May 8, 2041

Southern Border of the United States

Southeastern Texas-Northern Coahuila

 

Marisol Gutierrez followed the rest of the migrants, jumping down from the back of the panel truck. The only light was a dim red glow from a light held by one of the coyotes.

"Border is that way," he told them, bored. "Go west when you're past the fence. West only, North and east is a big road, lots of Border Patrol. Small roads to the west, no towns."

Marisol made sure her water supply, formerly two bleach bottles, were tied down tightly before heading for the fence. Once she'd climbed the homemade ladder up and over, she looked around. The only light was a dim glow to the east, probably the freeway lights around Langtry. A middle-aged woman was having trouble with the last rungs and Marisol helped her down. The ladder immediately slid up and disappeared over the fence as the coyotes pulled it back.

The woman thanked her, and Marisol smiled before starting to walk away.

"You're going the wrong way," the woman said. "We're to go this way."

"I'm meeting someone," Marisol said. "Go with God."

"Good luck," the woman called, before turning to follow the others.

Marisol took a several deep breaths before she began jogging to the northeast. After twenty minutes, she began to see the glow of headlights crawling across the night. She stopped beside some medium sized rocks and drank as much water as she could out of one water bottle and dumped out the rest. Cutting open the side, Marisol pulled out a sealed package that had been taped to the bottom of the bottle. Repeating the process with the other bottle revealed another sealed box.

By the time she got to shoulder of the road, Marisol was wearing a silk shirt and had a hijab wrapped around her neck with new British papers in her pocket. Everything else had been buried near the rocks. Along with the new identity, she had a small cellophane envelope in her shirt pocket. As she walked down the shoulder of the road, she saw the glow of headlights from beyond the next rise.

Marisol opened the little envelope. She dipped her fingers into the envelope and took a deep breath before wiping her fingers, now coated in habanero oil, under each eye with and under her nose.

"Shit!" she yelped, waving her hands in front of her watering eyes.

Whatever secret agent wannabe that had dreamed up this bullshit plan, they were going to have some serious explaining to do when she got back. She waved her hands in front of her eyes and continued down the road. The glow of the headlights became a white SUV with a green stripe on the fender. Marisol made sure the hijab was over her head and opened several buttons of her shirt.

The brake-lights of the SUV came on as it passed her and the driver made a U-turn and pulled over, pinning her in the headlights. She'd been trying to breathe through her mouth but as she made her scared face, she sniffed through her nose. She almost gagged and her nose began running profusely. Behind the headlights, she could see both doors opening. Two men walked in front of the headlights, approaching her slowly.

"Border Patrol," one of them announced in Spanish. "Do you have identification?"

"What are you saying? Doesn't anyone speak English in this bloody country?" Marisol replied in a strong West London accent.

The agents looked at each other. This wasn't one they'd heard before.

"Ma'am, where are you coming from?" one of them asked in English.

"Oh, thank God! That bloody Charlie just drove off and abandoned me here!"

"Who did, ma'am?" the other one asked, looking at her exposed cleavage.

Marisol barely held back a sob. "I thought he was nice, he seemed nice on the internet when we met. But then I flew all this way to meet him. But he didn't look like his picture and wanted me to do...things. Awful things. When I refused, he said he was taking me to the airport but we started arguing and then he just left me out here!"

She tried to wipe the tears away from her red eyes as she sobbed once. Both men winced as snot dripped from her nose. Another long line of it dripped over her upper lip. Marisol used the back of her arm to wipe it away but ended up smearing it all over her cheek.

"Uh, do you need a kleenex?" one of the men asked.

"Thank you, that would be very kind," she sniffed, pulling a hanging streamer of snot back into her nostril.

Both men visibly flinched this time. Marisol would have laughed if she could. Now, instead of paying attention to her forged papers, these two weren't sure whether to hit on her or hose her off.

"Ma'am, who left you?" the other agent asked.

"His name is Charlie Jones, we met on the internet, a dating site. He works at the Laughlin base and I came all this way to visit him and then he..." Marisol buried her face in her hands. "I was so bloody stupid!"

The other agent returned and handed her a wad of paper napkins. She wiped her face and thanked him, not having to fake her gratitude.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but what kind of things did he ask you to do? Were you hurt?"

"I didn't recognize any of the...things he was showing me. Except the little saddle. That's just too much. When I said he wasn't to lay a finger on me...well, here I am."

The agents looked at each other, fighting back smiles. "What's your name?" one of them asked.

"I'm Atiya Hakim. I'm English."

"Do you have identification Atiya?"

"My passport, some credit cards. Can you help me?"

"Sure we can, can I take a look at your passport?"

Two hours later they were dropping her off at a hotel near the tiny Del Rio airport. Marisol traded numbers with them both and promised to keep in touch before going inside to get a room.

Too bad Atiya is disappearing Marisol thought. The blonde one was cute.

Still, she was going to have a conversation with whoever did these idiotic travel plans. They owed her a couple of first-class flights after this crap.

 

 

May 8, 2041

Ciudad Juarez

Northern Chihuahua

 

A broad-chested man waited outside of the bodega, ignoring the passers-by. They were happy not to be noticed. He was a vicious looking thug, with an elaborately trimmed and shaped beard that marked him as an enforcer for one of the southern cartels. The wide berth everyone gave him meant that no one entered the market, ruining the morning's business. The owner wasn't happy but wasn't suicidal enough to go out and tell the pendajo to move on.

Finally, a classic El Dorado painted a vivid metallic orange-flake and sporting ridiculously oversized rims pulled to the curb. The thug moved a passing man out of his way and bent down next to the car. After trading a couple of sentences, he climbed in and the car pulled out with a screech of tires.

"Nice ride," the thug said in English. "Name's Jonesy. We get to take this all the way to the border?"

"Only if you're in need of a proctological exam. We're crossing as Mormon missionaries, got a nice beige church-van all charged up."

Jonesy glowered at Juarez going past outside of the windows. "At least I can get rid of this damn beard."

"Looks like you were down south."

"Yeah, rolling up exo-trafficker operation. Somebody up the food chain is farting sparks over something."

The driver glanced at him. "Surprised they sent you up solo."

"Team leader is crossing another way. The rest of them are holding in place."

The man stared at him. "Ops split a team in the field? Phew, that's evil juju man."

Jonesy nodded gloomily.

 

 

May 9, 2041

Itinerant Worker Point #4

Blue Lick, West Virginia

 

Marisol Gutierrez was getting out of a beat-up taxi in front of an even more decrepit looking motel. The parking lot was full of beat up trucks mostly but there were a few sedans here and there. A bunch of kids were playing on the balcony on the second floor, watched over by a couple old women. Two old school buses, sloppily painted white, were in the lot, dropping off a large crowd of migrant workers. Marisol headed for the office as they headed for their rooms, greeted by the shouts of the children.

