Anamnesis (c) 
Chapter Twelve 
By Fiction Writer #13 
(nosex, sci-fi, horror, paranormal)

"Steph?" Rob burst through the front door ahead of Greg. "Steph we 
have to go!"

Her eyes were still puffy from crying, but she could clearly see the 
alarm on her brother's face. "What's going on?  Why did you come 
back?"

"It's not safe here anymore.  We've got to go, now!"

Rob looked to the floor to find Steph's clothing emptied from her 
overnight bag and placed in neat little piles.  A quick glance into the 
bag revealed the dildos, harness, and several little white jars of what 
he knew to be his mom's special lubricant still inside.  Rob glanced 
over his shoulder to make sure Greg hadn't seen the sex toys before 
hurrying to put her clothes back into it.

Steph dropped to her knees and struggled to empty the bag once 
again. "Rob stop!  What are you doing?"

"Get your stuff together, we have to go."

"Wait, damn it!" She yanked a white undershirt out of his hands. "Tell 
me what's going on."

"There were some strange guys dressed in black checking out your 
car." Greg climbed up onto the couch on his knees and carefully 
pulled the blinds aside to peek out. "They didn't look like cops, but 
they were definitely interested in finding you.  You're brother is 
convinced that they'll be coming here next, and for some reason I 
think I agree with him."

"Why?  Who were they?" Steph gave up on preventing her brother 
from packing her stuff up. "Do you think Mom and Dad sent them?"

"No, I don't think so." Rob stopped trying to lay her clothes in the bag 
neatly and began to stuff things in wherever they would fit. "They're 
bad men, Steph."

"What did you just say?" Steph's jaw hung slack and her eyes wide.  
Words from her mother's letter ran through her mind like rolling 
thunder.

'They told me that you weren't safe living here with your father and I, 
that bad men were coming to take you away, take you away like they 
had taken away my youngest daughter.'

"I said let's get going!  Come on, help me pack your crap back up."

Steph sat stock still for a moment, her brother's urgency only barely 
registering within her rattled mind. 'Bad men are coming.'  She said 
that bad men were coming, and... and we weren't safe there 
anymore.

"Steph!"

She snapped out of her thoughts with a shudder as Rob shoved her 
bloated night bag into her arms.

"Where, where can we go?" Her brother's panic now infected her, 
sending her heart racing.

Greg allowed the blinds to snap back into place as he turned and got 
off the couch. "New York.  My new apartment."

"What?" Rob felt a wave of dread wash over him as his goal seemed 
to be slipping away once again. "I can't go to New York!  I have to get 
to Highland!"

"Fuck Highland, Rob!" Greg pointed out the window. "If those guys 
are really after you, then they'll be asking questions in the diner.  You 
told Ginny where you were heading.  They'll be looking for you in 
Highland."

"I..." Rob felt crushed, but Greg was right.  If they went to Highland, 
they would be putting themselves in danger. "I was so, so close."

The three of them stood together in silence, heads bowed in thought.

"Wait!" Steph dropped her bag to the floor with a dull thud. "Your car!  
If they figure out that we went with you, don't you think that they'll be 
looking for your car!"

"Shit, your right." Greg chewed on his lower lip. "We'll have to switch 
cars.  Take one that they don't know about.  Let me pack some things 
up, and then we're going to my Uncle's shop.  Maybe he can help 
us."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

From the ramp leading up into the belly of Aurora Five Jon surveyed 
the still smoking battleground sprawled out before him.  The remains 
of the dead Zyrogoth would be gone by the time the sun rose above 
the horizon.  Beasts created by unnatural means could not exist once 
their purpose in life ended.  They'd return to the Ether from whence 
they came, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

They shouldn't have won and Jon knew it.  The enemy had sent 
Zyrogoth in numbers too high to count, too many for any of the other 
Auroras to handle fast enough to save them.  With its Flying Fortress 
design, Aurora Five came packed with defense systems, weapons 
that had just saved not only his ass, but those of his team's as well.  
The craft that came to his rescue had not been his first choice of 
transport.  He had opted for one of sleeker, smaller, more 
maneuverable and easier to conceal Aurora class vessels, not the 
behemoth behind him.  Had someone not changed the requisition 
order at the last minute he would have had his choice, but the end 
result of the battle would not have been the same.

