Year 2170

Dr. Jeremiah Trace hurriedly walked down the hallway towards his secure lab. Trace was a tall and thin man with curly blonde hair that seemed to reach out in all different directions. His brown eyes took a momentary inventory of his outfit, true to form, he had a red collared shirt untucked from jeans with part of the collar hiding beneath his lab coat and the rest of it peeking out between his coat and hair. As he rushed down the hall in excitement, his blue converse shoes squeaked as they moved through the sterile environment. He was accompanied by Dr. Charles Sheppard, a shorter man with dark eyes and short dark hair. His face had a 5 o’clock shadow but the rest of his appearance was impeccable. He wore a black suit with a red tie and his white lab coat seemed more like a royal robe rather than a lightweight coat. While Trace scurried down the hall, Sheppard glided down the hallway, in no hurry to reach their destination. To Trace’s surprise, Sheppard could still keep up with the taller scientist’s long strides.

Truth be told, while Dr. Sheppard was a respected colleague in the time travel experimentation department, no one truly trusted him. He always seemed private and there were rumors of a scandal that occurred a few years ago but it had been wiped from all records and from public memory. All that Trace truly knew is that both scientists had been working towards a common end of better time travel measures but from different avenues. While Trace worked on traveling to different parts of time, Sheppard wanted to bring the past and future to the present. But, like most things Sheppard did, it was all talk. No results. Not to mention, who wanted the past in today’s timeline? It wasn’t just the risk of paradoxes adversely affecting the time stream but the common belief that this was the only truly enlightened generation. Why bring a barbarian into our world? Was the common belief.

Trace shook himself back to the present as this was his day after all and Sheppard’s shady past or far-fetched experiments meant nothing. He shook his head to catch the tail end of Sheppard’s longwinded review of today’s test experiment.

“Now, as previously mentioned, you are authorized for a one-time mission, and you will be allowed 1 hour. No more. You will take notes and observe. Do not get involved. That should be your objective. Your primary objective.”

“Primary objective is non-interference? I feel like that’s rather weak. Shouldn’t it be something like learn from our past to better our future?”

“Hardly,” responded an unamused Sheppard as he slowly turned toward Trace. “Your smart-ass comments will not move me to change my role in providing your final checklist before leaving. Honestly, I can’t believe that you got permission to run your own experiment. No lone scientist has been allowed to travel through time before, we’ve always been in team structures. If something were to go wrong, you could be stuck traveling through time and never able to come back home.”

“Well, if it was a television show, I might have a partner who could talk to me. Guide me through each episode’s mission or plot. You know, like ‘Quantum Leap?’”

Sheppard groaned and rolled his eyes at Trace, “I will never understand your obsession with television. Particularly 20^th and 21^st era television.”

“C’mon Sheppard. Aren’t you fascinated by the past? What were their dreams of the future? How have we maintained those dreams, bettered their dreams? What did they imagine to be the ‘new and coming thing?’”

The two men came to what looked like a dead end at the hallway limit. Both men placed their hands against the wall which allowed a keypad to appear out of the wall. Once both men entered individual code, they took turns entering into a passageway which did full body scans. Once complete, a computer voice played overhead confirming each man’s identity and allowing them to pass through to the other side.

Once they were through the security station, Sheppard picked up the conversation. “How many dreams never came into fruition? Or worse still, how many were corrupted? Would they be appalled or sorrowful if they saw our current society and we didn’t live up to their expectations?” Sheppard smiled slightly as though enjoying his role of devil’s advocate.

“Ever the optimist, Charles,” Trace sighed. Sheppard always sucked at hypotheticals.

“That’s Doctor Sheppard,” growled Sheppard, annoyed with the lack of respect from Trace.

Trace could have allowed himself to be offended by Sheppard but as he finally neared his laboratory, he could feel the electricity of excitement move up from his trembling fingers up and through his arms as he finally passed through the last set of doors that led to the dark passageway. Trace looked down at his hands as they visibly shook with nervous impatience. Trace looked up to see Sheppard watching him with raised eyebrows. Trace broke into his most impish grin.

The narrow room that they were in was usually where they parted in the morning. Trace would go forward to his small lab and Sheppard would go right into his laboratory. But today, this day, they both went straight into Trace’s office.

Trace’s lab was quite small. There was a raised platform on the far side of the room and a desk immediately in front of the door. Around the room were a few smaller tables littered with various metal instruments, leathers, electrical gadgets. All pieces to the greater puzzle. The walls were littered with historic newspaper clippings, maps of the night sky, and a few classic television posters.

Sheppard ran his hand gently across one of the tables as he surveyed the laboratory. He then turned to face Trace before mocking, “My aren’t you in need of spring cleaning.”

“I have never understood that phrase.”

“Clearly,” responded Sheppard churlishly before sitting at the computer. The chair creaked under Sheppard’s weight as the chairs were rarely utilized. Trace could rarely stay still for longer than two minutes together, much less sit in his chair for any extended time. But the chair seemed to settle under Sheppard and even allowed him to roll it back and forth as he adjusted the height of the chair. Once the chair was adjusted, Sheppard logged into the computer and began the VLOG. “Is he intentionally moving slowly or am I so excited that time has stopped for me?”

As Charles opened the appropriate program and began to prattle away on the computer, Trace grabbed what looked like a leather bracelet. He began the process of latching it into place and entering the various codes to turn on the electronic apparatus.

“Today is the first session with the first test. I am here with Doctor Trace who will use his portable time travel wristband–“ Sheppard paused and looked back at Trace in disgust, “Do I really have to say that mouthful every time? Can I say PTTW or PTT for short?”

“Just as long as you don’t call it a POS.”

Sheppard’s mouth curved in mock amusement before continuing, “I reserve that description for you. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to get undressed? That’s what Karina had to do with her orbs.”

“That’s old technology. This is more compact, better protected, and does not require any kind of de-clothing. Besides, I’m not convinced that was ever really an issue. I think Karina was just an exhibitionist in addition to being a liar. I mean telling people she was from 5503?” he gave a sarcastic snort.

“Or maybe she just had a crush on her subject to make herself more exotic and from an inconceivable point in time…what was her subject’s name again?”

“Brisco County Jr.”

With a smirk of apathy, Sheppard turned back to the VLOG signaling that he was finished with any discussion of Karina. “As a reminder, we have set the PTT to a series of various dates and times in history that are of low significance. This will enable us to collect data from that era to better our understanding without sacrificing the sanctity of time.”

Trace agreed, “To that end, we have chosen a small town of Hard Rock in 1913 to be our first and only test today. The date, time, and location are programmed into the PTT and I just have to hit these buttons to be on my way.” Trace raised his arm to demonstrate for the camera.

“It looks like my name is catching on,” was Sheppard’s sly reply.

“Well, I call it ‘Christopher’ or even ‘Sexy’ when no one is around.”

“You would be that arrogant.” Just as Trace laughed a man’s angry and pained scream came howling from the next door lab. Trace jumped up and began rushing towards the door.

“How can we hear that?” demanded a shocked Charles.

“I have had to divert power from several nearby labs. I guess that includes sound dampeners,” Trace tersely stated. “So maybe the rumors were true,” thought Trace as he began to rush towards the door.

Charles swiveled in his chair and attempted to block Trace’s path but instead Trace shoved the rolling chair as hard as he could out of his way. “Was it Trace’s imagination or had the man’s face gone ashen?”

Trace burst through the door and back to the small hallway’s middle ground between Trace and Sheppard’s labs. But before Trace could barge into Sheppard’s lab, a long-haired man with a brown beard came running out of the lab in a hospital gown with blood covering his knuckles. As the two men stared at each other, a sudden eruption of light encircled both men. Trace looked around him, he had not hit the start button or even properly latched the leather contraption on yet. “Why was the test starting?” He then looked at the other man and noticed that the ball of light was engulfing him as well. Just before both men disappeared, Trace saw it on the other man’s wrist. A PTT of his own. And then both men were both gone.

Left at his chair and alone, Dr. Sheppard pulled a cigar out of his lab coat pocket and lit it. “Well,” he sighed. “That was unexpected” before sighing and exhaling a large puff of smoke.

- - - - - - - - -

1913 - Hard Rock

Lenore Raymond Lonefeather brushed a dark lock of hair from her eyes. “James?” she called. No answer. “Where was her boy?” She smiled to herself as she smoothed her dress. Her “boy” was 18 years old this week. “Where had the time gone?” And he was already a man. At this thought she frowned. “It was too soon for James to be the man of the house.”

Lenore sighed and looked around the room at her late husband’s possessions. “Lord Bowler” to the world but “James Lonefeather” to Lenore and her son. Today was the last day to make decisions about which of James Sr.’s things would stay at home and which of Lord’ Bowler’s things would be going to the Bounty Hunter Museum. Some things were easy – bounty posters would go to the Bounty Hunter Museum. The china would stay at home. But other things like his bowler hat or gun – shouldn’t they stay at home? Stay with her son, James Jr.?

She got a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Since becoming mayor she had stopped fashioning her hair as a white woman and allowed herself the freedom to wear her hair with her beautiful voluminous curls. Although today she had it slicked back with a scarf to ensure that she could focus on each item carefully rather than have hair fall into her sightline. “Today is going to be an emotional day,” thought Lenore as she looked at the piles of objects scattered around the room.

At this thought, her son James walked into the room. Tall and strong like her husband but unlike her husband, he kept his hair short and refused to carry a gun. While he dressed as any other man of the time, he was a quiet man. He seemed more interested in reading, in drawing, and in building things. His father had always said that he wanted James to grow up as a man of means and influence and not a farmer or a bounty hunter. Bowler had always stated that he had worked hard to create the best world for his family so that they could go beyond Bowler’s own upbringing and life. James had taken that charge to heart and was working towards his college entrance exams.

James leaned casually his tall and thin form against the door frame and asked, “You called?”

“Yes, I have been informed that I can no longer delay this decision.”

James gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m sure you can ask for more time.”

“Alright. I don’t want to think about this anymore. I want this over with. I want to figure out what our new normal is.”

James sighed and looked at his feet for a moment before rubbing his right arm with his left. “It’s only been 6 months since Papa’s death. You can take more time.”

Lenore closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “Please just help me with this.”

To that James nodded and slid onto the floor next to a box. He immediately picked up his father’s hat and intentional put it on askew before asking, “What do you think, Ma? Is it me?”

Lenore had a slight laugh and stated, “Not quite.”

To which James stood back up, picked up his father’s long boot knife and placed it between his teeth as though he were a pirate in one of his father’s stories. The more that he would stomp around, the more that Lenore had to laugh until her sides hurt. James slid the items off and sat down next to his mother and wrapped an arm around her.

“It’s been too long since you have laughed, Mama.”

At that moment, he picked up a picture on the floor nearby and stared at it for a few moments. He turned the photo around for Lenore to see, it was an old photograph of Bowler, President Cleveland, and Brisco County Jr. James placed it back on the ground before softly consoling his mother, “I’m sure that he meant to stop by.”

Suddenly, a light erupted nearby. Both Lenore and James jumped up with James moving to protect his mother by standing in front of her. Then the light died down to reveal a man standing in the middle of the room. James looked to see a pale shaking man in tattered and blackened clothes as though he had just survived a fire. Just as James observed the blackened clothes, the ends seemed to spontaneously catch fire.

Trace opened his eyes to the smell of smoke and began to cough incessantly. It looked like he was in the middle of some office move with a young man and older female, presumably his mother, staring at him open mouthed. Trace continued to look around the room. Either his PTT moved him across time and space or it moved him to some kind of movie set… either way it was at least marginally successful. He raised his hands in excitement only to notice that the ends of his sleeves were on fire. “Oh shit!” cried Trace.

Trace looked around the room but there was not enough space to drop and roll so he hurriedly took off the PTT which was barely hanging onto his arm. Trace looked for a safe place but the room looked to be a mess, so he threw it at the young man and shouted over his shoulder, “Guard it with your life” as Trace ran outside. Trace threw himself on the ground and began to roll around. When he was sure the fire was put out, he jumped up and began to shout a celebratory yell, “It worked! We don’t need to use bulky orbs for traveling anymore! It’s a success!”

“That will be enough.” The woman from inside the house had followed him outside and was holding a gun pointed at Trace’s head.

“Wait. Wait! You don’t have to be afraid. But I gotta know what time this is?”

“It’s daytime! That’s what time it is! And I have plenty to worry about. You appear out of nowhere in the middle of a grieving widow’s house and start a fire?”

“Ma’am I did not start a fire, I caught fire – “

“And then you start demanding what time it is?!?”

“For the sake of science, I have to know what date it is? Not just what time but the date and the year!”

“You need the year?” Lenore asked incredulously. “What kind of drunk magician just appeared at her house?” “What’s your name?”

“Well…” Trace struggled to remember what the protocol was if he was found. Obviously, the location was a bit off. He was supposed to land outside of town but then he wasn’t sent out in the correct place, his launch pad. His mind was scattered between the confusing incident at the lab, the man wearing his technology, landing in the incorrect place, the fire, and now a name?

“I’m a doctor.”

“Doctor who?”

“I think you mean a doctor of what?”

“You are really going to correct the grammar of an individual holding a gun at you? Do you have a death wish?”

“No! I mean no disrespect. The fire threw me off – “

“The fire threw you off? You almost set fire to not only my house but the remaining possessions of my late husband – but I should excuse you because you were thrown off your story?”

Trace held his hands up high in surrender. “How was he going to calm her down? What if he caught fire again?” He needed to get away from this gun. He needed his PTT. He needed a peaceful place to figure out what would be his next step. Just then a loud and familiar bang occurred, along with a blinding light that pierced through the windows from inside the house.

“Oh my God! He triggered the PTT!”

“James!” Lenore ran back inside but the room was empty. The whole house was empty. She ran back outside only to see an empty lawn. The stranger had disappeared as had her son.

Lenore was left alone.

Chapter 44 – The End and The Beginning

Year 2197

A much older Pete arrived into the darkness of the hallway leading to the labs with a young woman in her twenties. The two were dressed in dark clothes to ensure that they would be unseen. Each individual wore a time traveling bracelet but the girl seemed at ease in her arrival. Like she was still in the early stages without the pain or bodily destruction. The years of travels had taken its toll on Pete and while he looked much older, to anyone looking at him, one could not be certain if it was the time jumps that had weathered the man or simply the passing of time.

The woman placed a gentle hand on Pete’s shoulder to help steady him until the pain subsided. When he was able to slowly stand back up, he patted her hand before brushing it away. He studied the area to get his bearings on where the two had landed. He pointed to the right before explaining, “You will find the cubes down there.” She nodded and checked a crude drawing on her arm, to get her bearings in the unfamiliar world. “You will find me down there,” he motioned to the left before continuing. “I have a much overdue meeting,” he muttered.

The girl nodded as though she was aware of Pete’s side mission. She then wished him luck, kissed his cheek, and ran down the hallway towards the cubes. For a moment, Pete stood in the hallway. Shocked by the unexpected kindness but remembered that he had come to take the last bit of Charles’ life and had no time for sentimentality.

Pete cautiously opened the door. The door squeaked which caused Pete to inwardly curse the announcement of his arrival through something so innocuous. Pete stood in front of the door for a moment. There was a staleness in the air and a heat like the mid-day of humid Texas summers. The air seemed to just settle on Pete’s arms instead of allowing him to easily move forward. The hairs on Pete’s arms stood on end as the laboratory seemed to have only become more akin to Hell.

He looked around the room and noticed that someone had taken a blunt object to the computers in the middle of the room. There was a low hum from the single light in the room which slowly swung back and forth as if trying to release itself from the ceiling. As if this one light was ready to join the many others crashed and scattered over the floor but the ceiling was doggedly determined to hold onto it. Pete slowly took a few steps further into the room and began circling the outside of the room. As he neared the prisoner cages, he found that there was a lab coat lying on the floor and a disheveled body laying inside the coat as if it was an oversized blanked rather than a coat. Based on the stench coming from the cages, clearly it was a corpse left to rot inside the cages.

Pete moved on, taking in the room. It looked as though it had been thoroughly destroyed. Not just the computers in the center of the room but the chairs had been cut open with stuffing falling out. Glass from both the lights, the screens, and even from beakers littered the floor. Taking stock of the room, Pete began Maybe I’m too late. Maybe Charles is already dead?

Pete barely had time to register a sigh of disappointment in missing the chance to have one final battle against Charles when a cane came whizzing towards Pete’s head. He had just enough time to move the cane so that it merely grazed his ear. Pete took a step back to better view his attacker.

“You stole my life!” growled the walking corpse in the lab coat. As the figure emerged from the shadows, Pete was able to identify the man as Charles. A withered, pitiful, and truly loathsome being. Pete studied what he thought was a cane and realized that Charles was holding a metal rod, probably a bar removed from the cages. Pete had not yet recovered back to his normal speed due to the recent time travel and the next blow landed on his shoulder. While the lack of experience and strength of the pursuer caused a strike to the shoulder instead of the head, the metal rod still managed to cause Pete a great deal of pain.

“You crushed my science research!” Charles yelled again as he took another blow, this one managed to miss Pete’s chest but still ended up in his stomach. Pete grimaced in pain. “You stole Livi from me!” this time, he only managed to swing at air as Pete was able to quickly take a few steps back despite the pain. “The scientific community tore up my lab and Trace’s lab as I was unable to show my results without the journal or the bracelet. With Trace being dead, no one could substantiate my claims. But before I could load any of the demonstrations onto the computers to show the bit that I had saved on the computer instead of buried in my journal, the imbeciles destroyed all of the computers and the rest of the lab!”

“Fuck you! I have never hated an individual so much in my life!” shouted Charles brought the pipe down for a third blow but Pete caught it before it landed.

“That’s enough of that,” replied Pete. Pete began to stand on shaky legs as the pain was still quite intense. But standing did give Pete the needed leverage to enable him to pull the metal bar out of Charles’ hand. “Now, I am going to give you the beating of a lifetime.”

Charles eyes were widened in fear but after a series of hard blows, the light in his eyes soon left and the life in his body quickly faded. But still, Pete continued to beat the body.

- - - - - - - - -

The pain finally subsided enough that Brisco could better study the world in which he landed and realized that he was in some sort of hallway and not Hard Rock. Brisco stumbled through a nearby open door which appeared to be a dark room. It felt cold and sterile but Brisco managed to light a match to enable him to stumble around the room. He was in some kind of a laboratory. Brisco noticed the shape of a body lying on a table. As he neared the table, Brisco was able to see that it was human figure in the dark but it was not moving. In the poorly lit room, the silhouette was clearly not breathing. The match went out so Brisco lit another match. As he moved the match along the body, Brisco was shocked to see that the man was beaten. In fact, very little of his body was recognizable due to bruises, cuts, and breaks.

“Allow me to introduce you to Chuck,” came Pete’s cold voice in the shadows.

Brisco started and turned towards the voice. He made a pained effort to reach for his gun but caught sight of Pete holding a gun in his direction. Brisco was in too much pain to outdraw the man who was already holding a gun on him.

“Take off the bracelet and slide it across the floor,” he commanded.

Still processing the scene in front of him Brisco didn’t obey but rather accused, “You killed him! That was not part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t part of your plan is what you mean. My plan was always to beat him to death for the experiments he performed on people, his murder of Livi’s mother, and his desire to destroy the past.” Pete gruffly pushed the body off of the table and let it fall without ceremony to the floor. It was clear that the fight had occurred a short while before as rigor mortis had not set in yet. Brisco’s eyes moved to the table where the body had been laying and even thought the room was dimly light, there were blood stains on the table. Brisco looked toward the shadowed figure of Pete and could see that he was breathing heavily, as though still rolling through a plethora of emotions.

“Again, slide your bracelet over to me. I won’t ask you again,” commanded Pete. Brisco heard the hammer click of Pete’s piece and finally registered that his only option was to comply.

As Brisco slowly slid the bracelet across the floor, he asked, “What are you up to Pete?”

“How were your trips to meet Bowler?” asked Pete, changing subject.

“How did you do that, by the way? And why?”

“The how is easy. When I put this bracelet on you, I adjusted the time jumps to the moments that I knew you had visited Bowler.”

“How would you have known that I ever even visited Bowler?”

“Back when I was a deputy for Bowler, I went by to address some clues regarding a local fugitive one night and looked through the window to see an older version of you talking with Bowler. The more that I traveled through time, I was able to discover the necessity of your visits with Bowler. As my timeline progressed, I began to send letters to Bowler and we communicated about the dates and times of your visits so that I could ensure that they occurred.”

Brisco’s bodily pain had subsided but all of this talk of timetravel and time streams was building a migraine which caused him to rub his temples. With eyes closed Brisco asked, “And why did you do this? Why was it necessary?”

“As to why – you were Bowler’s closest friend.”

