

When Lamont stood, his wife gave him a little kick. “Oh! Hey-ey!”

“That’s for leaving me here with the baby. You hurry on back,” May chided playfully.

Lamont smiled. “I will. I promise. Unless they decide to throw me in the loony bin.”

“Somebody ought to,” May jibed.

Lamont got dressed and completed his morning routine of teeth brushing, head and face shaving, whatever breakfast he could find, and then he visited his daughter’s room. Amberele was sound asleep blissfully. He placed a light kiss on her little forehead, and then went out into the world.

Lamont didn’t like lying to his wife. Sure, he really did need to see the shrink, and he did tell his wife about the perp who attacked them in the alley, but he never told her about all of the crazy parts. That was lie enough for him. Everyone else worried about him; he didn’t want the mother of his infant child to worry too. And he didn’t want her to know that he was chasing down this demon all by himself, or that more than seeing the shrink, he wanted to speak with his buddy in CSI.

Even as Lamont entered the bullpen, he spotted Scott, the forensic investigator assigned to the boutique theft. He was a soft middle-aged man of short stature wearing thick-rimmed glasses. His Farol Verde Police Department CSI coat and faded jeans denoted a man not too concerned with his looks either. He had every right to be as peevish as a librarian, but Lamont had never met a nicer guy. The sergeant weaved his way through the desks and cubicles swiftly to catch the investigator before he could disappear into the lab.

Lamont clapped Scott on the shoulder to announce his presence. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

Scott flinched at the rough clap, but smiled when he saw his friend. “Oh, hey, Sergeant. How are ya? I heard about your little break. Tough luck.”

“Thanks, man.” Lamont said. “That’s actually what I’m here for, sort of. Captain said I gotta see the shrink for some . . . I don’t know, messed-up reason. But hey, I wanted to ask you . . . did those fingerprints ever come back? On the boutique thing?”

Scott suddenly looked more pensive than usual. His life could be pretty stressful, what with everyone and their mother expecting something from the lab on a minute-to-minute basis, but he didn’t usually seem so off balance. “Uh, yeah. They did.”

“And?”

“Well, uhh. We really didn’t get any good, complete prints. Everything was smudged. But uhh, we got a decent, partial thumb on your partner’s safety.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Scott said. “But more than that, even when I saw the print at first, there was something off about it.”

Lamont folded his arms. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Well . . . I don’t know, man. It’s weird.”

“No, no, no, I’m ready for weird. Hit me with it,” Lamont goaded.

“Okay.” Scott gathered his thoughts. “The print looked kind of fake.”

“Fake?”

“Yeah, like someone was imitating a fingerprint but could only get so close, you know?” Scott rubbed his chin and furtively glanced at the other people going about their jobs in the office. He looked like a bag man handing off secrets. “We put it through the system and . . . well, okay . . . you know how when we do ACE-V we check it out see if it’s viable, at least?”

“Yeah?” Lamont was hanging on every word, just itching for more evidence of his perp’s abnormality. “Spit it out, man.”

“Well, yours wasn’t, technically,” Scott explained. “But I checked it against the records anyway, because . . . it was nonviable for an unusual reason. Normally, it would be because it was too smudged or too old, but yours . . . your guy’s . . . was just . . . weird. Ugh, shit. It was all wrong. There wasn’t even a human number if ridges. The whorls were strange. It looked more like a damn monkey’s or maybe a koala’s. Like . . . someone drew it, and it was a good drawing, but someone with a trained eye would know something was wrong.”

“Wow” was all Lamont managed to say at first.

“Yeah,” Scott pulled his half-used pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and popped one in his mouth. He’d quit but missed the feeling of having a cigarette between his lips sometimes when he got nervous. “Obviously, I didn’t find anything in our system that matches. I can put it through IAFIS, but I don’t think we’ll get anything back.”

Lamont leaned up against the copy machine, his brow knit tightly. “What do you think this means?”

Scott leaned beside him. “I don’t know, you know? I’ve . . . I’ve really got no frame of reference for this.”

“Me neither, Scott,” Lamont said. “I’m reaching here. I need whatever you’ve got. Give me some ideas.”

“Who has false fingerprints?” Scott shrugged. “Some thieves burn them off, sure, but fake? And good fakes too. Somehow still excreting oils to leave a fingerprint?” Scott rubbed his eyes with the span of his hand. “Who does that? Who is this guy? Witness protection? That’s a little extreme. I thought maybe military, something secret for espionage. I know it sounds off the wall.”

Lamont shrugged. “Maybe not. I’d actually thought of the military angle myself. Gray said the guy knew some form of jiu-jitsu.”

“Maybe he’s a robot.” Scott chuckled. “Military robot. Just has to look human enough.” He shook his head. “Stupid. He probably just has a genetic anomaly that makes little things like that different on him. It would be great for being a criminal.”

Lamont shook his head. “Nah. You didn’t see this guy. You didn’t see what he could do. It was definitely weird.”

“Like what?”

Lamont immediately regretted his words. He rubbed his bald head and wanted to change the subject. Besides, he saw Dr. Harrington making a beeline for him from the other side of the office, looking uptight and well-meaning in her slate skirt suit. “Look, man, I’ll have to tell you another time, hopefully when this is over. Hey, do you mind running that through IAFIS anyway? Maybe some army guys are missing a robot.”

Scott smirked. “Yeah, okay, Sergeant.”

Lamont clapped him on the shoulder again. “It’s Lamont, man. Come on.”

Scott nodded sheepishly. “Okay. I’ll bring you the packet for your book too.” He left for the lab just as Dr. Harrington arrived.

“Hello, Sergeant Fisher,” the doctor said upon her arrival. “It’s good that you came in. Captain Michalis said you might have something you want to talk about with me this morning.”

Lamont shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I should. Perp beat down my partner, and I couldn’t help him.”

“Uh-huh . . .” Dr. Harrington’s fine, straight, brunet locks barely shifted with her movements. “And wasn’t there something else a little more complicated you mentioned in your report?”

Lamont had to fight hard to stifle a heavy sigh. Looking for an exit, he spotted a handsome young couple who had just entered the station. A queue had developed at the reception sergeant’s desk, and he was about to make them wait.

Sergeant Fisher touched the doctor’s arm and smiled his best, most charming smile as he slid from her sights. “Excuse me, Doctor, there are citizens in need.”

Lamont reached the couple just before they took their seats on one of the waiting benches. “Hi.” He pulled his jacket aside to reveal the shield on his belt. “I’m Sgt. Lamont Fisher. Did you two need to make a report?”

The husband spoke first. “Uh, yeah. I’m Dan Lacey. This is my wife, Christina. We need to make . . . like an animal report.”

Dr. Harrington was right behind Lamont. “You’re off duty, Sergeant.”

Lamont was quick with his response. “Ahh, but I can file a report with the best of them.” He said to the couple, “There’s a desk open right back here. I can get this finished for you.” He expedited them toward the desk with a guiding hand.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” Dr. Harrington said in passing.

Lamont laughed heartily and then muttered under his breath. “That’s not true.”

Upon parting ways, Danny Lacey caught the good doctor’s eyes lingering on his body. She smiled, and he returned it slyly.

Sergeant Fisher pulled his chair out at the desk and opened the report form on the computer in front of him. “Okay. What would you like to report? Something with an animal?”

The male Lacey was hesitant. “Uh, yeah . . . sort of. I didn’t really see it, so I’m gonna have to let Christina tell the story.”

The group was quiet while Christina tried to gather her thoughts in a way that would make sense to the officer. “I . . . I saw a monster.”

“A monster?” Lamont asked, his tone engaged and unpatronizing.

“I know that probably sounds crazy,” Christina said.

Lamont chuckled amiably. “Nah. I think I’m exactly who you need. I’ve seen some things in my time too.”

Christina bit her lip. “Okay. It was outside our home last night. It was raining. I really couldn’t see much at first, but I did get a good look at it. It was back by the shed. I know it was there. It hit it.”

Her husband chimed in. “Yeah. I looked at it this morning, and the shed looked like it had been struck by . . . something.”

The keyboard clicked rapidly as Lamont filled in the details. “All right, what did it look like? Was it big? Did it have fur?”

Christina shook her head. “I didn’t really see any fur, but it was definitely big. It was bent over next to the shed, and it looked bigger.”

“Maybe eight or nine feet tall, standing up as far as we could figure,” Danny said. Lamont showed a clear reaction to the number.

“So it stood on its hind legs?” Lamont asked.

Christina nodded. “Yes.”

“Did it have any defining features? Maybe a long snout or like a color you could pick out?”

“Yeah, it was spiny,” Christina said. “All along its back.”

Lamont looked incredulously at her. “Like a porcupine?”

“No, they weren’t like quills, and there wasn’t that many. They more came right out of its back, and they were sturdy and curved. Like bone, maybe.”

Lamont betrayed some disbelief with his manner. “So you saw something that stood on its hind legs, taller than a man, with sharp bonelike spines coming out of its back?”

“Yes.” Christina sighed heavily. “I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. It looked like . . . well, I think it was the chupacabra.”

“Sweetheart,” Danny said.

“Wow,” Lamont rehydrated his eyes with a slow blink. “A chupacabra sighting. We haven’t had one of those in years.”

“Someone else saw this?” Christina asked.

Lamont sat back in the office chair. “Well, no, now that you ask. Not really. People just sort of attributed those disappearances with it a while back.”

“I know I must sound more than a little superstitious right now,” Christina said, “but I swear to you, I saw it. I saw it clear as day, and it saw me too. It looked right at me with these yellow eyes. I thought it would come after me, but it just went away.”

“Where were you when you saw this?” Lamont asked.

“I was in our bedroom,” Christina explained. “I was looking out the window. Danny was taking a shower downstairs, so he didn’t see it.”

Lamont filled in more of the report. “Okay. Were you able to make out a color?”

“Well, it was dark,” Christina said, “but there was lightning, so I don’t know for sure, but it didn’t look like it had fur. It was more like skin. Kind of like a fleshy color.”

The report was interrupted by Scott returning from the lab with the forensic packet. “Here you go, Sergeant,” he said, dropping the sheets onto the desk. It was the same drawing Lamont helped create with the sketch artist, but Scott had added the fingerprint underneath. The rest of the pages were all Scott could report.

“Oh, thanks, man,” Lamont said before Scott disappeared back into the crowd. Unable to stall his curiosity, he lifted the top page and quickly skimmed the report for anything interesting.

Christina was treated to an upside-down view of the sketch and furrowed her brow in reluctant familiarity. A somber “Oh,” escaped her lips.

“What?” Danny asked.

“Kind of looks like Adam, doesn’t it?”

Lamont looked up from the report. “What?”

“I don’t know, I guess,” Danny answered his wife.

Lamont quickly turned the packet around so Christina could get a good look. “You know this man?”

Christina smiled disarmingly. “Oh, no. I don’t know that man,” she said. “I was just saying that it looks like someone we used to know. His name was Adam Rodriguez, but he couldn’t be your guy. He . . . died . . . a long time ago.” Her tone grew more somber and regretful as her sentence choked in her throat near the end.

“Really?” Lamont considered the face on the paper, immediately deciding that death wasn’t a deal breaker by any means. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well . . . Adam was a soldier . . .”

Lamont’s heart swelled. He could hardly keep his surprise and excitement from showing.

“He got shot while he was overseas,” Christina explained. “He didn’t come back.”

Lamont felt sorry for the young woman, but that breakthrough was just too big. Maybe the soldier had come back.

Lamont was nearly speechless, and the quiet moment was unsettling for the bereaved. Christina manufactured a smile that pushed up her flushed dimples. “He was a good boy.” She looked at her husband expectantly.

“Uh, yeah,” Danny offered. “I mean, he could be a pain in my ass sometimes, but he was a good guy all the way through.”

“I see,” Lamont said, tucking away the paper. “Did he leave a lot of people behind, like you? He have a positive effect on a lot of people?”

Danny was reticent about the discussion, but Christina was quick to answer. “I guess. Adam could be kind of a—”

“Jerk.”

“Loner,” Christina finished.

“So not a big circle of friends?” Lamont asked.

Christina shrugged and shook her head.

“He leave behind any parents? Wife? Girlfriends that you know of?”

“What’s the point of this questioning?” Danny asked. “We said this guy was already dead, but if you want to find him, we can point you to his burial plot.”