"Everything happens for a reason."

Once sure the last of his team was onboard, he turned and made his 
way up the ramp before typing in the code to seal the doors shut.  
Inside the cargo bay Boulanger stood over an open container holding 
a packet of papers in each hand.

"I feel like a kid in a candy store!"

"Why's that?"

"Look at all this stuff!  There's so much tech and weaponry stowed in 
here we could single handedly start World War Three!"

Jon laughed. "I'm not so sure that would be a good thing."

"Here, look at this." Boulanger handed over both packets of paper. 
"This one is the original equipment manifest, and this one..."

"Is a new one issued almost immediately after the first."

"How did you know?"

"Because that's how we ended up with Aurora Five and not Two." Jon 
handed back the papers. "Check the signature on the requisition form 
and I'll bet you'll be even more surprised."

Boulanger flipped through the many pages until he found the proper 
form. "Holy crap!  You signed for this?"

"Nope."

"But it's your sig, your ident number... it even has your finger print 
algorithm listed."

"I know."

Jon turned and headed for the passenger section.

"Why would someone do this?"

"That, I don't know." Before exiting the bay Jon called over his 
shoulder. "I want a full inventory of everything we have here."

"You got it, boss."

A wide corridor stretched out beyond the cargo bay and led to the 
ship's power plant, beyond that was the Systems Center and cockpit.  
Doors on either side of the corridor led to other areas within Aurora's 
massive interior.  On his right were the crew quarters; Spartan in 
design, with tightly packed bunks for thirty men, though it could 
accommodate twice that number in a pinch.  The crew quarters also 
housed a basic gym, showers, a small but fully stocked kitchen, as 
well a space dedicated to recreation.

The door to his left led him into the Medical and Research Labs, but 
before he could make the turn Qian dropped out of the ceiling in front 
of him.  She hung upside-down, her legs locked onto some unseen 
part of the ship above.  She held a wrench in one hand, a metal 
cylinder with a bundle of severed wires in the other.

"Hey Boss, this should prevent anyone from doing what I just did."

"Are you sure we're not going to need that?"

"Nope." She smiled devilishly. "It was installed to allow remote 
maintenance.  I doubt we'll be able to bring her in for repairs anytime 
soon." She let the heavy component drop to the floor with a clang. 
"Besides, with me onboard nothing will ever break, at least not for 
long."

"Good to see you're keeping that ego in check," Jon smiled as he 
continued on past her. "How much longer will you need?"

"Twenty minutes, tops." Without using her hands to pull herself up, 
she disappeared back into the ceiling. "Don't forget about that dinner 
you owe me."

"How could I forget?" Jon called over his shoulder.

"Somewhere fancy!  Not like that shitty place you took me to last..."

The door to the Med-Lab slid closed behind him, cutting her sentence 
short.

"How is he?"

Guzman lay motionless on a medical bed, his clothing cut away and 
discarded.  His leg where the Zyrogoth had bit through the flesh had 
already been stitched closed but remained discolored in shades of 
purple, black, and blue.

Ellis put down a data pad that displayed all of his patient's vitals. 
"Much better, now that I can actually see what the hell I'm doing."

"Any signs of turning?"

"So far, so good." Ellis moved around the table to get closer to Jon 
and dropped the volume of his voice. "I'm keeping a close eye on 
him.  I don't think any of the venom got into his system, but you know 
how these things go."

"Yeah, I do." Jon shook his head.  The venom of a Zyrogoth could 
corrupt even the strongest men.  Its poison didn't kill; it fed off of the 
Ether within all living beings.  It twisted it, changed it, made it a force 
for darkness. "If you see any signs, any at all..."

"I know." Ellis ran a hand through his hair. "I won't hesitate."

"Prep for take off, we're getting out of Oz as soon as Qian finishes 
up."

"Yes Sir."

Jon continued on past the Med-Lab, passing through a maze of 
storage lockers and medical equipment until he reached the first of 
three rooms dedicated to research.  The computers inside were 
running hard, scanning through the tons of data he managed to save 
from the base-camp before all hell broke lose.  Wolfgang and Russo 
were still uploading the final data cube when Jon entered.