The response was more surprising than Brisco expected and he felt that he would need to sit for the rest of this conversation and looked for a chair to sit in. He found an old armchair with at least a bit of stuffing left inside and allowed himself to sit. The quick succession of trips had taken its toll on Brisco and he could feel that it was taking him longer to recover. He wiped his nose and spotted blood in his hands. Was this the end? “So, you decided to kill me with the devise this lunatic strapped onto you?” Brisco asked in growing anger before sarcastically stating, “You really are a leader of empathicalism.”

“It is not out of empathy that I sent you to Bowler but out of a knowledge that friends and enemies often have items unsaid that need to be addressed before death. I knew that you needed to be with Bowler at his bedside and that you would be with me during my final moments. It’s the greatest kindness we can give each other and a truly unique gift that the universe rarely imparts on us, that sense of closure that we as human beings long for. And someone as motivated as you spirals into depression and a purposeless existence without it. Your destiny and life is not over yet, while mine is coming to a closure.”

With these words, Pete moved out of the shadows and under the single light in the room. As Brisco studied Pete’s face, Brisco realized that this Pete was no longer a man the same age as Brisco but a much older man. If Brisco had to guess, Pete was at least in his seventies. Pete had a set of half-moon glasses on. On Pete’s wrist was a variety of small metal tools that he was expertly utilizing to adjust Brisco’s bracelet. As soon as Pete finished with one tool, he would take out another one to tweak another aspect of the bracelet.

“What the hell are you talking about?” a shocked Brisco asked.

A wizened smile spread across Pete’s face. “I have a life outside of you, remember? While I sent you on a journey to meet Bowler, I created my own adventures. With the bracelet and my ability to heal from any type of injury, the bracelet would never kill me. So, I could journey all over time and all over the world. I quickly discovered that the most valuable thing that a man could accrue was experiences, not wealth or power like young men think. I traveled everywhere, saw everything, met everyone you would want to meet, and even slept with every woman that I desired. Seeing this world compared to the virtual realities made me realize how it not only destroys imagination and community but also destroys our sense of humanity.

“So, I began a revolution hundreds of years ago leading up to this day, today. I knew that today would not be a fight for the pieces of the old world but a war of powers and principalities. It needed coyotes and wolves not dreamers or idealists like you. To prepare for today, I created a network by recruiting scientists, politicians, wealth mongers, and humanitarians to build an underground infrastructure. Its purpose was to destroy the monsters threatening to destroy the world through apathy, bureaucracy, and isolation. Even incorporated Trace (Doc as you knew him), Rachel, James, and Lenore into the network.”

“Sounds like anarchy,” muttered Brisco. After a few moments a shocking thought occurred to Brisco, “You mean to tell me that you created the man who kidnapped you and then murdered him?”

“Hardly,” sneered Pete in response. “He and his narrowminded peers of this time are our antagonists which is why he only knew the story that I created. I had to operate in the dark to ensure that my revolution would not hindered by any future spectator, I created the myth that I was a leader of philosophy, specializing in the belief that empathy creates a better world. In the end, my personal philosophy on politics, society, and such are my own and not part of the legend or revolution needed to take down Charles and the rest of the catastrophic symptoms of a toxic futuristic culture.”

“So, you are the Savior of the future world?”

“I am not a savior,” Pete groaned in disgust and frustration. Pete paused for a moment and looked up above Brisco as though trying to delicately phrase his next statement. Pete opened his mouth to state something but then thought better of it. Pete shifted while rolling his eyes as took a sigh as one might after exasperatingly explaining why the sky is blue to a young child. “I am a preservationist, Brisco. There is still so much more of the universe and multi-verse for humankind to explore. It needs to be forced out of stagnation.”

“Still sounds like a savior…”

“You’re missing the point!” declared Pete, getting angry now. “I am a forest fire. Forcing people out of their primitive dwellings. Some will live and some will die. It’s a decision that you could never make. You have a narrow sense of morality or a moral compass that is stuck on true north. You believe that every life has some aspect of good or that people can be redeemed. That type of thinking will continue to better the world and is why you are going back to your original timeline. You were never meant to be part of the plan to die here today. But I am ready to die as I have lived… fully.”

A silence hung in the air. Brisco leaned back in his chair to process all that Pete stated. It really did sound more like Pete to live by a code outside of the law or what most consider moral. But there were still so many questions left to be answered.

Brisco looked up at Pete as he seemed to have calmed down a bit. He put away the last tool, admired the completed work on the bracelet, and slid it back across the table and motioned for Brisco to put it on. “There is one journey left in the bracelet. It will take you an hour or two left after you left to ensure that you don’t cross time streams. When you arrive it will shut itself off, bury it until a younger version of myself asks for it. This must remain hidden in case a future version of Bly, or persons worse than him, were to cross paths with it. But no one else should have to endure the pain of time travel and with the adjustments that I have made, no one, but me or my bloodline, will.”

Brisco stood and picked up the bracelet from off of the table. There were now blood stains covering this small machine that carried the weight of so much life and death. Brisco made a decision and tossed it back onto the table. “I am not going anywhere until I finally get some answers. There is no way in hell that I can leave and just hope that you will somehow fix the future.”

Pete frowned for a moment and seemed to process Brisco’s demand. Pete took a look at his watch and seemed to make some mental calculations. To Brisco’s surprise, Pete looked up and gave his most mischievous smile before leaning against the skeleton of a desk to study Brisco. After a few moments’ pause he finally replied, “Ask away.”

“How is it that you aren’t trying to hold onto this power of immortality and time travel?”

“Once you pass four hundred years and have experienced all of the great moments throughout history, the world loses its appeal. You collect all of your great moments but you also bury everyone that you have ever met. Initially, you experience all of the beauty and all of the sorrow. But as time progresses, people begin to look like mayflies and mountains begin to look like hills. The “newest” or “coming thing” is often just a different name on things that already exist. There comes a point after collecting experiences where it no longer holds the joys that others experience. At my age, my life has become a river of blood and fire, always on the run, and sleeping with one eye open watching for this son-of-a-bitch and his fucked up world to destroy all that was once beautiful.”

“Even if there is nothing beyond this life?”

“Even if there is nothing after this, or if there is a Heaven, or if the afterlife is an odd island with a man driving a stranded cast about in an unmarked van. Truthfully Brisco, at my age, it might be nice to finally sleep.”

Another urgent thought and pressing thought came to mind, “I assume that I am not going to be allowed to see anything or meet anyone from this time?”

Pete slowly nodded his head no and let his hand rest on his gun to ensure that Brisco would not cause trouble with that response.

“Well, can you at least pass on a message from Doc? He wanted to send his family his love and tell them how he died?”

Pete smiled. “I not only passed on Doctor Trace’s love upon his death but also orchestrated Trace to meet his husband in the first place. Mind you, from afar but it was easy as they were both recruited to be part of the revolution.”

“Wait! You could have gone back to save his life, you selfish bastard! You have all of this time to travel about setting up your plan. For that matter, why didn’t you save Whip, or Aaron, or Soc-” at the mention of Socrates, Brisco’s voice cracked. He felt like grief had sucker punched him and so Brisco hunched over, trying to bury the tears back in. He would not cry in front of Pete but it was hard. Socrates may have died hundreds of years ago to the world Brisco was standing in but it was only a few hours for Brisco.

Pete held up his hand to pause any further protests from Brisco. “We don’t have time to discuss paradox theories or even fixed points in time across multi-verses. We could start going into rabbit holes like, ‘Could I have gone back to save your father from John Bly and his gang in the first place? Or could I have helped you pick Yale instead of Harvard for law school?’ All I can say is that he needed to discover time travel to enable us to rescue James in the past and to set the world on fire in the future.”

Brisco’s stomach was in knots. There seemed like there should be a loophole, something to be able to save his friends but the idea of a paradox did make sense. At least Brisco couldn’t think of an argument so that must mean it made sense, right? Brisco began to tug at different strings in his mind and with each scenario, the paradox could not be avoided. And all of this interconnectivity was mentally exhausting. Brisco was sure that he must be forgetting something, which spurred another question.

“How is it that you retain all of your memories – I can’t imagine that you can hold onto hundreds years of memories?”

“Part of my gift of immortality is cellular regeneration which enables me to train my brain to utilize more of its storage capacity. Part of cellular regeneration is enabling neural pathways to continue to make connections beyond what the normal brain can sustain which enabled me to hold onto all of my experiences.”

Suddenly, a loud alarm began to sound and lights on the walls that had been dark suddenly began to flash bright white. The noise and lights were disorienting and Brisco had to take a step back to get his bearings.

“It looks like our time is almost up,” Pete yelled over the blaring noise while motioning for Brisco to pick up the bracelet. “You should leave before I explode the system.”

“How?” Brisco asked as he picked up the bracelet and strapped it to his wrist.

“I can give you a lesson in mechanical engineering, missing the window of opportunity that I have worked towards for hundreds of years, and potentially miss my death window, or you could go home. The short answer, I’m going to be in two places at once which will cause a temporary rip in space and time.”

Brisco looked once more at his bracelet unsure whether he should leave or stay. While he didn’t understand all of what Pete responded with, at least he got some answers. But Pete? Really?

Pete moved around the table and shook Brisco’s hand, “You could find Ellie and spend your life making love to a bar maid who will actually make you happy. You could go back to Hollywood. Hell, you could be a spy and work with Michael Weston again in coming wars. Just be sure to live!”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you choosing to die for this cause? It sounds like you could have died without saving anyone else’s life.”

“Brisco, it’s the same motivation that I have always had, self-presentation. And more than that, my Auntie always told me to ‘control your return to the soil.’ And that’s what I’m doing. It is important to me to die at the moment and time of my choosing. I choose here. I choose now.” Pete attempted to let go of Brisco’s hand but Brisco held on.

“Last question - does this closure mean that we are friends or enemies?”

Pete smiled and replied, “It means that we were always both.”

Suddenly, an explosion broke through the wall revealing a group of people led by a beautiful woman in her 20’s. The mob were wearing all black and full-face masks as they stormed through from the other side. The force of the explosion almost knocked the two men over.

“That’s my cue for my war to begin. It’s been an adventure Brisco. While I won’t see you again, I’m sure you’ll be having mojitos soon with a younger me soon,” Pete said with a sly smile and a wink.

Before Brisco could reply, Pete turned Brisco’s hand over and pressed a large button on Brisco’s wrist. Suddenly, there was a blinding light around him. Brisco watched as Pete’s face melted away before shutting his eyes. Just as before, the light surrounded him, the floor beneath him seemed to disappear below him causing him to fall, and the pain began shooting through his limbs. Brisco shouted in pain and then suddenly it was over. No more light, no more searing pain, and no more falling.

The adventure of time travel was over and the next adventure was ready to begin.

Year 2170

Pete transported back to the lab which was dark except for a lamp over the dark tangled mess of Charles’s hair. Pete stood in the shadows of the room for several moments, it had taken him years to figure out how to finagle the bracelet to allow him to travel to any date and time that he wished but he still wanted to be sure that he had landed at the correct moment. After several moments of listening to the even breathing and soft snore of the scientist, Pete could finally hear what he had come for. There was a soft giggle from a child, quietly playing and singing to herself.

Seeing that it was safe, Pete silently moved across the room to a corner of the room. Livi was curled up in a tiny ball. She was holding the saddest rag as a kind of doll and talking to it as though it were a close friend. Pete noted that her only warmth was an old shirt covering her like a blanket.

“Livi,” whispered Pete.

Livi opened her eyes and at the sight of Pete she grinned from ear to ear. “Daddy said that you might come back for me.”

“Shhhh! We gotta be quiet before sneaking out on an adventure,” Pete said as he picked her up and balanced her on his hip while trying to fiddle with the bracelet to go back in time.

Livi rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist as though she were starting to become sleepy. “Daddy says I’m not ‘pos’d to go into the cubes.”

Balancing a squirming child and trying to adjust the time and date on the bracelet was proving to be much more difficult than he had expected. So, in an effort to stop the full range of questions from Livi and to better adjust the bracelet, he asked, “Can you give me a hug, darlin’?”

“Sure!” she exclaimed and wrapped her arms around him to give him a giant hug. “Hold on tight!” whispered Pete. Just as he dialed in the time and location, Charles began to stir awake. Pete held his breath hoping that they would escape before Charles fully awoke.

When the light faded away, they found themselves standing in a giant field with the sun shining down on them. Livi began to protest a bit as the sun hurt her eyes. “Hold on there, little lady,” Pete said to calm her down. He pulled sunglasses out of a vest pocket and balanced them over her tiny nose to cover her eyes which enabled her to open her eyes and study what was around her. As she took in the flowers, the grass, and the sky above, she began to giggle and clap her hands.

“Is this a cube? I’ve never been in a cube before! It smells soooo much better than the food and the lab and my dolly. What do you call this? And this? And this?”

About the only question that Pete was truly allowed enough time to answer was, “No, we’re above ground.”

She took a moment to process his response but as she studied him, she had another thought. “You look older and your hair is longer!” she exclaimed.

Pete laughed as he stood and picked her up. “It’s only been a few weeks since you last saw me, but it’s been a few years for me.” She giggled in response to his laugh without understanding what he was talking about. But as she looked across the field, she saw three people walking towards them from a distance.

“Ooooh!” exclaimed Livi in fascination but the closer they came, the more shy she became before she buried her face behind Pete’s knees. The individuals moving towards Pete were Lenore, Rachel, and James, only slightly older since their last conversation at the Winchester Mansion.

“Pete! How the hell are you?” asked James as he extended a hand to shake Pete’s.

Pete shook James’ hand before nodding to Lenore and Rachel to introduce the tiny figure wrapped behind his knee. “Livi, I would like you to meet some really good people. This is Lenore, James, and Rachel.” Livi continued to hide her face but smiled shyly at Lenore as Lenore waved back.

Pete picked her up before saying, “We should talk inside.”

“How did you know that I would be here?” asked Rachel. “I only took the mayor’s aide job a week ago and it’s only temporary until I decide what to do…”

Pete held up his wrist and responded, “Time traveler.”

Lenore was less interested in the comings and goings of Pete but was focused more on the picture of Pete carrying a child in clothes full of holes and dirt while clutching a rag that must have been some sort of doll or comfort blanket. As she watched the shy and abnormally pale and thin child, Lenore decided that her first-priority would be to help the child.

“Rachel, why don’t you take the child to look at the horses?” Rachel momentarily seemed irked to be relegated from a position of authority to the role of babysitter but the look on Lenore’s face told Rachel that any complaint would not be tolerated. Reluctantly, Rachel took the small child from Pete’s arms and carried Livi on her hip towards the stables. As soon as the two were out of earshot, Lenore turned to Pete before loudly whispering, “Pete where did you get a child?”

“From the future-“ came Pete’s vague response.

James frowned while lost in thought before voicing his concerns aloud. “I don’t mean to critique you but why is she here? What about the paradoxes? What if she is too frail and young to handle time travel and now she’s going to be unable to grow to adult-size?”

Pete studied James before responding. The young man still seemed worn through after his traumatic experience of being transplanted from one location to another, not to mention amnesia for an extended period and a battle against the supernatural. Pete had maintained a level of control with his travels while James had been a prisoner of the device. It was only natural that the young man would be afraid for any young person carried through time and the potential long-term ramifications.

Pete turned his attention from studying James to watch Livi in the distance before addressing James’ concerns. “You’ve actually met her mother – the ‘guide’ we met at the mansion.” When the mother and son nodded in recollection, Pete continued. “It’s a long story but Livi’s mother and I have actually known each other for quite a few years, in my timeline anyway. One of her requests was that she observed the three of you during your time at the mansion wanted you to raise her once we defeated the army of darkness at the mansion. She felt that you would best raise her while keeping her safe.”

The thought of a woman giving up her child caused Lenore to burst out the question, “Why isn’t she raising her child?” She hadn’t intended on voicing the question but the thought bubbled out in a rush.

“Raising a child as a ghost and in a haunted mansion didn’t seem like the best environment for Livi. Additionally, the mother felt that it was time to pass through the veil.”

“And the girl’s father?” asked James.

“Time doesn’t pass linearly for time travelers like Livi, her mother, or myself for that matter. Regarding the father, I’m not sure that the girl’s mother even knew who the father was. Long story short, a couple men knew her mother before she died but Charles believed that the mother belonged to himself and to no one else. When Charles discovered that she was pregnant and that the child was not his, he arranged for her discovery and for her death penalty.”

“But if she knew you or has known you for awhile, wouldn’t she want you to be a part of her life?” asked James. He thought back to when Pete was his father’s deputy. During that time, Pete had shared some of his less legal ventures which James, Shaun, and Gus had found fascinating. In fact, James suspected that part of why Shaun and Gus were so successful at posing as psychics was due to Pete’s influence. In James’ mind, Pete could certainly raise a child. It would be an unorthodox upbringing but then this was an unusual child.

Pete had continued to watch Livi in the distance as she pet the horses and giggled with delight when the animal would snort in her directions. But with James’ question, Pete finally turned to look back at Lenore and James. There was a darkness in Pete’s face as he replied, “I’m out for revenge which is not a world for a child. She deserves a stable home. One where she can hide away from the world and from history as a whole,” explained Pete. “At the end of the day, Livi’s mother and I decided that she must be with people who can help her find a sense of normalcy. A place that will value her innocence, imagination, and wonder for the world around her.”

Lenore nodded in understanding and while she did not agree with the decision, she looped an arm around both men’s arms and once between both men, she led them back towards the house. James had wanted to ask Pete more questions but one look from Lenore silenced him. It seemed that Pete was finished explaining himself for the moment which meant the walk to the house was filled with a weighted silence.

But while James was processing the information, Lenore found a smile beginning to grow inside of her. She couldn’t help but begin imagining the future. When Bowler had passed, a cloud had taken residence in the Lonefeather household. And then when James was finally returned, it was clear that he was still shaken to his core. Shawn and Gus had visited shortly after the funerals for Socrates, Aaron, and Whip but so much death and fear made Lenore wonder if anything could bring her son back to the present. Lenore had taken a temporary sabbatical, which the town respected but did not understand.

When Rachel came by to visit and expressed her renewed frustration of Hollywood, Lenore offered the role as mayoral aide. The addition of an attractive actress did help to change the atmosphere at the house. Rachel was a force to be reckon with but she also carried a smile that seemed to brighten through any depression or fear. While Lenore was certain that the girl had an unrequited affection for her son, she could not guess if anything would ever develop between the two. But watching Rachel take on her role as a mayoral aide, only solidified Lenore’s belief that the young actress could certainly be a part of Lenore’s town legacy. With the addition of Livi, Lenore could see Rachel and James fill the shoes of Bowler & Lenore while she could begin the process of retiring back to being a maternal figure to the child of the future. Before following James and Pete into the house, she turned to watch Livi squirm her way out of Rachel’s arms and sprint towards the house before tripping over her own feet. The girl giggled loudly which caused both Lenore and Rachel to laugh at the child’s delight with the world. The sound of the combined laughter shattered the last few clouds over the Lonefeather house. Livi skipped past Lenore into the kitchen with Rachel right behind, both were still beaming ear-to-ear.

“Pete! Pete! Pete!” exclaimed Livi. “I saw a horse! A real one! Well, a few of them. And guess what? It sneezed on me. It was silly. And then we picked a couple flowers and Miss Rachel put them in my hair but I was running too fast and they all fell out-“

“How about some cookies?” asked Rachel.

“Oooh! Cookies are my favorite,” encouraged James.

Lenore smiled and watched both Rachel and James guide Livi to the kitchen with the promise of cookies. Everything seemed to make Livi giggle and the latest cause for laughter was simply the word “cookie.” The child proclaimed the word to be a funny name for something so sweet before she moved onto to talk about the next thing that caught her attention without taking a breath.

Lenore sat at the table, the same one used as Rachel’s surgery in what felt like eons ago. There had been so much tragedy and angst but in this moment, Lenore felt like she had a new motivation for life. A family that she could focus on. A new matriarchal mission to drive her life towards. Life would never be what it was before her husband had passed but she felt reinvigorated about what her new normal and new life would look like. After a few moments, she let go of the dream to refocus on Pete. He had a serious expression and had remained standing near the door as though about to sneak out. As Lenore watched Pete, she realized that he was about to leave. He was calculating the exact moment to disappear while Livi would be distracted with cookies.

She only had a few moments to ask the question that had been on her mind since Pete appeared out of nowhere with the child in his arms. It was now or never.

Lenore cleared her throat before saying as nonchalantly as she could muster, “Pete falling in love and having a child, who’d have thought?”

“Never said that I fell in love or that the child is mine,” commented Pete in the gruffest voice that he could muster. Pete gave one last look at Livi before he was satisfied that the child was indeed distracted and he tipped his hat to signal his goodbye.

“Anything else you would like us to teach her? Aside from morals, wonderment of the world, imagination, and the like?”

Pete smiled impishly before responding, “You teach her the morals and I’ll teach her the best cons as she grows up.”