Christina’s skin flushed with embarrassment. She held her hand up to stall her husband. “Ignore him. He and Adam didn’t get along. Also . . . I was his girlfriend when he died.”

“Oh, I see,” Lamont deflated. “I can understand why it might be a sore subject, and I apologize for pressing you, honestly. Okay?”

Danny gave a curt reconciliatory nod.

“Okay,” Lamont backed out of his seat and stood. The couple followed suit. “Well, I think we have everything we need for your report.” Lamont shook Danny’s hand. “Even if we don’t find this creature, if other people see it, we might be able to establish a pattern. If you see it again, don’t be afraid to dial 911, okay?”

Christina shook Lamont’s hand as well, smiling. “Okay. Thank you.”

The young couple said their goodbyes, and the moment Lamont was alone, he jumped back onto the computer. The first search result for Adam Rodriguez was on a Fallen Warriors memorial page. In fact, the only information the public internet had for Adam concerned his death and memory. Lamont clicked on the first link, and his breath caught in his throat. A picture was provided alongside a brief description of his life and service. Lamont had never seen the supposedly deceased soldier in his dress uniform and couldn’t tell if Adam was proud or irritated, but it was definitely his perp. The Army maintained that Specialist Rodriguez had been killed by small arms fire in Afghanistan, yet Lamont knew he’d stared right into this young man’s halting eyes just the other night, only they were green and glowing unnaturally.

Sergeant Fisher leaned all the way back in in the tall office chair. He almost couldn’t believe it was real. It was all real. His phantom criminal with the burning eyes, the fake fingerprints, and the twisted ability to draw . . . something out of human bodies, was real. Lamont had begun to think he really was losing it, but he finally had something tangible, something to follow. He just had to find him. People follow patterns. They need shelter, food, support. At least, normal people do. When Fisher and Gray happened upon Rodriguez, he’d stolen clothes. For some reason, he was desperate enough for clothing that he stole some, leaving nothing behind. This suggested that Adam was naked. He’d smashed his way into the boutique with a piece of pavement he carelessly dropped by the door. Even after besting the police, Adam ran at full speed in dress shoes to get away. Adam Rodriguez seemed very desperate that night, very in need of support.

Lamont dug into whatever history he could find on Adam Rodriguez. His parents were the most obvious answer to who he would go to for support. It wasn’t beyond any parent to hide their children. His mother was still alive. The father had died some years ago from heart complications due to stress. Apparently, he’d been involved in some sort of incredible heroism during an attack on his workplace, and he couldn’t take it. The mother was definitely viable, but . . . apparently, they’d taken great pains and spent a great deal of money to have their son’s body delivered to the United States to be buried on the family lot.

That would mean his mother would have had to identify his body. How could she just accept his coming back from the dead?

The burial arrangements intrigued Sergeant Fisher. Typically, the Army would have paid for a fallen soldier’s funeral. He followed that thread and discovered that Lena and Ernesto Rodriguez were set financially. The father was a well-respected doctor, and the mother used to be a bit of a hotshot in Farol Verde real estate. She was still living comfortably in the impressive family home despite the fact that she wasn’t working anymore. Instead she raised money for local and national charities with very little overhead. The Farol Verde Gazette mentioned her frequently and even had an editorial.

Adam came from a rich family, and yet he had broken into an inner city boutique, on the clear other side of town from where he used to live, and stolen clothes. It was like he just fell out of the sky. That clouded the circumstances of Adam’s return even further. Being naked sort of ruled out the killer Army robot idea as well. Unless he was a time-traveling robot from the future who couldn’t wear any clothing because time travel doesn’t allow anything inorganic to pass through, and the cyborg’s face was just modeled after Adam’s. That could always happen.

Lamont moved to police records. The kid had only minor brushes with the law and nothing that led to anything more than a short detainment just to scare him onto a narrow path. The other kids mentioned in his report had all gotten jobs in other cities or otherwise moved away. That was a quick dead end. His ex-girlfriend had outed Adam to the police seemingly unwittingly, so it was also unlikely that she was somehow hiding Adam’s continued existence, especially with that surly husband of hers. No.

After some time, Lamont was fatigued from his search on the web. The trail was pretty cold. All he could do was question the mother. It looked like Adam didn’t have any other ties in Farol Verde.

19

Téa was tossed into the back seat of a big black SUV between two thugs that made her look and feel like a child. Their wide frames nearly crowded her space completely, and she spent the entire ride quiet and miserable. A combination of tinted windows and inky night ensured she didn’t even know where she was going. The small convoy arrived at an expensive white single-floor house that overlooked the rest of the city from high on the bluffs, and everyone stepped out of their respective rides except for Téa. She sat in stoic passive resistance and had to be dragged out by one arm. They led her inside, and her hostage cell turned out to be a rather lavish guest room off the main hall. It was furnished with a king-sized bed, plush clean linen, art on the walls, a wardrobe, and a flat-screen television.

The only fixture Téa couldn’t manage to appreciate was the perpetual guard that sat in the corner. She spent the first hour or so staring the ape down in utter silence while he awkwardly tried to avoid eye contact. She sat calmly against the pillows at the head of the bed, just staring and waiting. She hoped to spend his endurance and get him to fall asleep, but damn if those pillows weren’t comfortable. Without realizing it, she gradually sank into the warm embrace of the bed, and before she knew what had happened, her eyes were opening back up to the room—a room pleasantly illuminated by the rising sun.

Téa sat bolt upright on the bed and looked to the guard at the other end of the room. It was a new guard, but he was asleep. His head lolled limply, resting his chin on his chest. The position constricted his nasal passages, and he snored fitfully. Without hesitation, Téa slid from atop the bed and gradually landed her weight on the floor. Her sneakers snuck easily across the carpet, and she reached the door right next to the slumbering guard. Téa barely breathed as she reached for the gleaming handle. She rested her hand on the lever and turned it gingerly, but it didn’t give way. The room was never meant to be a cell, so she simply unlocked the handle and tried again. On the second try, it opened soundlessly. With her heart pounding more fiercely with each inch the door swung, Téa poked her head outside the portal. The smell of cooking breakfast food quickly washed over her. The sizzle and pop of frying bacon was coming from the open kitchen.

Someone was awake, so she had to be careful. She knew the exit was on her right, and it looked clear, so she peered left around the door, checking for anyone who might see her. As the farthest reaches of the den came into view, someone shouted, “Surprise!” and brusquely smacked the door into her face. Téa cried out and was sent sprawling to her back.

Joshua Truong stepped out from behind the door in a bath robe, smiling down at her, amused. “Where you going, doll face?”

Téa scrambled to her feet and tried to make a run for it, but Joshua was quickly behind her. He grabbed a good handful of Téa’s hair in one hand and pulled her back. Her whole body nearly came out from under her as she was forcibly diverted.

“Nah-ah-ah!” Joshua admonished menacingly. “Get back here!”

Téa kicked and screamed, clawing at the hand that held her, but Joshua didn’t relent. He dragged her up the hallway until he handed her off to one of his more trusted henchmen. Téa flailed like a jungle cat in the man’s grip, but it wasn’t enough. The goon had his arms wrapped around her, and she only tired herself out. Soon she was just glaring balefully from behind her wild tossed-about hair, teeth clenched, skin red, heavy breaths filling the hall.

The guard who had fallen asleep watching Téa appeared just outside her cell, looking bewildered and flustered. Joshua followed everyone’s gaze and turned around to see. The guard met his eyes with terror.

“Hey, man,” Joshua said, “I thought I told you to watch her. You fall asleep?” He hardly needed to ask. The man’s eyes were still a little puffy.

“Yes, Mr. Truong,” the guard responded, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Truong. It won’t happen again. I can take her back into the room, and I’ll watch her all day. No one needs to take my place—”

Joshua held up one halting hand. “Yeah. Okay. All right. Shut up. Get the fuck out of here. Go home.”

The guard hesitated, unable to move. “You sure?” he asked.

Joshua’s voice was just on the cusp of yelling. “It’s what I said, didn’t I? Go on!”

The guard’s eyes darted around uncertainly for a moment, but then he turned and quickly exited via the front door.

With the man gone, Joshua released a long sigh. When he turned around, Téa saw that the exchange had drained him. He looked exasperatedly past Téa’s head and addressed the other henchman. “Take care of that fuck. I don’t ever want to see him again.”

The guard only nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Téa’s expression had gone slack.

Joshua took a deep breath through his nose in a clear attempt to calm himself. “You know,” he said, then focused on Téa, “before your little escape attempt, I was coming to invite you to breakfast. So please . . .” Josh beckoned Téa toward the open dining area with his hands. It was only a bare intimate table that overlooked the deck, bathing in the sun.

Without waiting for an answer, Joshua went to the kitchen. Bacon and eggs were already sizzling in a frying pan, and the young crime boss resumed seasoning them as if nothing happened. His grunt had released Téa and guided her to one of the kitchen chairs at the table. She sat without resistance, suddenly not wanting to aggravate her situation further.

“Why did you try to escape?” Joshua suddenly asked.

Téa stayed quiet. Her face only scrunched up like she just put something in her mouth she shouldn’t have.

“It’s not like I have you hanging upside down by your big toes in there.” Josh never took his eyes off the eggs he was whipping.

“Are you serious?” Téa managed to croak.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re crazy.”

“Oh, I’m crazy. You’ve been kidnapped by real live criminals who only want to find this mystery man that attacked my brother—all guns and muscle and rap sheets a mile long, and still . . . you tried to escape. You dared everything, even though this isn’t even that bad.”

Téa stayed facing the window like a good hostage. She heard toast pop up. “Why do you care so much about finding this guy?”

The sizzling quieted to nothing, and the room was suddenly uncomfortably quiet. For whatever reason, Joshua was hesitating to answer. Téa heard a knife scraping against toast, then the clink of a plate. Finally, the elder Truong reached around his hostage and gently placed a plate with a toasted bacon-omelet sandwich in front of her. He then walked around the table and took a seat directly across the way. He looked brooding with his hand bracing the side of his head on the table, fingers combed into his dark hair.

“Nobody messes with my family,” Josh said at last. “I’ve always said as much, and in my line of work, nobody gets to commit a crime like that against me and get away with it. I can’t let it slide. Besides, this savior of yours, with the burning green eyes and freaky strength and endurance, he’s just too interesting. I want to see it for myself. I want to throw a few guys in the ring with him and see what happens.”

“What?” Téa asked, having never touched her sandwich. “What do you mean?”

“You really were out for that whole thing,” Josh said. “Yeah, the bouncer said he tried to break the guy’s arm. It wouldn’t take. Then the guy muscled his way through a fight with three different guys and stared down a gun to get you out of there. Even I have to admit that’s pretty ballsy.”

Téa’s skin flushed.

Joshua continued, “But amazing guy or not, he decided to fuck with my brother, and when he did that, he screwed up big time. Now he has to deal with me.”

Téa glared at her captor again.

“That’s just how it is. Now you never answered my question: Why are you so committed to being such a damn handful? You know I don’t have a lot of patience.”

“You already have your answer,” Téa said plainly.

Joshua had to think but a moment, then the ghost of a smile manifested at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair with a full grin on his face. “Huh. Ha ha. You’re quite the character.”

Suddenly, the rousing theme from an anime cut through the mood. It was muffled by a layer of plush fabric, but Téa instantly recognized it. She looked across the table into Joshua Truong’s big dark eyes, which were already watching her, expressionless, like a snake in the grass.

“Oh,” Josh shifted and dug into one of the pockets on his robe. “Sorry, that’s me.” He pulled out Téa’s tortured phone and looked at the screen. “Huh. Just a number. Unknown contact. Let’s see if we can make a new friend.” Joshua set the phone onto the table, and Téa’s heart shuddered when he pressed the shattered screen and it worked just fine. Josh even put it on speakerphone for her to hear.

“Hello?” Josh greeted with a smile.

“Hello?” A barely readable man’s voice crackled over the speaker. Téa knew it was Adam and slipped on her best poker face.

Josh tried again. “Hello? Hello, this is Téa Vardo’s phone. Who is this?”

“Hello? Téa? Is that you?” the voice asked. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying. It’s like 99 percent static.”

Josh wasn’t giving up. He tapped the microphone. “Hey! Hello?”

“Yeah. I still can’t hear you.”

Josh looked to Téa, who just couldn’t hide the satisfaction she felt.