"So, how much did we lose?"

"Too early to tell." Russo leaned back in his chair. "You got most of it, 
but there is some corruption from the EMP burst."

Wolfgang set another computer to task scanning through the 
thousand of images recorded within the temple. "More than I thought 
we'd come out with."

"If you find anything useful, let me know ASAP.  I'd like to know a little 
more about this rock, and why it's important enough to send the 
armies of Hell to steal it.   We're going wheels up once Qian's 
finished, so make sure everything is secure."

The two men simply nodded as Jon left the room.  His journey 
brought him back to the center of the craft, this time passing through 
the Systems Center, the heart of the ship.  Here he found Pritchard 
and Willis hard at work on a full check of the computer system.

"Found anything yet?"

"It's going to take a month to go through all this code, Jon." Willis 
rubbed his eyes. "It would help if you could tell us what to look for."

"I don't know."

"Well, that's a big help." Pritchard stood up and moved to the other 
side of the room where several cables extended out of the wall and 
lay like coiled snakes on the floor.  He picked up one of the ends and 
pulled it across the room to connect into his data pad. "Can you be 
just a bit more specific?"

"The Council likes to keep its people and equipment on a short leash.  
Keep an eye out for anything that might seem out of place, like a file 
stored in the wrong location, or under a benign name.  I don't want to 
hit low Earth orbit and suddenly loose cabin pressure because of 
some fail safe they've installed."

"Shouldn't Qian be doing this?" Willis complained.

"Yeah, come on mate," Pritchard set his pad down. "I'm a wheelman, 
not some cyber cowboy."

"She's busy with another task.  Besides," Jon scanned the room, "I 
assigned Jimmy to work with you.  Where is he?"

"Newbie?  A lot of help he was." Pritchard pointed towards the crew 
section. "He said he'd be right back, but we haven't seen him since 
we started into this mess."

"I think he's cracked." Willis sounded serious. "He's not ready for this 
kind of work."

"Is that your professional opinion, Willis?"

"Yeah, Boss.  You saw the kid.  He nearly bailed in the middle of that 
fire-fight.  And that shit back at the camp, he can't even keep up with 
us.  He's too scared to think straight."

"I seem to remember a certain someone literally shitting their pants 
during their first encounter with a parabiological.  Are you sure you 
want to be pointing fingers here, Willis?"

Red faced, Willis spun his seat around and got back to work. "No sir."

"And you, Pritchard, how long after your first encounter did you need 
to take those sedatives in order to go to sleep?"

Pritchard remained silent, but Jon could see the tension in his body 
language.

"He's a member of our team, just like you are.  I hand selected each 
and every one of you because together we can accomplish much 
more than any of us could on our own."

"What does he bring to the team anyway?" Pritchard now joined in. "I 
haven't seen anything that would warrant keeping him around.  He's 
going to get someone killed, if he doesn't get killed first."

"Well, thank you for your concern, but Jimmy is in this as much as we 
are now.  He's staying.  End of conversation."

"Your call, boss."

"That's right Willis, it is my call."

Jon left the tension filled room before any more could be said on the 
subject.  He didn't like it, but some of what they were saying was true.  
Jimmy had to shape up before he got someone killed.  This shit with 
him skipping duty had to be put to an end real fast.  A team made up 
of loners and misfits was still a team, and they still had to work 
together for it to work.  The others had learned that fact during their 
first year in service, but Jimmy had only been a member for half that 
time.  Unfortunately, circumstances wouldn't allow him to find the 
bond the others had developed over that first year.  He had to stand 
up, or the others would put him down.  This wasn't peacetime, it was 
war, and lives were on the line.

Jon found James "Jimmy" Dunn in a bunk, wrapped up in sheets, 
shaking and sweating.  He looked just as he did when Jon first found 
him half a year earlier in the bowels of a super-max prison.

"Dunn!  What the fuck do you think you're doing?  I ordered you to 
sweep the mainframe!"

He didn't flinch, barely moved at all aside from his shivers, but he did 
answer. "I'm... I'm sorry Sir.  I... I can't."