Marisol stepped into the office, dark after the bright afternoon sun.

"Ain't got no rooms available," a man called from the back.

"My cousin has a room, I don't know which one."

"What name?" the manager said, shuffling out of the dark of the back room.

"Emiliana Garza?"

He nodded. "Yeah, got here yesterday. Two-eighteen, stairs around back."

Marisol nodded and walked down the parking lot. There were a lot of curious looks, especially from the groups of young men. One of them called out remarks in Spanish that would've landed him on the wrong side of a sexual harassment charge, at most jobs anyway.

For a moment she wished she'd worn something sleeveless, the muscles and tattoos on her arms usually bought some cheap respect. But they were playing spy, so Marisol just laughed and called back insults that were teasing more than angry. Laughter at the hapless admirer followed her around the edge of the building as she climbed the stairs.

She tapped on the door of two-eighteen, calling out for Emiliana to let her in. The curtains twitched as someone looked out and then she heard the door unlocking. Inside, Jonesy and another man were sitting with their backs against the headboard, throwing cards at a hat on the dresser. The woman that opened the door had long dark hair that draped over one shoulder. Her skin was nearly the same color as Marisol's but the shape of her nose and slight epicanthic folds around her eyes showed more of a Pacific Island heritage.

"Kawehi!" Marisol whisper-shouted and the two women hugged tightly.

"Mari-contrary! How've you been?" Kawehi asked.

Marisol grinned at her "Busy. Got a promotion to Chief Sergeant though. How about you?"

"You may call me Lieutenant Moana, plebe. No need to salute, simple groveling will suffice."

Marisol put an arm over Kawehi's shoulder. "Damn, I thought I might have finally caught up."

"With me? Please," the other woman said and they both laughed. "Meet my Warden, Nate Jackson."

The man beside Jonesy got up and shook hands with Marisol. "Good to finally meet the legendary Marisol Gutierrez. I've heard a lot about you."

"She made everything up but the dirty stuff," Marisol said. "Hiya Jonesy."

"Hey boss. How was your trip?"

"Unbelievable, I came over with illegal migrants in the middle of Texas. Whatever this little side-trip is about, we've got to adjust our raid timeline."

Kawehi looked a little embarrassed. "Actually, your whole op is on pause while Nolan's gang gets down there. The rest of your team will hand things over and start working their way up here."

Marisol was suddenly furious. "What the fuck are they thinking? We spent fucking weeks getting everything ready. Now I've got fucking offworld agents in my shit? Are we invading fucking Mars next?"

"Mari, take a breath and relax," Jonesy said as he hopped off the bed. He offered her a bottle, and she had a swallow and then another. It was rum, a very welcome change from the raw pulque they'd been drinking.

"My temper is completely shot, but that was out of line," Marisol said. She pulled off her long-sleeved shirt revealing a form fitting vest covered in pockets. She unzipped that halfway and sat against the headboard next to Jonesy. "I'm completely crispy."

"How long has your team been operational?" Kawehi asked, pulling a battered chair over to the bed. She gestured to Jonesy and he handed her the rum.

"Six months now," Jonesy said. "Got sent down south after wrapping up a bug hunt. Richards' entire troop got wiped, so we got their op after we wrapped ours up."

"I hadn't heard about that," Kawehi said. "Absent comrades."

She took a pull from the rum and they passed the bottle around once more.

"I'm going to apologize first," Kawehi said. "You're both here because of me."

"How's that?" Marisol asked, taking a bottle of water that Jonesy offered her.

"I asked for both of you, specifically."

Jonesy was surprised. "And Ops okayed splitting a team up, mid-operation?"

"Operations tends to give the Commonwealth agents whatever they need," Kawehi said with a half-smile.

"Anything they can do to get us the hell off Earth again," Nate added.

"This operation was ordered from fairly high up in the Commonwealth hierarchy," Kawehi said. "It's going to be delicate and I wanted two of the best operators I know."

"You were always blowing sunshine up my ass," Marisol grumbled.

"Whoa, what?" Jonesy said. "I always thought you two were studying. I had no idea anything that interesting was going on."

Marisol elbowed him in the ribs while Kawehi gave him a withering look. Nate just laughed.

"What's the real reason you wanted us?" Marisol asked.

Kawehi shrugged. "Because the three of us can pass as Latinos."

"That sounds a lot closer to the truth," Jonesy said. "And we both are Latino, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Jonesy," Marisol said. "What's the new game, Kay?"

"The three of us are going to do initial recon. When the rest of your crew shows up in a few days we'll be able to roll on the op. It's a recovery, one that needs to be done delicately."

"Kay, that's way too fast," Marisol said. "We're not the team you want, not right now. I'm not the only one with a hair-trigger temper, everyone is just as worn out as I am. Snatches need a lot of prep and planning. What's so important it can't wait for a prepped team?"

Kawehi smiled. "This is the part where you start to love me again..."

 

The next day, Nate was sitting in the middle of the floor meditating when the door to the motel room opened. Kawehi sagged into the room and flopped down on the bed. Marisol was behind her and immediately pulled off her work shirt and went to rummage in the cooler.

"Don't stink up the sheets," Nate said to Kawehi as he unfolded himself from the lotus position.

"You are an asshole," Kawehi said, eyes closed. "I haven't worked that hard since hell week."

"Even I'll admit that was a long day," Marisol said, opening a beer. "Would you like the shower first, Kay?"

"So, you don't nasty up the sheets?" Nate added.

Kawehi sat up with a small groan. "I was wrong, you're both an asshole and and a shithead."

"You hear the way she talks to me?" Nate said to Marisol.

Marisol laughed, but Kawehi ignored them and got in the shower. She closed her eyes, leaning on the wall and let the hot water run down over the sore muscles in her back. The door opened and closed but Kawehi didn't open her eyes. Something very cold pressed against her arm and she jumped.

"Doctor's orders," Marisol said from the other side of the curtain.

"Ooh, shower beer." Kawehi took the cold bottle of beer and sighed happily.

When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Jonesy was the only one in the room, looking annoyingly cheerful. He was sitting against the headboard in just his shorts. Kawehi dropped her towel and gingerly laid down next to him.

"No tan lines? Nice," Jonesy said.

"Well your lines are still the same old assy ones. This is still my natural skin color. Please tell me they went to get food."

"Yes indeed, there's going to be pizza because I won. You can't have any of my winnings though, not if I'm assy."

"You won what? Same Old Tired and Assy Lines Award, or Jackass of the Year?"

"Like I'm ever gonna make Jackass of the Year around here. No, I bet the boss that I'd find the kid first. Loser had to do whatever the winner wanted. She thought she was gonna get laid, but I want to lay around while she gets me pizza."