“Look,” Adam continued, “I’m just gonna head back over to the house and scope it out. If they’re still around, I can just keep driving. I’ll try you again before I hit the block. Talk to you later.”

By the time Adam cut the call, Téa’s grim satisfaction was gone, but Josh’s was quick to take its place. Josh picked up the phone and rocked himself to his feet. He paced around the table. “You should try out that sandwich. It’s my specialty, and you might need the energy later. You can move about the house all you want, but my man here will stay with you. Don’t go too close to any doors or windows because he’ll break your arm.”

Joshua continued toward the master bedroom and left Téa to her thoughts. She toiled in dour contemplation, but after a time, she caved and gave the sandwich a little nibble. It was delicious.

20

Lamont stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was such a beautiful day, made even more beautiful by the flower garden that decorated the facade of the house he was visiting. Birds chirped to one another without a care. Bees buzzed as they went about their busy work. A person could convince themselves that everything was right with the world the more they gazed upon the tranquility of the Rodriguez home—too bad it had to be ruined by such terrible business.

The sergeant very nearly rang the doorbell, but then he hesitated again. He needed another breath. He just didn’t know what he was going to say. His only lead toward finding Adam Rodriguez, if that was indeed who he was after, was the boy’s mother, but how could he possibly broach the subject of whether or not the poor widow had seen her deceased son? What if he was wrong? After all his doggedness, it was confronting this woman he couldn’t take.

The door opened before Lamont, and he was stuck staring into the headlights that were Lena Rodriguez’s dusky eyes.

“Hello,” Lena said. “Can I help you?”

“Uhh, hi,” Lamont stumbled.

Lena was amused by her visitor and his shy manner. He was certainly a handsome man. The scene grew her an honest and pleasant smile. “Hi!”

Lamont inhaled as if to speak, but the words escaped from him again.

“What’s your name?” Lena asked.

Lamont was amazed at the mother’s poise. A strange black man arrived on her doorstep, and she hardly batted an eye. She even wanted to speak. He knew how some people would have reacted. Lena Rodriguez really was as kind as the papers made her out to be. “Uh, I . . . uh, I’m . . . I’m Lamont Fisher.” He pulled his coat to the side to reveal the badge on his belt. “I’m a police officer with the Farol Verde Police Department.”

Lena was visibly taken aback by this revelation. “Oh, I see. What brings you here then?”

“Well, your son does,” Lamont said.

Lena only gave the officer a confused expression, and Lamont showed her the police sketch.

Lena looked the paper over. It amused her. “My son could hardly be your culprit. He was a soldier. He died while on deployment in Afghanistan. I saw his body.”

“I know,” Lamont interjected. “That’s not exactly what this is about. You see, I got this sketch done, and then I came across your son. I learned about him. I learned about his life and the people he touched. I learned about the difference he made. Now . . . I need to know about him. I was hoping that you could tell me the real story, the way only you can.” Lamont finished his piece and didn’t feel revulsion at lying to the woman before him. As a matter of fact, he was more stricken by its honesty.

Lena Rodriguez didn’t answer immediately. She stood with her hand resting closed on her chest. Not a single emotion crossed her face that betrayed her thoughts. Meanwhile, Lamont was suspended in a limbo of uncertainty. He wondered if she would turn him away and what that would mean. She could very well be hiding her son. A mother’s devotion ran deep. Lamont only just recently learned that from experience.

“Sure.” The word landed like a feather on the air. “Please, come inside.” The Rodriguez matron stood back from the portal and held the door open for her new guest.

Lamont thanked Lena and stepped inside cautiously. It wasn’t so much that he was afraid of a demon dropping from the ceiling; he felt somehow past that. It was more like each footstep was supported by a mother’s memory, and he needed to tread delicately, because they were too precious to mishandle. Entering the den, Lamont’s attention was drawn to an entire section of the wall dedicated to a tiered display filled with photos. They showcased the Rodriguez family in various situations, all of them pleasant. Adam Rodriguez featured heavily in various stages of development. Sometimes he was with his ex-girlfriend, Christina, at a party or a bar. Sometimes he was with his father. Here he was receiving a soccer trophy. There he was just posing for a yearly class photo. He seemed to smile often. One person curiously absent from the photos was the boy’s mother, but Lamont soon realized that his mother took most of the pictures. Her family was a treasure, and their memories were made that much more precious in their absence.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Lena asked, “Juice? Water? I have something harder, too, if you’d like.”

“A water, please.” Lamont responded softly. His voice broke amid the delicate delivery of the words.

“I’ll bring it right out. Please, have a seat.”

Lamont watched Lena pass into the kitchen and noticed how fair her skin looked. It was light, especially for a Hispanic woman. She seemed to not go out much anymore. The thought hit a soft place on his heart, but unfortunately, it was none of his business. He was there to find Adam.

While Lamont waited, he perused the pictures again. Seeing Adam in everyday situations made him seem a lot more human. Lamont wished that was what the boy still was. It would be so much simpler, and the boy’s mother wouldn’t be constantly on the edge of heartbreak or jail.

A splash of deep red drew Lamont’s attention. One of the pictures featured a character that the others did not, a young woman. She was white—pale, to be perfectly honest. Her hair was dyed a sort of wine color. She and Adam Rodriguez were caught in a candid moment in the photo that drew Lamont’s eye. Adam smiled, not for the camera as in the other pictures, but just because. Meanwhile, the girl in question shyly avoided the camera by nuzzling into Adam’s neck, but she couldn’t hide her bright smile. Lamont pondered why the shy teen didn’t feature in any of the other pictures, so he scanned them again and came to a realization: she was in most of Adam’s pictures. She was always in the background or very nearly out of frame, but she was there, almost always in the same place Adam was.

Lena returned with clean glasses of water in both hands. “Here you go. Do you like the pictures? I took most of them myself.”

Lamont accepted the drink. “I do. You have a great eye for capturing the feel of an occasion. Some of them make me jealous of the people in them.”

Lamont’s flattery landed with great effect. Lena blushed and smiled confidently.

“This one especially interests me,” Lamont continued, indicating the picture of Adam and the mystery girl. “I’m aware that Adam left behind a girlfriend named Christina, but who is this, another high school sweetheart?”

“Oh, no,” Lena explained. “That’s Téa.”

“Téa?”

“Yes. She and my Adam met sometime in middle school, I think. I don’t know the exact circumstances. I met her when Adam brought her home from school, aww, like a little lost puppy. She was as quiet as a statue at first, but eventually, with patience and charm, I won her over.” Lena winked. “That’s what makes the two of them so unusual. They’re total opposites, but if you talk to one about the other”—Lena sighed—“it was like they could do no wrong. Ohh, she was devastated when Adam died.”

“I’ll bet. Good friends are hard to find,” Lamont said.

“Yes.” Lena took the photo of Téa and Adam from the shelf and gazed lovingly at the two. “Adam was always a complicated child. He had trouble keeping friends.” Lena suddenly smiled. “Just when I was getting worried, he just shows up one day with her. She stayed over all night. So quiet, I didn’t even notice. They were nearly inseparable ever since.”

“She . . . looks like she might be kind of . . . I don’t know, emo, if I’m using that word right,” Lamont said. “Is she into witchcraft or pagan religion or something like that?”

“Oh, no.” Lena shook her head. “I know it’s easy to look at Téa and write her off as just another shut-in millennial . . . which I suppose she sort of is, but she’s so much more. If you only knew. She’s so smart and inventive. Get her to work with you, and she can bounce ideas off you all day. She is one of the most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, even to this day.”

“Uh-huh, and Adam is the opposite of her?”

Lena laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She shoved the officer playfully.

Lamont shrugged. “Okay. If you’re being perfectly honest, how would you describe Adam then?”

Lena smiled fondly as she thought back. “I would have to say that Adam’s biggest personality trait was how headstrong he could be. He was . . . resolute. Believe me, once my boy had a job to do, he didn’t quit. That was why he joined the Army and stuck with it. That’s . . .” She sniffled and valiantly resisted a faraway look. Instead, she looked into Lamont’s eyes. “That’s why he made a difference. He knew that there is a right and a wrong in this world, and not just anyone was ready to do whatever it took to make sure that the right always won.”

“You see, that’s the kind of info you can’t get from . . . a memorial,” Lamont said after a pause. “You must miss him a lot.”

Lena nodded. “Every day. I’ve lost a lot of family over the years, Officer Fisher. My husband died not long after my son did, and the quiet they left me with in this house is . . . deep. Christina hardly ever visits because she is so busy with her new career and her new life with her husband. Téa was even worse. She closed herself off from me after Adam died. She finally visited me just yesterday, and it was only to get Adam’s old clothes to donate to charity.”

Lamont was astonished. “What?”

“I know,” Lena said. “I wish she realized how that felt. I mean, maybe giving away something of his is her way of moving on. At least, I hope she gave it away. I hope she didn’t want it for something weird.”

“She picked up Adam’s clothes from you?” Lamont asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“What’s Téa’s last name?” Lamont asked the question without thinking, and Lena was taken aback.

“Uhm . . . I’m sorry. Why do you want to know that?” Lena asked.

“I . . . just thought I might want to talk to her next,” Lamont said. “You know, since she was so close with Adam.”

“Look, sir . . .” Lena set her jaw and maintained a firm composure. “I’m glad you showed an interest in my son. Really, I am. But I think it’s time for you to go.”

In an instant, all of Sergeant Fisher’s careful articulation was undone. He’d alienated his witness and become hopelessly creepy, and she was ordering him out as politely as she knew how. She probably didn’t even believe he was a real police officer anymore. In the fallout of her resultant assertion, only a second passed in which Lamont looked as if he might protest. In that span, the smooth and efficient cogs of his career policeman’s brain considered many alternate solutions in light of the new obstacle. By the time he spoke, he wasn’t even fazed by the little hurdle.

“I get it.” He put one hand on his chest and calmed Lena affably with the other. “I absolutely understand. I’m pursuing this interest of mine a little too hard. It’s my day off, and I decided I was going to learn about this guy today. I got carried away, and I apologize.” Lamont started backing toward the front door. “Thank you so much for all your help. I don’t want to bother you a second longer than you are willing to humor me, all right? So thank you again. You have a great day.”

Lena could only observe bemusedly as the man claiming to be a cop slithered out of her house. She had always been open with people and enjoyed sharing, but for the first time, she thought she might come to regret it later.

Meanwhile, Lamont didn’t spare a moment to dwell on the situation. He was back in his car, on the road, and on his phone before Lena could have possibly called some other cops to come pick him up.

“Scott! I need you to cross-reference something for me.”

21

“Seventy-one . . . seventy-two . . . seventy-three . . .”

It was not easy for Adam to find an apartment that would actually allow someone to check in without a valid state issued identification. He ended up spending the night at a seedy no-tell motel ironically close to where the Custodian of the Wheel of Fate had unceremoniously dropped him in the dirt without a clue. The moon was high before Adam finally had a place to cool his heels.

“Seventy-four . . . seventy-five . . . seventy-six . . .”

To his chagrin, there was no gym, no pool, and really no one else staying there, but at least they had a television and free Wi-Fi. Adam spent hours catching up on five years of American history. A part of him was surprised to find that the US still had a military presence in the Middle East . . . A part of him wasn’t. A nonpolitician celebrity was president for the first time since the eighties, and it was progressing about as well Adam could have hoped. Domestic terrorism and mass shootings sure did seem like they were becoming more popular. In fact, the media focused so much on all the disheartening news a person could be forgiven for thinking there was nothing positive to report. It reminded Adam of the Custodian’s comment about humanity maybe being why the Wheel of Fate was losing track of human souls. Pain was powerful. It twisted the souls of men and drove them from their resting place.

“Seventy-seven . . . seventy-eight . . .”

The wee hours of the morning arrived with Adam still going strong. That would mark the second night without sleep, and Adam grew concerned. He didn’t know the limitations of his new body. Was it designed to go without food or sleep? Adam hadn’t so much as felt the craving for either, but he knew stories of men who had lost their minds after only a week without a wink. He could only surmise that the energy of the one human soul he’d consumed upon returning to earth was still sustaining him.

“Seventy-nine . . . eighty . . .”

So Adam started to exercise. He pushed his body as far is it would allow. At first, it was to burn all the excess energy, but soon he was too amazed by his performance to stop. Push-ups were his standard exercise, and he broke records that night. He destroyed them. Only after exceeding the capacity of four or five soldiers did Adam finally break a sweat and feel the lactic acid in his muscles, but he kept pushing until his arms could do no more.