“So, we will we see you again?” asked Lenore in shock.

“Now and again,” came his sing song response. “Be seeing you,” he said before exiting the house. A familiar noise and blinding light came from outside the house but Lenore didn’t need to look outside to know that Pete had disappeared.

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

Brisco lost count regarding how many visits, cups of coffee, or jokes that he was able to share with Bowler. He was even able to occasionally chat with James as he grew up, under the strict rule to never speak of it to his friends. Especially, James’ childhood friends Gus and Shaun. Unfortunately, Brisco had been feeling the pain that Pete and Doc had discussed as a side effect. In fact, the last two jumps had not only resulted in excruciating pain but nose bleeds.

As the familiar light and noises faded, Brisco had to put his hands on his knees to steady himself. It took quite a few minutes before Brisco was able to slowly stand back up. In fact, there was still ringing in his ears and it was difficult to walk steadily as Brisco began the short walk through Hard Rock towards Bowler’s house. Upon arriving on Bowler’s deck, Brisco took a quick look in one of the windows lit by a nearby lantern to ensure that he had wiped away all of the blood off of his face.

After ensuring that the blood was cleared off his face, Brisco quietly moved around the side of the house towards the guestroom which he knew had become Bowler’s bedroom. Bowler’s cancer had spread and no one could carry him upstairs to bed anymore, so the household had converted the spare room into a place of peace and rest for Bowler.

“Well!” came Bowler’s voice, this time weakened by the cancer. “Don’t you look like death!” his chuckle turned in a cough as Brisco sat down.

“Me? You look the worst for wear.”

“I do what I can,” laughed Bowler. “So, I see you still time travelin’.”

“Yea, seems so.”

“How much longer you think you’ll live?”

“Probably not much longer than you,” Brisco admitted. “At least, Pete gave me this time with you. Whatever happens after today, it was worth the cost.”

“Well, that’s about the nicest thing you ever said about me… and the sappiest thing. Don’t get all soft on me,” Bowler said as he rolled his eyes. “How ‘bout the comin’ thing or, as I like to call it, the perfect drink?”

Brisco’s eyebrow raised. “The perfect drink?” Brisco exclaimed as he stood back up, slapping his knees in the process. He walked over to a bar that had been set up on a nearby table, as though Bowler had been expecting him.

“Place mint leaves and limes in a glass” instructed Bowler. “Add ice. Pour rum and soda water over the drink.”

Brisco took a sip before smiling at Bowler. “This really is the perfect drink.”

“It’s called a mojito.”

As Brisco made a second one for Bowler to enjoy, he studied Bowler. His frame had greatly sunken as the cancer had overtaken his body. Catching Brisco’s concerned gaze, Bowler broke the silence. “I think this really is the last visit.”

“Bowler,” muttered Brisco with lump in his throat. “I don’t-“ began Brisco but he couldn’t finish the statement. Instead, Brisco elected to stare into his glass and to drink it rather than be forced to say good-bye.

“Now don’t be getting’ all mushy on me.”

“Really Bowler - you’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Well, who else would put up with you and all them crazy adventures and inventions? Anyone else would have run soon as they met you.”

“True,” admitted Brisco in an attempt to be as lighthearted as Bowler wanted the time to be. Brisco took another drink as he studied the angel above Bowler’s bed, “Don’t forget our deal.”

Bowler smiled and said, “When the angel comes to take my hand, I’ll make sure that you can hitch a ride. But if it ain’t your time, I’ll be sure to come back for you myself.”

The two men shook hands and to Brisco’s amazement the light began to swirl around him. “What the hell?” exclaimed Brisco. “It’s never been this fast.”

“Maybe it knows we terrible at goodbyes!” laughed Bowler before it was lost in a flurry of coughs. Before long, the light had died around Brisco but he was again in severe pain. As he lifted his head, he wiped his nose but found that his ears had also started to bleed. At this rate, Brisco felt that if he did even one more jump, there was a strong chance it could be his last.

1913 - Miami

Pete had traveled to 1912 as planned and between the letter of reference and Pete's conman skills, he was able to convince Weston and his team that Pete was a down and out spy and they adopted him like a stray dog. However, to ensure that Pete remained invisible to the future, he used a fake name that Ellie had created and included in the reference letter. That name being James Kendrick, Kendrick for short.

"Kendrick" had managed to ingratiate himself into the small spy ring which might have been difficult without Brisco's unwitting recommendation. Weston seemed to be exceedingly untrusting of people and preferred to do missions alone or with his girlfriend, Fiona. If times were desperate, they might loop in Weston's mother, Madeline. Kendrick's arrival had turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Pete's underworld knowledge and previous connections with Irish mob enabled him to become a mole for Weston, providing additional intel that proved vital to Weston's mission. Pete got what we wanted, a front row seat to Weston's operation. Not only did Weston have experience in covert missions and becoming invisible, but he had extensive training in utilizing targeted munitions and explosives to even a playing field. If anyone was a one-man army, it was Weston.

Over the course of the year, Pete was able to better understand the small team. Weston worked hard to be a closed book to everyone around him but Pete was able to glean that Weston was wholly devoted to serving his country, beyond any logical thought for himself. It was such a deep-rooted belief in Weston's self that caused both admiration and a sense that burn out was not far away. Pete observed that if it wasn't for Fiona and Madeline, Weston would be a much darker and lost soul. Weston's savior, Fiona, was the individual that Pete most related to. Almost immediately, Pete and Fiona bonded over their mutual affection for guns and their ties to the Irish mob. Both of them preferred to handle a mission with guns blazing or through other means of force. Instead, Weston was willing to occasionally take a punch if it meant retaining a cover, rather than utilize violence. Weston used violence as more of a last resort which was an adjustment for both Pete and Fiona.

Of course, it wasn't the only adjustment that Pete had to face but the lack of traveling through time and space on a regular basis. A routine 24 hours a day made the world feel as if it was moving at a snail's pace compared to the time hopping that he had enjoyed. However, Pete was determined to learn all he could from Weston and Pete had a lot more patience than anyone gave him credit for. It was a skill that he developed in waiting to rob trains, to stop stagecoaches, or to play dead in order to kidnap high value targets.

After spending a year with the Weston crew and knowing that the final objection was in sight, Pete started to worry about how he might leave the group without suspicion. He had hoped that the group could simply go their separate ways upon completing the mission but something about this spy bureaucracy told Pete that Weston was probably in for a series of "one last mission" lifestyle. Additionally, the timeline had caught back up with Pete's time of departure. Pete had contacted Ellie so she knew where to reach him and she had immediately responded with a new concern. Apparently, Socrates was asking around town after a man who had gone on a crime spree and kept appearing and disappearing from San Francisco. Socrates had stopped by the bar to show newspaper clippings to Ellie and to the bar frequenters to find out the identity of the thief. While Socrates never told Ellie why he was hunting for the man, Ellie was concerned that Brisco might have actually left the bars in Los Angeles and had started to hunt down the thief. Additionally, she recommended that he return to review all that she had uncovered about the bracelet.

The biggest complication to ending the mission was that they still had not been allowed to meet the man pulling the strings of the Irish mob in the United States. Despite Pete's connections, Fiona's Irish heritage, and Weston's charm, the highest that they were able to reach was O'Banion. Finally, Weston had been able to come up with a plan that would draw the mastermind out. However, it required an added person, someone to pose as a weapons dealer. Weston had asked Jesse, his commanding officer, for an additional man stating that they would need the individual for 48 hours at the most. Unfortunately, Jesse had stated that the nearest agents were already assigned to Europe and Mexico to monitor rumors of rising world tensions. Jesse had explained that while the United States was determined to stay isolated from any potential conflicts, there was a growing national anxiousness and key decision makers were dependent on spies to stay fully informed. However, a European war seemed too distant to affect Pete or his agenda. Pete had his own future war to win.

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

“We finally got our man!” exclaimed Weston in his most charming smile.

The exclamation had caught Pete off guard as he had been lost in thought and staring at the breakfast and coffee Madeline had made. In Pete’s experience all that one needs to get things done is right plan, right people, and a good cup of coffee. By zeroing in on the coffee, he hadn’t even noticed the excitement in Weston’s demeanor when the group had sat down at the table.

Weston continued, “I know that it’s been a long road but we are finally near the end. Additionally, I just got our authorization from Washington to take the son of a bitch into custody before we can pull up stakes and move to Washington D.C.”

A sigh of relief came from Madelyn as Fiona spouted, “About bloody time.”

“What time can we expect the man Jesse’s sending?” asked Pete who was already calculating how much time it would take to prepare the agent on the plan that Weston had created months ago, to go through the motions of capturing the head of the local insurgents, and finally, to leave without any kind of notoriety.

"It's actually not one of Jesse's agents but an old colleague with spy experience and he should be here late tonight. He is going to be registering at the hotel under the name 'Charles Finley.'"

"If he arrives too late, how are we going to be able to get him up to speed?" asked a concerned Madeline as she ladled more eggs onto Pete's untouched plate.

"Luckily, he's got enough experience that he'll be able to roll with the punches," explained Weston as he finished off a yogurt.

"You mean you hope he can roll with the punches," corrected Pete. He felt a worry rise inside of him, not about the mission's success but what if it failed and he would be ordered to stay until it's completion. Pete was unconcerned about disobeying an order as he did not have the same national pride that Weston carried. However, Pete was concerned that disappearing in the night might cause a paper trail that the future Charles could track. Pete needed to remain a ghost.

"The meeting with O'Banion and Snake is set for tonight, it's too late to back out," explained Fiona in an effort to defend Weston.

"I know him," began Weston, "and honestly, there is no one that I trust more. We just need to work on getting everything else in place as best we can."

"Will he be staying here?" asked Madeline.

"He'll need to keep up appearances so he'll be registered at the hotel. Hopefully, I can sneak him out at night so that I can bring him by the cabin to do a more detailed mission briefing. Kendrick, can you run interference after the meeting to ensure that no one discovers that we're meeting?"

"I'm guessing you'll want me to move into the hotel as well?" asked Pete, knowing the answer.

"I'd suggest bringing a good book and finding a comfy chair to move into for today and tomorrow."

"We're running the operation tomorrow?" Fiona asked hopefully. She had bolted up right in her chair, suddenly enthusiastic about the day's events.

"Tonight is the meeting and tomorrow will be the sale to draw out the mastermind," confirmed Weston. Fiona and Madeline began to hug each other in excitement before Weston regained control of the room issuing orders to each member as there was still a lot to do before Chuck Finley's evening arrival.

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

Pete had been at the hotel since the late afternoon. It was unlikely that the train would arrive that early but Pete wanted to position himself at the hotel bar so that he could watch the front door for Finley's arrival. For the first few hours, it was just the hotel and bar regulars, even low members of the Irish gang whom Pete knew giving him a better reason for hanging out while not renting a room.

The first stranger to arrive through the door was a tall and wirey man with blonde hair which seemed to point in every direction. The skeleton of a man was hunched over and covered his face as he coughed. There was something familiar about the man but Pete didn't get a good look at the guy and obviously, he was not an agent. Just behind the skinny stranger was a young woman who walked in as though she owned every room she entered. Her looks and confidence caused several of the men at the bar to stop drinking or pause conversations just to watch her pass. However, Pete didn't get a good look at her as the final member of the trio was none other but Brisco County Jr.!

Pete slid into the shadows to watch the group. Brisco signed the small group in before each collected a key and moved upstairs. Is Brisco playing Chuck Finley? And if so, why didn't Weston just tell me that it was Brisco? More than that, why did Brisco bring a young woman and scrawny man with him? They certainly weren't part of the mission which meant that Brisco was placing civilians in harm's way which seemed out of character for Brisco.

Pete had remained at the bar and watched the minutes ticked by. After about twenty minutes or so, Brisco left the hotel, alone. Pete took note of the time and noticed that if he was the buyer, he'd arrive a few minutes before the meeting and might be able to catch up with Weston. However, a few moments later, the woman snuck out after Brisco. Maybe Brisco was not Finley, if that girl is following him out. Pete waited until the appointed time of the meeting and noticed that only those three individuals had registered this evening. Pete was now almost certain that Brisco was playing Finley but he wanted one last confirmation, just in case the agent didn't arrive and the operation was now going to be pushed back, again.

Pete approached the hotel manager who was managing the check-in desk. Of all of the members of the Irish gang, the hotel manager annoyed Pete the most. Pete had found that people who irritate him, or seem to offer nothing to further Pete's interests, seemed to all have forgettable names. The hotel manager had given Pete his name on numerous occasions but Pete had always forgotten it within seconds; there just seemed to be no reason to remember the man. Until now, grimaced Pete. How am I going to read the register list without tipping off that I know Brisco if he's not Chuck Finley? If he is Chuck Finley, I'm supposed to know him and wouldn't need to find out his name.

Pete took a deep breath before giving his most charming smile to the hotel manager before saying, "I would like to register a complaint."

The hotel manager frowned before stating, "Mr. Hutter, I don't believe that you are a guest and therefore, any complaints will have to be ignored."

"Ignored? Ignored?" Pete began. He lowered his voice as though the offense was so great that it would take all of his strength to contain it. "That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Pete throwing his arm down to feign his anger.

"Mr. Hutter, it's not that we don't appreciate your utilization of our bar this evening or that we don't appreciate the growing relations between your colleagues and mine, but at the moment, there are far more pressing matters for both of our groups than to handle a mere complaint."

"That's just want I wanted to complain about," Pete quickly replied, in an effort to change avenues of attack. "With so much occurring tomorrow, specifically here at the hotel, I should have a room."

"And who will be paying for the room?" asked the hotel manager with a dark grin.

"Obviously, my room should be on the house," Pete stated, knowing full well that the room would not be comped by the hotel but also noting that to make the "complaint" believable, he'd need to be demanding.

"My, how surprising," commented the hotel manager. "You wanting something from me without any cost to yourself, how American of you."

"For the sake of our growing alliance, can't you make an exception?" asked Pete who planned to acquiesce momentarily in order to sign in and gain access to the registry.

"Fine," commented the hotel manager, "I have other things to attend do. Would you mind staying upstairs with the rest of your group?"

The hotel manager agreeing to give Pete a free room caught Pete by surprise. Not that the rooms were anything extravagant, in fact they were about as plain and basic as they could be. But Pete was used to working with people who charged for everything and the word "favor" did not exist.

Pete collected himself before saying, "That should be fine."

The hotel manager handed Pete a key and then turned to go back to his office.

"Wait, don't I need to register or something?"

"Why? We're all friends here."

"True," Pete stated with a forced smile. He started again, "Would you mind if I borrowed your pen?"

"My pen?" asked the hotel manager who seemed to be watching something occurring behind Pete now with great interest.

"I need to write myself a note before heading back to the bar," explained Pete desperate now to see the register book.

"Take it," stated the hotel manager as he handed the pen over to Pete before leaving the front desk area. Pete took the opportunity to quickly turn the registration book around and finally confirmed that Brisco had signed in as "Chuck Finley."

Unfortunately, the victory was short lived. Pete turned to see what had pulled the hotel manager away and he noticed that the hotel manager had joined a couple of the Irishmen that Pete had seen in the past, Playfair and Lonergan. The hotel manager was talking quickly to the Irishmen and pointing upstairs before the two men began hurrying up towards Brisco's rooms. It wouldn't be long until they barged in on the 3^rd man in Brisco's small party and who knew what the civilian might say. Pete quickly passed the hotel manager and moved out the front door of the hotel. In the alley beside the bar across the street, Pete could make out the shadow of Weston with two other figures, presumably Fiona and Brisco. Pete gave a loud whistle and when the shadow of Weston turned towards the hotel, Pete waved to signal the need to return to the hotel immediately. Pete then moved out of the light as he knew that it would be best to meet Brisco under the cover of darkness before going inside.

Within minutes, Brisco crossed the street and arrived at the lobby door. Despite the possible unraveling Weston's carefully calculated plan, Pete couldn't help himself and allowed "Brisco County Jr." to come rushing out in his favorite sing song tone. Brisco turned and stared at Pete, his face frozen between shock and confusion. Before Brisco could blow anyone's cover, Pete quickly put out his hand to shake Brisco's.

"Chuck Finley, I presume. I'm Kendrick," Pete began before turning his attention upstairs to the Irishmen. "While I would love get to know you better and to pontificate the meaning of life. I believe there is a matter upstairs that demands our immediate attention."

The two men quickly moved up the stairs and down the hallway towards the rented rooms but Pete could tell that Brisco was spiraling with the information. About all that Pete could glean is that a scientist was upstairs. It looked like the Irishmen had already ransacked the girl's room as her clothes littered the hallway floor. Pete ignored whatever motions Brisco doled out and silently moved into position behind one of the Irishmen before hearing the man in front of Brisco shout, "Where are the weapons?"

Clearly, we did too good of a job setting Brisco up as an elite gun runner. This could blow up in our faces if we're not careful.

Trying to decide how to save the situation without blowing the mission, Pete failed to time his sneak attack on Playfair as Brisco knocked out Lonergan. In that time, Playfair had managed to punch the young blonde man in Brisco's party and knocked the kid out. Pete looked over at the scientist but all he could see was a mess of tangled blonde hair. Pete honed in on Playfair rather than the knocked out kid. Pete grabbed the gun from the passed out Lonergan and pointed it at the co-conspirator, Playfair who was now standing in the middle of the scientist's room with big fearful eyes.

"Now that wasn't real smart of you to break into a scientist's room and knock him out," Pete said in a mocking tone. "You just lost your only leverage. Obviously, you don't play chess. Maybe you should stick to checkers because you are all offense but no strategy."

Pete did not get a good look at the young man in a crumpled heap on the floor but based on his clothing and scribbled paper everywhere, he certainly seemed to have the "genius" trait of disorganized chaos. Looking around at the belonging of Brisco's two companions, Pete realized that his suspicions that the two strangers were just civilians had been correct. Unfortunately, whether Brisco wanted his civilians involved in Weston's operation or not, both individuals were now dragged into the operation.

"How dare you Yanks try to profit instead of support our cause! You have no honor! There is a fight coming and you dare to-"

"How dare you break into my employees' rooms!" The rage in Brisco's voice shook Pete to the present as he realized how protective Brisco truly felt about this young man. Brisco continued to rant, "Do you think that I would be stupid enough to bring the weapons anywhere near town before I got paid? Kendrick was right you are stupid!"

As much as Pete enjoyed Brisco agreeing with him, truth be told, Pete was more enchanted by the gun that he was holding rather than whatever Playfair was yelling about. Clearly, the Irishman had some kind of martyr complex and Pete had little patience for any further tyrannical behavior.

The Irishman seemed determined to justify the ran sackers' actions and continued, "At least we believe in a higher calling - like freedom and-"

"I believe in nothing but the almighty dollar. And I don't need you or your cause! In fact, I am about to call this deal off!"

Despite how precarious their safety was in this moment, Pete couldn't help but smile. This was the Brisco that Pete remembered, not the hopeless shell hiding from widows and living for his next drink. It looked like Brisco had caught enough of the plan and had enough skill to improvise and to save Weston's all important and final Miami mission.

Unfortunately, Brisco caught the smile and turned on Pete by demanding, "Anything you want to add?"

Pete raised his hands in mock surrender in an attempt to abet Brisco's ire. "Nossir! Looks like you've managed to say everything needed."

It seemed enough for Brisco to turn back on the intruder and Pete watched as Brisco picked the man up and threw him out of the room. "In fact, deal's off! That's the message you can tell your employers!"

"No need to cancel the deal or to pass on a message," came the cheerful voice of O'Banion. He had silently moved up the stairs and was standing next to Snake and the hotel manager. "Message received. It's like you said, had to try. Come Playfair, we'll attend to Lonergan."

Pete casually watched the martyr move toward O'Banion while Snake and the hotel manager carried the unconscious man away. Most of Pete's attention was directed towards admiring the captured weapon. The spell was only momentarily broken when the hotel manager had interjected with "That's my friend's gun."

"And?" Pete asked as though the fact had no bearing on the conversation at hand.

"Well, it's his," came the weak response from the hotel manager, a little less confident as he looked into Pete's eyes.

"It's a Beautiful Colt 45. Almost as beautiful as my piece." At that Pete retrieved his piece and pointed both guns at Playfair. "Pete's piece is what I call it and it's about time, it had a mate. So, I would say, it was his. Past tense is key."

Pete knew that he did not necessarily need another gun but it was too beautiful of a weapon to surrender. Since both guns were pointed at the hotel manager, the hotel manager surrendered the question of the gun's ownership and he joined the Irishmen as they slowly left the hallway. O'Banion was the last to leave the hallway but just before he turned to leave, he gave a mock apologetic smile. "Our apologies for the confusion. Let's all get a good night's rest before deciding if we want to call off the deal."