"How has she not killed you yet? And I didn't see a single gringo except that bossy blonde girl."

He laughed. "Gringo? Anyway, you didn't see the other group planting in the back field. There was a kid with black hair and blue eyes. And I mean really blue eyes."

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know Emma, but I saw the pics. Definitely the same eyes and bone structure. And there was another kid, real thick bubba type with him, keeping an eye on him maybe. It's gotta be him."

Kawehi sat up. "Are you 'sending an email' sure?"

Jonesy handed Kawehi her tablet. "It's him."

A few minutes later, an innocuous email went out. It was in Spanish and talked about the working conditions and the pay a new hire could expect.

 

In the monitoring station, Jeff was about to turn things over to his deputy and finally get some sleep. They stopped talking as his computer chimed. He immediately sat down and opened it.

"What's up?" the deputy asked.

"They found him. Let's get those call-outs to her crew."

Another message went out, a tweet this time. Various watchers saw it and immediately sent more messages on. Whether SMS, email, tweets, or brief phone calls to wrong numbers, the word spread; get north, fastest.

 

 

May 13, 2041

Unincorporated Village of Watson's Hole

Western West Virginia

 

The man they all called the Good Brother sat in his dimly lit office above what had been the town's city hall. His town, but not his planet. The windows had been painted over and covered when he'd first come here. The Good Brother hated the unnaturally bright sun here, the light always made his head feel like it would explode.

He wore the only proper clothes he'd been able to find on this miserable rock, a black hat, shirt, and suit. He'd also donned the persona of the "Good Brother" to blend in with the insects here. Being thought of as a religious authority was very convenient. It even allowed a certain...latitude of behavior that might have drawn attention otherwise. Even on this rock full of religious cults, there was such a thing as too far.

He was looking through his private projections when there was a tap at the door.

"What."

The door opened and his current assistant looked in apologetically.

"I said no interruptions."

"But there's some folk here to see you, Brother."

Dark cocked his head. "Are you unaware of what the word 'interruption' means? Send them away and we will later review the importance of obedience."

The man swallowed, looked behind him and back at the Good Brother, but still didn't close the door. Dark's continual curiosity quickly outpaced his irritation. The worm should have scurried away, but something in the outer office was worse than him.

He stood up, not bothering to hide his inhuman quickness and the man flinched but stayed where he was. The curiosity was awake and burning now. Whatever made this insect defy him, it must be truly interesting. He stalked over to the door and threw it open. There were two men waiting for him, with the same pale skin, the same black suits and hats. They stared at him.

"Leave," he said to the assistant who got out of the way as quickly as he could, out from between the Good Brother and whoever these relatives of his were.

Dark turned around and went back to his office without saying anything. The other two followed him inside. One of them closed the door firmly.

"I am Gnik," the slightly taller one said, speaking first to assert his authority. "That is Szep. We are to audit."

Dark sat down without offering either of them a seat. He broke the protocol to establish his own authority, to show them that he didn't care. He was the master here, not them.

"You say you are auditors, but no reports are due, and my experiment thrives."

"We have seen. It has grown, yes?"

Dark leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers. "By twenty-six-point four nine percent. Nine points over the predicted median. These fools prattle on about their freedom and rights but they're so eager to surrender themselves to a perceived authority..."

"Yes, yes, you are most talented administrator. However, our interest is not in the spread of your minions. The audit concerns an individual."

His hand flashed toward his desk drawer but as quick as he was, Gnik's stun dart hit his chest before he'd moved more than a few centimeters. A carefully modulated pulse of electricity flashed through his chest, neck, and head. He slumped, completely paralyzed.

"Ah, you see, your assumptions have betrayed you," Szep said, coming around the desk. "While we are here to audit, we are not the Audit."

Gnik's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. "Forgive my clumsy speech, I am still learning this new method of grunts and moans. We are the Question."

Dark's stomach clenched with the unfamiliar feeling of fear. The Question, why hadn't he known?

"The Chairman is preparing to advance our effort," Szep said, wrapping a wire around Dark's wrist. "First, all must be as it was ordered. Perhaps you remember your traitor, the Jenkins? We found her and she is silenced."

Dark strained to move but the shot had been perfect. It would take a while to get his muscles to move, probably far too late to do any good.

"Now we are come to your fascinating experiment," Gnik said, pulling a small box out of his coat. "The Chairman was certain that you had complied with all of his directives. I correctly guessed you had not. Szep was surprised at my insight but I remember your arrogance and know that a Curiosity is an unnatural thing, a filthy growth. But even I am surprised now. Outright treason and open disobedience of the Sacred Chains? Your outrages go beyond even my imagination."

He would have pointed out the pathetic limits of Gnik's imagination, but he was focusing, trying to move his finger. There was a slight twitch, hardly noticeable but given the right circumstance, he could turn their assumptions to his benefit. But something had to be done quickly before...

White light burst behind his eyes and Dark's body arched. After a few seconds they let him fall back into the chair. He tried to catch his breath while convulsions shook his body. The wires wrapped around him created an answering current in his nerves. They could deliver any sensation directly into his brain. There was no defense.

"Just a test," Gnik said. "Have you never been under an inducer? You might be surprised to know I have my own experiments as well. Of course, mine are sanctioned by my betters. Allow me to explain, I've created a nerve induction protocol of my very own. Have you seen a Question Bringer work? A talented Bringer can vivisect a subject while they are conscious of course. But it takes a master to completely remove the skin without killing the subject. Even then, the process leaves the subject quite insane. My humble contribution removes any worry that a subject will die from shock, leaving them untouched although they feel their flesh peel away.

"The pain has driven several to madness," Szep giggled. "But even an abomination like yourself must remember the Fifth Protocol; 'The Future Comes in Tiny Steps.'"

"Let him move a bit, Szep. I want his answer."

The iron bands wrapped around his body eased a bit and his head fell back as he gasped for breath.

"Allow me to indulge my own filthy curiosity." Gnik said. "Why did you allow it to live?"

"The Chairman's directive was faulty. I needed time to study it, to see why it was so critical to remove and destroy. What if this is a new weapon against us?"

Gnik clucked his tongue. "You should also recall the Third Protocol, Good Brother; 'Obey joyfully, without comment or question.' You have paid a fool's price and all you've gained is a lesson on curiosity. On individuality. I will have it brought here. I will take it apart piece by piece and you will see that these were worthless delusions of a diseased mind. Then I remove your consciousness to its new home."

"The Clamor, brother," Szep hissed. "A fitting reward for a fool's willful curiosity!"

He would have spit in their faces if it had been possible. "You are fools who cannot see your hands in front of you."

Gnik regarded him dispassionately. "Yet you are in my power. Szek, begin my induction protocol."