“Eighty-one . . . eighty-two . . .”

Spent at last, Adam stretched and wound himself down. To his great relief, his eyelids grew heavy. He lay on the bed and finally, mercifully, slept. It was nearly afternoon by the time he woke with drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. It was the best sleep he’d ever had in his current life or the last. He left the bed and went right back into pushups. Sweat was pouring from his forehead, and his muscles were screaming. That time he didn’t do so well.

“Eighty-thhhhhrrrr—ah, fuck it!”

Adam’s arms fell out from under him, and he thudded against the carpeting. After the previous night, he had only his human strength remaining. At least he’d learned something.

The champion of the Wheel of Fate mustered what was left of his strength and took a shower. His old clothes were almost comically tight after his time in the Army, but at least they were his and didn’t make him look like a gigolo. Adam placed a quick call to Téa to see if her visitors were gone, but it sounded like she was having reception issues when she picked up. The only option left was to swing by and see for himself, so he squeezed back into Téa’s compact, inexpensive, eco-friendly loser-cruiser and drove all the way across town.

When Adam passed the house, he saw that there were no extra cars crowding the short space in front. What he didn’t see were the two men sitting in the black sedan further down the street, but they saw him. When Adam circled around and pulled up to the house, one smacked the other on the shoulder to rouse him. Adam went into the house, and the two men were quick to follow to the front door. What they didn’t see, was the cop in plain clothes who drove by behind them after they crossed the street, but he saw them. Sergeant Fisher watched the two tough-looking men approaching the address he was looking for, dressed in slick, expensive suits and fully accessorized with nice watches, cool sunglasses, and automatic pistols that flashed with the billowing of their jackets in the wind. The situation had become very complicated very quickly.

Lamont kept driving. He needed time to think. His first instinct was to call for backup, but he wasn’t in his squad car. He had only two handheld radios in the trunk. He would have to call 911 if the situation escalated. It could be hard explaining what he was doing at the house, but hell, it was a free country. Nothing had happened yet, so Lamont decided to wait and see. He continued around the block.

When Adam opened the door, he carefully poked his head just inside. No one was in the living room. “Téa?” Adam whispered. There was no response. Adam could see Téa’s bedroom door was open, so he began to suspect they had all gone out and not bothered coming back.

Adam stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The first thing he detected was an odor. He sniffed. “Is that . . . piss?” Adam asked aloud. Some fluid had dried to the floorboards just outside Téa’s room, and that’s where the smell was strongest. Following the trail, Adam noticed the broken pieces of the doorframe on the other side of the portal. The door was kicked in. A device Adam soon discovered was a step-up transformer sat on the dresser next to the door. The outlet had stripped wires hanging from it. The curling of the copper at the ends led Adam to check the inside doorknob, where he found the fashioned copper hook. Téa had trapped the door. Someone had gotten shocked enough for them to lose bladder control. Whoever she was trying to keep out had gotten in, and considering that the bedroom window was closed, she probably hadn’t escaped. Some half-finished release trap still waited uselessly.

The realization came quick to Adam that Téa had been in trouble and shooed him out of the house. The various bags Téa didn’t let Adam see the previous night were filled with the hardware for her clever little traps. Adam’s head swirled. Why would she keep that a secret from him? Why didn’t she let him help? What kind of trouble could someone like Téa possibly be in anyway? Was it drugs? Was it him?

The doorbell rang. A dozen awful possible visitors flashed through Adam’s mind, but none of them even merited concern, not against the gravity of Téa being in trouble, or worse. Instead, Adam hoped his visitors would further the plot.

The front door had small windows at the top arranged like a slice of orange. Adam peered through this and found two mean mugs waiting patiently on the doorstep. Adam opened the door without a second thought and had a gun in his face before he could blink.

“Morning,” Adam said, not about to blink anyway.

One man had his gun arm extended over his friend’s shoulder. His friend stood in front and did the talking. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he said.

“Nah, I won’t,” Adam replied. “I think you’re exactly who I wanted to see.”

In the time it took Lamont to circle just one time, everything had gone sideways. He wasn’t within four hundred feet, and he could see that the front door to the home was open, and one of the thugs already had their piece stuck inside.

Lamont cursed, pulling his car over.

“What’s going on here?” Adam asked. “Is Téa alive?”

“We didn’t come here to answer your stupid questions.” The thug’s speech affectations outed him as being quite “hood” before moving up to sharply dressed organized crime.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know Téa is alive, and I want to know where she is.”

“Your ass comes quietly, or we blow your damn brains out.”

“Freeze!” the commanding shout disturbed the peace the little slice of suburbia was still pretending it had.

Everyone turned to look. Adam had to lean a little out of the house to see. Some guy wearing a leather jacket was waddling up to the scene with his gun drawn.

“Oh, come on,” Adam breathed, slipping back into the house.

“Farol Verde PD! Drop the weapon!” the man continued to command.

Everyone appeared to be frozen, but Adam caught the unarmed thug surreptitiously reach for the gun at his belt. His hand rested on the grip, and their eyes met. Adam shook his head to disagree.

The man gripped the gun and slowly began to draw it from his belt. Adam could only shake his head a little more insistently.

“Slowly, now,” Lamont said, stopping short of the nearest house. He began strafing for cover behind the neighbor’s car. “Let the gun hang on your finger, and slowly take your arm off the other man’s shoulder.”

The gangster in question began to do what he was told, but then his partner moved. He tore the gun out of his belt, and the two whirled about. The thug nearest Adam attempted to take aim at the policeman, but Adam’s arm reached from the doorway and held him fast. Adam forced the gun toward the ground and pulled the thug inside. The other man aimed quickly and fired wildly at the officer. The bullets flew off into the neighborhood, and Lamont returned fire before rushing toward the neighbor’s vehicle and ducking behind it. All the bullets fired missed their targets.

Adam and his quarry stumbled into Téa’s living room with the gun locked between them. Suddenly regretting spending all his energy, Adam was forced backward. The two blundered into the chair across from the couch and fell onto the coffee table with the thug on top of the whole pile. The moment of impact unseated the legs, and the assembly collapsed into the carpet, nearly driving the air from Adam’s lungs.

Both men had both their hands on the weapon, one on the grip and one on the barrel. The snarling thug atop of Adam was trying to force the barrel into a deadly direction, and Adam was straining desperately to keep it away.

The armed gangster at the door fired two shots into the neighbor’s car to keep the cop under cover and shouted to his partner. “We gotta go, man! If that’s a cop, we gotta go!”

The man trying to murder Adam snarled, “Just a second!”

His strength failing, Adam had to play it smart. He opened his hand on the grip and probed about with his fingers for whatever function he could find. He discovered a button and pressed hard, but then the magazine fell from the grip and onto his stomach. The barrel of the gun was slowly making its way to Adam’s chest with one round still in the chamber, so he focused what was left of his might on trying to push the slide back. That would eject the remaining bullet and effectively safety the gun.

Adam plied his strength to the task, but the thug was quick to react. He held the barrel fast, but at least it wasn’t approaching Adam any more. The force was being applied in a different direction, so Adam took advantage by suddenly pushing the gun straight up over his head. The thug was pulled off balance and accidentally pulled the trigger. A deafening gunshot rang everyone’s ears, and the thug screamed. A small explosion had just been vented into his hand, and then a hot shell was delivered into his waiting palm.

The thug eagerly dropped his useless gun and shook his burned hand free of the shell. He tried to crawl away, but Adam wrapped his legs around the man’s waist. The thug was all the protection Adam had from the other gangster simply shooting him and calling it a day. The thug squirmed and struck Adam, but Adam wouldn’t let go, and he wasn’t interested in fighting back, either. Instead, Adam grabbed the empty gun and found the ejected magazine. He deftly loaded the magazine and chambered a round. Then he pointed it at the gangster standing in the doorway. The gangster saw Adam and pointed his gun right back.

“Don’t!” Adam shouted.

The two didn’t fire, and the man in Adam’s grip stopped struggling. He knew if his partner was going to kill this man, he would have to go through him.

“I only want one of you,” Adam said. His voice was shuddering, sweat beading on his forehead. “There’s a back door to this place. If there’s only one cop, you can get away. I’d give you that chance. I just want him, and you can run.”

“Don’t fucking leave me here!” the man’s partner managed to say over his shoulder while in the grip of Adam’s legs.

The gangster in the doorway hesitated. He was torn between self-preservation and some shred of loyalty. He also considered that the partner he was leaving behind knew his name and would probably dime him out in a heartbeat. Then there was the cop, in all likelihood calling for backup. His situation was impossible.

Suddenly, there was a single gunshot from outside. It tore into the gangster’s exposed shoulder, kicking a splash of blood onto the white of the doorframe.

Lamont’s heart was pounding, speeding that sweet adrenaline into his blood. His stress levels were peaked. One of the gunmen he was in a standoff with was keeping him ducked behind his cover. He didn’t know where the other was, but he kept his head on a swivel just in case he was being flanked. Lamont cursed. His hands were shaking. Having to draw and fire his real gun was affecting him. He shouldn’t have returned fire so wildly in a residential area. He could have hit someone, maybe even a child.

Lamont tried to control his breathing. If he couldn’t get his body under control, then he was just as much of a trauma case as everyone made him out to be. He needed to keep cool, and he needed to use his tools as he was trained—all of them.

Being pinned down as he was, Lamont’s only recourse was to call for backup. Doing some explaining was a hell of a lot better than taking on armed gunmen alone. He dipped one unsteady hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He was about to dial, but then there was a gunshot inside the house, and the suppressing gunfire took a break. Lamont peeked over the hood of the car to see what was happening. It appeared that the gangster was distracted by something. He still stood in the doorway, but was not in an attack posture.

Seeing his opportunity, Lamont quickly choked down his nerves. He slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket and placed both hands steadily onto the grip of the pistol. The exposed shoulder was small, but still. For whatever reason, the gangster was completely inert, but Sergeant Fisher couldn’t expect him to just give up. He had a shot to take, so he rested his outstretched arms on the hood of the car, took aim, and fired. He knew the bullet hit its mark when the blood hit the doorframe and the perpetrator fell inside.

The thug was forced to duck into the house to avoid more damage, lowering his gun from Adam. The decision of whether or not to run had been quickly made for him. He put pressure on the wound and continued through the living room, hurrying to find the back exit.

Adam heard the gangster open the back door and slam it shut behind him. Then the officer shouted an order from outside. “Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up!”

Adam looked into the eyes of his captor and released his waist. “Get off me.”

The thug did as he was told, what with the loaded gun aimed at his kidneys and all. Adam kept that gun pointed at him while standing. “Get on your knees,” Adam ordered. The thug complied, still cradling his burned palm with other hand.

“And don’t move,” Adam finished, gesturing with the gun.

“You won’t shoot me,” the thug tested. “You need me.”

Adam had started walking to the open front entryway but stopped to respond. “I was a soldier. There are lots of places I can shoot you without killing you and even more unpleasant ways to stop the bleeding.”

The thug seemed to take that to heart, so Adam continued to the door, pressing his back against the frame to minimize his silhouette. “Hey, out there!” he called.

“Who am I talking to?” is what came back.

Adam answered after glancing back at his captive to make sure he wasn’t trying anything. “I was in the house when those guys showed up. I’m not one of them.”

“Okay, where are they now?”

“One escaped out the back. The other one is in here with me. I took his gun. It’s safe now. Everything is okay. Are you really a cop?”

“I am,” the voice from behind the car answered. “I have a badge, and the other officers can verify my identity when they arrive. Is the other gunman alive?”

“He is.”

“Okay, then here’s what I need you to do for me: throw the gun out here where I can see it, then you and the other man need to come outside with your hands up, okay?”

Adam shook his head. “No, sorry. I can’t do that. I need some answers out of this man first. I can’t do anything else until I get them.” Reminded of that, Adam turned and quickly pointed the gun at the thug. He hadn’t moved.

Lamont took stock of his options for a moment, and then spoke. “You’re Adam Rodriguez, aren’t you?”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. His face became tight with bemusement. “Who are you?”

“I’m a cop, Adam,” came the answer. “We’ve met before.”

“Two nights ago,” Adam said simply.

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Talk?”

“Yes.”

Adam caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He peeked around the doorframe to see the officer slinking out from behind the car. He held his arms above his head. His right hand gripped his service weapon firmly by the barrel.