At that Brisco and Pete were left alone in the hallway. Pete holstered his piece and tucked the second gun behind his back. In that moment, Pete was relieved that he had booked a room at the hotel as opposed to trying to find a way to guard the rooms surreptitiously. By now the hotel manager had surely explained to the rest of the Irish gang that Pete was staying at the hotel and that their movements could damage their deal for the next day. He began by tossing any item on the floor into the girl's room. He wasn't exactly sure if they were all hers but it seemed a good deduction based on the items he threw. After the hallway was clear, Pete went downstairs to the bar and picked up the book he brought to keep awake and ordered coffee from the hotel manager to be delivered to his room. It looked like it was going to be an all-night event, guarding the hallways from any further intrusions.

After a few instructions to the hotel manager, Pete noticed that Brisco had finally come downstairs, carrying the scrawny man over his shoulder, as the young man was still out cold. Pete could tell that this lightweight had clearly not worked in any hard labor environment as he looked too weak to carry a satchel of books much less anything with real weight. Before Brisco left, Pete discreetly motioned to Brisco that he would keep guard over the rooms while Brisco and his unconscious friend met up with Michael. Unfortunately, Brisco was never the best at nonverbal communication so Pete had to trust that Brisco understood how to get out of town and into the direction of the cabin. Worst case, Pete knew that Weston was somewhere tailing Brisco and would meet up with the duo after they left the town.

Either way, it was out of Pete's hands when Brisco rode off into the night. With a sigh, Pete went back into the hotel and moved a chair from his room into the middle of the hallway so that he could watch over the hotel rooms. Once he felt settled and guns within reach, Pete picked up his coffee and copy of Sun Tsu's "Art of War" and settled in for a long night of guard duty.

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

At about 7 am, the previously agreed upon time by Weston and O'Banion, Pete joined the Irishmen to help seal in the sound around the bar. A small group would practice talking in various volumes inside the dining room while the rest worked on insulating the sound. Pete had been volunteered to be part of the insulators working to ensure that it was sealed for sound which gave him the opportunity to surreptitiously ensure that the gas would not escape or dissipate once pumped into the dining hall. Since it was tedious work, it took much longer than anticipated. But finally, the task was completed and the men went their separate ways, to work on other projects, to go to sleep, or to change for the day.

Pete made a lot of commotion about getting coffee at the bar across the street to ensure that anyone watching would take notice that he had left the hotel. Once the breakfast and coffee order was placed at the bar, Pete snuck out the back of the bar and into to the dining room of the hotel. Once he was sure that no one had seen him, he pulled out a map that Weston and Pete had drawn up in preparation for this deal. He found the agreed upon location and cut a small hole in the wall. Pete then set up gas tank next to the room before placing a small card table over the gas canister. He then found a long tablecloth and used it to hide the underside of the table. Pete had barely laid the tablecloth down before he heard Snake's voice nearing Pete and his work. Pete had just enough time to dive under the tablecloth before Snake came into the hallway. O'Banion's number two seemed to be surveying the work of insulation by the morning crew and he was running his hand over the wall. Pete held his breath, wondering if he would feel the need to move the table or inspect it. After a few minutes, Pete heard Snake pass by, taking no notice of the table or Pete. Pete peaked around the corner of the tablecloth and watched as Snake turned around the corner, still studying the walls. Pete carefully got out from under the table but as he looked up and down the hallway, Pete began to second guess how this table would look next to the dining room wall. After a few moments of consideration, he grabbed a pitcher of water and several glasses and placed it on the table.

Before anyone noticed, he snuck back to the bar and made a loud commotion ensuring that all would assume that he had not gone anywhere near the hotel lobby since the insulation tests of the morning. At that, Pete began chugging as much coffee as he could find. It was going to be a long day.

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

Pete watched as Brisco and the young man arrived early to set up. Since Pete was supposed to be more of a grunt man and part of the escape plan, he started walking towards the building after he was sure that all of the weapons, drawings, and "inventions" were loaded into the building so he could be a guard before the Irishmen decided to join the meeting. It appeared that Pete was none too soon as the Irishmen began to walk into the hotel dining room before Pete was even in place. Pete took his position but managed to find a way to catch Brisco's eye and give him a wink to assure Brisco that he was not alone. Unfortunately, Pete was joined by Playfair, the thief from the night before, and the hotel manager.

"Haven't you ever heard that three's a crowd?"

"How's that?" inquired the hotel manager.

"We got one of each party represented here, we don't need another body crowding this door. Don't you have some hospitality management to work on?"

The hotel manager's only response was a series of mutters under his breath as he stormed back to the front desk. "And then there was one," thought Pete. From the other side of the door, he could hear an added two voices in the room, when Pete peaked inside and caught a glimpse of the young man from the night before and an unfamiliar individual. Clearly, they had entered through the back entrance. The door closed again limiting Pete's look to that momentary glance. With the door shut, all Pete could do was listen to Brisco's tap dancing routine in an attempt to stall until Weston's arrival.

As if on cue, Michael arrived and pressed a note into Pete's hand as they shook hands before Michael entered the room to join Brisco. In order to read the note in private, Pete told Playfair about the water and glasses around the corner and suggested that he bring back a couple glasses of water. As soon as the man turned the corner, Pete read the note:

Doc will gas. Fi & Ma around corner as plan "B."

Pete released a breath and leaned against the door. It looked like Brisco and Michael had the tough job of entertaining the group, this "Doc" guy will gas the room, and Pete just needed to wait for the signal to take out any stragglers or to help load up the target and O'Banion. However, just as Pete started to review the next steps of his plan, he noticed two figures hurry upstairs. To Pete's surprise, it was the girl who had snuck out after Brisco the night before. The young man was familiar but Pete couldn't place him.

Within a few moments the young couple rushed back downstairs and started moving towards him. Pete tipped his hat and with a large smile stated, "The dining area is closed for a private event. We recommend visiting any other restaurant in town but I thank you to vacate the premises immediately."

Pete continued to study the young man. He almost looked like Bowler. Could this be little James all grown up? Just as the thought crossed his mind, the young man turned as though about to leave before quickly turning back and slamming Pete in the gut. Pete felt his body double over in pain but before he could register a sound, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. And then the room went dark.

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

Pete forced himself to push through the darkness. He couldn't tell how long he had been out but could only register a pain in his head and ringing in his ears. Suddenly, there was a gunshot, a woman's scream, and then the familiar sound and flash of light from outside. Pete, panicked, checked his wrist but was able to confirm that his was still on him. Were there two bracelets? Who had the other one? Was it Charles coming to bring him back to the future? Or was it a new prisoner out to capture Pete and other 'important people?'

Pete had barely enough time to process the questions before he heard a crash come through the wall. Fiona with Plan B, thought Pete. Pete took a quick look into the dining room and noticed that O'Banion was pinned under debris and another man was hiding behind a table. Pete couldn't see Snake and with O'Banion pinned, it meant that there was really only one threat in that room. With Michael, Fiona, Brisco, and the scientist it was four against one, which meant that Pete could investigate where he had heard the familiar noise of time travel. Pete turned around to find Playfair pointing a gun at him.

Pete raised his hands in surrender as Playfair motioned for Pete to remove his guns and to walk towards the hotel check-in counter. Pete unhooked his gun belt slowly and let it fall to the ground but did not take a step away from the door.

"Sending me to get water so you could double cross us!" scowled Playfair.

Pete could not help but give an impish grin before replying, "Don't worry. I won't tell mom and dad."

Playfair lowered his weapon as if he was debating whether to hit Pete or simply shoot him. After a few moments, the man glowered, "Move. I know that O'Banion will want to interrogate you; otherwise, you'd be dead."

Pete took two slow steps before an explosion erupted from the dining room. Playfair looked towards the dining room in concern and the momentary distraction was all the Pete needed. Pete leaned in towards Playfair before punching the man in his gut. As the man doubled over, Pete kneed the underside of the man's head and shoved him to the ground. As Playfair fell, his gun went off which caused a stray bullet to bury itself into the ground. The man tried to raise himself back up but Pete kicked him twice in the stomach as hard as he could. Pete then reached down and pried the gun out of Playfair's hand before firing a headshot in the man. "So much for diplomacy," mused Pete.

At the sound of a second explosion, Pete forgot about investigating the time traveler, picked up his gun belt, and rushed into the dining room. Just as he stepped over Snake's body, Pete had to almost immediately dive behind a table as the third man began shooting in Pete's direction. Pete unholstered his gun, ready to unload it on the man when he heard the sound of two men struggling. Pete peered around the table to see Weston wrestling with a man that Pete could only assume was Weston's prime target.

Seeing that the immediate danger was over, Pete stood to re-fasten his gun belt. Brisco and Weston carried the prime target out the hole in the wall created by Fiona. Seeing that O'Banion was still struggling under the debris, Pete began to move towards the secondary target. It seemed that without Snake and his gang to protect him, O'Banion had become a crazed man who had only now realized that he had wasted all of his bullets. As Pete continued his approach, O'Banion threw the guns in Pete's direction as a form of defense which Pete was easily able to avoid.

Within seconds Pete was standing over the pinned body of O'Banion whose eyes were now big as saucers as he realized that his fate was fully in Pete's hands. To further emphasize the helplessness of O'Banion's situation, Pete lifted his boot and gently pressed down on the concrete that was weighing O'Banion down. The Irishman stiffened not out of pain but as his level of anxiety had become almost unbearable.

"Are you going to give me any trouble?" hissed Pete looking down at the prisoner. The trapped man vehemently shook his head no and Pete lifted his boot off of the concrete debris. Satisfied that the man would not put up a fight, Pete was able to leave the trapped man momentarily to scrounge through the nearby car that Fiona had used to rescue her fiancé. Looking inside for anything useful proved lucky as there was a ribbon laying on the floor. It was probably some new fashion item that Fiona had purchased to stay in vogue but whatever its original purpose had been it was now commandeered by Pete who stuffed it into a pocket.

After returning to O'Banion, Pete quickly and easily lifted the debris off the man and gruffly picked him up. Pete then shoved the man to turn so that he could use the ribbon to bind the prisoner's hands together. Still wanting to prevent any possible means of escape, Pete pulled a bandana out of his vest pocket and stuffed it into O'Banion's mouth. Pete surveyed his work and when he felt that the ribbon and gag were secure, he dragged the secondary target through the giant hole in the wall and into the direction that Weston had just ventured.

Pete had barely caught up with the group across the street when Brisco demanded, "What the hell happened?"

"Not the time," grunted Pete as he pushed a petrified O'Banion alongside his unconscious co-conspirator inside the wagon. Afterwards, Pete climbed inside and began to scan the area for any other Irishmen who might try to stop the abduction. Within a few minutes the rest of the group piled into the wagon while Madeline, cigarette hanging from her lips, hit the reigns and sped out of the city.

Pete was only mildly aware of the explosion from Fiona's dynamite before he locked eyes with Brisco's scientist whom he had not seen up close until this moment. Pete instantly recognized him as the man from the dystopian future. The man who worked as a scientist in the lab next to Charles. For all Pete knew, this man was part of the conspiracy to kidnap Pete and to murder Jane. Pete thought back to the familiar lights and sounds, he had only heard one arrival or departure but then he had been unconscious. Maybe he didn't hear the second one. Perhaps he had used the gun sale as a cover to report back to Charles of Pete's location.

Pete felt his hands shake as he tried to push down his anger. His eyes flickered to the unconscious men at his feet. How long until I am abducted back to the future? Pete weighed the risk of disappearing in front of this band of people that he had worked with for a year against the risk of waiting to be captured. As Pete recalled the futuristic world of Charles, Pete felt that it was better to take the risk of disappearing in front of the group.

Just as Pete made the decision to go back home, he looked over to find Brisco studying Pete and Doc. Pete responded by rolling up his sleeve to reveal the bracelet. At Brisco's shocked response, Pete gave Brisco a wink before pushing a few buttons to disappear.

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

Pete was surprised as he forgot the last couple jumps with the bracelet had caused a bit of pain. While it was not enough to warrant any concern, Pete took a mental note that he might be coming up on his maximum number of jumps. Despite the pain, Pete found himself laughing. It had been too perfect to not mock Brisco before leaving. The man who was too busy drinking to talk with him. The man who never took Pete seriously when Pete actually had the most powerful invention in the world. Pete laughed again.

But then his mind shifted to the young man that Brisco and Weston had called "Doc." A shiver went down Pete's back and he wondered how long he would be safe.

A knock came at the door followed by the hushed voice of Ellie. "Pete are you back?"

Pete walked to the door before slowly opening it.

"You look like shit!" exclaimed Ellie as she pushed the door open to get a good look at him.

"I try," Pete responded wryly.

"I'll kick everyone downstairs out and close up early. In the meantime, head to the bar. I've got some food and a pitcher of beer waiting for you."

Pete followed her downstairs and began to eat as Ellie quickly closed up her bar. Between mouthfuls, Pete filled her in the highlights of the past year. While Pete was still not about to tell her about his overall plan, he did share the added skillset that he received such as blending in with various people groups to gain trust and creating various identities for himself, all useful tools to enable him to stay out of Charles' reach. Pete couldn't help but notice that Ellie perked up when she heard Brisco's name.

"How does Brisco fit into all of this?" Ellie mused aloud.

"You mean why is he trusting a scientist from the future?"

"Does Brisco even know who that man is?"

The question had not crossed Pete's mind. It was clear that Pete would need to further interrogate the scientist to gain a handle on what was going on. But before he caught up with the scientist, Pete would need to take the time to learn everything that Ellie had discovered. For the destiny that Pete had picked, he would need to know everything he can about the enemies of the future and the invention Pete wore.

"Alright Professor Ellie, let's start your T.E.D. Talk."

"Ted Talk?" asked a confused Ellie.

Pete took a nearby napkin and pen before writing out, "T.E.D. Talk = Travel thru Eras and Diverse regions."

Ellie smirked as she pulled out the journal before commenting, "TED Talk, Pete? That'll never go anywhere."

Pete shrugged before crumpling up the napkin and throwing it away. As Ellie opened the journal and began to share what she had learned thus far, a sense of relief washed over Pete. He had survived a year invisible to Charles and he had an ally to fight the madmen of 28^th Century. His plan had a shot at working.

Pete studied Ellie for a moment before considering, "Maybe this is what having an empathetic co-conspirator felt like."

When Pete came to, he found himself back in his cell. The strangeness of the previous room prevented Pete from taking an inventory of his health but lying in the cell with nothing to do, he could mentally assess how he was doing. Pete's dizziness and weakness had left his body and he could feel his strength had fully returned. It was like the end of a bad cold. He had barely enough time to process the experience of the strange world that provided incorrect sensory information before Jayne's agonized and tortured screams began to interrupt his thoughts.

Pete sprang to his feet and moved quickly to the door of the cell to watch what was going on. It looked like Jayne had just returned from his latest trip and was writhing in pain. Even from where Pete stood, he could see blood pouring from Janye's nose. Jayne was no longer bound or gagged but it was clear that even lifting his head was a difficult task. However, Jayne did manage to lift his head and smirk at the scientist before commenting, "You know, Chuck, I think you get a sick pleasure out of hurting us. It's like you are a child playing with dolls. Did mommy never let you play with toys as a child?"

"If you insist on being unprofessional and calling me 'Chuck,' I might have to decrease your pain inhibition medication. It would truly mess with your spirit as you are already barely holding on with pain suppressants," came the sadistic reply to the taunt. "Or I could begin to play with your mind. You almost look like a Casey or a Slattery to me. How much fun would it be to convince you that your real identity is that of a stranded ship's XO in a pandemic-ridden world?" Charles leaned in close and seemed to laugh cruelly. At the sound of a nearby screen beeping, Charles turned his attention back to his tablet before changing the subject, "One last test today and we should be done." The familiar pattern began again - the sound of a die falling, the rhythmic tapping, Charles pushing buttons on the bracelet, and then Jayne's body disappeared with a blinding light and scream of pain.

Charles finished a few more notes before standing up and acknowledging Pete. "Well, you look like you finally have some color returning to your cheeks. Excuse me a moment, but since Prisoner 2187 will be away for the next few hours, I'm going to let my daughter into the lab to play." Charles gave a slight bow and left the room. Within a few minutes, the light skip of little shoes came bouncing into the room and right up to Pete's cage.

"Mr. Hutter, Mr. Hutter! Guess what? Maggie doll says she has a secret for you."

Unsure how to respond as talking to children was not something that Pete had a lot of experience in, he could only state, "Oh? And what's the secret?"

"I can't tell you - she has the secret. What's that?" she asked pointing at a tag that labeled Jayne's cell.

"You mean the label 21-"

"I used to be 2!" interrupted the child, "But now I'm 3 and Daddy says I turn 4 soon."

"Ok-" began Pete unsure how to respond to this whirlwind of questions and comments. What surprised Pete was the element of innocence in this child who was living in one of the most demented environments that Pete had experienced, which included underground lairs of Bly complete with trap doors for unwanted guests.

"Do you have a Mommy?" came the next question from the purest blue eyes that Pete had ever seen.

The question itself took Pete by surprise but it was just like the inquiring mind of a child to ask potentially explosive topics from a place of puerility. Pete decided to sidestep the question and attempt to glean more information from the child and responded with his own question, "Why don't you tell me about your Mommy?"

She used her little arm to wipe her nose before responding, "Well, she's dead. But she's a real Mommy though. Ever'body else has a tube Mama. But not me! I'm special!" as she exclaimed her importance she pointed to herself and beamed, clearly proud of her heritage. Before Pete could inquire further, the sound of a chair being rolled began to inch towards Pete and the child. Charles emerged a moment later with the rolling chair and sat down next to Livi a few feet away from the cages. She hugged her father, suddenly shy again.

"So, what did you think?" Charles asked Pete.

"How about a bit of specificity? Are you referring to the child? This world? The time of day?"

"Well, this is all beyond your time, but I know that you went to Stanford University in California. I am sure that you will be able to keep up."

This conversation was continuing to surprise Pete. "No one knows about my-"

"Education? Come now! Do people really believe that a man who is an opinionated art lover, a master of economics, and an individual with a prolific vocabulary refused to finish school simply because he forgot to wear his pants to school as a child?"

Pete decided that his college background was not worth quibbling about and the need for more information was paramount in order to plan an escape, "I was an English major not a scientist. So, why would I have an opinion about your futuristic world?"

"Still an unrealized genius for your time," responded Charles. He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. He leaned back in his protesting chair before lighting his cigar. He let out a slow cloud of smoke before beginning his story, "People in my time have created digital worlds for each individual and they each live inside a cube like the one you experienced. An individual has 3 to 8 different settings depending on your status which is determined by the quality of your work and the necessity of the work you perform. At the end of an individual's work day, you return home to "live" in a box or virtual existence. It was originally designed as a way to provide vacation stops to those unable to venture outside their day-to-day world due to a lack of funds, health, or status. However, as demand for virtual reality cubes grew and the quality of life for people without funds and status diminished, people started living in the cubes instead of just vacationing in them. With the greater demand to live in a virtual reality, the outside world was cut down and destroyed to make room for more cubes.

"Now our world consists of millions of people "living" inside their hollow 'realities.' Humans have become weak due to their minimal movement. They lack imagination as everything is simulated for them and I am sure that after decades of 'improving the virtual experience,' we no longer look, smell, or feel an accurate representation of the world. More than that, socialization with other individuals, real and actually living people, is illegal for most classes. With the lack of socialization, people lack any part of humanity that comes with community. There is no human interaction anymore. There are no emotions, friendships, families, or romances. This world breeds people in tubes, places them in virtual reality boxes to serve society through work and commercialism, and then buries the ashes to make room for the next batch of test tube babies."

"Them," Livi stated as she pointed to a door in an attempt to help illustrate her father's explanation. And then she pointed at her father, Pete, and herself, before simply saying, "Us."

"So, what about us then?" asked a confused Pete trying to keep up.

"There are just a small handful of social classes that are granted the ability to live outside of the cubes. We are all still children of test tubes and do not associate with those outside of our assigned work world. These exempt groups are scientists, a handful of bureaucrats, cleaners, and gardeners. That said, a few years ago, bureaucrats began a temporary push to readjust the cubes with corrected data. You see, due to a world lacking many natural resources and decades of no one remembering what sounds are supposed to exist, what temperatures to create, what colors things should be, and what smells should be paired with various items, the quality had become quite lax over the years. Our original attempt to rectify the disparity was the orbs sent to your time to collect data."

"Yes, I remember them," commented Pete.

Charles scowled at the memory, "Yes, sending back an unchaperoned piece of future technology and expecting it to not potentially destroy history was at best naïve and at most gravely irresponsible. The lead scientist has since been...terminated."

"My mommy likes flowers," chimed in the little girl, desperate to be a part of the adult conversation.

"Yes," Charles confirmed while smoothing her hair back. "Your Mommy."