At first there was nothing. Then a strange pulling sensation on his wrist began and he gasped as he felt his skin pulled away from the flesh, a narrow strip of agony crawling up his arm. It began on his other arm as well. He bit his lip bloody, refusing to give this animal the pleasure. There was another bright streak of agony across his forehead and Dark screamed as he felt a strip of scalp wrenched away.

There were a few men nervously waiting outside of the door. The walls weren't very thick, and they looked at each other as the Good Brother shrieked.

"He screams higher than a woman," one whispered.

There was another long scream, so high pitched it hurt their ears. One of the men stumbled out of the room, hand over his mouth as he retched.

 

Vic blasted the old pickup straight through downtown. Someone started to pull out in front of him, but he held the horn down as he tore through the intersection. He was pissed off but good. Those two arrogant brothers of the Good Brother had sent him on an errand, like he was some green recruit. Him! He was practically the Good Brother's lieutenant, not some kid. Although, if he was honest with himself, it was more like his brother was really the one who was Dark's right -hand man. Still, Vic was his little brother! They'd done the Good Brother's work, burning the places where the abortionists worked, burning the churches the Good Brother identified as heretical, even shot the preachers when they didn't hide well enough at least. They'd even snuck out one night and burned a few of them nigger churches. Vic grinned at the memory. They'd gone out in the middle of the night like they had when they were kids and were back before sun-up. Too bad the churches were empty, but the Good Brother loved his rules and Jacob hadn't dared get caught.

He sneered as he drove up the driveway to Brother Greer's place. There were a bunch of spics working in the field, but he ignored them and drove up to the house on his errand. When he got out of the car, the first thing he saw was Brother Hiram's daughter writing on papers in the shade of the porch.

Forgetting his errand, Vic watched her for a bit. She was a pretty little thing, just getting ripe. He would have liked to do a lot more than watch, but she was an Elder's daughter. He'd seen what happened when you started breaking rules.

Once he'd even helped, methodically breaking every bone in a man's arm while another man held him down. The old fool, Karl Hanks, hadn't just refused the Dark Brother's commandment, he'd raised his hand against a member of the priesthood when they'd come for his woman. The Good Brother had told them all; refusing his word was a sin against Heaven itself. There were harsh consequences to that kind of sin.

 

He didn't know why Karl had fought so hard over his wife and daughter, neither were much to look at. Maybe because Good Brother didn't trade him anything back when he'd ordered the wife and daughter married off to other men in the congregation. Or maybe, as plug ugly as he was, the old man had realized he wouldn't easily find a woman that someone wouldn't just take away from him again.

Vic giggled out loud. He was going to find it even harder now. The hospital up in the city hadn't been able to save his arm and no woman in her right mind wanted a one-armed cripple.

The pretty little blonde looked up at the sound. "What you want here, Victor Knox?" she demanded.

Vic realized he'd been standing there staring at her. Hiram was an Elder and tight with the Good Brother. If he thought Vic was messing around with his daughter...

"Blessed Day, Sister Julie," he said in the sweetest voice possible. "Church sent me down to fetch young Teddy back to town."

"He's busy working. What they want with him?"

Vic spread his hands, making his pious face. "I'm nothing but a humble messenger."

His temper, never far away, began to simmer. Who did this blonde-haired harlot think she was questioning him?

"If you're lyin' my daddy will find out. He's around back," she said and went back to her tallying, ignoring him.

Vic gritted his teeth. Why, he ought to go over there and take her by the hair and...then the memory of Karl's screams lent him some sense. Teaching her some manners, even with a little extra fun thrown in, wouldn't be worth the price he'd pay. Vic spat angrily as he stomped off. Finally, he found Elmer's fat kid and his foundling both washing up next to the barn.

"Sent to fetch you," Vic called.

The foundling and fat kid looked at each other and then back at him. "Who?"

Vic paused. He'd been so wrapped up in his vengeful thoughts and fantasies he didn't quite remember. He made a quick decision.

"Both of you. Get your shirt and get moving, fatso," Vic snarled.

"Ain't fat," he heard Junior mutter.

Vic already knew to ignore it. Brother Elmer had a wicked temper and wouldn't take kindly to Vic giving his sweetheart's brat a thrashing, back talk or no. The three of them piled into the truck. Being the smallest, Ted was shoved into the middle.

"What's going on?" Junior asked but Vic ignored him.

 

Jonesy watched the truck drive off down the gravel driveway. He pulled out a phone and speed dialed a number.

"Go," Marisol said from the other end.

"Tan Ford pickup just grabbed the kid. Rusty older model, white aluminum cap."

He ended the call and put the phone away. A few feet away, one of the other workers was stooped over, pushing tobacco plants into the dirt. He was carefully ignoring Jonesy.

"Bad things will soon begin happening around here," Jonesy said in Spanish. "There will be a lot of police and federals poking around."

The man straightened up and looked at Jonesy. "You're a federal?"

Jonesy grinned. "Not even close, compadre. I'm getting out myself."

With that, he began jogging toward the main road where he'd meet one of their rented trucks. There was a shout from behind him and he saw people dropping what they were doing and heading for the pair of reclaimed school buses that brought them to the job.

 

Marisol leaned over to hit the horn. The three people sitting on the picnic table came running to the truck. "Things just got moved up," she said as they piled in. "He's in a local's truck headed for town."

They pulled on seatbelts as her driver floored the large black Dodge pickup out of the dilapidated roadside park they'd been waiting in. Two of them quickly sent updates to the rest of the team while the third studied a map.

"We're going to end up in the town," he said after a minute. "We're too far out to do it any other way."

Marisol nodded. "Pass it on. Tell Shep to take them off the road. And do it gently, outside of town, if possible. We're going to have to play this as it comes."

 

The Good Brother slumped in the chair as the device was turned off.

"You still refuse to answer," Gnik said.

Dark spat out a mouthful of blood from biting his tongue. "Your protocol is novel perhaps. However, it is obviously the product of a dull mind. Shall I give you some hints?"

"Do you think the transitory nature of sensation lends him strength?" Szep asked the other Question.

"Possibly. We do not have to explore this, his little project must be disposed of," Gnik said, opening another box and carefully pulling out a large vial of gray dust. "For now, the Clamor awaits you, traitor."

Dark began to struggle in the chair. He had to escape this. Szep took the top off the vial and stood beside him. Gnik entered commands on the device and nodded for Szep to proceed.

"You are breaking protocol..." Dark started to say.

Szep shoved the vial in his mouth, dumping the dust in. Then Gnik held Dark paralyzed with the nerve inducer while Szep poured water in his mouth, forcing Dark to swallow.