“I just want to talk. Look.” Lamont took his pistol in the opposite hand by only two fingers and slowly pushed it back into his hip holster. “I want to trust you. Will you trust me?” He paced toward Adam with his hands at shoulder height.

Adam blinked in the noon sun. “Real pistol this time.”

The cop appeared embarrassed by the observation. “Yes. Look, your mother seemed to believe that whatever you were doing, you were doing it for the right reasons. I want to give you a chance to prove that. That’s why I’ve put it away.”

“You spoke to my mother?” Adam asked. “Is that how you found me? Does she know I’m alive?”

“No. Someone recognized you from a police sketch I had drawn up,” Lamont answered. “I spoke to your mother to see if you were hiding there, but I didn’t let on that I saw you. I saw your friend, Téa, in some photos there. After that, I found Téa’s last name by checking graduation records from your year. That’s how I found her house. It looks like I got here just in time.”

“You should probably see about becoming a detective and get off the beat,” Adam put in.

Lamont smiled affably. “Maybe. I got lucky.”

There was a silence. Neither man knew how they were supposed to move forward with this uneasy ceasefire.

“Adam, I want you to trust me,” Lamont finally said. “I know that isn’t easy, and I’ll admit that when I started looking for you, it was to take you down. I was scared and angry about what you did to my partner, but your mother helped me realize that no matter what you’ve become, you’re still just a man, maybe confused, maybe in a tough spot, but good underneath it all.”

Adam reflected on that. “How is your partner?”

“He’s okay,” Lamont said. “He’s doing a lot better.”

Adam nodded, his jaw set. “I’m glad. I’ve never done that before. He should be okay with some rest and food.”

“Adam . . . what’s happened to you? What was that?”

Adam shook his head. “I don’t have time to explain that to you now. I know the cops are coming here, whether because of you or because of the gunfire. They could be here any minute, and I still have to interrogate this guy.”

“Why did those men come after you?” Lamont asked. “What do you want to know from him?”

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat, and he had begun bouncing his heel restlessly while still leaning against the doorframe. He kept most of his body out of view, including the gun. He still didn’t quite trust the cop. It was becoming impossible for him to trust anyone. All the stress from recent events had put him back in the combative mind-set of battle. Adam finally decided he couldn’t keep fighting everyone. The cop wasn’t going anywhere, and Adam was running out of time.

“I think these men kidnapped Téa, and I think it’s my fault.”

“Why would it be your fault?” Lamont asked.

“I got into a fight the night you met me,” Adam answered. “It doesn’t matter. I’m running out of time. Can I get down to business?”

“Okay,” Lamont held his hands out in a calming gesture. “Do you mind if I come in? Maybe I can help you.”

Adam didn’t like it but said, “Fine.” He stepped from the doorway with the gun held down by his side. Lamont saw the gun but strode past. Finally, Adam turned back to his captive.

“What did you do with Téa?”

The thug looked at Adam skeptically. “Oh, you’re sure as shit not going to shoot me now, not in front of this cop.”

Adam quickly pointed the gun at him. “You underestimate me. He can’t stop me from shooting you. He doesn’t mean anything as long as you have her, and neither do you.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lamont cooed, gently placing his hand on top of the gun and pressing it down. “I’m here to help. Let me help.”

Adam looked at him and allowed the gun to drop, then Lamont turned to the thug. He dropped down to one knee in front of him. “All right, look, the police are on their way. You are going to be arrested. There’s nothing that can change that now, but you can improve your situation. If this girl dies, there won’t be any deals left to make, so you need to start cooperating now. It will improve your situation later if I have good things to say about you in my report.”

Lamont’s reasoning resonated with the thug. He considered it but then said, “I can’t tell you where she is.”

“You son of a bitch!” Adam pressed the gun against the man’s forehead so hard it tilted his head back into his shoulders.

“I can’t double-cross him!” the thug was quick to add. “If I tell you where to find her, you’ll know who he is, and no one rats him out. That’s how he’s avoided jail! You can’t guarantee my safety if I did. Even if he were in jail, he would be able to get to me, and he has people on the police force!”

“What?” Lamont asked.

“But my phone is in my pocket,” the thug continued. “You can call my boss. He will tell you where to meet if they agree to a meeting. You might be able to draw him out.”

Adam and Lamont looked at each other. Adam said, “All right, dial the number and give it to me.”

The thug did as he was told. Adam took the phone and put it to his ear.

“What are you going to say?” the thug asked.

“I’ll handle it,” Adam replied.

The phone only rang twice before someone answered. “What’s up?” a man’s voice asked.

“You Tweedledee and Tweedledum’s boss?” Adam said caustically.

“Excuse me?”

“The two luckless doofuses who said you were looking for me.”

“Are they alive?” the voice asked.

“One of them got away. The other”—Adam looked at the thug on the floor—“crash-test-dummy-looking motherfucker had an accident he didn’t walk away from. He said I was going to come with them whether I like it or not. It was the last mistake he ever made. So who the hell are you?”

The other end of the line was quiet. Adam was afraid the man was going to hang up. “Come on! You grabbed my friend to draw me out, so where can I find you?”

Another voice sounded in the background of the call. “Who is that?” it said.

“I think it’s who you’re looking for.”

“Give me the phone.”

After a moment of shuffling, the second person’s voice came on. He sounded younger than the first. “Hello?”

“Who’s this?” Adam asked.

“I’ll ask the questions.”

Adam shook his head. Whoever he was talking to wanted to get hurt.

“You looking for Téa?” the mysterious man asked.

“That’s right. If you wanted my attention, you’ve got it.”

He chuckled. “Ohh, I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Name the place, fuck-face. And Téa better be safe, or there’s nothing between me and you.”

“She’ll be there,” Adam’s nemesis said. “Meet us at Shredded. I assume you know where it is.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You involve the cops, and I’ll kill her. Don’t test me.”

The other man hung up, and Adam dropped the phone to the floor derisively. In the next heartbeat, he turned and clubbed his captive over the head with the butt of his own gun. The man folded over and slumped face-first into the carpet.

“Whoa!” Lamont was stricken. “Why did you do that?”

Adam gingerly got down on his knees over the prostrate thug and rolled the man over. “I’m gonna need energy.”

“Adam, you can’t be serious.”

Adam didn’t bother to respond. He held his victim’s mouth open and engaged the soul siphon like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it felt as much. Lamont watched breathlessly as the green miasma flowed from the thug’s mouth and into Adam’s. He couldn’t help but feel a little sick.

When seconds passed and Adam was still . . . feeding, Lamont asked, “Uhh . . . will he . . . die if you take too much of that out of him?”

Adam didn’t know. He didn’t care. He needed power, and the power of a human soul was intoxicating. It felt like it was filling a hole somewhere deep inside.

“Adam?” Lamont repeated.

The champion was still slurping away toward the bottom the well, and he was beginning to feel it. The sensation was in his ears, like the crescendo of sound that accompanies water being filled to the top of a bottle. The man was about to die. Adam knew that but couldn’t decide if wanted to let it happen.

“Adam!” Lamont shouted at the top of his lungs and struck the champion on the shoulder. Reluctantly, Adam choked off the process. He threw his head back, sniffled, and sighed heavily like someone who’d just spent too long underwater. The unnatural green glow had returned to his eyes.

Without preface, Adam checked the poor thug’s pulse. “He’s alive.”

“You can’t do this alone, Adam,” Lamont insisted. “Let the police handle this.”

Adam stood. “I don’t want the police anywhere near this. They get a whiff of you, and they might hurt her.” Adam’s gaze drifted away. “Or they might use her to escape, and I’ll never see her again.”

Suddenly, the champion of the Wheel of Fate looked at Lamont in a way the officer didn’t entirely appreciate. The gaze lingered like a hungry tiger’s.

“Okay, what is that look for?”

“I might need more energy.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Whatever I have to,” Adam growled.

Suddenly, both men looked out the window. A police car was pulling into a parallel position in the street to serve as cover if it was needed. Adam quickly made it clear that it was needed. He walked to the open door with the gun.

Lamont’s hand drifted to the gun in his holster. “What are you doing?”

Adam listlessly fired two rounds into the dirt next to the front steps and turned back to the astonished officer.

Lamont sighed in relief. “You used that trick on me.”

“Cops are nothing if not careful,” Adam said. “Looks like it’s time for me to go. You gonna help me or what?”

Lamont shook his head. “You are as stubborn as the day is long, and your mom had your number, that’s for sure.”

“Dammit, this isn’t about being stubborn!” Adam barked. “I can do things you can’t! It doesn’t matter how many people they have! I can become strong enough to end them all!”

“That isn’t strength, Adam!” Lamont rebutted. “You can kill people with that gun in your hand! That is not special! That’s not worthy of the power you have! If you were really strong, you wouldn’t even be worried about taking their lives! That’s strength! That’s a hero!”

Adam very nearly smiled. “Is that why you shot me with a Taser?”

Lamont scoffed. “And look, here you are. You still have a chance to do good. I know you were in the Army Adam, and I know you were trained to kill. It can become a part of you that you can’t let go, but this isn’t war, Adam.”

There was a moment of reflection. Finally, Lamont said, “Maybe I’m wasting my words here. You go ahead, and take that . . . energy out of me . . . and you decide what you’re going to do with it.”

An officer outside got on the bullhorn. His voice boomed into the house. “This is the Farol Verde Police Department! Lay down your weapons and come out with your hands up!”

“Out of time,” Lamont said. “Wait any longer and other officers will surround the house.”

Adam appeared amused by the tidbit. He bit his lip. “Okay. Let’s get this over with, then.”

Lamont and Adam stood across from each other. There was an immediate, awkward tension.

“Okay, uh . . .”

“Yeah . . .”

Adam took Lamont by both shoulders. “Maybe if I—”

“Don’t make it weird, man.”

“Okay, sorry. I just . . . I’ve never done this on a conscious person before.”

“Fine. Okay.”

“Just . . . maybe open your mouth.”

“Oh god. Do you have to do it with the mouth?”

“It’s the only way I’ve ever known it to be done.”

“Fine, okay. Let’s just do this.”

Lamont opened his mouth, and so did Adam. In a second, Lamont felt his life force crawl up his throat, entirely too much like a warm soda going the wrong direction. Adam drank deeply of this. Lamont gave and gave. His eyes fluttered.

The loud voice from outside chimed in. “If you do not cooperate, we will enter using force!”

Lamont’s legs grew weak, and Adam still took from him. It was a reaction Adam was counting on, and he didn’t stop until the officer finally collapsed. Adam caught the man in his arms and slowly lowered him to the floor. He even rolled him into a recovery position.

“That should buy me some time,” Adam muttered. “You can catch up when you’re feeling better.” Adam looked at his gun and then set it down next to the officer’s slumbering form.

Adam didn’t want to go out the front, so he moved to the back door, knowing it had been closed by the gangster he let get away. He motivated briskly down the hall, but when he passed Téa’s open storage closet, a face watched him pass. It stopped Adam in his tracks. When Adam looked inside the closet, he rediscovered the remnants of Téa’s fascination with Japanese culture. Sitting on top of a box of junk was a shiny red oni mask snarling up at some unseen enemy. Adam went to the mask and took it up. It was a demon. Adam regretted that, but it was all he had to work with.

Outside, the police were already getting impatient. The assailants in question were of unknown number and apparently had no problem shooting off guns in a residential area. The call had to be made. The one cop car out front was just a pretense, less than half of what had arrived to the scene. In the back of the house waited six more officers armed to the teeth with pistols and shotguns. They waited behind brush and among the other houses to pounce. When the order was given, they moved from their hiding places and converged on the back door . . . but not in time.

When the team came within a few yards, the backdoor swung open, and something unexplainable emerged. It moved so fast it was barely a black blur. The officers got the vague impression of a man, but the face was all wrong. The thing flew out of the portal and leaped over their heads, grabbing the lip of the roof of the building across the backyard. From there, it jumped again and landed on the roof of the house they were supposed to be assaulting. They were taken by such surprise that none of them even thought to fire. In fact, many just recoiled like they had been set upon by a swarm of angry spiders, tucking their heads into their shoulders and making themselves as small as possible. Luckily, the thing continued across the rooftop and jumped again, landing in the street, but continuing onto the house on the other side. It disappeared into the distance in that manner.

All the officers stood in place for a moment, exchanging befuddled looks.