Charles then turned back to Pete. "I met her mother, Mira, shortly after the bureaucrat, John Bly, and his greed for the orbs' power disaster. You know he was actually from our time, right? Looking to take over an already limping society. Such a strange man, I believe that you were part of his gang?"

Charles paused for confirmation but Pete merely stared back, refusing to provide even the slightest nod of affirmation to his captor.

"Anyway, my time together with Mira was short but upon her execution, I was determined to keep Livi out of the virtual reality worlds. And not just from being placed into a cube but to destroy the cube world all together. So, I have been experimenting on the effects of time travel on a human body. As you can see with Prisoner 2187, it is a very painful procedure to make numerous trips through time. For people of your time, it becomes extremely painful to move after several jumps. For my people, anything more than once can be a death sentence. Actually, that was Mira's execution sentence, a second trip to the past. If she even survived the trip, she would not have lived long. While individuals from your time can adapt to the germs that have mutated down here, many of the diseases that you currently experience have been dormant or extinct for generations. Our systems cannot cope with the germs that lived with our ancestors."

"I wasn't allowed to see Mommy to say good-bye. We had to say goodbye to a box," added the little girl. Realizing that it was the end of her Mother's story and that there were rags posing as toys in a corner of the room, she went to play with them, bored with the ongoing conversation.

"Since I'm more of the 'live and let live' personality with a 'what's the best way to get paid' motivation, why the hell am I here? Why should I care about any of this?"

"All will be revealed in time," Charles replied while looking at his watch. After calculating the time, he stood back and returned to his work station in the center of the room. "But for now, I must work on bringing Prisoner 2187 back from his current appointed time and location." At that, Charles stood, pushed the rolling chair back to the center of the room, and picked up his daughter. Livi turned to wave at Pete as Charles carried his daughter and her "dolls" out of the lab to leave Pete alone with his thoughts.

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

Pete watched Jayne arrive back from his most recent "trip," but originally did not recognize his coprisoner. The man who came back had gone almost completely white and wrinkled, like Jayne had aged several decades. To make matters worse, the man came back with a scream of immeasurable pain and a profuse amount of blood exuding from his nose and ears. About the only thing that Pete could recognize was the man's clothes. Charles did not have to shock his prisoner unconscious but simply drug the prisoner by the shirt collar back to the cell before tossing the crumpled heap of Jayne onto the floor. Charles was so certain that Jayne was in too much pain or that his will had been so completely broken that Charles didn't even bother to lock Jayne's cell door before leaving the lab. Within moments of Jayne's return, Charles left the lab and turned off the lights to leave his prisoners in their simulated nightfall.

Pete studied Jayne in stunned silence in an attempt to determine if the man was still breathing or if he had died in the darkness. So, when Jayne broke the silence, Pete almost jumped out of his skin.

"Hey Pete. Were you able to see a way out on your field trip?" croaked the dying prisoner.

Realizing that Jayne wanted to act as if nothing had changed, Pete decided to forgo any questions of health or wellbeing but instead reply, "All I could see was a superfluous optical illusion in a small room. He knocked me out before and after the "box" as Livi calls it, so I have no idea what is really beyond the door out," Pete paused before continuing, "How long was I gone?"

"No idea. He has been moving me back and forth so often that it may have been a few days for you but I am sure that it's years for me."

Jayne coughed as he forced himself into a sitting position on the floor with his back against the wall. Every movement looked excruciating to Pete but he had to smile as he watched Jayne pull out his most recently stolen cigar to light it. Jayne might be dying but he would not surrender taking advantage of any opportunity to stick it to his captor.

As Jayne exhaled the smoke, he responded to Pete's shock in a mocking tone, "Tell me the truth, do you think I'm still pretty?" At Pete's shocked and silent response, Jayne began a fit of coughing that lasted for several minutes. Once the coughing subsided, he changed subjects, "Maybe you can find a way to steal the bracelet and escape to a different time."

"I'll pass on the bracelet of torture, thank you. I have yet to be called a masochist and am in no hurry to become one."

"Telling you, the first few don't hurt. Anyone can survive the first trip."

"If you weren't in pain that first time, why didn't you escape?"

"If he hadn't electrocuted, drugged, and bound me, believe me, I would have found a way to escape. In fact once, I managed to break my thumbs to release the cuffs and moved from wherever or whenever I landed. The problem was after a half mile or so, the bracelet pulled me back. The bracelet doesn't come off unless you know the code but I think I finally have the pattern down. I'll bring it to you." And with that Jayne pushed the cage door open and slowly crawled to Pete's cell door. When Jayne finally arrived, he passed a piece of torn up and crumpled paper through the bars and into Pete's palm. In the darkness, Pete could feel that there was a piece of plastic inside of the note but could not study it in the dark. Pete turned his attention to the paper but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't read the note as it merely looked like ink smudges. How long had Jayne been accruing this information while Pete was in the cube virtual reality room?

It didn't sit right with Pete, owing this man who was practically a stranger. Instead of expressing appreciation, Pete asked, "Why don't you just use it to escape on your next jump?"

"Because I'm dying, not even going to survive the night," coughed Jayne.

"I don't have a response to that."

"There isn't one. Just make sure that I don't die alone, or for nothing," grunted Jayne. After a few moments of reflective silence, Jayne added, "I'll tell you what the prisoners before you arrived told me before they died. 'At some point your body betrays you. For some it's getting old and not running as fast as you'd like. For others, it's the day that your body gives into pain. This is my betrayal. It was a long journey, but I knew it was coming from the day that I got here.' The day they gave me that speech, I was determined that I would never surrender. And while I might not be living past tonight, I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to destroy Chucky and whatever his master plan might be. So, if you escape, you better do everything you can to destroy this lab and that bastard!"

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

Before the scientist arrived in the morning, Jayne breathed his last. While he refused to provide any further insights to how they knew each other, Jayne spent the night determined to die in a manner of his choosing. He refused to lie down as he was determined to not be seen as subservient but at the same time, he couldn’t move more than a few centimeters before having cough fits or waves of pain. Jayne determined to not die sprawled across the floor looking like he was trying to escape or as if he were vulnerable in anyway but elected to die sitting against Pete’s cage, one last moment of rebellion against his captor. Jayne slowly enjoyed his cigar as though it was the most pleasant experience in his life and as though he were truly experiencing freedom in his final moments.

Unfortunately, because Jayne had stopped talking, or maybe he couldn’t, the night passed slowly for Pete as all he could do was watch Jayne and count the seconds to the next morning.

When the scientist arrived in the morning, he noted Jayne’s body without any compassion. Charles gave Pete the breakfast mush before pulling out a journal to take notes on the demise of Jayne. After witnessing several minutes of the captor’s apathy, Pete’s ire bubbled to the surface. “Chuck, don’t act like you give a damn. We are just the rats in your maze but instead of chasing cheese we’re escaping a giant hammer.”

“Do you think that I enjoy this? Sending people to early graves? Do you think that I place science above humanity?”

“I don’t know where your ethical line might be but mine has typically lived in the grey area. But even with my wanton concept of right and wrong, I have never given someone a prolonged and arduous death. That is a form of sadism that only John Bly could hope to match at his lowest point in his already miniaturized sense of morality.”

Charles sighed as he continued to scribble notes over Jayne’s body. “Do you know why this time period continues to perfect time travel? They want to take pictures of famous moments and people in time to update their records. To show the victories throughout human history as a type of entertainment. They didn’t want to update or world and they don’t want to learn from history or from the people who shaped our world but just to make profit off of it. But I’ve studied history, in detail. And not just fictional films that my science partner is obsessed with but real history. I see that we have lost touch with other humans. Each human lives in a cage, albeit of our own design. But we never touch the people in the rooms beside us. We never talk to each other, unless you are in an ‘excepted class,’ such as scientists. We can communicate with other scientists because talking in person could bring collaboration and furthering success. But politicians, gardeners, cleaners, and cube people all live in isolation, each involved in their own sphere. Each furthering their egomania due to isolation while lacking love, emotions, and life. Life and everything that can give one a sense of identity, purpose, or soul has become simulated.

“With the inability for me to send our entire population back in time and the unwillingness of politicians to learn from history or free our population, I realized what I needed to do. I had to bring all of the great individuals throughout time and pull them into my time. However, in order to ensure that those individuals would not be killed on their journeys, I pulled criminals from the past. Whores, thieves, gangsters, etc. Low level people that would not be missed but hardened by life to have a stronger will to survive through the tests. When each individual was healthy after their immune systems were strengthened, they were first sent back to kidnap another person from the past with a promise of freedom if they brought back enough replacements. After they had their replacements here and moving through the initial disease acclimation, I would begin the testing of the original criminal by sending them back and forth throughout time to see how many trips the human body can withstand.”

“Is that what I am? A criminal?”

“You are more than that. You are the founder and shepherd of the Empathicalism Movement. You speak about how truth needs to be shown, not in words but in feelings and in actions. You are the person who can help shape the future. Now that my experiments are finally completed, I can start bringing other influencers like you to this time. You are my first ally brought to this era!”

At his pronouncement, Charles had stopped writing in his journal and looked at Pete with an almost godlike worship. Charles’ speech and adoration only brought a shiver down Pete’s spine. Charles was completely insane.

“I have a daughter,” Charles continued. “It’s illegal for communication between classes or to have any “frivolous and non-productive” conversations with scientists, but when I met Livi’s mother, I knew that our world had lost the essence of what it means to truly be “human.” What I felt for her was more than I could ever quantify as a scientist. I was placed in charge of the first-time traveling team following the orb debacle and charged with preventing further ramifications of John Bly’s interference. I entered the role determined to protect the health of the past and preserve the future, my present. I was charged with training my small team on how to avoid affecting any aspect of history while providing insight on how best to collect data during their travels to reset the cube simulations. My small group consisted of a scientist and a couple gardeners, one of them being Livi’s mother. Even though she was part of the working class, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Unfortunately, ordinary men react with fear and violence to anything that’s new and different, or in our case forgotten parts of the human experience such as the births of children outside of test tubes. So, when she became pregnant, I had to hide them both but Livi’s mother was discovered shortly after giving birth and sentenced to die in the past. So, I have been hiding the child the best I can to ensure that she lives in a room larger than any box and that she experiences love and family because those are the things that connect us. We as humans are so much more than DNA, we are emotion and I want her to have love, family, and freedom. You leaders of history, you can make it happen for her and for our present society. You can bring freedom, love, hope, emotions, and strength back. You are our future!”

“Not to rain on your parade but if you believe that robbing history of great influencers will solve your problems, won’t that just create new world problems? As in, destroy the history of the world? Somehow, I doubt the bride of Chucky would approve.”

“The grandfather paradox,” responded Charles and he waved it away with a hand. “I choose to believe that it will create a new dimension of time and space and my loyalty is to that time stream and the troubles of the old timestream are not my problem. My only priority is Livi.”

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear, I will never fight or bleed for your lack of principles or your insane cause.”

Charles tilted his head to study Pete before simply stating, “We’ll see, Mr. Hutter. We’ll see.”

With that, the scientist looked at his watch before standing and leaving Jayne’s body on the floor. He crossed the room and placed his journal in the desk before locking it and walking towards the door. “For now, you will have to excuse me,” Charles called over his shoulder, “I have an appointment with a colleague. We can continue our discussion about the future, time paradoxes, and philosophy upon my return.” And within moments he left out the door.

With the lights left on, Pete could return to his bed and remove the paper that Jayne had smuggled over before dying. As Pete unfolded the crinkled up paper and attempted to read the smudged words, he found that it was still impossible to read. In an effort to better study the note, Pete moved towards the door to shine as much light as possible on the smudged words and absently moved the plastic behind the note. As soon as Pete held the note and plastic up near the entrance of the cage, the door swung open. Pete was dumbfounded. Somehow, Jayne had managed to steal a copy of the cell key, the tiny piece of plastic, and had smuggled it to Pete for his escape. Why the hell didn’t Jayne just tell Pete that the plastic piece was the key and they both could have escaped during the night? Was Jayne really that determined to never travel by use of the bracelet again that he’d rather die in a laboratory floor? Did Jayne not tell Pete about the key to ensure that there would be someone with him when he died?

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

Pete was unsure how much time he had before Charles would return so he ran to the center of the room. He looked anxiously around the tables and desks but did not see the bracelet. Pete began attempting to open various drawers but several were locked. In a frantic move, he took the scientist's chair and smashed it against the floor. Pete took one of the legs of the chair and hooked it through the handle of one of the drawers. Using it as a lever and pressing his weight down on the suspended chair leg, he was able to pry the drawer open. Nothing was in the top drawer so he used the same method on the second drawer. To his frustration, nothing of use appeared in the second drawer, just the journal which Pete threw on the desk in exasperation. Finally, the third drawer yielded the bracelet.

He strapped on the bracelet and tucked the instructions from Jayne in between the skin of his wrist and the bracelet. A moment of greed overcame Pete and he decided that it might be worth it to steal some part of technology or maybe something of value. The hard part of escaping the cell and finding the bracelet was complete which should enable him to quickly escape at any time. He moved papers and wires that sat around Charles' desk. In his hurry, he knocked the tablet off the desk which caused the screen to break. Pete stooped to pick it up and noticed that besides the crack down the middle of the screen it still worked. In fact, as the light blurred to life, he noticed that the buttons for inflicting pain on Jayne was still the most recent function of this machine. Overwhelmed with disgust, which momentarily stumped his greed, Pete threw it on the floor and stomped on it until he was sure that it had been utterly destroyed. Unfortunately, he did not find anything else that looked valuable. He picked up the journal again and flipped through scribbled notes on each page. Suddenly, a familiar light and overwhelming sound flooded the room, someone was arriving. Was there more than one bracelet?

Determined to not find out if the arriving stranger who was screaming in pain might be a friend of Charles', Pete absentmindedly dropped the journal and ran out the door in shock. Still startled by the blood curdling screams and desperate to escape the sound, Pete raced into a frizzy haired and scrawny blonde young man. Suddenly the bracelet on Pete's wrist activated, the room went bright, a loud sound enveloped Pete, and he found himself wishing he was back in his rented room in San Francisco. When the lights and sound faded, Pete opened his eyes. To his surprise, he was exactly in the place that he had pictured. Pete was standing in his rented room in San Francisco.

Somehow, Pete had escaped back home.

It only took two detours to reach Brisco this time. The first jump brought him to Brisco County Sr.’s grave and the second brought Pete to the front lawn of a small house in a tiny town with a young boy and his mother. The woman, Annie, confirmed that Pete had still not arrived in the same vicinity as Brisco County Jr. and Pete pushed the buttons on his wristwear again. But just before the light made it difficult to see, Pete noted that the young boy, maybe 9 or 10, seemed to be a bit familiar. But then they were gone and Pete found himself in a jail cell with Brisco and Doc.

After the familiar light, noise, and pain had faded Pete stood looking at the two shocked prisoners before Pete picked up Doc. He slammed Doc against the brick wall away from the cell door.

“Tell me who you work for! How do you know Charles? Did you kidnap me?”

Brisco quickly recovered from the shock of Pete’s arrival and the attack on Doc in order to attempt to pull them apart.

“Knock it off! I said knock it off!” shouted Brisco.

As Pete pinned Doc against the wall utilizing his forearm, Doc managed to get a peek at the bracelet as he was struggling for air. He did manage to get out the question of, “Where did you get the bracelet?” but Pete ignored the question and continued his inquest.

“I was locked up for who knows how long in a tiny cage and when I escape this man comes running towards me and then poof I’m here!” At the abbreviated tale’s finish, Pete lifted Doc off his toes as he continued to sneer at Doc.

“Pete, will you let up?” Brisco said as he tried to force himself between Pete and Doc. “Just tell us what’s going on here.”

“So, now you want my story.” Pete released Doc as he slowly turned towards Brisco. As Pete’s focus shifted away, Doc slid to the ground and allowed himself to shake in shock at the story. “Charles had created his own PTT? And he had a man locked in a cage? I’d heard that he had secrets but how did I not know this side of Charles? How is that man allowed to even have a lab?”

By now, Pete had moved across the cell and was pointing a finger in Brisco’s face. “I attempted to tell you what was going on but you couldn’t be bothered. You’ve never treated me like a peer. In fact, you’ve been treating my like a funny sidekick or cheesy henchman for years but you’ve never approached me like an equal. By this point Pete was almost shouting at Brisco, Doc was in shock, and Brisco was mildly amused by the ludicrous situation. A criminal using a teleport device to get into a jail cell while a man from the future has no idea what is going on. The whole situation seemed so surreal that Brisco cracked a smile which only angered Pete more.

Instead of raising his voice louder, Pete’s angered voice became so low that it was almost difficult to hear him as he continued, “Of course, you can laugh. Everything comes so easy for you. Daddy was a lawman. Harvard educated. I’ve been busting my ass for twenty years and nothing was ever handed to me.”

“Quit all that arguin’” came a voice. Brisco turned to see that the large man from the wagon, a deputy Brisco assumed, had joined the room to see what all of the commotion was about. He had an apple in one hand and a knife in the other which he used to whittle bite size pieces from.

At the sound of his voice, Pete slowly turned around before rushing to the bars. “Jayne! Jayne Cobb is that you? How the hell did you get here?”

A look of confusion passed over Jayne as he dropped the apple wedge that he was about to eat. “Listen you, I ain’t never seen you before! And not that it’s your business but I have been in this town for years and with my crew for even longer. Plus, I don’t know any crazy fool who breaks into a jail cell. But if it were up to me, I would keep you there as punishment for trying to break in.”

“You think a cell designed by Lemley is really a decent institute for correction?”

“Cochran designed this one,” came Jayne’s grumbled reply.

“Does it really matter who designed the jail?” asked Brisco.

Pete turned his back on Jayne to glare at Brisco before addressing the question.“With being a bounty hunter you rarely needed to think about an institute of incarceration beyond collecting the bounty. You leave them here and ride off to collect your next reward with no thought of what happens to those individuals once you leave them. You live in a state of willing ignorance believing that a community is measured by its courthouses and churches. But the harsh reality is that jails are not only the more accurate historical record of a town but the best evidence for judging that society’s character and humanity. Cryptic initials or phrases of defiance scratched into the walls with crude tools or bleeding fingernails are more than forgotten men but witnesses to an unseen judge of what occurs when the seemingly upright choose naivety. This foundation is stronger than Atlas as it carries the weight of agonies, humiliations, hopelessness, and lost dreams from every captive who has ever existed in this site, living and dead. The cold bars are installed to not only keep a body inside a box but to beat a soul into dust. With this being the more apt measure of a society, the architect is not your average city planner but the true basis to determine how you will be treated during incarceration.”

The room stared in silence at Pete, his eyes dark and distant now seemed to look through Brisco. It was as though he was momentarily reliving through inhumane situations that the others could not fathom. It was clear that it was not just the presence of the scientist that had triggered Pete’s anger but the cell itself seemed to trigger memories of a recent trauma.

After a few moments of awkward stillness, Jayne decided that it was all a bit much for him when he realized that his mouth was hanging open and the apple wedge was still pierced on his knife, momentarily forgotten. He shoved the apple wedge into his mouth with a grunt, shook off the weird air in the jail, and left the door frame. But before he went down the hall, he did a short double take to confirm if the strange 3^rd man was still in the cell. It was clear that he was going to find someone else to review how many prisoners they had originally arrested and if there might be a bounty on the 3^rd man. If Jayne couldn’t claim arrest money for Pete, then the cosmos should provide Jayne a finder’s fee or bounty for his trouble.

With the scurry of movement from Jayne breaking the silent spell, Brisco took the opportunity to help the shaking scientist into a chair before attempting some humor to break the tension. “Doc, welcome to the musings and existential philosophy of Pete Hutter. Any thoughts to add?”

Pete turned his gaze back to Brisco before arching an eyebrow and moving to a corner of the cell where he could keep an eye on both the door to their cell and the other two men. He elected to remain standing but continued his silent glare at the two other captives.

“Change of subject,” stated Brisco as he cleared his throat. He was uncomfortable playing mediator but it seemed the only role available and attempted to appease Pete’s anger a bit. “You’re right Pete. I ignored you in Los Angeles. I’m sorry. Now how about you fill me in?”

“How do you know that man?” came the timid voice from Doc.

“As if you didn’t know,” retorted Pete.

“Hey, hey. Enough of that, for now. Let’s start at the beginning,” commanded Brisco.

“You will only be told my narrative as recompense for sharing yours!” muttered Pete through gritted teeth

“Agreed,” came Doc’s quiet voice. The group turned to look at the meek scientist who had mustered up the courage to voice an affirmation in such a hostile environment. It wasn’t much but it was still a small step towards a peaceful exchange of information.

So, the small party settled in for each of their long stories.

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

At the end of Pete’s story, Brisco and Doc stared at Pete dumbfounded. Pete did his best to keep his admission of any criminal activities to a minimum but it seemed that his listeners had been following the same initial paper trail that Charles had followed.