"The fuck you can't!  Get out of that bunk right now!"

Slowly the eighteen-year-old peeled away the covers, revealing that 
he was still wearing his dirty blood soaked clothes from earlier. "I... I 
can't stop... can't stop shaking."

"Get down from there and on your feet soldier.  You're really pissing 
me off!"

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and start moving."

Jon watched as the kid dropped from the top bunk and landed on 
knees that almost gave way.  He was in bad shape, his face white as 
the bed sheets, his eyes bloodshot and sunken into dark ringed 
sockets.  If he didn't snap out of this soon, he would be lost, another 
casualty of post traumatic stress.

"Now, you want to tell me why you're disobeying my orders?"

Jimmy couldn't look into Jon's eyes as he spoke. "I... I don't think I 
can do this."

"So, you're telling me that you want to go back to that shit hole where 
I found you?"

"Maybe," He looked ready to faint, "It, it would be safer."

"You know you would have been killed there, at least you knew that 
when I first approached you about joining my team.  Phoenix couldn't 
kill you outright, not with half a dozen other government agencies 
attempting to prosecute you.  They were waiting for the dust to settle, 
waiting for the right moment when no one would question the death of 
an inmate at the hands of other inmates."

"I... I don't know anymore.  Maybe I was wrong about that."

"Jimmy," Jon lowered his voice to a calmer level. "You knew that they 
were coming for you.  You know that the only reason you are 
breathing right now is because I came for you.  If you went back, they 
would finish what they wanted to do in the first place.  You hacked 
into Project Phoenix as well as a dozen other secret networks.  They 
won't let you walk around with that knowledge in your head."

"You were supposed to take it out." Jimmy looked up with tears in his 
eyes. "You told them that you would take it all out of my head using 
that MERI thing, but you didn't, did you?"

Jon slowly shook his head.

"Why?  Why not?"

"I couldn't find it, not even with the MERI, but it's in there 
somewhere."

"So, why won't you just wipe it all out and let me live a normal life 
again?"

"Because you saw something in all that code, all those ones and 
zeroes, something that the Council is worried you might talk about.  I 
want to know what it was."

"I told you, and I told them!" Jimmy's legs finally gave way and he fell 
more than sat onto the bunk behind him. "I saw lots of stuff, but I 
don't know what they're talking about.  It's like, it's like I saw it, and 
then, poof!  It went away."

"It's still in there, Jimmy." Jon tapped his finger against the kid's skull. 
"And if it scares the hell out of a man like Hollister Broddick, then I 
want to know what it is."

"Why?"

"Because that man is a sneaky son of a bitch.  He's taken over the 
Council and all of the projects under its direction.  He's lied to me 
about the Super Soldier program being aborted, he's the one who 
sent me out here to be killed, and he's the one who at this very 
moment could be destroying our only hope to survive the coming 
apocalypse.  Now, is that a good enough reason to want to know 
something that he doesn't want known?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"There's no guessing about it.  You have something locked away up 
there that could knock that motherfucker off his pedestal.  If we can 
do that, then maybe the other Council members will rethink their 
views of what's really happening out here."

Jon watched as a slight emotional change washed over James.  
Whether it was surrender or acceptance of his situation he couldn't 
tell, but at least it wasn't hopelessness.  To a soldier in this line of 
work, life without hope was more dangerous than Zyrogoth venom.

"Now get your ass back to the Systems Center and get to work 
before Ellis and Pritchard fuck something up.  Show them what you 
can do, kid."

"Yes sir."

Jon waited for Jimmy to exit the room before taking a seat on one of 
the bunks, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. 'He'll be alright.'

"Rico to Reynolds, we could use you up here.  The um... guests... are 
getting antsy."

Jon's eyes traveled up to the speaker in the ceiling. "I'll be right 
there."

He took another deep breath before heaving himself free of the soft, 
comfortable mattress.  He'd already been awake for thirty-five hours, 
and it didn't look like sleep would be coming anytime soon.