“What the hell was that?” one finally said.

Adam couldn’t help but giggle gleefully as the wind whistled past his ears. The power was exhilarating, and so was bounding across the rooftops. He wished he could continue on like that, but he didn’t want to risk running out of power. Besides, it was the middle of the day and hardly inconspicuous. The display was good for escaping the whirlwind about to touch down on him back there, but the champion of the Wheel of Fate had to resign himself to the bus for the rest of the trip.

22

Téa was led into the Shredded metal club, flanked by Joshua Truong and four of his men. She was docile and unconcerned with resisting anymore. When Josh went into her cell and informed her that they had made contact with someone looking for her, the news was crippling. They dragged her out for accompaniment while they met the mysterious savior, and Téa just shut down. All her planning and fighting had been for nothing. It seemed they were going to get their hands on Adam, anyway, and that heroic fool was just going to hand himself over.

Téa found herself a seat at one of the tall tables. They were always too busy for Téa to sit there during the night hours, but that day, with the sun just swinging down from its zenith, there was no one else in the club at all. Joshua had arranged for the doors to be open when they arrived, so no one was there to see her plight or to finally save her from the nightmare she was living. That pain was so great that she actually considered trying for one of the henchman’s automatic guns or perhaps Josh’s pistol. She could end it before Adam had a chance to sacrifice himself for her, but he would still show up, and he would still die.

A tear escaped Téa’s eye, and she tried to hide her face from Josh, who sat across from her.

“Looks like reality is setting in,” Josh said callously. Téa didn’t respond. “Actually, to hear Davy talk, this is more how I expected you to be when I first met you. You know, shy, submissive.”

Téa gave Josh a terse look. She didn’t appreciate being associated with the term submissive.

Josh chuckled. “Whoa, sorry. He made you sound like a quiet nerd. I’m just saying, I ran into someone completely different. You pro—”

Suddenly the front door opened, and everyone turned to see. Sunlight shone through the crease, and then a funny-looking face poked out. Joshua was quickly confused, but Téa recognized her oni mask. A strange mix of hope and despair swirled in her heart.

Adam stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Already the tension of combat was taking hold, but it only gave him focus. The situational awareness he’d developed from too many fire fights gave him a quick but detailed overview of his situation. The four guys standing about the room were not tightly grouped. That was good for rescuing Téa, seated behind all of them, but wasn’t good for hitting them all with his fists. They all carried the same machine gun, and while Adam wasn’t trained on them, he knew they were likely nine-millimeter types. That was good. It meant that the solid hardwood bar on the left side of the room would likely hold back more than a few bullets. The man seated across from Téa had quickly drawn his pistol and aimed it casually at Téa’s face. His wrist was limp, his posture relaxed. He had all the attitude of a man holding all the cards, not knowing Adam had an ace up his sleeve. Still, he would have to be fast.

This man, whom Adam knew to be the boss, started the conversation. “Nice mask. You the hero of this story?”

Adam fixed his gaze on his friend’s tormentor. “Yeah. You the villain?” he spoke in a gruff voice, knowing it would draw Téa’s ire. He saw her roll her eyes.

“I don’t think so,” Josh answered. “Heroes and villains are just points of view. It depends on who’s telling the story, really. I mean . . . the whole idea is just . . . old. I’m just a guy doing what I have to. I just don’t have any delusions of heroism like you do. I mean, what is with the mask?”

“I intend for you all to survive this, and I don’t want you to be able to describe me when the police pick you up,” Adam grumbled.

Joshua chuckled. “Dark hair, green eyes, Hispanic, bad haircut, anger problem . . . a lot of people have already seen you and lived to tell me the tale.” He wagged his finger at Adam. “Now, that’s the mark of a man not doing what he has to.”

“Oh, and I have to kill everyone who sees my face?”

Josh shrugged. “That’s how I keep myself clean.”

Adam and Téa exchanged glances.

“You should really be concerned about whether or not you’re going to survive this,” Josh added.

“You’re not doing that anymore,” Adam said. “Besides, are you telling me that you kidnap people and threaten them with guns because you have to?”

“You’re damn right!” Josh said. His voice raised the more he spoke. “You attacked my brother and put him in the hospital. And in my business, this business I do to pay these men and take care of my family, that kind of insult is unacceptable. I have to be strong. I have to be ruthless, because in this line of work, there is always someone looking for a weak spot . . . an opportunity to take my livelihood. This is the only job I’ve ever been good at, and I will take care of my family.”

“That’s why you wanted to meet here?” Adam asked. “That Asian kid I beat up was your brother, and you thought it would be cool to take me back to where it happened? What? Poetic?”

“I am the type,” Josh shrugged, casual as ever.

“If you need to punish someone, you should be trying to punish your brother,” Adam retorted. “He was going to date-rape Téa! I couldn’t leave that alone!”

“Uh, acquaintance rape,” Téa put in.

“Shut up!”

“Shut up.” Adam shook his head, refocusing on Joshua. “None of this would have happened if you’d just left it alone.”

Téa caught Adam’s eye again. The look she gave him was withering.

Adam sighed. “Maybe we both have just reached the point of no return. Fine. Release Téa, and I won’t have to hurt all of you.”

All the goons chuckled to each other as appropriate.

Josh was smiling. He indicated the building with a sweep of his hand. “The owners said you were weird. You sound real special. Honestly, it sounded like the coolest thing ever. I had to meet you. I had to see if you could take four guys with guns.”

“All right, calm down, Mr. Glass,” Téa quipped.

“So I take it you’re not backing down from this?” Adam said.

Josh shook his head, grinning like a thief. “Not a chance.”

Adam took a deep breath. “Fine. Time to see how far I can push it.” His eyes illuminated behind the eyes of the demon mask. The champion of the Wheel of Fate walked the earth.

Adam focused his energy and sprinted toward the man pointing the gun at Téa. No one even had time to react before Adam was at the table. Adam’s target tried to shout an expletive, but the words were still in his throat by the time Adam kicked the tall chair out from under him. The gang leader fell straight down on his back with a heavy thud. The wind was knocked from his body.

The four armed guards could turn their heads and watch Adam blur past them, but their aims and trigger fingers were far behind. Adam grabbed Téa from her chair and leaped toward the bar blindly, with Téa screaming all the way. Adam positioned his body to guard Téa, and his back slammed against the shelves of booze. A few broke, and nearly all fell to the floor with the duo.

Adam was breathing heavily. He took the impact to his lungs better than he could have hoped, but running that fast had winded him. “All right,” Adam grumbled. “You stay here. I’ll protect you.”

Téa immediately smacked Adam on the arm. Adam flinched and held the area. “Ow!”

“Don’t use that voice on me!” Téa whispered argumentatively. “You think I don’t know who you are? Like, you were going to show up later, and I was just going to be, like, ‘Adam, dude, you missed it. Some kind of superpowered hero just totally saved the day.’” Téa then adopted a more masculine voice. “Really, wow. Wish I could have been here.” She shook her head. “How did you just do that?”

“Ugh . . .” Adam shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you later.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Téa asked.

“I don’t know. I think I overdid it, and my head kind of hurts.”

Téa nodded and shrugged. “Makes sense. You went from zero to, like, literally sixty in an instant. Your brain probably bounced against your skull!”

Joshua hauled himself to his feet. His hair was tousled about, and he looked livid with embarrassment. “Where the hell did he go?” Josh barked.

“They’re behind the bar,” one henchman answered.

“Light it up!”

Without hesitating, the four gunmen opened fire on the wood veneer of the bar, punching hundreds of bullets into it. Adam quickly threw himself on top of Téa and pushed her to the floor, praying that the bar would hold strong. Seconds passed, and the barrage stopped. Then Adam heard a group of magazines dropped onto the floor and the distinctive noise of new magazines being jammed into place. Four bolts heralded fresh bullets being pushed into the chambers.

“Are you okay?” Adam whispered.

Téa nodded fitfully.

“Don’t make a sound.” Adam carefully sat up and crouched behind the bar, not wanting to disturb even a shard of glass. There were no holes on his side of the bar, so the bullets hadn’t gotten through, just as he’d hoped.

Josh walked to one of his men and leaned close to his ear. “Go up there and fill that hole with bullets.”

The henchman nodded and moved expediently. The sound of his hard-soled shoes echoed throughout the relative quiet of the room as he walked right up to the bar. He tried to lean over the counter and fire, but a hand quickly grabbed the barrel, and he was pulled out of sight. Sounds of repeated blows came from the other side, and soon the struggle quieted.

“Okay! I think that’s good!” Téa said after the third time Adam punched the luckless henchman in the face. He’d been unconscious since the first one. The other two strikes shattered the man’s nose and made his front teeth crooked. Blood obscured a majority of the man’s features.

“I need him broken,” Adam said, pulling the man from the floor. He heaved the motionless form over the countertop. The body tumbled onto the floor and luckily landed face-up.

All the men on the other side of the bar cringed.

“You don’t need to end up like this,” Adam boomed. “You can walk away, all except for your boss.”

Joshua immediately pointed his gun at his employees. “Any of you so much as thinks about it, I’ll gun you down. He won’t kill you, I will. Now take him out!” Joshua suddenly started kicking his shoes off.

Adam sighed, holding his still-aching head. “I don’t know what to do. I can feel my energy getting lower. I don’t know if I can take on four men with guns.”

Téa thought for a moment, and then her eyes went to her surroundings. She scanned the floor, the shelf next to them, and the ceiling. “We have a gun,” Téa finally said.

“I’m trying not to use it.”

Téa was bewildered. “That’s . . . noble. A little foolish.”

Adam exhaled sharply. He didn’t have a good argument anymore. He just sulked.

Téa bit her cheek. “Well . . .” Téa selected two long-necked bottles from the floor and held them for Adam to take. “How’s your aim with these?”

Téa saw Adam’s smile even with only his eyes visible. “Worth a shot,” he said, taking the bottles. He stood and whipped the bottles at the two closest men. The bottles spun through the air like hatchets and smashed against the men’s chests. The bottles shattered upon impact, and the men were propelled off their feet, landing flat on their backs. The third goon still standing flinched at the horror of such large projectiles flying in his general direction, which gave Adam time to jump over the bar and zip across the room. He drove his shoulder into the last man with such force that the goon was thrown from his feet. The nameless goon’s sternum cracked, and the air was forced from him. He flew across the room as if hit by a car, slid across the dark wood floor and then smacked his head into the wall.

Adam was unused to so much strength and speed. He didn’t know if the man was dead, but he didn’t have a moment to spare to think about it. His vision blurred briefly, and he suddenly felt a little off balance. Moving at that speed was knocking him out, but he stayed on his feet. He turned around and refocused on his remaining opponents. One was getting up faster than the other, so Adam pounced on him first. The man raised his gun, but Adam held it down. With his free hand, Adam smacked the gun from the henchman’s grip and delivered a vicious backhand that sent the man back to the floor, face-first. The other goon had gotten to one knee and was aiming. Adam thought quickly and whipped the gun he held into that man’s face. He closed the distance and booted him in the skull. The goon fell, out cold. The whole exchange hadn’t even lasted more than a few seconds.

Téa was standing behind the bar, mesmerized by the spectacle, when suddenly someone jumped over the countertop in the periphery of her vision. Téa turned to see Joshua Truong’s snarling face just before he brought the gun up. In all the commotion, she hadn’t even realized the gang leader had disappeared. Téa reached for the gun and held it away, but Joshua used his other hand and snatched the hair on the back of her head. He yanked her neck back, and Téa cried out.

Adam had just knocked out the last guy and looked up. His eyes widened, and the cosmic energy burned brighter behind his irises. He watched as Joshua forced Téa’s face onto the countertop and pressed his gun into her temple.

“Let her go.” Adam stalked toward the bar.

“You come any closer, and I’ll blow her fucking brains out all over this thing.”

Adam hesitated in his steps, but then he said, “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“What?!”

“I said shoot her,” Adam said casually.

Joshua chuckled lightly.

Adam waited.

Then he waited a little more.

Joshua couldn’t look Adam in his crazy, burning eyes. The crime boss fidgeted but didn’t make a move.

“But you have to think about what I’m going to do to you when you’re done with that, don’t you?” Adam asked, though it hardly sounded like a question. “You let Téa go now, and I’ll leave you for the cops. I promise I won’t tear your spine out through your asshole. But you go through with this plan of yours.”