After a long pause, Doc cleared his throat to say, “I had no idea what Charles had been doing. Honestly, he kept to himself and seemed to only moderately be interested in my experiments. Despite encouragement to conglomerate, most scientists prefer to work alone. It’s how were bred.”

“Bred?” asked Brisco in disgust but Doc continued without acknowledging the question.

“Based on the excessive amount of jumps that you’ve completed, how are you not in severe pain or dying?”

“You mean everyone knows about the risks of time travel?”

“Honestly, we took it as a sign that our bodies are not meant to travel throughout time. Some believe that it’s the work of a higher power preventing paradoxes or blurring the lines between multiverses. Whatever the reason our solution is, the average human can only with stand one, maybe two jumps in their life. Only a few individuals can travel a handful of times before retiring from time travel, or in your experience, dying from time travel-“ Doc’s voice trailed off as he became sullen and lost in thought.

“Go back for a second, are you talking like a higher power or God prevents us from going back?” asked an incredulous Brisco, tired of playing the mediator attempting to diffuse a multitude of bombs.

“All I am saying is that the average human body cannot withstand multiple trips. You are moving at speeds beyond your current comprehension. There is only so many trips before a body just breaks down or falls apart. To see Pete standing here is beyond understanding.”

“To be fair,” mused Brisco, “Pete has always been impervious to injury.”

“How so?” inquired Doc, intrigued at the statement.

“Shot in the gut, Chinese death star, a pitchfork stabbing –“ listed Brisco.

“Rumors of my demise have always been grossly overstated.”

“Motorcycle accidents, massive boulders rolling over you-“

“I am losing interest in this enumeration, County,” came the impatient gruff of Pete.

“I would love a blood sample-“ Doc said, all too enthusiastically. Pete immediately recoiled and the sudden movement caused Doc to flinch.

“Is it possible that you future folk are vampires? You seem obsessed with taking blood or injecting people with things!” exclaimed Pete as he moved towards the cell door.

Brisco sighed in exasperation as he looked over at Doc. However, Doc face had gone pale and tense with fear.

“We have had an audience member!” whispered Doc.

The group turned to see the sheriff leaning on the door frame. He had a smirk on his face as though he now had something to hold over the group. Pete held up his arm ready to hit the buttons for escape but Doc held up his hands to plead him to stay.

“Mr. Hutter. I cannot force you to stay and with the bracelet you are practically invincible-“ whispered Doc in a low voice that the sheriff could not hear. As Doc paused for a moment, Brisco whistled a descending tune to express his feeling of inevitable doom at the thought of Pete being invincible. “However, we need to preserve this timeline as much as possible and not disappear until we know what they know.”

Pete looked doubtful but as he looked at his wrist, he seemed to calculate the risks and decided that he had the upper hand. Pete nodded in agreement and the three prisoners looked at the sheriff to see what came next.

“Oh good, you have time for me now,” Mal stated in a sarcastic tone. “Have you agreed on a story to tell?” When no one responded, he stood from the doorframe that he’d been leaning on and walked into the room, followed closely by Zoe and Jayne.

“You seem to know Jayne Cobb a deputy,” to which he pointed at the man Pete recognized earlier. “That’s Zoe, my right hand man,” the sheriff pointed at the woman who had taken down Brisco and Doc earlier in the day. “And I’m Sheriff Mal. We’re about to escort you to River.”

“Don’t you mean ‘the river’?” came Doc’s smart-ass reply.

“I mean River,” Mal began. “And I don’t take kindly to grammar corrections,” he stated in annoyance. “River’s the town’s oracle.”

There was a loud noise as though the door slammed which caused Ellie and Brisco to wake up. Both had not realized that they had fallen asleep and both sat upright to face the door. To their surprise, Pete was standing in the doorway and looking about the room.

“Don’t mind me,” his lilting voice came. “Just came in for what belongs to me.”

Within moments Pete had moved across the room, opened a desk, and moved several items about but did not find what he was looking for. He then pulled out the drawer entirely and found the bracelet tucked on the underside of the drawer, completely oblivious to Brisco or Ellie.

“Pete what the hell happened? How did you survive?” commented Brisco.

Meanwhile, the shock had finally worn off Ellie and she ran across the room to give Pete a giant hug. Pete pulled her back a bit to study the tears in her eyes. “You really thought I had died?”

“You weren’t breathing,” Brisco stated as he rose to defend Ellie.

“The entire space under the house has turned to ash but y’all find my body is un-burned and you thought I was dead?”

“Again, you weren’t breathing,” insisted Brisco. “Your body may have survived but it didn’t mean that the smoke inhalation would not kill you.”

“Brisco, you seem to always be quick to believe I’ve departed this realm. Beginning to think it’s more than wishful thinking,” muttered Pete and he turned to leave the room.

“Where the hell are you going?” demanded Brisco.

“Headed to one of the smaller kitchens. I believe that Rachel, Lenore, and James are hiding there, drinking hot chocolate, and avoiding the rest of the household before the memorial service.”

“You saw them already?”

“No, but I had a long chat with my ghostly gal and she told me where to find everyone.”

As Brisco and Ellie rushed to follow Pete, he ignored their questions except to respond, “I prefer to tell everyone all at once.”

Bruce and Ellie locked eyes behind Pete’s back and simultaneously rolled their eyes. Of course, Pete would want to give a big presentation to wrap up the evening’s events. They hurried to keep up with Pete who seemed to know where he was going without looking up from the bracelet in his hand. He was fiddling with it in an expert manner that Brisco had not seen before.

True to the ghost’s instructions, the trio were indeed in one of the kitchens and drinking hot cocoa. It appeared that no one was able to sleep before the pending service despite the exhaustion that each was feeling. As Pete entered the room, Lenore pushed past James and Rachel to give Pete a giant hug. “You’re alive!” she exclaimed. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!”

Pete seemed taken aback by the embraces and affection shown by the small group and he motioned for the group to sit down. However, no one seemed to take note of his signal but dived in with their questions.

“How did you survive?” asked Ellie.

“Where is everyone else?” asked Lenore.

“Will you now explain what the HELL is going on?” demanded Brisco.

“I will provide explanations in a moment,” Pete stated calmly. “Before I begin, could you give me the bracelet in your pocket, Ms. Lenore?”

Lenore wordlessly handed over the bracelet and the group watched as Pete continued to tinker with both devices. He barely looked up to acknowledge the group, when he muttered to himself, “Where to begin?”

“How about where did you go while we were completing the séance?” demanded Brisco.

Pete looked up with a slightly bemused smile, “I was actually just thinking aloud about these devices.” Pete took a breath before beginning. “I left the group to search for this bracelet but in the process was stopped by my ghostly gal. She led me to the bell tower and had me ring it in a certain pattern to bring down the dome surrounding the mansion.”

“You abandoned us to follow a ghost?” asked Brisco incredulously.

Pete shrugged as though the question were puerile in nature before replying, “No, I left to find a way to fight the future with the future. Sound familiar?”

Brisco paused as his own words from twenty years ago were repeated to him as it left him momentarily speechless.

“I strongly recommend that y’all sit down for this next part of the evening.”

“What next part?” asked a confused Rachel.

“Ahem- I think he means us,” came Whip’s voice. Rachel gasped and the group turned to see where the voice came from and what Rachel was pointing at – the ghostly figures of Socrates, Whip, and Viva.

The group of humans stared at their friends who were now ghosts with a mixture of sorrow and fear.

“Y’all don’t need to look so glum!” began Whip. “It’s not as terrible as you think.” Whip strode over to James and shook his hand before stating, “James, I am glad that we were able to connect you back with your family. Keep them close.” Whip then moved to Lenore and gave her a big hug. Lenore hugged him back and ignored the icy chill of her friend’s spirit form. “Lenore, thank you for believing me and please tell my family that I love them.” Whip paused for a moment before moving to Brisco. Brisco held out a hand to shake Whip’s but Whip hugged Brisco instead. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have gotten myself killed on the street facing Roy Hondo or in a poker tournament. Thanks for getting me on the path of justice. Turns out that it was the best road for me.” Whip took a step back and allowed Viva to say his goodbyes. Viva hugged Brisco and thanked him for all of the adventures, shook James’ hand and told him how much he looked like his father, and then hugged Lenore. He held her for quite a few moments as they had a whispered conversation. When he pulled back, she quickly wiped a few tears from her eyes. They had worked together for so long and encountered so much that it would have been impossible to say how much their friendship meant to the other. At that, Whip tipped his hat and Viva winked at the group before the two disappeared, leaving Socrates.

Socrates had already quietly said his goodbyes to the group and the only person remaining was Brisco. Socrates and Brisco took a walk away from the group as their friendship had endured so many years and changes that neither felt comfortable being heard by the rest of the group. Socrates was the first to break the silence, “As your attorney, it is my duty to inform you that you will have to finish out the contract on the current movie but after that you will be free to continue in whichever direction that you want-“

“Socrates, I feel like that’s the least-“ interjected Brisco but Socrates rolled his eyes and held up a hand.

“Before we started this mission, I ensured that you would be able to do whatever you like from here. You will not only be contractually free but fiscally able to pursue whatever next adventure you want to pursue.”

“It’s not like there’s much a retired bounty hunter can do?” sighed Brisco.

“Brisco, you can do anything or go anywhere. You have a law degree and you’ve had successful careers as a spy, a Hollywood consultant, and in the past few days, a victor against ghost armies. Who knows? With this current tension, they might need someone to be an overseas consultant or you might help others fight the supernatural. There’s so much to come which gives you a plethora of opportunities.”

“Soc- I am not ready to lose another friend,” Brisco whispered so quietly that Socrates could barely hear it.

Socrates patted Brisco’s shoulder before stating, “It’s a good thing that you’ve reconnected with some old friends and made some new ones then.” Brisco looked back towards Lenore, James, Rachel, and Pete who were still in the kitchen, processing the goodbyes from the ghosts.

“As I said last night, if I didn’t have you in my life, I’d still be an ass kissing, sniveling lawyer to a group of robber barons without a care for anyone but myself.”

“If it’s any consolation, Soc, you’re a much better agent that Wyatt’s wife.” Socrates smiled and held out his hand to shake Brisco’s but Brisco hugged his old friend instead. And then, the lawyer was gone. Disappeared and Brisco was left holding nothing but air.

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

The service was simple and passed in a blur for Brisco, Lenore, James, and Rachel. Pete had remained in the tiny kitchen concerned that the household might be inclined to go into shock at seeing Pete alive after pulling his pulseless body from under the house earlier in the day. When the ceremony was over, Brisco and his friends snuck back to the small kitchen to find Pete sitting in a chair reading a book with both bracelets sitting before him on the kitchen table. Whatever task that Pete had been performing finally complete.

Brisco, tired of evasive responses and still reeling from his recent chat with Socrates, walked directly to Pete before demanding, “You’re a time traveler, could you have saved them?”

Pete looked up from his book and studied Brisco’s face before quietly setting it down on the table next to the bracelets. Pete paused for a few more moments tracing his hand along the book and one of the bracelets before he looked up at Brisco and responded. “No. I have replayed the evening over and over again in my mind and had I joined the men under the house any sooner, I would have had to abandon the bell code which would have cost more lives than just their lives. Even if I could have been at two places at once with the bracelet, I would have lost my mind and been of no use to anyone.”

“Why can’t you just go back and stop James from leaving and the past 24 hours from ever happening?” demanded Rachel.

“She certainly takes after her mother,” commented Pete as he looked back down at his book, lost in thought.

Irritated by Pete’s seemingly short attention span, James spoke up, “She asked you a question.”

Pete stood to his full height before tilting his head with incredulous frustration. “Do you think that I would be standing here if I could simply go back in time? Hell, why not just go back in time and tell you to leave the bracelet alone and let the scientist go back home where he belongs?”

The response was merely silence before Pete continued, “Think about it, James. In all of your hops across time, did you ever visit the same place and time? No, because then you would create a paradox as a best case scenario. Worst case, you being in the same place twice would cause you to simply stop existing. It wouldn’t erase you from time, just from that moment on, you would be absent from existence.”

James wanted to retort that sacrificing Pete for the sake of the other men would be a fair shake but the look on his mother’s face told him to drop it. She seemed to believe Pete, for whatever reason. Pete relaxed before picking up one of the bracelets.

“To change the subject, can you put this on for a second, Brisco?” Pete asked as he handed one of the bracelets to Brisco.

Brisco took a step back before suspiciously asking, “Why?”

“Let’s say that I need your help taking down Charles.”

The thought of Charles brought a level of anger inside of Brisco. Had this man not tampered with time, Doc, Socrates, Whip, and Viva might all still be alive. Brisco set his jaw, held his wrist out, and then nodded. Pete attached the bracelet before pushing a couple buttons and Brisco disappeared.

“Aren’t you going with him?” asked an incredulous Rachel.

“I don’t have to leave at the same time in order to arrive at the same time,” Pete explained as he crossed back to Lenore. Rachel felt the heat in her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Pete gave her a sympathetic smile before reassuring Rachel, “The order of reality in the context of time travel can get confusing quite quickly.”

He stood in front of Lenore before holding out the bracelet. “Once I leave, I may not be able to return for awhile and I actually need your help. You are the catalyst that put me on this journey. I just realized that this time in your chronology is when you told me about my letters to Bowler. It’s also how you were able to get away from the guests to talk with me before I left back to San Francisco.”

“I would never mess with time. I almost lost my boy to this cursed bracelet.”

“I am going to go with you to ensure that you get there and back safely. Furthermore, without your help, I might have been on a different path and unable to help last night.”

Lenore looked at Pete with trepidation unsure what to do.

“Lenore, trust me. Just one last time.”

Before Rachel or James could protest or stop Lenore, she disappeared with Pete.

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

When the blinding light faded away, Brisco found himself in Hard Rock at night. “Damnit Pete! What did you do?” he asked aloud as he looked at the skies. After waiting for several moments, Pete still did not arrive so Brisco began to walk around town thinking maybe under better light he could determine where and when he had landed. As Brisco turned a corner, he ran into a large figure face first.

“Excuse me-“ began Brisco but stopped short when he recognized the face towering above him. “Bowler! Am I glad to see you!” Brisco embraced Bowler while laughing.

“Would you mind telling me what’s so damn amusing?” demanded Bowler.

“Bowler, it’s me! Brisco!”

“Yeah, I know it. I’m still a bit pissed at you for missin’ my wedding.”

“Your… wedding…” stammered Brisco.

“My wedding to Lenore? October 20^th? Two weeks ago?”

“Two weeks?”

“Is there an echo over here? Why you repeatin’ everythin’ I say?”

“Bowler, you don’t understand-“

“Understand what? Your anger for me decidin’ to marry Lenore and do right by her? For me decidin’ to be a father to my unborn child? Especially since both of us have experienced the lack of a father.”

“Bowler, I’m so sorry. I missed everything – your wedding, your son’s birth, the day that you were sworn in as sheriff…”

“The hell you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Bowler, I-“ but Brisco was unable to continue. There was suddenly a bright light surrounding Brisco and within moments, he was gone, leaving a confused Bowler standing in the street.

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

1912 - Hardrock

When the light faded away from Lenore and Pete, they found themselves behind the chapel. The service music was playing as Lenore snuck past it, she was tempted to look inside as it would be wonderful to see Bowler’s body just one more time. But she remembered that it would be a closed casket and kept moving past the chapel. She continued into the direction that Pete had pointed out which would enable her to run into the younger version of himself standing next to a motorcycle. It looked as though Pete was debating whether or not to go in and when it looked like he had decided to drive away, Lenore called out to him.

“Pete, are you really trying to sneak out without saying ‘hello?’

Pete turned and gave his most mischievous smile and he raised his hands in surrender. “Why Madame Mayor! I would never exit without your dismissal. I just realized that I forgot my contribution for the afternoon potluck.”

Unsure how to change topics to the letters, she decided to order him to give her a hug in a spirit of cordiality. However, as Pete obeyed with a hug, he jolted her by asking, “Seriously, how are you doing?”

That answer is so much more complicated than you can understand, she thought. Instead, she leaned back, raised an eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips in her most mock mother stance she could conjure. “Pete, I may have adopted you into my family while you were here, but we avoided all things serious, including your miracle elixirs.”

“You knew about that?” Pete asked bashfully.

“Just because I turned a blind eye, doesn’t mean that I didn’t know. Besides, my goal was to never change you to walk the straight and narrow but to give you a sense of home.”

Pete smiled and admitted, “It’s the closest that I came to a family that I recall.”

Thinking of all the adopted family that had just been tragically lost, Lenore cleared her voice and looked away before changing the subject, “Speaking of which did you see James? My boy is all grown up.”

“I only got to see him from the back of the church and he wasn’t facing me so I didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Maybe next time then,” Lenore replied with a weak smile. Without Pete’s participation, they would have never been able to rescue James. They would have never learned how to remove the bracelet and who knows how long he would have lived before dying in agony as the bracelet ripped her son apart.

Lenore decided to change the subject again and looked at Pete’s motorcycle before asking, “I thought that I heard that you were motorcycling across the country, doing something in Picture Palaces?”

The two discussed motorcycles before Lenore attempted to hint to Pete his impermeability. However, the comments about his survival were of little interest to Pete and time was running out for Lenore. She felt her pulse quicken as she heard the doors to the church swung open and the funeral procession was starting to spill out towards Pete and Lenore.

“I have to get back and I won’t make you stay here. I just wanted to say thank you for coming before you drove back home. It meant a lot to see you here and I wanted to tell you that Bowler appreciated your letters. They consoled him in his final days but he burned them before I could return them to you. Bowler may not have agreed with your lifestyle but in his own way, he respected you.”

At that, she gave Pete’s arm a gentle squeeze before hurrying back towards the chapel. She moved as quickly as she could to where the older Pete hid. Within moments, Pete had escorted her back to the original timeline. They found James pacing and Rachel cleaning her guns, both clearly nervously awaiting Lenore’s return.

“Mama!” he exclaimed as the light faded away. James pulled her away from Pete and stood between them before pointing an angry finger at Pete and commanding, “Never do that again!”

Pete took little notice of the young man’s anger as he began fiddling with his bracelet, clearly preparing to leave.

“Pete, wait!” called Lenore. “Which version of you wrote the letters?”

Pete paused as though caught red handed and looked up in shock before asking, “Excuse me?”

“Are you the Pete that we found underneath the house today? Or did you, a future Pete, write the letters after you returned but before coming here?” Lenore insisted.

Pete gave his most mischievous smile, “Who says that I have even written the letters yet?” He then took a moment as if to carefully pick his words before continuing. He then seemed to change his mind and tipped his hat as though ready to leave.

“Will we see you again?” asked Ellie. Pete nodded in silent response and Ellie hugged him goodbye

Pete awkwardly patted her back before stepping back to hit a button on the bracelet and disappear. “Wait, how is it that the bracelets suddenly work and aren’t inhibited by the EMF here at the house?” asked Rachel.

James and Lenore looked at her, also confused. “Maybe,” began James. He paused before beginning again, “Just maybe, bringing down the dome not only woke the town, protected the house from the fire below, but also temporarily created a rift where EMF could no longer exist.”

“That seems pretty far-fetched,” replied Rachel still trying to work out the mystery.

“And yet, how many ghosts have you seen since the event?” asked the female spirit guide in a nightgown.

“We’ve seen you-“ answered Rachel.

“But I am not operating on the same frequency as your usual spirit. I have a temporal anomaly which makes me more of a guide rather than a true ghost.”

“So, James is right about everything that changed because of the bells and the stained glass?” asked a shocked Rachel.

“Does it really matter?” responded Ellie. James and Rachel gave her a confused look. “Let’s just have a couple drinks, get a bit of sleep at the local hotel, and then get the hell out of San Jose.” Lenore nodded in agreement as James and Rachel looked into their coffee cups, frustrated that the answers were not going to come tonight.

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

Brisco found himself outside a house that he assumed was the home of Lenore and Bowler. Again, it was in the dead of night. Brisco quietly approached the house and heard a familiar voice singing. It was Bowler, singing to a bundle in his arms. He was sitting in a rocking chair going back and forth as the baby cooed up at him. Brisco watched, unsure if he should interrupt this tender moment.

“I see you, Brisco. You might as well join me,” called the booming voice of Bowler.

Brisco slowly approached the porch and sat down in the chair that Bowler nodded towards. For several moments, there was silence aside from the rocking of Bowler’s chair and the cooing of the baby in his arms. Bowler broke the silence first, “So, did you find another orb or what?”

“What-“ responded a startled Brisco.

“Last time we saw each other, you mentioned several things that had not happened. Specifically, winning the election for sheriff and that you knew I was having a son.” At Brisco’s open mouth, Bowler laughed his deep, booming laugh. “Just tell me straight, you didn’t bring an orb to my house? I hate them damn things!”

“Uh-no. No. It’s something else.”