"Well Isaiah, looks like the good guys don't get to rest either."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The trio first sought out Joe in his office located in the front of the 
shop.  That area was clean, quiet, and very business-like.  
Professional photos adorned the walls, images of some of the work 
Joe's shop had performed over the years.  Awards for their 
craftsmanship were also on display for potential clients to view.

The attractive secretary who informed Greg that his Uncle was in the 
back of the shop with a VIP client, also appeared in a large number of 
the photos.   Her apparel in the pictures was far racier than the office 
dress she now wore, as she leaned, straddled, and crawled over the 
shiny curves of the suped-up speed machines.

Greg led the way through a carpeted hallway into a comfortable 
looking lounge designed to allow customers to observe the bustling 
garage without actually entering into the fracas.  Through the 
windows men in blue coveralls moved in and out of the half dozen 
cars parked in the large space, each attending to some new upgrade 
or repair.  The observation room was lined with leather couches and 
chairs, each with access to either an end table or the low coffee table 
littered with the latest car aficionado magazines.  It smelt of fresh 
coffee and doughnuts and was silent save for the low snoring of a 
man who lay sprawled across the largest of the couches.

The sleeping man lay facing the door as they entered.  He was older 
looking, not elderly by any means, but he'd definitely been around for 
a while.  The skin of his face appeared leathery, cracked, and etched 
with time, though his thick black hair showed no signs of thinning.  In 
lieu of a blanket to ward of the chilly conditioned air, he chose to wrap 
himself in the ugliest leather trench coat any of them had ever seen.  
It was some kind of patchwork design made up of a myriad of leather 
patches of every color and hue.

Greg and Steph continued past the man with little interest, but for 
some reason Rob couldn't pull his eyes away from him.  There was 
something about him, something that Rob couldn't quite put his finger 
on but was sure was there.  He shifted a bit on the couch, the trench 
coat slipped off his shoulder to reveal an arm covered with tattoos.  
They were black in color, spidery lines laid out in complex designs 
and geometric shapes.  Foreign characters, some appearing to be 
Arabic, others Chinese, a few even resembled Egyptian hieroglyphs, 
peppered his skin.  Rob was sure he'd never seen anything like them 
before, but then he remembered...

"Hey Rob, you coming?" Greg whispered impatiently from the door 
leading into the garage.

Rob nodded as he pulled his attention away from the snoozing man, 
but his thoughts remained on him.

'Greg's Uncle, that's where I've seen those before.'

The trio rushed out of the room as one and quickly closed the door 
behind them to limit the amount of noise, hopefully not enough to 
wake the man.  A radio blared over the mechanical sounds of the 
garage, cutting through both the drone of the powerful industrial fans 
and the mechanical thrumming of the pneumatic air compressors.  
The sultry female voice seemed both out of place and right at home 
among the sweaty, foul-mouthed mechanics.

"That was Lazy Eye by Silversun Pickups.  Great song, reminds me 
of a cross between Smashing Pumpkins and Sonic Youth.

"We have some commercials coming up, and I know how much you 
all love those, so let's make it interesting before I sign off for the day.  
Let's see, be caller one hundred thirty-nine, how's that for random, 
and I'll send you and a friend to tonight's sold out Terminal Distrust 
concert.

"This is Kayleigh 'The Flame' Roberts, Good luck!"

Greg scanned the wide open space for a moment before locating his 
Uncle who was leaning into the open hood of a beat up and rusted 
blue 1966 Chevy Chevelle, which looked very out of place among the 
other cars.  As they started towards him he pulled himself free and 
wiped his grease covered hands on a nearby rag.  When he saw 
them he quickly closed the hood as if he were hiding something 
inside.  With his sleeves rolled up, Rob could now clearly see the 
similarity between the two men's tattoos.

"Now, what are you three doing here? You didn't wake my VIP up, did 
you?" At first his face appeared full of concern, but then a smile 
quickly broke through. "I'd hafta kick your ass again if you disturbed 
him."

"Naw, that guy's still sleeping." Greg moved ahead of Rob and Steph 
as he spoke. "Working for homeless clients now, Joe?  Gonna pay 
you with food stamps?"

Joe's eyes narrowed as flash of anger swept over his features, but he 
kept his tone level. "Not funny.  That man in there is an old friend.  
Better think twice before saying anything else that might get your 
nose broken."