"The protocol governing the mites doesn't apply to traitors," Gnik said as he watched the readout. "You should be grateful, if we had used the tools these brutes have, your consciousness might be damaged. But I wouldn't want you to miss one moment of The Clamor."

Dark's pale skin writhed as the mites traveled to their targets. His eyes rolled back in his head as skin began to disappear from his scalp. A few seconds later his skull began to dissolve as well.

"Can you feel your mind being attacked?" Gnik said, almost lovingly. "Feel pieces of yourself falling away? Soon you will..."

The Good Brother didn't get a chance to hear what was going to happen next. The door splintered and flew open. Both of the Question turned toward the threat, and both were immediately flung back, shot by the guns held by the handful of "priests" that had come to save their prophet. A man yanked the induction device off the wires wrapped around Dark and he convulsed, flopping against the straps holding him down.

"In his hand," he screeched. "Now!"

Jacob, the brightest of his insects grabbed the control and held it for him. Dark tried to push a button and missed. But Jacob pushed it for him. Then Dark pointed to another part of the control panel. He managed to hold up two fingers.

The man, brighter than the rest of the insects, did as he was told, not wanting to look at the Good Brother's head again. Had those been brains he'd glimpsed?

"All out," he whispered, going limp in the chair. "You stay."

"You heard the man," Jacob said immediately. "Everyone out."

He closed the door behind the last man and leaned against it. "What can I do, Brother?"

"Wait."

 

"Faster! We're not gonna make it," Rachel snapped as they roared into the little town.

"Chill out, kid," Shep muttered, wrestling the big truck through a corner.

"There!" Rachel yelled, pointing to the intersection ahead of them. A beat-up tan Ford with a dented white cap was turning the corner.

"Ye of little faith," Shep said, pushing the accelerator to the floor. The engine downshifted and began to roar as the truck leaped ahead.

"Oh...shit," Rachel said as she realized what he was about to do. She braced herself in the seat.

 

Ted tried to keep his leg from touching the legs on either side of him. It was already too hot in here. At least they were almost there, Brother Vic was turning down the main street when Junior suddenly yelled "Look out!"

Before Ted could turn his head to look, there was a huge bang. His breath was knocked out of him and he was thrown sideways against Junior. The truck spun in a full circle and then smashed against a phone pole.

Through the cracks in the windshield Ted had a surreal view of the wires overhead swaying crazily all the way down the block. Then Brother Vic said a really bad swear. Ted had the crazy urge to laugh but knew better. He untangled himself from Junior as the older man peered out the window. Suddenly, Vic shoved him back against Junior, reaching across the cab to retrieve the pistol from the center console. Ted stared at him. Was he going to shoot the other driver? Whatever the reason, they had to get out of the truck now. When Brother Vic got his fits, he was even more dangerous to be around. He shoved Junior who looked mesmerized by the big silver gun in Vic's hand.

"Open that door!"

Junior snapped out of it and began yanking on the door handle, but nothing happened. Ted leaned over to help him push. There was a strange popping noise and the windshield dissolved into a spray of glass. Something hot splashed over the boys and they looked at the gore covering each other's face with wide eyes. Junior screamed as he saw the mostly headless corpse in the driver's seat.

"Open it!" Ted screamed, shoving Junior back toward the door.

"Tryin' to!" Junior screamed, fumbling at the handle and throwing his shoulder against the jammed door.

The door was pulled open from the outside as he shoved and Junior fell out onto the pavement, getting the wind knocked out of him. Ted started to crawl after him but froze. There were two masked figures pointing strange looking guns at them both.

"Get out of there," one of them ordered. It was a woman's voice. A very angry woman.

"You leave 'im be!" Junior gasped from the ground.

The woman grabbed Ted's arm and dragged him out of the ruined truck. He stumbled as his feet hit the ground and he saw another masked figure with his gun on Junior.

"Okay, okay! I'm coming, don't shoot him! He didn't do nothin' to you."

"It's just that fat kid," the woman said. "Leave him."

"Ain't fat," Junior said muttered, more or less automatically.

Ted had another insane urge to laugh. The strangers ignored Junior but the smaller one grabbed Ted's arm again.

"You're coming with me," she said, pulling him.

"Why?"

There was a half second pause. "Because I said so!"

Another black truck stopped a block up the street. Ted jumped as a long stuttering roar punched air into his eardrums. He wanted to hide as the sound echoed back from the ridges. The woman was twisting his arm as she pushed, and he felt his shoulder creak in its socket.

The truck that hit them was there, but the front end had been destroyed by the impact.

Ain't going nowhere in that, a calmer part of Ted's mind noted.

 

The operative called Shep made sure the other kid was staying down and glanced up the street toward the church and sighed. Against any kind of sense, people were starting to come out of the buildings. They should have been huddled inside after that burst of heavy machinegun.

Instead, they were all coming out of the buildings. And they were all looking toward him. And all of them were armed.

Shep keyed his mike. "Six, Charlie Two. I got myself an interesting development here."

Marisol's driver, Ian, had stopped a block away from the other side of Shep's collision. The townies were filing out of doors all over the place, like you would if there was a loud accident. Except they were carrying shotguns, pistols, even a few hunting rifles.

"Yeah, I see it, Charlie Two" she radioed back. "Break. Where you at, Sierra One?"

Her SUV rocked on its suspension as another large black SUV blasted past it on the cross street.

"Uh, hi, Six," someone radioed back. "We're here."

No one in Marisol's truck said anything, just watched as the other SUV went into a skid and drifted around a corner, tires smoking. A moment later, it reappeared behind the heavily armed crowd. The SUV straightened out and the horn blared as it flew at them. The crowd scattered except one man that wasn't quick enough and was clipped by a side mirror.

"Well, that's certainly a..."

A loud boom and a shower of glass interrupted whatever the operative was going to say. They all ducked as another window exploded inward and Ian was already gunning the big SUV, roaring away down the street.

"What that hell was that?" Marisol yelled over the noise from the missing back window.

"Little old lady with a double barrel," Deidre yelled back. "Knocked her on her ass, I think she came out of the diner. They're coming out all over the place. Shit, they all got guns. Who are these people?"

 

Another large black SUV screeched to a halt right in front of him and the woman that had his arm behind his back. Behind it, he could see the townsfolk it had chased getting off the ground and starting to run toward them. The back door was flung open from inside.

He was shoved toward the open door and hands reached out to drag him inside as the woman behind him kept pushing. He got a brief look at the woman pulling him in before he was pushed down in the seat. The arm-twister flipped herself over the seat. He started to sit up, but the other woman put her hands on his back.

"Stay still for a couple of minutes," she said. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise."

Ted didn't move. Everyone was talking at once as the SUV accelerated and then slammed on the brakes again. There was a thump from the front and between the seats, he saw a figure in black jump on the hood. They accelerated again and there was a dull thwack as something hit the vehicle.