“Well, just as long as you don’t ‘spect me or my son to go travelin’ around, you’re welcome to my porch.”

Silence filled the porch again but with each creaking rock of the chair, shame and guilt built up inside of Brisco. “Bowler, I am so so sorry. You have no idea how much I have regretted everything!” All of the years of regrets, missed opportunities, and apologies began to flow out of Brisco. After several moments, Bowler held up a hand to signal for Brisco to stop talking.

“How long has it been for you?” Bowler gently asked.

“You have no idea,” came Brisco’s broken reply.

“How long will you be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“When you go, will you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it seems the only thing that we can do is catch up, now and in any future visits. So, before you disappear, I want you to hold James for a moment. Now just for a minute because Lenore would kill me if I let my son time travel with you.”

“Bowler-“ protested Brisco but James was in Brisco’s arms in a matter of moments.

Bowler beamed at his son and best friend with pride, “Brisco, I’d like you to meet my son. His name is James Brisco Lonefeather.”

A lump built in Brisco’s throat. “James is named after me?”

“Just the middle name, so don’t get too carried away,” responded Bowler as he gave the all too familiar “Bowler glare” and took James back from Brisco.

The two continued to talk well into the night as James continued in various stages of cooing, feeding, and sleeping. After several hours, Brisco disappeared in a large beam of light. Bowler smiled at the spot Brisco left before turning back to James. “That was your Uncle Brisco.”

The ghost had been correct as the sleepy nearby neighbors and surrounding town awoke and went about its day as though nothing had happened. As our exhausted heroes and survivors of the mansion’s events carefully watched the town move about their day, it was clear that no one woke up during the night to see the dome covering the mansion. No one heard the screams of the dying or the bugle of the skeleton scout on his winged creature. If pressed, no one would have recalled the stench in the night as the undead passed through the streets on their way to and from the house.

The undead returned to their graves without much fuss while a confused cemetery landscaper awoke to see the entire cemetery a mess. All of the graves looked to have recently been disturbed with varying degrees of dirt to cover the bodies or caskets. Having slept so soundly and seeing a bottle curled up in his arms, he assumed that he had imbibed a bit too much and failed to protect each burial plot from grave robbers. In an effort to save his job, he hurriedly went around to each grave to ensure that the caskets and bodies were covered. Afterwards, the landscaper did his best to hide the disheveled dirt with flowers and grass to give it the appearance of peace. As he moved from grave to grave with sweat pouring down his face, he vowed that wild horses would never drag this secret out of him.

The mansion’s gate was locked per the widow’s commands, but it did not matter. Visitors were not welcome and so no one would try the gate and find it locked. If Teddy Roosevelt could not get a tour of the mansion, why should the neighbors suspect anything amiss as it was always cloistered away?

Mrs. Winchester’s niece, who had been spent the night locked in a closet with her son, was seen leaving the house early to visit the local newspaper. This was not necessarily unusual. The widow was known to occasionally have odd or superstitious requests of staff and not all employees were able to find permanent residence. Seeing Mrs. Winchester’s niece leaving the local newspaper, merely led the locals to speculate on what wild whims were demanded of Mrs. Winchester and to assume that new job postings would be seen in future newspaper advertisements.

The only aspect that seemed to stray from routine was the number of times the niece visited. Normally, the niece visited town once a week, but today she was seen leaving the mansion twice in a single day. On her second trip in the afternoon, she was seen carrying a large stack of envelopes. The local post office was surprised to see so much correspondence from a reclusive widow who spoke few words to anyone outside of her immediate family or closest staff.

For Frank, the postmaster general, the temptation was too great to ignore. He held a letter to the light but it was a hard to make out more than a handful of words. He tried several more before he found a letter that was in dark enough ink that he could make out the words, “I am sorry for your loss” in beautiful penmanship. He squinted and was able to make out the phrase, “While this cannot replace… I send this in gratitude for service…” Well, those phrases were too much for him to contain and he shared the phrases with his wife to get her theory on what was occurring at the mansion.

She placed her plump hands on her wide hips before scolding, “After calling me a gossip at the church social last week, you can’t expect my help in this matter?”

“Matilda-“

“No Frank, you called me a gossip in front of all my friends! And all I was doing, was saying that young Valentine seemed to be spending too much time with the milkman, George. At least, more than is appropriate for a young lady.”

“That’s different, Matilda-”

“Don’t you Matilda me! Sometimes, you are honestly a bigger gossip than any woman!” before storming towards the kitchen. In truth, she was curious about the letters but she would not be moved from her righteous pedestal. She would punish Frank for embarrassing her, even if it meant never knowing the latest gossip about Mrs. Winchester. Surely, the letters meant nothing out of the ordinary for such an already unique and odd woman.

“Matilda, don’t you find it suspicious-“ implored a desperate Frank, looking for any kind of ally in researching this new strange behavior of the Winchester household.

She waved her chubby hands in the air as she took a bite from her second breakfast of the day. “That house is weird and will always be weird. It’s best that we leave it alone and never think of it again.”

“But-“

“I have spoken!” she commanded and held her hand up to show that the conversation had ended before continuing her meal and tea.

This small conversation was typical of the nearby houses as the town had universally decided that since Mrs. Winchester was determined to remain aloof and eccentric, it was in the best interest of all to ignore her existence as best as possible.

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

Behind the gates, the bells rang to signal an all clear for those who had survived the night and might still be in hiding. An informal roll call began in an effort to determine how much of the staff were still breathing. Once completed, each individual was sorted by Mrs. Dechant and given a location or a task. She moved the staff who needed medical care into a sitting room to be treated by the local doctor who had been called to the house. As he studied each injury, he felt that if he were on a battlefield, this group would have been at the front of the army. However, Mrs. Dechant paid him handsomely for the day and stated that there had been a scaffolding accident. He knew that the extra payment was to further their story rather than to investigate an alternative truth and honestly, the amount of money he was getting for the day had bought the household whatever story that they wanted him to tell.

When the doctor had arrived, Lenore had taken over a kitchen and became a mother hen to all of the survivors. She could not cook in her favorite kitchen as that room was littered with beheaded bodies but the benefit of working at such a large house was the access to several kitchens. Lenore did her best to ignore the cabinets that Viva had been working on the evening before and instead focused on instructing two of her staff members to cook while she made it her mission to feed and ensure that each person was given small breaks throughout the day. It had been a tragic and terrifying night. Facing the new day meant that comfort food, real comfort food, would be needed today of all days. When Lenore wasn’t encouraging individuals to eat, she was wearing her mayoral hat and listening to individuals process their emotions enough to continue their work. Lenore knew this was not a time to be overcome by emotions and she knew that mental and physical breaks would be needed or else the tragedy would be too all consuming for the survivors.

Meanwhile, the individuals deemed healthy and strong enough to move bodies were asked to join James outside. James separated his group into different sections. Some men would work digging graves in a corner of the yard in an effort to bury the beheaded dead away who could not return to their graves from potentially prying eyes. Other men were tasked with carrying the bodies of deceased staff members to an area of the house to be prepared by maids for the burial ceremony scheduled to occur under the cover of darkness. The time had not yet been determined but Mrs. Dechant expressed Mrs. Winchester’s wish to have a ceremony at the house in an effort to honor the fallen.

The last group were the remaining maids assigned by Mrs. Dechant to identify bodies. It ended up being a gruesome task of identifying which of the beheaded individuals were staff and which were undead. While most of the undead returned to their graves, there were still several unidentified bodies who were assumed to have been originally from the cemetery but had been removed from the main body or too rotted away to return to the cemetery. Out of all of the girls assigned to the task of identification, only one had a strong enough stomach to place the heads with corresponding bodies.

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

Mrs. Winchester began writing letters to the families of the staff who had passed over the night. A little-known fact that history often forgets is the generosity of Mrs. Winchester towards her household staff. Not just in their salary but towards their children’s and grandchildren’s education. With each letter she sent to deceased employee’s family, she enclosed a generous check. However, as she sealed each envelope, there was a familiar ache in her heart. For all of the millions that Mrs. Winchester had inherited, not a penny could replace the pain that she felt after losing her daughter and husband. She would trade it all in a moment to have her husband and daughter with her again. She sighed and with pain shooting up her arms, she would start another letter. There were so many letters to send and a funeral to plan. Arthritis be damned! She thought but with each word she wrote, the simple task became more excruciating.

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

Brisco, Rachel, and another workman did not join James’ task of moving bodies but focused on trying to enter the cellar that Socrates, Whip, Viva, and Pete had entered. When Ellie had spoken the counter-curse and the grounds shook, all of the furniture pieces that the workmen had loaded out of the way were now blocking any entry or exit beneath the house. To make matters worse, the farthest reaches of the root system had tried to escape the fire and had wrapped itself around each piece of rubble and furniture blocking the entryway in an attempt to cling to life. When the fire managed to kill the heart of the evil tree, the outside roots had fused to the furniture causing everything to be tied together. It took hours to not only move items out of the way but to hack at the fused root system. The three worked tirelessly determined to help locate any survivors from under the house.

After several hours in the sun, Lenore personally brought plates of food to the trio when they had refused food the last three times people had attempted to convince them to take a break.

“Brisco, you aren’t good to anyone if you faint,” she commanded as she placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him to sit down.

“I’m not about to give up on anyone. Besides, I can ride for days without sleeping and live on one meal a day,” he retorted.

Lenore laughed aloud before continuing, “Oh honey! You were never that tough. Besides, we aren’t in our 20’s anymore.” She placed the plate into Brisco’s hands as she squeezed his shoulder. “You aren’t giving up. You’re just taking a 5-minute rest.”

Rachel sat beside him and moved the food around her plate. The lump in her throat was too big to swallow anything. Seeing Rachel’s discomfort, Brisco attempted to break the silence and stress of the moment.

“Don’t worry. You look worse than you feel.”

“What?” exclaimed a shocked Rachel. “Why the hell would you say that?” she demanded.

Brisco laughed, which momentarily broke the tension. “At least you survived the gunshot wound. I can only imagine the beating your mother is going to give me when she next sees you.”

She smiled faintly, before asking, “Afraid of my mother, are you?”

“The only thing more terrifying than Crystal Hawkes, is Lenore Lonefeather.”

“What about me?” Rachel asked innocently.

“You’re not quite there yet but I’m sure that your mother and Lenore will get you to their level of fear wielding soon enough.”

“Does that mean you’ll recommend me to have more fight scenes and less damsel in distress?”

Brisco was rescued from responding because at that moment, someone began to shout from inside the pile of rubble. It was Ellie calling for help with a body.

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

After changing into a pair of pants and shirt, Ellie went outside to join the search for her friends. Watching the men give Rachel the menial task of hacking at dead roots, Ellie elected to not join the group for instructions but instead began to search around the house for another way in. She snuck around to the basement that she and Brisco had been assigned to the night before and after 20 minutes or so, found a small crawl space that might lead to the other basement. Unfortunately, the area around it had partially collapsed in on itself which would make getting through quite difficult. Ellie tried to make the hole a little bigger by kicking at the surrounding wood but it did not budge, which caused Ellie to assume that this was the reason why no one else was bothering with this area of the house.

Determined to not be deterred she abandoned the task of making the hole bigger but attached a flashlight to her belt and slowly crawled into the manmade tunnel. It took longer than she would have liked and certainly managed to cause several scrapes and bruises but she finally made it in. She stood and turned on the flashlight to study the dead world of the cellar that had swallowed the lawyer, bandit, sheriff, and deputy. As she looked around the underbelly of the house, she was amazed that the mansion itself had remained intact. Maybe there was another spell or force separating the house from the basement. Who knows? Only the ghosts and shadows would know and they were particular about what they wanted to share with corporeal beings such as herself.

She turned her attention to the ground and noticed that most of everything had turned to ash. The forest of branches and roots had been destroyed and Ellie could feel the cement beneath her feet. She continued to walk through the underside but the smell of burnt flesh became overwhelming. Ellie held in her urge to vomit but began to count bodies. She could count at least seven and it was impossible to tell which body was which. She choked back her tears but was determined to keep looking around for a survivor. If the house had survived, why couldn’t her friends have survived?

Time seemed to slow down as she wandered the underside of the house; nothing had remained aside from ash. Whatever battles had occurred beneath the house would not be known by the corporeal world, just by any spirit who had watched the scene unfold. As Ellie continued to move through the house, she found herself hoping that the group of men she watched enter the basement had either escaped or died quickly. Dying by fire seemed a truly horrible way to die.

Ellie tripped and dropped her flashlight. For a moment she stood in terror and darkness, unable to find the ability to scream or to move. Had the weird slithering roots she’d briefly seen the night before somehow survived this fire? She carefully stooped down to her feet and lifted the flashlight with shaking hands. But even with the flashlight, it was difficult to see what had tripped her. Ellie felt her mouth go dry and she carefully brushed away the ash to reveal, not a root but an arm. Before she could hold it in, she shouted in excitement. This arm was unscathed by fire!

She then began scooping away the ash and dirt in search of the rest of the body that owned the hand. Ellie’s fingers began to hurt as she continued to claw at the earth, tears of hope began to well up in her eyes as she continued to scratch away at the earth. She could hear the shouts of Brisco, Rachel, and other workmen respond to her calls and pick up speed on the other side of the cellar doors. She could feel the skin on her fingertips begin to bleed as she continued to dig away at the dirt. Yet she did not slow down as she continued to uncover the body. Finally, enough of a face was revealed and she could shine her flashlight onto it. She began to shout, “Oh my god! Pete! You lived!” She gave him a large hug but found that he was not breathing. Ellie began to shake him in an effort to wake him up. No matter what she did, Pete did not move or wake.

Ellie didn’t know when Brisco and the rest of the men had arrived. She was aware that Brisco and his men dragged Pete’s body out and into the sunlight. She still felt like she was in shock as Rachel led her to the outside where the sun temporarily blinded her eyes. The world around her felt like it was running slow. Her world felt truly shaken, as if gravity no longer trapped her feet and the sun no longer stood in the sky. Pete’s dead? Of all the impossible things from the night before, how could Pete die?

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

Evening finally came and all of the bodies from under the house and throughout the grounds had all been sorted. The household had arranged to have the memorial services for all parties at midnight as the mourning bells would seem like the normal séance bells to the outside townspeople. Brisco and his friends were in varying stages of grief for their lost friends. Rachel was in a state of denial, hoping that the bodies were misidentified as she had little experience with death outside of shows or Hollywood. James was feeling angry about the evening’s large loss of life and Lenore was trying to be brave despite the sorrow she felt at losing so many people in a short amount of time. Brisco watched Ellie and noticed that she seemed emotionless, not out of denial but rather an overwhelming sense of pain.

Brisco could feel grief already eating away at him. He could not eat dinner and didn’t really listen to what the people around him were saying. Perhaps it was about the pending memorial services or maybe it was about sleeping arrangements. Realizing that he didn’t want to be social, Brisco asked to take a nap in Socrates’ room prior to the midnight service. However, arriving in the room seemed to make Brisco restless and he soon found himself rummaging through Socrates’ things. Brisco found socks hanging from a bureau door and Socrates’ briefcase spilled out over the desk. Brisco absently searched through the books that Socrates had left strewn about the room, not really looking for anything but to think of how inconvenient and amusing it was to travel with Socrates. Games of rock, paper, scissors for a bed, Socrates’ snoring, and the lawyer’s odd theories about unpacking one’s belongings. The memories caused momentary smiles for Brisco and he even lifted the mattress to find Socrates’ suit pressed between the mattress and box springs. The smile faded as Brisco realized that it would not be worn ever again.

“I had a feeling that you would still be awake,” Ellie quietly stated. Brisco turned to see that she had quietly come into the room. She had switched into a black dress for the midnight service but her hair was still untied. She was holding two beers and offered Brisco one of the bottles before sitting on the bed and opening one for herself.

Brisco avoided her gaze while taking the beer. In an effort to fill the silence he stated, “I see you finally changed from yesterday’s nightgown to this evening’s gown.”

“I am convinced that all women will dress for comfort instead of fashion one day in the future,” she retorted.

“As in living in their night clothes?”

“Why not? The world keeps changing, why do women have to endure daily tortures for the sake of fashion?”

“Is that in the Woman’s Suffrage Articles?” asked Brisco, only mildly paying attention.

“I haven’t read it yet, have you?”

“You won’t see me complaining about that idea,” Brisco responded distractedly as he took another drink from his beer. Ellie’s face also fell as she looked about the room.

“I know that I am going to be taking women’s rights back a few years and at the risk of sounding weak, would you mind holding me?”

Brisco turned to her in confusion. “Still afraid?”

Ellie didn’t respond but her eyes filled with tears which caused Brisco moved to the bed to sit beside Ellie and to hold her but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He was unable to think of anything hopeful to say to Ellie. Instead, the two curled up on the bed and tuned out the world around them.

Brisco finally caught his breath and stood shakily before stuttering to Ellie, “How? What did you…?”

Ellie lifted a machete in the moonlight for Brisco to see. He rolled his eyes before commenting, “Leave it to Pete to bring a machete to a gun fight.”

“I’m actually not sure if Pete brought it or Clive had left it nearby but something about it seemed to give them a scare,” observed Ellie. She held the machete towards Brisco before stating, “Here. You should take it. Sounds like you’ll need all of the weapons in there.”

Brisco lifted his busted hand in response before stating, “Broken hand, remember?”

She tilted her head to the side as though solving a puzzle before cryptically stating, “I think I have a way to still make it work…”

As Brisco felt the drained strength begin to return, Ellie searched the gear bag that Brisco had lugged from the ballroom to the cellar doors and located duct tape. She placed the machete in Brisco’s hand and held up the duct tape for Brisco to see. Willing to try anything, Brisco watched as Ellie wrapped the duct tape around his hand to secure it in place.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have a saw for a hand,” muttered Brisco in sarcasm. He practiced slicing the machete in the air to ensure that it was secure. The movement caused excruciating pain but Brisco figured that the adrenaline of the coming fight would be enough to distract him from the pain. Once he was satisfied with their work, Brisco turned back to Ellie with a sly grin saying, “Now, where were we?”

But before Brisco could move towards Ellie, a voice in the darkness interrupted any emotional moment. “Ready to save the world?”

They turned in the direction of the voice and found Clyde leaning against his wheelbarrow with a bemused smile spread across his face.

“Young lady, if you are ready?” he called.

Ellie nodded and patted Brisco’s arm, which caused him to wince, and she followed Clyde through the double doors. Brisco could hear the drums, bugles, and the marching of an army outside. He could hear the sounds of shotguns and hoped that Viva and Lenore would hold out long enough for him to defeat this Kama-guy. Brisco went back to the gear back to see if there was anything left. He pulled out the rest of the ammunition and the last weapon, a sawed-off shotgun which had the words, “ASH’S BOOMSTICK,” etched into the stalk. He checked the trigger and confirmed that it would easily fire off rounds and reload. Brisco also changed the rounds from salt to regular buck shot, which was pretty difficult to address with one hand. This needed to be a fight to the death and salt rounds only stunned ghosts. It did not stop them. Brisco was determined that this thing would have its head removed, by buckshot or by blade, whichever worked.

After Brisco finished arming himself, he took stock of his arms and decided that he was ready for battle. Brisco had barely glanced up before a dead body lunged out of the darkness at him. It took Brisco off guard as it had sounded like the army was on the other side of the mansion. He shoved the body away and in the process he got a good look at the corpse. Her hair and skin had greyed but the style of the cut was modern and her outfit was that of a household maid. She lunged at him, opening and closing her mouth like a rabid dog attempting to bite him. Brisco kicked her in the knee to get her to stand back from him before taking aim and cutting off her head with the machete.

“Well, you seem warmed up,” Clyde called out.

“Well, if it isn’t Clyde the friendly ghost,” retorted Brisco.

“The army will be here soon enough, so you better follow me to get to the Kandarian.”

Brisco followed Clyde through the double doors. Once they were under the house, he could see roots slithering across the foundation. Brisco was about to step on a passing root when Clyde shoved Brisco back with an icey push.

“Stay away from the roots, vines, trees, and branches. They’re not only sentient but they’re deadly.”

Brisco nodded his head to acknowledge the instruction before asking, “Which way did Ellie go?”

“Stay focused on your mission, Mr. County,” the man said as he continued to move along the border of the house. After a few more moments of silence, Clyde stopped and pointed for Brisco to continue. “Continue down that way. It won’t be long before you walk into his lair. He will be vulnerable once Ellie finishes the counter spell. Once you cut off his head, run like hell. Get out. Don’t go back for anyone.”

“Not really everyone-“ protested Brisco.

“I have given them the same instructions. The last thing that we need is for everyone to get trapped beneath the house because they got lost searching for each other.”

“These aren’t pawns in your little game; these are people! These are people that I care about!” Brisco said thru gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice down while expressing his anger.