Adam bent over and grabbed the man at his feet by the jacket collar. With one arm, he lifted the unconscious henchman off the ground. He made a show of ingesting a short portion of his soul, and then Adam glared at his nemesis. “Even your soul won’t be safe from me.”

To say this affected Joshua would be putting it lightly. He looked terrified, even disgusted. “You’re a monster,” he said.

“Yes,” Adam grumbled in his menacing voice, carelessly dropping his captive. “I’m a monster, a hunter of monsters . . . and men who act like monsters. Men like you. You’re not the first I’ve met, and I know at the end of the day that your first concern is for yourself. You won’t shoot her and give up your last insurance.”

Joshua was visibly seething with rage and indignation by the end of Adam’s speech. His face was all scrunched up, and Adam could smell the stupid decision on the air. Josh burned holes into Adam with the rage in his eyes. “It looks to me like you don’t have much left. Maybe I’ll just shoot you!”

Josh took the gun from Téa’s head and aimed for Adam, but Téa reacted energetically to him threatening her friend. She screamed, “No!” and knocked it away. Josh pulled the trigger, and Adam swore he could feel the heat of the bullet as it flew by his cheek. Josh wrestled with Téa’s uncanny determination for the gun, but Adam was on him in the next instant. He grabbed Josh by the gun hand and by the throat, and then he dragged him over the countertop. Joshua landed on the floor, choking and sputtering. The strength in his gun arm was no match for Adam’s, and he couldn’t budge it an inch from the hardwood.

“You feel that?” Adam snarled. Josh just choked some more. “That’s fearrrrrr . . . that’s powerlessness, the same fear and powerlessness that all the people you’ve ever terrorized and killed felt right before one of your men pulled the trigger. Now your neck’s in the noose!”

“Adam?”

Joshua’s eyes started to roll back into his head, and the champion of the Wheel of Fate felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder. A light voice reached him. “Adam?”

Adam turned to see Téa kneeling down next to him. She looked into his eyes and smiled, seemingly not concerned for the criminal at all.

“You did it,” Téa said. “You saved me, and no one died at all. Thank you.”

Adam’s grip loosened on the criminal’s neck. Josh coughed and caught his breath.

“He’s beaten,” Téa continued. “Defenseless. No need to take that last bit.”

Adam sighed. “No. There isn’t.” He stood, taking Josh’s gun.

Téa took Adam’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“No,” Adam said, stopping Téa. “You still have work to do.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The police aren’t just going to arrest these men because they showed up in a pile.” Adam pulled out the burner phone Téa gave him and handed it to her. “You need to call the police and be here as a witness to the things they did.” Adam knelt down and quickly knocked Joshua unconscious.

“What about you?” Téa asked.

Adam stood and peeled off the oni mask, revealing the man underneath. “I’ll wait for you at home. I know I have explaining to do. I’ll do it there. For now, I need to get going. The police are probably already on their way.”

Téa nodded numbly as Adam started putting all the bodies into a pile. He checked all of them for signs of life and was pleased to discover that his record of heroic nonlethal takedowns was perfectly intact.

23

Lamont awoke with a start when the other officers tried to rouse him. To Lamont, it felt like he was coming up from under water. Intense light hit his face. He caught his breath, and it almost felt like he was being pulled back down into the dark. His head felt murky, like when a person sleeps too long and only awakens more tired. His energy was drained. The other officers kept him calm and then tried to get the story out of him, and Lamont had to explain how someone he never saw had choked him out from behind. He was just driving by when he saw the door to the house open. Armed men were moving about inside. Fearing someone was in danger, he took action, but when he tried to disarm the men, a shootout occurred. Someone got the drop on him, and he was blacking out before too long. Lamont seemed healthy enough, and his eyes responded normally to the light, so the emergency medical responders allowed him to be driven to the police station. He fell asleep again in the back seat on the way there, but soon he was shaken awake one more time.

Lamont dreaded having to see the captain again, but there was no escaping it. He told the other officers he would be okay, and they graciously allowed him to walk into the precinct on his own. He made it inside without suffering a narcoleptic episode and started muddying his way through the bullpen. Not much caught his attention about the room until a young woman with burgundy hair came out of an interview room. Lamont stood straighter when he saw her from the other side of the office. She was smiling with surprising joviality and speaking casually with the crisis counselor. Even having been saved by her friend, the ease at which she brushed off her ordeal was staggering. The two women seemed to be getting along famously.

“Téa Vardo,” came Captain Michalis’ voice from Lamont’s periphery. The gruff middle-aged policeman was looking downright clichéd in his pinstripe shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lamont said. “I heard it was her house that those men were in.”

“Right. It seems that young Ms. Vardo somehow ran afoul of Joshua Truong and his boys. The man arrested with you was one of his. He’s not talking.”

Lamont had heard of him. Truong was a Vietnamese immigrant who’d taken to becoming an upstart crime lord. He trafficked in drugs and stolen goods mostly. “Has Truong been brought in yet?” Lamont asked coyly.

“Yeah,” Michalis said. “The Vardo girl called 911 on them from a hard rock club downtown. I don’t know why they were holding her there, but when our men arrived, they found Truong, and his gang tied to a bannister with their own fancy coats. The knots were so tight we had to cut them off. Meanwhile, there was Téa Vardo having a drink at the bar without a care in the world.”

“So they’re all alive— and —and they’re not talking, I take it?”

Michalis side-eyed Lamont. “Yeah, they’re alive, and they’re not talking about anything besides lawyers. According to the Vardo girl, they were all knocked unconscious by a masked vigilante with superpowers. Whether they would corroborate or deny that claim, it would be admitting that they had the girl hostage. And they can’t lie because they never had a chance to get their story straight, so they’re just keeping their mouths shut. But here’s what interests me about this story . . .”

Lamont turned to look at the captain.

“Right before all of this happened, you were at Téa Vardo’s residence, where some other officers claimed they saw a man fly out of there like a bat outta hell. Did some impossible things, like jump clear on top of a roof from the ground, cleared the street, and flew away before anyone could give chase.”

Lamont snickered pathetically. “That’s weird. I didn’t see anything like that.”

“Yeah,” Michalis mused. “What were you doing in that neighborhood . . . with your personal weapon?”

Lamont was nearly caught off guard but smiled affably and shrugged. “I felt naked without my piece. What can I say? And um . . . I needed a drive. I’m not used to all this free time, and then with the baby at home, don’t even get me started.”

“You and May all right?” Captain Michalis asked.

“Oh, yeah. We’ll be just fine. We’ve been through worse than a little girl . . . I think.”

Captain Michalis cracked all the smile he was capable of and clapped Lamont of the shoulder. “Good. I’m glad you two are doing well, but are you telling me that you weren’t following leads on your . . . unusual perp?”

Lamont looked at the captain again. “Yeah. It was nothing like that.” Lamont smiled. “I’m not trying to follow up on that business on my own. You know me. I’m not some kind of renegade cop. Come on, Cap, me?”

Michalis nodded in begrudging agreement. “Yeah. I suppose so. That’s good.”

Téa had finished her chat with the counselor and was on her way out the door to get a ride back home. The two men paused their conversation and watched her pass by. She offered them a shy smile and passed without a word.

“So does it look like we’ll at least have a case against Truong?” Lamont asked after Téa was gone.

“Yeah,” Michalis grunted. “Téa Vardo agreed to be a witness to the kidnapping and other operations the Truongs had going on, and I think we can flip a couple of these other guys for plea deals.” He scratched his stubble. “It doesn’t exactly take care of the problem of security, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most of Joshua Truong’s MO was intimidation, and he will have a network on the outside even while behind bars, and that’s assuming the judge doesn’t let him go on bail while he awaits trial. In the meantime, Vardo and all our witnesses will be in danger. We offered her police protection, but she refused it. She thinks she’ll be safe living all alone in that house for some damned reason. All I can do is maybe have a squad car pass by every once in a while.”

After what Truong’s goon said about crooked cops on the police force, Lamont wondered if Téa would even really be safe with protection. “I could do it,” he said.

“You?”

“Yeah. I think I could convince her to let me watch after her. It’ll be just me. I think she’ll go for that. I’m on suspension anyway, right? I could talk to her.”

Michalis folded his hairy arms across his chest. “That might just work. You’d have to be taken off suspension, though.”

Lamont waited.

“Okay,” Michalis said. “You’re off suspension, and you’ll probably need to be on plain-clothes duty until the trial, but this is only if she agrees to you as her protection.”

“All right!” Lamont said. “No worries, boss. I’ll get her to come around. Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m only allowing this because I think it will be good for you. You obviously can’t manage to be lazy for even a minute of suspension.”

Lamont winked at the captain before heading out the door. His life had suddenly become so complicated. All at once, he was lying to his wife and to his boss, and for what? Who is Adam Rodriguez? What is he? That was still the question. That’s what drove him onward, deeper into this fine caper the young duo had found themselves in: an unexpressed longing to know.

“Ms. Vardo! Please, wait!”

Téa and her attending officer both stopped on their way to the squad car. They waited expectantly for the meaning of the intrusion.

Lamont jogged over and trotted to a halt in front of the young witness. “Hi!” he said breathlessly. “I’m Sgt. Lamont Fisher. I’m with the Farol Verde Police Department. I’m just a little out of uniform right now.”

The sergeant extended his hand to shake Téa’s. She took to it gracefully and beamed an amused smile. “Hi!”

“I was just assigned to your protection detail, so I was hoping to get a ride back to my car with you guys.”

Téa kept up an impressive facade of amiability in the face of someone insisting on hovering around the home where she was hiding an interdimensional demon. She waved the officer off casually. “Oh, no. I don’t need any protection, I don’t think. I’ll spend all of my time with friends and family. No one will be able to get close. I thought me and the police captain had already come to an understanding about this. I don’t really want any protection.”

Lamont folded his arms and fidgeted as he spoke. “I know, but we figured we’d try again. We thought maybe you would agree to it if it was just me and I kept myself scarce, you know. Also . . .” Lamont lowered his voice out of the other officer’s earshot. “I figured your uh . . . houseguest . . . could vouch for me.”

Téa could hardly contain her shock. The expression on her face became calculated. “I don’t have a houseguest,” Téa grumbled. “I live alone.”

“Adam and I have already spoken, Téa,” Lamont rebutted. Téa’s eyes darted about. “Don’t worry,” Lamont continued, “I haven’t told anybody, but I need to go with you. I think the three of us need to have a talk.”

Téa was still glancing about the environment. She looked left and right, over Lamont’s shoulder and then briefly back at the rookie cop standing a respectable distance behind her. Téa looked like a woman trying to figure out how many witnesses there would be to Sergeant Fisher’s murder. Finally, she cultivated a begrudging smile between her rosy cheeks. She turned around to speak to the female officer. “Okay. I guess if it’s just one guy, what the hell. I shouldn’t gamble with my life.”

The female officer smiled and nodded.

The group piled into the squad car and were on their way in no time. Lamont and the other officer sat in the front. Téa languished in the back with her sweat and pounding heart. She could only guess at this strange policeman’s motivations, if a policeman he truly was. The other officer seemed to recognize him. Throughout the trip, the two conversed of simple things. They would attempt to include Téa in the conversation, but Téa had withdrawn, only managing a shrug or a nod when prompted.

Téa learned the male officer had a family: a wife and infant daughter. He smiled when he spoke of them, even the hard times. There was an easy relatability to his character, no matter how hard Téa fought it. He seemed too sincere to be harboring dark intentions. At any rate, the group arrived at Téa’s house and bid farewell to the rookie officer assigned to drive Téa home. The woman drove away with a long farewell wave out the window, and Téa was left alone with the strange sergeant.

Téa led the way up to the door, all the while searching her brain for any means to rid herself of the cop. She didn’t know if he was on their side or not, but she didn’t want to leave it to chance. He’d seemingly already pierced her biggest secret. And she wanted her medication. She hadn’t had any in days.

Adam was doing little more than brooding when Téa stuck her key in the lock and opened the front door. He smiled as he went to her. “Hey! Good to see you in one piece. How’d it go?”

“Okay, I guess.” Téa looked over her shoulder at Lamont sidling into the house after her.

“Oh, I see you’ve already met, uh . . .” Adam paused. After a moment, he smiled. “I never got your name. That’s embarrassing.”

