It wasn't far to the zip station. Darm stepped into the closest car and dropped into the seat beside the door. The longest hop on the route - his eyes went to the posters hanging between the viewpanes, ignoring the screens near the ceiling. Twenty-four-seven propaganda ... The flyers weren't any better, but the artwork was usually pretty good ... Not today.

There were only two other people - a couple sitting really close together at the very front. Not many went to the end of the line - not much there.

A little nap wouldn't hurt. He put his feet up on the next seat and closed his eyes. Didn't seem to be any time at all and the stop signal had him blinking awake. The station light flashed and the door hissed open.

He clambered down the ramp and made a bee-line for the bush on the other side of the boarding platform. Scanning, he walked along the edge of the trees. They were a lot bigger than he remembered. Had it grown over? A bit of a gap caught his eye, more of a deer path than a trail - that was the one. His arm came up after the first branch swatted his face. It would take longer than he planned ...

Out of the city - even if he had to sleep in the woods one night ... he kept pushing through. After a while, the trees thinned and he dropped his arm. It was clear enough to jog - make up lost time. Soon, a gravel road could be made out in the distance. Surprised that he was there already, he ran to it, then swung toward the sun. He could walk the rest of the way.

Something shining at the edge of the dirt ahead caught his eye and, as Darm closed the distance, a smile started. Twice lucky? In one week? Sure enough, a wad of scrip, good and thick, all done up tight with a band - provenance.

Even with Maggie unlocking the chit, there was always a trail to worry about. Now he could worry about it much later. He touched his chain and leaned down to -

"Hey! Where'd you come from? Give that back." The dog moved off about ten feet and sat down with the roll dangling from his mouth, wagging his tail. Darm walked slowly toward the pooch with his hand out. "Come on, fella, you can't eat it." The dog jumped back a few feet and sat down again. "Here. I'll trade you half a sandwich for it." He reached into his pack and grabbed what was left of his snack. Unwrapping it, he showed it to mutt face - but he wasn't interested.

Blasted dog looked like he was smiling - cute though. Not full-grown, still all legs and paws. Nice blonde fur - oh, he dropped it! Darm dove for the money, tossing the food down in its place, but the dog just sat there, panting. Then he was on all fours, running for the trees.

Darm kicked the sandwich into the ditch, shrugging. Must live nearby. He pulled the band off the scrip - charmed all right. All big bills ... He slid a few off and stuffed the rest into his pack. The last village wasn't very much farther and he was set to do a little bonus shopping.

***

Bend-over-wherever was far behind him. Darm glanced at the card the general store owner had given him, then looked around. There it was, the muddy lane. He hurried to turn onto it and get to the trees. The feeling had stayed with him the whole way - followed, watched. He tried to shake it. The sense that he should know what it was, pay attention ...

He needed to change channels. Trev should've caved to curiosity by now. It wasn't fair to be so cryptic ... But there really wasn't a way to explain. He had to see for himself. Maggie didn't have to live in Tent City - well, she did, but not because she was broke. Who'd trust her if she lived high? Once Trev was set, she could hang out with him - and he'd make sure that Sheila was all right ...

The pine trees were petering out and he caught a glimpse - yes, a log cabin. Darm jogged the last little bit, shifting the bags he carried to one hand to dig the swipe out of his back pocket. He flashed it past the lock. With a loud click, the door popped ajar.

More of a log shed, but it would do. He dumped the supplies on the rickety-looking table. Smiling to himself, he dropped the pack onto the double bed shoved against the wall. It would more than do - for the time being. Tent cities and flop-houses ... an end to that crap.

He looked around at the plain, almost bare room, then out the windows. It was almost dark, but he could still see the forest. And smell it. He pushed the window up to let more of it in. It was only a few steps back to unload.

He dipped his head in a slight bow then dug into the first bag. Bread, lettuce, cheese, some sliced meat, apples - his mouth watered. It didn't take him long to satisfy his hunger. Then he jammed the rest of the food into the tiny bar fridge, which, as the owner had promised, was on and working fine.

And he'd also said the water was good. Darm let it run for a minute then filled a paper cup from the package he'd bought. Not that chlorinated crap - the real thing. A trickle of excitement was rising. He was out of there, out of the city.

The hours of the day caught up and digestion took its toll on the last little shot of energy. A trip to the can was about all he had left in him. Afterward, the mat was spread on top of the mattress, the pack serving as a pillow. He was out for the count.

His eyes opened again. They burned, but the words in his head flamed hotter. Had he even slept? Oh, but he had to get up. The moon shone through the unadorned window, so bright it looked like dawn.

He padded to the leatherette couch, dropped onto it and swung his feet up on the coffee table. Buck naked except for the socks. Laughing, he pulled them off with his toes, then wiggled them. The sense of longing came back out of nowhere. Words jumped into his awareness, pressing him, shoving him - daring him to speak them.

He wasn't ready. Wait. Patience. To the demons with patience! The lust filled him, the anticipation, the old addiction renewed, restored. The incantation was on the tip of his tongue. Memories of the way the words had filled his mouth, caressed his ears, the -

Darm's eyes rolled up, caught by ... He couldn't make any sense of it. Something floated at the left corner of the ceiling. But he hadn't said the spell - and it wasn't to call anyone ... Oh-oh. Maybe he didn't have to say it - maybe all he had to do was think it ... The words could've been wrong.

He stared at the thing above him - why couldn't he - instinct jumped the gap, triggering a scream. It died in his throat, cut off by a thunderous command.

"Silence!"

Who ... was that? It dawned on him that he'd shut his eyes ... He didn't want to look. Had to be a dream. Just a bad dream. He forced them open. And screamed.