He pressed himself lower in the seat, he'd shot enough junk cars with Junior to know the sound a bullet made hitting metal. There were more bullets and the man on the hood slid up the windshield. From above, Ted heard the rattling noise that had exploded Brother Vic's head. There was a small tinkling sound and brass casings fell past the window.

He nearly rolled off the bench seat as the SUV slammed on the brakes again. The woman helped him sit up as the back door opened and the person that had been on the hood jumped inside, shoving against him.

"We should be clear to the transfer point," someone in front said. "Let's get out of this insanity."

"They do seem a little excited at the moment," the man beside him said. "Maybe it's Jack's willful disregard of pedestrian safety."

The driver barked a laugh. "I figured you were ready to go."

The man beside him began to pull off his helmet and mask. Ted quickly concentrated on the floor between his feet. He didn't want to know what they looked like or who they were. He just wanted to get his feet on the ground. He'd dodged Junior enough times, he just needed a couple seconds with no one paying attention. Outside, another large black pickup pulled up on the driver's side. Another SUV pulled up outside the passenger window. Ted put his hands over his hears and put his head on his knees but he could still hear them talking.

"Everything okay?" someone in the other vehicle asked.

"Hiya Boss. Little crowded but nobody's leaking in here," another voice answered.

Then there was a shotgun blast from behind them. They rolled up their windows and the black vehicles started moving again.

 

He looked at his reflection in a mirror. Those filth. My beautiful skull!

The nanotechnology that had been dissolving the Good Brother's head had reversed the process as ordered but too much damage had already been done. Instead of the smooth, aristocratic skull he'd been born with, he was left with a misshapen, ugly ruin. The left side looked like it had been deeply dented in, the top of his head had two smaller, but similarly deep indentations. He ran his hand over the back of his head, it felt wrong as well. He looked at himself again. His skin was patchy and blotched where the mites had created new substrate for his flesh to grow across.

"Filth! Filth! Filth! Filth!" he shrieked kicking Gnik in the face each time. His screams turned wordless as he destroyed Szep's face as well.

"Brother," Jacob finally said.

He spun quickly, forgetting the man had even been there. The insect was looking at him, eyes wide and he couldn't let him know that...something. What couldn't the man know? How much of his brain had those rectum biters destroyed? And why couldn't the fool know...whatever it was?

"What," he finally said.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Exasperated, he waved a hand at his head. "Do I look okay?"

"Not to argue, Brother, but you're looking a damn sight better than you did before."

He stared at the man, trying to reorganize his mind but 'better than before' changed things. Yes. He was better than before. Much better, the chains that had bound his mind were barely memories now, half remembered suggestions. He was free! It took this primitive worm to see the truth, he was better all right. His curiosity had come unbound and he was perfect. Now he could bury this shit stain of a planet.

"Stop calling me Brother," he said, after another glance in the mirror. "I am the rock I will build my church on. Yes, the rock."

Completely unsure what was going on, Jacob simply nodded agreement.

"No! You are the rock but I am smaller!"

Jacob nodded agreement to that as well.

"...what is smaller than a rock?"

"Uh, pebbles?" the human guessed.

Yes! I am the pebble become man. The Pebbleman. The Pebbleman that will begin the avalanche that buries the world in...whatever. Why does the world now require burying?

He reached up and caressed his head. He loved this new head, so different and exciting.

"Yeah baby, the Good Brother is dead and gone," he suddenly sang in a high-pitched voice. He clapped one hand over his mouth and saw Jacob staring at him. He held up a finger for the man to wait.

Jacob looked very worried. "Are you sure you're okay, Bro...sir?"

He cautiously dropped his hand, not quite sure what would come out of his mouth. "Hoo-boy. I won't mislead you Jacob, no spur. My eggies got scrambled but good. But meow I have been healed by the Holy Spit! Can I get an almond!"

There was a pause as Jacob wrestled with that. "You mean amen?"

"Yes! That one!"

"Amen, brother," Jacob said carefully.

Pebbleman could see the uncertainty on the man's face. Reassure him. Yes, reassurance. I will need onions to aid in my work. Minions? Trunnions? No, it must be onions. That's what I need and I think I've been staring at this human for too long. Reassurance!

"Brother Jacob, as you probably noticed, I've had a fairly serious neurological...event," Pebbleman said, concentrating on speaking clearly and calmly. "May I still count you among my flock? Will you grease my monkeys to reach the...the hates of two dice?"

"...your monkeys?"

"Yes? Flock of monkeys?"

"No. The Good Book mentions flocks of sheep, Brother. No monkeys."

"Yes of course," Pebbleman said, gesturing vaguely at his raw scalp. "My event of course."

"I better stay with you til you're feeling better, Brother."

"Hmm, yes," Pebbleman said, trying to look wise. He is an ignorant insect but he sounds certain about the monkey issue. How curious. Should I tell him...what? What am I supposed to tell him? He looks scared, am I staring again?

"No primates at all? You're sure?"

Jacob sighed. "No, Brother. Just lambs, no monkeys."

"But, a troop of lambs? Don't be ridiculous. Lambs come in flocks, not troops."

Jacob nodded. "Flock of lambs, I swear."

"Those little shit-covered things."

Jacob simply nodded.

"Very well...what is that racket outside?"

"Guns. Something must have happened. There was a bang and they've been shooting."

"Shooting."

Jacob nodded again.

"You didn't go and see why someone is outside shooting their buns?"

"Shooting guns. And you told me to stay with you, sir."

A strange warmth filled Pebbleman. Could it actually be affection? Right here was his beloved servant, the sock he could build his...falling down thing on.

"You are my right hand, Jacob. Let us go and see what the fuss is all about."

Pebbleman strode through the door. Jacob followed, grabbing his hat. "Brother, do you need this?"

Pebbleman stopped and regarded the hat. There was danger there, in that hat. He didn't want that hat. Not right now, later. Then he could...

"Brother?"

"Yes?" Pebbleman said with a start.

Jacob cleared his throat. "You were just staring at the hat, Brother."

"For too long."

Jacob nodded. Again, Pebbleman felt the warmth of friendship and brotherhood. He stepped closer to Jacob, their faces just inches apart. Jacob looked terrified but determined as Pebbleman leaned forward, like he was going to kiss Jacob. Thankfully, he turned his head and whispered in Jacob's ear instead.

"I really need a...short sleep thing," he breathed.

"A nap?"

"Certainly, thank you. Let's go get the fuckwits calmed down and we'll have a nap. Then, just maybe, we'll have a few bites of food."

"A nap and then a snack," Jacob said dutifully.

"Indeed. And you must tell me when I do something inappropriate. The coral of angles is trumpeting loudly."

"That's chorus and angels, sir."