Téa answered. “He’s Sgt. Lamont Fisher. He’s with the Farol Verde Police Department. He’s just a little out of uniform right now.” Téa quickly abandoned the scene by walking into her room and turning the corner to mess with something on her dresser.

Adam shrugged. “She can be weird.”

“I hear nothing but good things.”

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.” Adam offered his hand to Lamont. “I’m glad to see you back here.”

“Oh, is that so?” Lamont paced over to Adam but didn’t take his hand.

“Yes.” Adam dropped his hand. “I just think that you and . . .” Adam leaned over slightly to peer behind the officer. Téa had reappeared from her room and was standing behind him in her doorway. A dark expression painted her face. “I could be friends.”

“I came here for an explanation, Adam. I want to—”

Lamont turned to see what Adam was staring at. Téa quickly affected a more pleasant facial expression. Lamont gave her a nod and went back to Adam. “I want to know what I’m dealing with. I lied to people close to me in my life to protect you, and I don’t even really know why. I know that you’re something different and incredible, and . . . I just have to know more.”

While Lamont talked, Téa revealed that she was holding an old nail file in her hand. She brandished it behind the officer’s back and tilted her head at the man questioningly. Adam furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head as surreptitiously as such an action could be performed.

“With the things you can do, you could be a real force for good. I guess I want to give you a chance to be that,” Lamont finished.

Adam put on a smile. “And I want to be that. Why don’t we all sit down? This is going to take a while.”

Everyone got comfortable. Téa heated herself a package of ramen noodles and offered everyone else some, too, but they declined. Her coffee table was broken, but she didn’t mention it. When she finally sat down in her reclining chair—away from Lamont, where Adam made her sit—and started pouring the flavor packet into the bowl, Adam went about the daunting task of relaying his situation and the events of a span of time that defied quantification because of relative time between dimensions. It was the weirdest thing he’d ever said. It started with the mission in Afghanistan, Operation Lone Prairie, and how he met his end at the hands of Harun El-Hashem. His audience was regaled, repulsed, and sympathetic. Then came the hard part: his life after death. He had to explain the Wheel of Fate, the Custodian, the cycle of life and death, and what the world beyond death was like. He detailed the peril the world could be in, his mission, and why he was sent back. That was when he caught up with Lamont and the events that surrounded their first meeting. He finished by relaying what the Custodian had told him about how his new body functioned, the superpowers that came with it, and the drawback of sustaining himself with the souls or other people.

A quiet followed the end of Adam’s story that made him tense. Lamont looked pensive afterward, but Téa was enthralled like a child being told a fairy tale. “Wow!” she finally said.

Adam smirked bashfully. “Yeah. I’m sorry I lied to you about what I was really doing here.”

Téa’s mood changed in a heartbeat. She almost looked insulted. “Adam, this isn’t a primetime drama! You expect me to whine about how”—there Téa adopted a mocking sob—“you should have told me the truth because I’m your best friend, weh!” Téa shook her head. “Like a damn soap opera! I mean, I used to think that you had just abandoned us for your job and that you were bored with your life here. Instead, you’re a soul-sucking, like, fey-human from another dimension put on earth to hunt evil.” Téa scoffed. “That’s so much better!”

Adam fought a big smile but couldn’t beat it. Téa’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Lamont hadn’t interacted with the group yet. In fact, he seemed lost in his own little world.

“You look like you want to say something,” Adam said.

Lamont didn’t look at him. “I’m still coming to terms with the idea that you say you saw the other side and there was no heaven waiting for you. No god. No angels.”

“Not that I saw,” Adam said.

“No . . . just this big flaming wheel that takes all our souls . . . melts them down, and just puts us back in a body to go again.”

“I know it’s not ideal—”

“It’s farfetched,” Lamont interrupted, “and I admit I have trouble accepting it, but then there’s the other part . . .” Lamont continued his monologue, staring far away. “The chupacabra.”

“Yeah?” Adam asked. “What about it?”

“Christina and Daniel Lacey came to the precinct this morning, saying they saw some kind of monster in their yard. The girl called it a chupacabra.”

Téa and Adam exchanged surprised looks. “It was in the town?” Téa asked. “And it went after Christina and Danny?”

“I can’t really say it went after them,” Lamont answered. “Still, you were sent after this thing, and suddenly here it is? Making a big scene for people you know personally, marking the first real chupacabra sighting in years? Cops don’t call something like that a coincidence.”

“Scary thought,” Téa breathed.

“We need to find this thing,” Adam put in.

“We?” Lamont asked.

“Yeah,” Adam looked at him. “I will probably need help. I know Téa’s on board.”

“Damn right,” Téa said. “My life has never been so exciting. I was literally living my life waiting for something like this to happen. How am I even supposed to go in to work tomorrow?”

“She’s smart—and eager—no doubt about it,” Adam continued, “but I could also use someone like you too. The way you tracked me down, you’ve got skills I need, and resources too.”

Lamont shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“We need to find this thing,” Adam reiterated. “It’s dangerous, and according to the Custodian, it’s throwing the whole world out of whack. You’ve seen what I can do, and someone already said they saw the thing. Now’s not the time for disbelief and indecision. Will you help us?”

“Yeah”—Téa smiled at the sergeant—“will you join us in saving the world?”

Lamont sighed. “I have a family. I already didn’t go back home today like I said I would. I have to think about them. I have to think about my job. This . . . this is all just too much.”

Adam nodded. “I understand.”

“Just . . . let me think about this. I need time to think about it.” Lamont stood and made his way to the door.

Adam and Téa didn’t try to follow or press him. Téa just said, “Goodbye, Lamont,” in her little voice.

Lamont smiled wryly and offered a short wave before he closed the door on his way out.

“I think he’ll come around,” Téa assured Adam.

Adam bit his cheek. “Maybe . . .” Suddenly, Adam jumped from his chair and bounded for the door. Téa almost stopped him as he tore the door open and bounded outside but said nothing. She didn’t know for sure if what he was going to do would help or push Lamont further away.

Lamont was hardly surprised to see Adam run out of the house just as he was about to start the car. He rolled down his window to let Adam say his piece.

“Fisher, wait!” Adam jogged up to the door and leaned down to speak, not winded at all. “I have to tell you something. I . . . I don’t know if it matters to you, but I respect you. I respect your morality and your hardline stance on right and wrong. You’re wise, and you’re good inside, and I don’t know if I am. I’m angry, and I’m impulsive, and I can be stupid sometimes. Sometimes all I have is my gut, and it seems like it’s wrong more than it’s right. And I don’t want to let anybody down.”

Lamont exhaled sharply before he spoke. “It’s normal for a person to question their actions, Adam. The world is a hard place, and it doesn’t make it easy to know what the right action to take is. Every action has unforeseen consequences we can’t even fathom until it’s in front of us. The best intentions can create the worst outcomes, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sometimes, our gut is all any of us have.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“And what I’m talking about is that I don’t have any more answers than you do,” Lamont said. “I’m a little more experienced and a little more cautious, but it doesn’t mean I always know what the right thing to do is. All I know is that your heart is in the right place, I just—”

Lamont cut himself off, and Adam swore he saw the glint of tears barely finding purchase in Lamont’s eyes.

“What is it?” Adam asked.

Lamont exhaled heavily. “Adam . . . uhm . . .” Lamont swallowed, “Look, I want to tell you a story. About a year ago now, me and my old partner were in an abandoned factory. Marco was his name. Good man, not any different than you or me. We were responding to a call about suspicious noises coming from inside the factory. Someone thought they heard people inside, maybe someone was in trouble. It was day, but most of the windows had been boarded up, so it was dark . . . just dark as the deepest pit of hell. We had our flashlights out, but I swear to God or . . . whoever, there was something evil about that place. The darkness seemed to . . . just crowd in on us from every side. Then we heard the noises. They were small, but somehow that made it even worse. It was like there was always something moving just outside of our flashlight beams. It could have been just bums or rats, but I know my nerves were getting the best of me. My flashlight beam was shaking, I got so scared.

“We were moving down the halls. We called out every once in a while, identifying ourselves and asking about inhabitants. Then there was crying, something like whimpers. They echoed. We could hardly tell which direction it was coming from. There was a serial killer at large, kidnapping women and doing horrible things to them. We didn’t know where his hideout was, but me and my partner figured we may have stumbled onto it. Suddenly, my flashlight just barely catches the edge of something, a brief reflection of eyes looking at us. When I swept back to it, some pale, ragged, shambling thing came at me. It wasn’t moving fast, but it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before. My partner fired his weapon, just once.”

Lamont paused. He didn’t show it, but Adam had seen enough trauma in his time to know when someone was struggling to keep themselves together, so he was quiet, waiting for Lamont to continue whenever he was ready.

“He hit her right in the chest.” Lamont breathed. “She fell against me and held onto me. I nearly dropped everything in my hands, but she was so light. I’ll never forget how light she was. She was no more than sixteen and probably made even lighter by whatever horrors she’d been made to endure up to that point. She just hung on to me. She looked up at me, and I looked back . . . right into her little eyes. She didn’t look scared or even in pain. She looked . . . confused . . . like she didn’t understand that she’d been hit.” The officer sighed. “Her name was Mikayla Blume. She’d gone missing weeks earlier, presumably another victim of who the media dubbed the Broken Butterfly Killer. She died right there in my arms.”

Adam was quiet for a time. He knew there were no words that would soothe a pain like that, but he didn’t want to leave Lamont hanging there in the silence. “It can be hard to see young people die, especially when that person is . . . an innocent.”

“That’s not the worst part.” Lamont looked to Adam with hard eyes. “The worst part is knowing that if Marc hadn’t pulled the trigger, I would have. He was just a fraction of a second faster than me.” Lamont sighed. “Your new power is like a loaded gun. I just pray that for everyone’s sake—including your own—that you find the wisdom to keep it pointed in the right direction.”

Lamont started the car and rolled his window up. He pulled away quietly, leaving Adam in a street that felt more empty than any he had ever been in before. Adam lingered there for a time. The conversation had drained him, and it took a great effort just to go back into the house.

Téa emerged from her room as Adam entered through the front door. She saw Adam’s face and became sullen. “How did it go? Do you think he might change his mind eventually?”

Adam sighed. “I don’t know. He’s a man of faith. He’ll have to dig deep to make a leap like that.”

“So what do we do now?” Téa asked.

“I don’t know. I think my first priority is going to be keeping you safe. If that guy is as bad as he’s been made out to be, you could use someone like me around.”

Téa smiled. “Ohh, I could always use a guy like you around, but will it be safe for you? What if the news shows up? Or a member of either of our families? What if someone sees you and starts asking questions? It doesn’t even have to be someone close. All it would take is for someone to recognize you. How can you stay here?”

“I have to stay here,” Adam said. “For whatever reason, the chupacabra is here, so here is where I belong, at least for now.” Adam became wistful. “I don’t know if I have it in me to be a hero, but I know that all kinds of sacrifices will have to be made. I can make those sacrifices. I can be strong—what?”

Téa had developed a sour expression. “Urrr, nobody talks like that.”

Adam chuckled softly, cracking a grudging smile. “Thanks, Téa.”

Téa bit her lip. She clearly had something on her mind.

Adam humored her. “What?”

“Do you need to eat?”

Adam smiled. Téa’s indomitable absurdity was making its presence felt. “I don’t think so, at least, not as long as I have soul power to live on.”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“Sorry.”

“What about going to the bathroom?”

“You know what? I haven’t felt the urge to do that yet.”

“Weird. I wonder if it even can.”

“I don’t know.”

“How about sex?”

“Well, I hope to find out one day.”

“Ahh! You’re like a virgin again.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Totes, breh.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you think you could pick up a car . . .”

Téa had many more questions, but Adam couldn’t answer a majority of them. The two old friends watched movies, made fun, and generally lazed about until late in the night. Finally, Téa had to admit how tired she was and went into her room. Adam had the couch for the night, but again, he couldn’t sleep. The energy was just too much. He worried about his new cop friend, hoping that the man would join them, but a big pessimistic part of him doubted it. The future just seemed so bleak, and he had an impossible task ahead of him. He dwelled on the danger. He lamented his position in the universe and the fact that he would have to live in hiding, away from the people he missed so dearly. The next morning, the sun rose brightly over Farol Verde and painted the atmosphere in a vivid tapestry of violent red hues. It was a sky that promised the world would go on for quite some time. Adam sat on Téa’s rooftop and watched it rise. He watched it lie right to his face.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 05.03.2019

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