Greg stopped short, a bit stunned by his Uncle's sudden turn. "Sorry, 
I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it." Joe noticed Rob staring at his tattoos and 
rolled his sleeves down. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"I need to ask a favor."

"Speak up then, let's here it."

"Could I borrow one of your trucks?" Knowing the answer based on 
his Uncle's body language Greg quickly added. "One of the old ones 
outback.  Just for the weekend while I move to my apartment.  I'll 
bring it back on Monday with a full tank of gas, and I'll even wash it."

Joe stood silently for a moment. "Why?  What's wrong with your car?"

"Awe come on Joe.  You know that car won't make it across the state.  
It barely makes it across town."

"Why now?  What's the big rush to get to New York?"

"No rush.  The apartment is available, and I just thought it would be 
easier to get a head start on moving in.  This way I won't be stuck 
doing it when classes start."

"Greg," Joe shook his head, "you've lived with me for close to six 
months now.  Everything you own can fit into two boxes and a 
suitcase.  No more bullshit, what's really going on here?"

"Nothing!  I swear!  I just really want to get a head start."

"I'm not in the mood for playing games, Greg.  Not with things going 
the way they are." He scratched at his tattoos through his shirt, 
leaving the white sleeves streaked with gray grease. "So, if you want 
to borrow my truck, you'd better start talking truth."

Greg turned towards Rob and Steph, looking for some answer, 
something, anything to tell his Uncle that would not betray them.  
Steph stayed quiet, but Rob spoke up, surprising even himself.

"Some people are after us.  We don't know who they are, or what 
they want.  Greg offered to take us to New York so that we could hide 
there, but we can't take his car because they'll be looking for it since 
they found ours parked at the diner where he works."

Joe smiled. "Now, was that so hard?  I suppose this has something to 
do with the fact that the two of you are dead, right?"

The three of them stared with stunned faces at him.

"Oh, come on now.  You don't think I recognized the girl who nearly 
got my nephew thrown in the slammer for murder?  Please!  He's 
been pining for you ever since that fire.  Keeps a picture of you in his 
wallet and that morbid scrapbook that his parents have tried to throw 
out a dozen times.  Of course I know who you two are.  Took me a bit 
to make the mental connection, though, I was halfway here when it 
finally clicked.  It's not everyday you meet a dead person.  Well, there 
was that one time..." Joe laughed but let the memory end there. "So 
you need an untraceable ride to get to New York?  I might be able to 
help you, but I need to know a little bit more before I aid and abet.  
First off, are you in some kind of witness protection program?"

"No," Rob answered. "Not that I know of."

"They can't remember anything," Greg piped in. "Nothing before the 
fire."

"So, what, did you just wake up somewhere and not know who you 
were?"

"Uh uh." Rob shook his head. "We remember growing up, living 
together, everything... just not as Greg remembers.  I've no memory 
of ever living in Highland, just the house back east, the one by the 
lake.  If Greg hadn't shown me those pictures I never would have 
believed him."

"Huh..." Joe absently scratched his forearm again. "Sounds like 
someone went to a lot of work to keep your family a secret.  You must 
have seen or heard something you weren't supposed to, but were too 
important to just kill.  Quite a puzzle.  Why did you come here?  Did 
you remember Greg?"

"No, it was all by accident that we ran into him at the diner.  We were 
on our way to Highland because I wanted to go to a UFO convention 
where they do hypnotic regression.  I wanted to find out what's going 
on with us, and why I remembered having a little sister but no one 
else did."

"Little sister, huh?"

"Sarah," Greg offered. "She's missing."

"And these people who are after you, what do they look like?"

"I don't know, kind of like police SWAT, or maybe Navy Seals.  They 
were all dressed in black uniforms and carried machine guns.  I didn't 
get a very good look at them, but I know they aren't friendly."

"Anything else?  Any details?  Patches?  Emblems?  The kind of car 
they drive?"

"Black!" Greg burst out as he remembered seeing them in the diner 
parking lot. "Jet black, fully tinted windows, uh... I didn't recognize the 
make or model, but they definitely weren't assembly line produced."