"Of chorus it is."

Pebbleman looked at Jacob expectantly.

"Brother?" Jacob said after another uncomfortable pause.

"I made a jest there, did you notice?"

"Okay, but that ain't the way you act."

"Yes, and what a shame it is. I'm well known for my humor at home."

Jacob started to wonder what humor was in the Good Brother... No, Pebbleman's home, but decided he didn't want to think about that.

"Brother Rock, let's go calm them down while some ammunition re- re- remains. Remains."

 

The woman beside Ted had kept her hand resting between his shoulder blades but as they raced along, she gently pulled him upright. They were just passing someone standing beside the road and the SUV slammed on the brakes. The man beside him opened the door and jumped back out. Ted kept his eyes down but out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the migrant workers looking in.

"Hey baby, you want a date?" someone asked in a teasing voice.

"Thanks, Deed, but I'm more of a fig man. Looks crowded in there, I'll ride with Mari."

The back hatch opened, and Ted heard voices and zippers behind him.

"Shep, you just take your own sweet time," a woman yelled. "It's not like there's a bunch of highly pissed off people right behind us."

"Keep your hair on, I'm an artist," a voice with a southern drawl answered.

The woman beside Ted turned his head to face her. The gentle touch sent a wave of butterflies through his stomach. He wondered what was wrong with him. She was one of the kidnappers, not some cute town girl. The woman had her black hair tightly pulled back and her eyes were dark as midnight. He was sure that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Then she smiled and he was kind of glad she'd kidnapped him.

Whoever she was, he wanted to be on her side. "Hello, Theo," she said. "Everything is okay, I promise."

"Oh man, y'all got the wrong guy. My name is Ted. I don't know any Theo."

"We've got the right man, and the name your parents gave you was Theophile."

"My...parents. You know them? Y'all drug cookers too?"

"No, and neither were they," she laughed.

He felt his face get very warm. He was glad, embarrassed, happy, and terrified, all at the same time. Was this what Junior felt when he saw Julie? No wonder he was always half-crazed.

Behind them, there were sharp cracks that echoed in the narrow valley. Ted looked out the back and saw the massive old oaks on either side of the road starting to lean over. One of them fell across the road and the other fell to block the rest of the valley. Both trunks were shattered, leaving huge splinters of wood everywhere.

"Then who are y'all?" he managed to ask. "Feds don't work like this."

She leaned forward, like she was going to whisper a secret. He held his breath, needing to hear her every word.

"I'll tell you a little later, okay?" she murmured.

He nodded and swallowed. She was leaning so close and his heart began to beat even faster. Someone started to get in the seat beside him and he started to turn his head until she put warm fingers on his jaw.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she said in her soft voice.

She took a white square that smelled like alcohol and began to clean his face. He sat still and ignored the occasional sting. He would have been still if she'd been smearing manure on him. Whatever she wanted, he'd give it to her.

The SUV was moving again but he ignored everything around him, the only thing there was this woman. Their eyes met as she finished cleaning the blood off and she smiled again.

"That's much better," she said quietly, just to him.

He nodded, not having a clue if it was true or not. He didn't care, he just wanted to keep staring into those amazing eyes of hers. His heart began to beat fast again, every time he looked at her, he realized he loved her all over again.

"What is your name?" he whispered.

"Kawehi," she whispered back.

"That's beautiful."

The corners of her eyes crinkled in a smile. "Thank you, Theo."

She leaned closer and lightly brushed her lips across his. Theo's eyes were wide as she sat back up. Kawehi took his hand and he sat very still, not wanting her to ever let go.

 

The convoy of black vehicles flew down the twisting roads, but he was beyond knowing which ones or for how long. It didn't seem that important. Finally, they pulled off the road and everyone began to get out. Theo looked at her curiously.

"C'mon," Kawehi said, opening her door. "We're catching a different ride home."

He got out and followed her, wishing they were still holding hands. In front of them were a few junker looking cars and an old boxy camper with a big W on its side. It was attached to a trailer with equally beat-up looking motorcycles. He was surprised to see everyone unloading the newer cars and putting bags into the rusty sedans.

"My name is really...what again?"

Kawehi stopped and looked at him. "Your name is Theophile Cosineau, it's the French version of Theodore I suppose."

"Okay, I'll be Theo, but for you"

"You want to change your name for me?" Kawehi asked, examining his eyes again.

Theo tried to brace himself against the feeling, but he fell into her eyes all over again. He snapped out of it when he smelled gasoline. Whoever they were, they were pouring the expensive fuel all over the newer vehicles they'd used to get here. Theo watched for a second and looked back at Kawehi.

"We can't leave any traces," she explained, leading him to a large rock.

They sat down and she took his hand again. Theo smiled, not really caring what they did with their trucks. There was a whoosh and the first one began to burn.

"Okay, Theo. I need you to listen to me," Kawehi said.

He nodded immediately. It would have been hard not to listen to her.

"You asked who we are. It's a complicated answer but we're the good guys. We came return you to your family, your real family, I mean. You were kidnapped when you were three years old."

That jolted Theo enough that he checked her face, looking in the bad way that he wasn't supposed to do. She didn't seem to notice though.

"My real family. I got a mom and dad then?"

Kawehi put her other hand on top of his. "I'm sorry Theo, they died just before you were stolen. Your aunt and your twin sister are waiting for you though."

She saw that Theo was back to examining her face closely. "I got a twin sister? What's her name?"

"Her name is Emma."

Theo saw that she woman was still telling the truth, but it didn't feel right, like his sister was named something else. That didn't make any more sense than anything else did. He didn't have a clue about some twin, let alone what her name was or wasn't.

"Everything okay?" Kawehi asked, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah, I guess. Where do they live?"

"We've got a few days of driving ahead of us but the camper there is pretty comfortable."

Theo looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure that thing will run that far?"

She laughed. "You might be surprised."

Inside, the camper was a strange mix of old and new. Around the driver there were more dials and readouts than he'd ever seen in one place. He even glimpsed small TV screens in the dashboard and the ceiling before Kawehi led him to one of the swiveling chairs. She had to help him figure out the seatbelts, even that was more complicated in this thing. But, despite all the tech, the floor was covered in grungy linoleum tiles. The walls were even the same fake wood paneling his stepparents had in their living room.

Further back, there were two doors. One was open and he could see a bed. The counter across from him looked as old as everything else, but there was another one of the strange televisions that someone had screwed to the top of it.

Another woman, he saw it was the one that had grabbed him at the truck, climbed in. them. She'd taken off the helmet and mask and he was surprised at how young she looked. She put a bag on the bed before taking the chair next to his. Theo quickly turned to the front before she caught him staring. He was relieved Kawehi was right there. He knew she'd never let anyone put a gun in his face or twist his arm. Behind him, Theo could hear other people getting in and moving around. Finally, the sunburned blonde man that had been sitting beside him in the SUV climbed into the driver's seat and put on his own seatbelt before looking over his shoulder.

"Everyone ready?" he asked. "Tray tables and stewardesses in the upright position?"

"Does anyone ever think that's funny?" the young woman next to Theo asked.

"Not so far," the driver said, glancing at the dials. "But hope springs eternal."

Theo was expecting to hear the clattering cough of an old engine turning over. Instead, there was an odd whining sound and then a deep rumble shook the RV. The miniature televisions lit up along with all the dials. The RV slowly pulled onto the road, followed by several sedans. The rumble changed pitch and Theo felt a surge as the old camper accelerated.

"My name is Rachel," the young woman to his right said.

Theo turned to finally look at her. She had eyes that were nearly the same color blue as his own. Her hair was as black as his was and she wore it pulled tightly back in a braid. He didn't see any hint of anger on her face. She looked friendly in fact.

"I'm Theo. You probably already knew that," he said carefully, not wanting her to get mad at him again.

She grinned, showing very white teeth. "Yeah, I've known your name for as long as you've had one. We're old friends, that's why they brought me along."

"Why were you so mean then?" Theo blurted without thinking.

She looked surprised and a little ashamed. "I'm sorry about that. We didn't know if you'd be willing to come with us or not. I wouldn't have hurt you or your friend though."

"My brother," Theo said. "Well, stepbrother anyway."

"I'm sorry for the man we killed," Kawehi said. "Was he a friend too?"

"Brother Vic? Oh no, he weren't no kin or even friend to me. Brother Elmer called him a mad dog behind his back, tole me and Junior to stay clear of him."

"It sounds like a pretty interesting place to grow up," Kawehi said. "Maybe we can chat about it sometime?"

Theo saw Kawehi's face as she spoke. She wasn't trying to deceive him at all. But there was also a lot more than idle interest behind her question. He couldn't think of a reason why anyone would care about life in Watson's Hole. If they'd been feds looking for meth runners it might make sense, but she hadn't lied about that either. He'd have to watch her closer, watch all of them closer. Going to all this trouble over one kid, that didn't make any sense.

The RV turned onto another road, wider and smoother than anything Theo had ever seen. He was pushed back in his seat as they accelerated again. One of the cars passed them, going even faster. He'd been using the tractor and old field trucks ever since he'd been tall enough to reach the pedals and these cars didn't make any sense. They were too quiet and too fast. Even with that trailered motorbikes, it was faster and smoother than anything he'd ever ridden in.

A few minutes later, Kawehi got up and went into the bedroom at the back. When she came back, she was wearing everyday clothes. Rachel got up next, and she came back the same way. She still looked plenty tough, but it was hidden a little more now.

"Ma'am, I don't mean offense, but I noticed we look like we might be kin?"

She smiled. "Ma'am? I'm only four years older than you, Theo. We're probably distant cousins, our families came from the same place."

"Do you know my sister?"

She laughed. "Oh yes. See, as soon as you two were born, my Dad came to help your parents out. Good thing too from what I hear."

There was more to it than that, it was obvious. Theo filed it away to worry about later.

"What's she like?"

"Well, she looks a lot like you. She's very smart and teases a lot, but only the people she cares about. From what I hear, you two were always getting into mischief together. She's been my sister and best friend for a long time. I hope you and I can be friends as well."

"If you promise not to twist my arm again. And thank you for not hurting my foster brother."

She nodded. "I know it all seemed really unhinged, but we work really hard not to hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it. You two grew up together?"

Theo nodded. "His parents took me in after...well, I'm not sure now. My parents died from too many drugs?"

She shook her head firmly. "No, nothing like that. They were both very brave and died saving hundreds of people. They were both heroes, you'll be proud of them when you hear the story."

"Oh. Sister Mildred said it was the meth. I guess she didn't know."

That wasn't right though; Brother Elmer had told him several times about the social worker bringing him to the church because the orphanage in the city was full, how Sister Mildred had volunteered to take him in. Rachel wasn't lying, or at least she thought she was telling the truth. He'd known better than to look too long at Brother Elmer or Sister Mildred, he'd gotten the back of both their hands for being prideful, but he couldn't imagine them just up and lying to him though.

"What were their names?" he finally asked.

"Oh geez, I should have started with that. Your dad's name was Oliver but he went by Ollie. Your mother's name was Claire. The full name they gave you is Theophile Gautier Cosineau."

"My kin are French then?"

"Your father was from a long way away," Kawehi said. "But your mom was from Pennsylvania. Her last name was originally Hardy."

Theo looked from one of them to the other. "Who stole me?"

Kawehi made sure he was looking at her before she answered. "It was a woman who worked at the same place as your parents. We think she is the one who took you to West Virginia, but no one really knows the whole story yet. She may have lied to your foster parents as well."

"They were pretty big on the Good Book, it's hard to imagine them wrapped up with kidnapping. You said you weren't feds. You're some other kind of police?"

"No," Rachel said. "It's complicated but we're closer to military than police officers."

Theo looked around and back at her. "Are y'all really though? It seems like you're keeping a low profile here."

"We are," Kawehi said. "Since we're not the police, taking you like we did wasn't completely legal. But your aunt didn't think doing it legally would be the best way. We were all afraid they'd make you disappear before the real police could get there."

"Yeah, the Good Brother don't have love for the law, even if they ain't after him."

"The Good Brother?" Rachel asked.

Theo looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, he's in charge of the church and town. You're lucky he wasn't around when you grabbed me. He ain't too understanding about much."

"That doesn't sound much like a preacher," Kawehi said.

"Our church ain't much into the New Testament," Theo said. "The Brother is more like one of them old time prophets, more than one of the Apostles anyway. He says the New Testament is for the lazy and weak, that the Lord Jesus Christ came bearing a sword."

"Pretty intense," Rachel said. "What do you think?"

Theo's stomach was full of butterflies again, bad ones this time. The conversation was starting to make him nervous. He wasn't supposed to mention the Good Brother to outsiders.

"I'd prefer not to talk on that if you don't mind."

"That's no problem at all," Kawehi said. "If you're getting sleepy, you can take a nap. Your seat is comfortable?"

Theo was suddenly aware of how tired he felt. He looked at the woman in front of him, wondering how she'd done that. She smiled back, understanding.

"You were in an accident followed by a lot of stress. It's enough to make anyone tired. I'm not tricking you, promise."

Theo watched her face and knew again that he could trust her. She wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, not the way she looked at him with those dark, dark eyes. It had been a long and very strange day, of course he was tired. Beside him, Rachel was explaining how he could put his seat back, but Theo's eyes drifted shut as she was talking.