"Oh my God!" Steph excitedly turned to her brother. "This morning, 
right after we left and you freaked out in your sleep!"

"What?" Rob tried to calm her. "Slow down and tell me."

"Black cars!  All these black cars just whizzed by us going at least a 
hundred miles per hour!  They nearly ran us off the road!" Steph's 
eyes were wild as her mind raced. "It was like, like they couldn't even 
see us!"

"So we got lucky.  All that proves is that they've been after us ever 
since we left Mom and Dad back at home."

"No!  You kept saying, chanting over and over again... I'm hiding, no 
one can see us!"

"So what?" Rob could see the wild look in her eyes, as if she were 
about to lose control. "That doesn't mean anything."

"No Robbie!  Mom's letter!  She said that bad men were coming!  She 
knew that they were coming!  Just like... like... like you did!"

"What are you talking about?  What letter?"

Greg moved in to help Rob stop Steph from making a scene, but 
something she said clicked in his head. "Wait, he freaked out while 
you were driving too?"

"Yeah, he nearly caused us to crash!"

"He did the same thing to me." Greg eyed Rob up and down. "Just 
before we pulled up to the diner."

"You see!  I'm not going crazy!  You and Mom knew that trouble was 
coming!"

Rob could feel the eyes of everyone in the garage suddenly turn and 
burn into his back.  It made him very uncomfortable. "Steph, calm 
down.  You're attracting attention, attention that we don't want."

Steph's eyes darted to all of the workers who had stopped to find out 
what was going on.  Realization of what she had done brought her 
back to her senses. "I'm sorry.  I... I just."

"Its okay, Steph." Rob hugged her. "It's been a long day, and you 
haven't gotten much sleep.  What's this about a letter from Mom?"

Steph shakily pulled away from her brother. "It, it was in my bag.  I 
thought that you packed up my stuff while I was still in the bath last 
night, but it was her."

Rob couldn't help the grin from coming to his face. 'I'm not losing my 
mind after all.  She must have packed mine up as well.'

"What did the letter say?"

"That she was sorry, but she had to do..." Steph stopped herself from 
revealing any details. "... those things.  That, that voices had told her 
to do them, so that we would run away and never look back.  She 
said she did it to protect us from bad men, men who wanted to hurt 
us."

"I hate to break up this moment," Joe cut in. "But I've heard enough.  
Greg, get your car into the garage.  Get everything out of it that you 
want to keep.  Jose'!"

A man working on a VW Beetle looked up. "Yes boss?"

"My Nephew is going to bring in a car that needs to be chopped 
ASAP.  Get everyone on it and make sure the serials and VIN's get 
wiped."

"No problem boss." Jose' put two fingers to his mouth and let loose a 
high pitched whistle that got everyone's attention. "We got a special 
project!"

Joe lowered his voice. "Steph, I need to talk to your brother for a 
minute in private.  Would you mind going back into the lounge and 
wait for Greg to come around?"

Steph looked to Rob who nodded that it was okay to leave before she 
turned and went.

Joe put a hand on Rob's shoulder. "Look kid, I don't know what the 
hell is going on, but my tat's have been itching like hell ever since you 
walked in my back door.  I thought it was because my buddy Nick 
needed help." He nodded towards the lounge where the sleeping 
man and Steph were. "But it seems it might just be you who needs 
the help."

Rob's face crinkled with confusion. "Why would I make your tattoos 
itch?"

"You don't know, do you?" Joe laughed. "Maybe it's better that way.  
Who am I to tell someone about the Art?  I abandoned it years ago, 
but it seems it's not done with me yet."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Joe ruffled Rob's hair. "Just, don't be surprised if weird 
things start to happen around you.  Don't fight it, just let it happen, but 
be careful.  Power comes at a price, and if you don't keep yourself in 
check, that price could be you or someone close to you."

Rob was about to ask what he meant by that when Greg pulled the 
car into the garage.  He was instantly swarmed by two dozen men 
armed with electric saws, screw guns, and an assortment of other 
tools used for breaking down automobiles into parts.

Joe pushed Rob gently towards the lounge. "Come on kid, let's get 
you and your sister out of here."



Continued in Chapter Thirteen....


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