“Mr. County, I promise you that Ellie will be fine. There is a different exit close to each person. Once you escape, if you want to check on the others, follow along the outside of the house. That will be the best method to rescue them if they even require help.”

Brisco finally had to agree with the logic of Clyde’s decision. He sighed and pointed his machete directly ahead to confirm with Clyde that it was the correct path. Clyde nodded his head before disappearing.

“Fancy,” Brisco observed of the ghost’s exit. “Very fancy.”

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

Ellie had arrived at the pile of books that Clyde had directed her towards. He had explained that Mrs. Winchester hid books in different parts of the basements and each had been covered with a deceptive jacket to avoid curious eyes. Ellie began to quickly skim through the books. Each book was an antique first edition hidden behind the book jacket of odd yet uninteresting children’s book, just as Clyde had described. Ellie removed each cover until she found the title that the ghost had given her. She began to frantically flip through the book. Unfortunately, each page of the book was written in a language that she could not read or understand.

“Ahem. Could I help?” a voice asked.

Ellie looked up to see a man dressed in what looked like archeological expedition clothes. “Who are you?” she asked in shock.

“My dear, that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” he had a bald spot at the top of his head yet long grey hair extending to his back shoulders. He had a hole where a nose should be which made balancing his glasses a challenge. He gave a nervous laugh under her scrutinous gaze before stating, “I am here to help read the book and find the counter spell.”

“If you can read this, why aren’t you able to reverse the curse?”

“Because I lack the corporeal attribute necessary.”

“What?”

“In other words,” the man explained as he coughed while dusting off his clothes, “It won’t work if a ghost says the words aloud; it has to be spoken by a human… an alive human.”

“Oh-“ Ellie said dejectedly.

“Open the book, I will help you find the correct page and the correct words. I will help you say the words correctly and you will break the spell.”

“Sounds like a plan, let’s get cracking,” she knelt down on the ground and opened the book in front of her. By doing so, she allowed the archeological ghost to sit beside her.

The ghost scanned through the first page before sighing and balancing his glasses back on his face, “Unfortunately, my dear, it looks like we have many, many pages to review.”

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

Rachel and James had each picked up a stained-glass pane that Mrs. Winchester had described. Each pane was large and awkward to carry but both James and Rachel managed to keep the panes a few inches of the ground as they retraced their steps back to the ballroom. They made it about halfway back before James paused and looked back, “Are you okay to continue the rest of the way back with both of the panes?”

Rachel slowly nodded determined to hide the fear that was rising inside.

James moved back towards her while holding his stained-glass pane before explaining, “I can’t ignore the fact that I can hear the battle that my mom and Sherriff Viva are fighting in the kitchen. I know that I can help them. Meanwhile, it looks like you and Mrs. Winchester should both be fine in the ballroom.”

“James, you don’t have to explain. You should be with your family,” Rachel stated, sounding braver than she felt.

James held his stained-glass pane at the same height as the pane that Rachel was carrying. Rachel carefully let go over her pane just long enough to grab both panes with one hand at time. In the process, her hands were able to briefly brush James’. She felt a momentary flutter but it was clear that James could only feel concern for his mother in the kitchen.

A blood curdling woman’s scream pierced the night and James’ head snapped into the direction of the kitchen. While still looking in that direction, he asked, “Are you sure that you know the way?”

“If I get lost, I’m sure that a spirit guide will redirect me,” she stated. “James go!”

James moved around the panes and behind Rachel. He placed his hand on her waste and for a moment, she had thought he might embrace her good-bye but instead his hand reached down into her apron pocket. He left the salt container with whatever few grains of salt it still had and lifted the bracelet out. For a moment, Rachel debated asking him his plan but then decided to focus her attention on her mission instead. Instead, she whispered, “James you should take the weapons that I have since you are going into a live battle.”

She turned her head and saw James debating if he should take her weapons as it could leave Rachel and Mrs. Winchester without protection. “Really James! I am an excellent shot. Besides, in all of this violence, who’s going to be worried about a widow and an actress?” She forced a laugh to convey courage and he seemed to believe it as he unstrapped the rifle, the bandolier, and the extra gun belt from Rachel and added it to his own load.

“I’m leaving you your gun and a bit of ammunition just in case,” James explained. Rachel nodded and then lifted the panes a bit higher off the floor and awkwardly began walking back towards the ballroom.

After a few steps, Rachel heard James whisper, “Be careful, Rachel!”

She smiled and looked over her shoulder but James had already disappeared towards the kitchen. Rachel rolled her shoulders back, tightened her grip onto the stained-glass window panes, and then moved as quickly as she could with her awkward load.

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

James ran in the direction of the kitchen. The shots were occurring in closer succession to each other, drums were beating loudly, and the screams of battle were growing louder. He was barely a room away when an icy figure jumped onto his back. Tiny arms wrapped around his neck and tiny legs about his waist. Clearly, a ghost had decided to take a ride. James stopped and began struggling to throw the passenger off while keeping the weapons close.

“James it’s me!” came a child’s voice.

James paused and finally managed to turn his head to view the passenger and found the eyes of the small child ghost with him. “What the hell are you doing?” demanded James.

“There is a cloud of evil darkness ahead and you won’t make it through without the protection of the bracelet.”

“I’ll forget everything when I do that!”

“But if you don’t put it on, you will be possessed and killed before you make it in anywhere near your family. If it possesses you then you will become the weapon that kills your mother and believe me, the darkness’ #1 enemy right now is Lenore. The bracelet is the only thing that will protect you as it creates a forcefield around you that the darkness cannot penetrate. I cannot even go near the darkness without becoming possessed and I’m not even human anymore!”

“But if I put it back on, how will I remember that I need to protect my mother?”

“Are you the man your father raised?”

Taken aback by the question, James demanded, “What?”

“If you are the man that your father raised, you will run towards danger rather than away from it. Even if the group is filled with people unknown to you.”

James nodded, knowing that his parents had fought their whole lives for the lives and rights of others. This was now his time to prove his character.

James took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, and wrapped the bracelet around his wrist.

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

Inside the salt circle Viva had long run out of regular bullets so Lenore had him shooting the salt rounds at the darkness to keep it at bay. There were a couple of maids frantically crawling around on their hands and knees to ensure that the circle stayed protected to keep the darkness outside of the circle. Unfortunately, it did not prevent all evil from entering their safe space. Dead and rotting corpses were in various stages of charging at the group and some that seemed merely interested in eating the flesh of others. Some individuals wore the outfits of household staff who had been possessed earlier in the evening by the evil cloud while others wore clothes at least a hundred years out of date. They continued to press in from all sides.

Lenore had taken Viva’s last few ammunition rounds and was holding off many of the potential encroachers through carefully aimed headshots. Many other staff members were working hard to remove the heads of decedents through various kitchen knives. Viva had given the axe from the woodshed to the cook friend of Steve’s and the individual seemed fully capable of wielding the weapon. Viva took another glance around, the bodies of the dead continued to fill into the room. So far, the household staff had only experienced a few small injuries. Unfortunately, those who had been bitten seemed worse than the individuals who had been cut or bruised. In Viva’s experience bite marks were usually a small injury but these bite marks seemed to become almost instantly infected. Those who were bitten had skin that was becoming sickly pale and their eyes were starting to glaze over. They even started to move sluggishly so Viva had to place the injured in the center of the circle so that they could be better protected. Those with severe gashes and concussions refused to be near those where were extremely pale. It was as though they could sense something dying in each of those individuals.

Viva loaded the next couple salt rounds into the shotgun before deciding to do a quick inventory of remaining rounds but found that everything was gone. These were his last two salt rounds. He would have to use them sparingly.

And then it happened, the girl who had been unconscious, possessed by the darkness, gave an eerie scream as she sprang to her feet. She looked more like a rabid animal than human as she sprung onto the back of the large cook. She bit into his neck and blood began to pour down his pressed and white clothes.

“What the hell?” Viva asked as he readied his shot gun.

Another woman screamed in horror as the rest of the bitten individuals were under the control of the possessed kitchen maid. They began to each reach outwards, determined to attack the small band of humans that stood between their central position and the darkness outside.

Just then Viva heard a familiar man’s voice shouting from deep in the darkness, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m coming in!”

“Hell no!” shouted Viva. “No one can survive in that darkness without being possessed!”

“It’s James!” exclaimed Lenore. Viva looked over at Lenore to find her struggling to keep her gun from a pale cook who now had black ooze leaking from his lips. “Viva, I know my boy’s voice! Let him in!” she screamed.

Viva turned back to the darkness before shouting, “It’s now or never!”

A figure began running out of the darkness and towards the circle. Viva had barely enough time to recognize James before the young man ran into Viva, knocking him over. Viva took a moment to look up at the young man, from his blue suit and shoes, to the extra shotguns and ammunition, and up to his dark hair thick with sweat from running.

James extended a hand as he helped Viva up, the older sheriff exclaimed, “I’ve never been more happy to see you and your blue suede shoes!”

James handed a bandolier of ammunition instinctively to Viva before pushing past him and towards the center of the circle. With cold efficiency, he blew off the heads of his former colleagues which caused those staff members who were unpossessed to momentarily forget the battle and focus on the man killing their friends.

“That’s Mr. Adams,” a staff member stated to a nearby workman in a hushed tone.

By this time, Lenore had been able to pull her own shotgun away and had just removed the head of her attacker before turning back to see James throw headless bodies outside of the circle. James’ detachment momentarily shocked her but as she saw the bracelet he was wearing, she realized that he had no recollection of these people. To him, the world was simply dark and light. Everyone else was struggling with the thought of having to kill friends that they had worked beside for years; each person wanted to believe that hope for salvation could still come. Would James remember this battle when he removes the bracelet?

James caught Lenore staring and asked, “Can I help with anything ma’am? Do you need more ammunition?”

The lack of recognition hurt Lenore more than she had expected but for the sake of the ongoing battle, she needed to stay disconnected. Lenore nodded her head and as he gave her additional ammunition she stated, “After you finish removing the bodies, please help me on this side of the circle. Most of the army is coming from this side and it would be beneficial to have two marksmen instead of one.”

A couple individuals seemed about to protest but seeing all of the carnage surrounding them, there really was nothing that they could say. There had already been many lives lost by not trusting Lenore and Viva and it seemed that survival was dependent on their judgement. James had reached the last two bodies that needed to be thrown out of the circle and as he went to lift the last body, a voice begin to eerily cackle. Beneath the large cook that James had decapitated, the possessed maid was found alive and on the floor. She looked around at each person in the circle and continued to cackle.

To the shock of all in the circle, the timid and crying maid who had been charged with managing the salt circle picked up the axe that had fallen from the large cook’s hands and rammed it into the back of the cackling possessed maid’s head. The tiny maid lifted the axe back out with some difficulty as dark ooze poured out from the still cackling woman. The maid then adjusted the angle before cutting off the head of the darkness’ spy, the smile frozen on her now dead face. Despite the head rolling outside of the circle, the small maid continued to bring the axe over and over into the body of the now dead individual. After a few minutes, Viva took the axe from the girl and wrapped her in a hug.

“You’ve gone through a trauma, young lady. Just breathe for a minute. You can hug me back if you need to, let me be your teddy bear,” he instructed. Viva really wasn’t sure what he was saying, he just knew that the traumatized girl had snapped and he needed her to calm down for a moment. The rest of the group had moved back to their positions and continued the fight. James threw the final body outside of the circle before moving to stand beside the mother that he didn’t recognize. Lenore and Viva exchanged glances as if to make a silent agreement. The bracelet was not only James’ best defense to survive the night but it would also provide the detachment necessary to survive their supernatural war. The bracelet would not be removed until the fight was over.

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

Rachel had made it to the ballroom and found that Mrs. Winchester was only half of the way up the ladder. Rachel leaned the stained glass next to each ladder to make replacing the window panes an easier process before looking up at Mrs. Winchester. At Rachel’s incredulous gaze, Mrs. Winchester smiled and pulled out what looked like a hand rolled cigarette. She lit it up and took a deep breath before slowly releasing the cloud of smoke.

“It’s my medication,” explained Mrs. Winchester. She smiled and watched the smoke through smiling crinkled eyes. “I figure we’ve got plenty of time before sunrise and a break for pain management would be alright. Besides, stained glass always looks better as the sun rises and you become high.”

Rachel had to agree with the logic and nodded to Mrs. Winchester. While Mrs. Winchester took another puff, Rachel hurriedly ran up the second ladder to begin work on the second window. Rachel had just barely reached the top when she felt the ladder lurch. Rachel’s heart jumped for a moment but laughed at her own clumsiness. After a night of ghosts, darkness, and dead armies, a broken neck due to imbalance seemed almost a blessing. She took a quick glance down to see if the ladder had somehow moved or was unsecure. To her horror, she saw a ghost fiddling with the screws holding the rungs on the ladder together. Feeling her eyes on him, the ghost looked up before giving a sly and toothless grin.

She looked over at Mrs. Winchester and was relieved that the widow had finished her “medication,” and was now continuing the climb up the ladder, humming to herself. Rachel’s relief at the widow’s safety was quickly changed to dismay as Rachel caught sight of another couple of ghosts who were pointing at Mrs. Winchester. It seemed that the duo of apparitions had been lost in their own scheme for the widow and unaware that Rachel had spotted them. In an attempt to gain the various ghosts attention, Rachel screamed as she pulled out her gun and crashed it through the plain window before her. She knocked out the entire glass pain but managed to brush her arm against a glass shard which created a large gash streaming blood down her side. She winced as she realized that she was now recovering from a bullet on one side and a large gash on the other.

“Seven years bad luck!” sang Mrs. Winchester in a low voice before laughing to herself, still oblivious of the pending ghost attack. The widow had finally reached the top of the ladder but instead of immediately removing the glass panes, she seemed focused on her own reflection. “Do you know that we’re all just wrinkles in the fabric of time? Mother Earth is gracious enough to wrap us in her blanket of night sky.” She then began to hum as she slowly began to work on removing the glass, careful to ensure that this one did not break and incur bad luck.

As Mrs. Winchester began to hum louder, Rachel ripped cloth from her petticoat and wrapped the material around her hands. Biting her lower lip to keep her fear of heights in check, Rachel hooked her booted feet on either side of the ladder and moved her hands to each side and slid down the ladder, ignoring the splinters along the way.

She pulled out her pistol and fired at the toothless ghost but the bullet sped through him, leaving the ghost undamaged. He smirked as he watch the bullet pass through his middle before rushing towards Rachel. Scrambling for another plan, she reached into her apron pocket and felt that there was less than a handful of salt left. She threw the bit of salt that she had in an attempt to fend off the ghost long enough to allow her to run back to the séance table and search for any additional salt or weapons from Brisco. Rachel reached the table and began throwing pillows around looking for any additional weapons. She then felt a cold hand grab her shoulder. The hairs on the back of her neck went up and suddenly she was flying backwards across the room. She landed against the pipe organ and the cacophony of dissonant chords bellowed out as she struggled back up. She had barely enough time to process what was happening before she was thrown again, this time she hit the back of her head against the fireplace.

The room was now spinning and her head was aching. Due to the various injuries, it was becoming difficult to stay conscious. She felt an icy hand yank back her hair forcing her to look up at her captor. Of the 3 ghosts that she had seen in the room, she could see that two were content torturing her. One ghost was holding her by her hair while the toothless ghost seemed to be debating how best to inflict damage on Rachel. He made his decision quickly and stuck an icy finger into the still healing gunshot wound. Rachel tried to hold in the scream as she felt the wound reopen. Tears pricked the sides of her eyes and the ghost who held her by her hair kneed her in the stomach. She felt herself being yanked back up by her hair before the toothless ghost hit her bullet wound again. She then felt a kick into her back and she fell onto the floor, collapsing into the fireplace tools. The two ghosts who had been torturing her were now laughing together but it gave Rachel enough time to spot the third ghost. He had slowly begun to rock the ladder back and forth forcing Mrs. Winchester to hold on with arthritic hands.

Mrs. Winchester, while still oblivious, managed to shout over to Rachel, “Is the room shaking or is it just me?”

Desperate to get the ghost away from the widow, Rachel picked up an iron poker and rushed towards the ghost. She swiped the air as hard as she could and the ghost disappeared. Rachel’s shock was evidently less than what the ghost duo were experiencing. Rachel had just enough time to secure Mrs. Winchester’s ladder before they rushed her. She swung the iron poker as though she were swinging a bat to hit an incoming fastball and both ghosts disappeared.

“You’re right of course, back to work!” called Mrs. Winchester from above. Rachel went to inspect the second ladder but found that it laid in pieces. Rachel was about to bring the stained-glass pane up the ladder to Mrs. Winchester but a chill filled the air and both women could see their breath in front of them.

“Ow! That cold chill just made my fingers freeze up!” commented Mrs. Winchester. She blew on her hands and tried to hold them close to her body in order to warm them back up.

As Rachel looked around and held up the iron poker, she realized that there would be a battle in the ballroom after all. It was clear that some of the spirits had aligned with the darkness and would want to take out the spiritual force of the house, Mrs. Winchester. Rachel stood in front of the ladder and squared her shoulders. She lifted the iron poker higher into the air and tightened her grip with both hands. Clearly, this would not be the easy task that all had assumed it would be, especially with the two women only having an iron poker as a weapon.

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

Ellie sighed in exasperation. Clive had stopped by to briefly check-in with Ellie. He told her that she was tucked away in a corner and that this friendly bespeckled spirit was not only helping her translate but he would shield her from the sights of the various evil roots, darkness, dead army, and so forth that were currently attempting to maim or kill the rest of her party. Clive had only been there for a few minutes before returning to Socrates but Clive’s parting instruction to the deceased archeologist was that she held the key to resolving everything and must be protected. While it was meant to put her at ease, Ellie only felt more pressure. If everything rested on her, then she needed to relieve the curse as soon as possible. Unfortunately, page after page yielded numerous exciting discoveries for her ghostly protector but none that were useful in the present fight.

As she heard commotions and shouts come from under the house, outside the house, and somewhere inside the house, she began to tap her fingers impatiently on the ground.

“My dear, that incessant rapping will do nothing for finding the answ-“ but he stopped midsentence. He motioned for her to flip back and forth between the two pages. “Aha!” he cried in excitement.

“You’ve got it?”

“No, but I just discovered the world’s best chili recipe,” responded the ghost as he rolled his eyes in sarcasm. “Of course, it’s what we’ve been looking for!”

“So, what do we do?” asked Ellie in excitement.

“Repeat these words exactly as I say them, “Klaatu barada nikto.”

“Klaatu-“ Ellie repeated but stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look of horror in her spirit guide. He looked frozen in time before turning an odd shade of green. Ellie couldn’t help but scream as the ghost-turned-statue fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.

“Traitor,” hissed unison voices.

Ellie looked up and recognized the attackers as the cloaked figures that had disappeared after she had defended Brisco with the machete. Ellie took a few steps backwards as she cursed herself for giving Brisco the machete. She had assumed that these figures would continue to chase Brisco and that he would need it to fight these spirits and the Kandarian. The figures floated towards her, while Ellie picked up her shotgun. She fired several rounds of salt at the figures. But it did nothing.

In fact, the two figures simply cocked their heads to one side. Like a cat playing with its prey, studying its attempt at escape in mild amusement before obliterating it.

In desperation, Ellie thought of her mission and screamed out, “Klaatu Barbados-“ as she attempted to reload.

But the spirits were too quick. Suddenly they were towering over her as they had done to Brisco earlier in the evening. They began to laugh as Ellie felt her soul being ripped out of her body in a great rushing wind.

Ellie struggled to stay standing but as she started to fall, she felt the words stumble out, “Klaatu… Barada…”

The vengeful spirits looked like they were growing to Ellie and the cellar felt like it was going black. She felt the tears starting burn the corners of her eyes as the pain of losing her soul was beyond anything that she had experienced before. They began to laugh at her crumpled body.

She gathered every last bit of her strength and finally muttered the last word, “Nikto.”

As soon as the words were uttered, the ground beneath her began to violently shake. The cloaked figures shrieked in pain but instead of disappearing like they did with the sword, they suddenly erupted in a floating fire.

Ellie sat on the ground and felt the world around begin to normalize. She was still too weak to stand and so she sat in the darkness, taking deep breath, and praying that she said the words correctly. She blacked out but in her dream-like state it felt like she was being rolled away from the world.

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

Brisco had found the Kandarian at least ten minutes earlier but had hid behind a column to study his opponent. The Kandarian seemed to be about Brisco’s height with long matted hair hanging down his back. There was a small glow emanating from what Brisco assumed was a book on the ground. It gave an eerie light to the area and Brisco could see the Kandarian’s face in the haunting glow. His face looked like it was rotting flesh with a bit of the skull peeking out around the jaw and nose. There was a large gash across the forehead as though it had been cut by a dagger or knife. He had a chain wrapped around his neck as though he had escaped from a Medieval dungeon. His clothes looked like those of an old king in style and could quite possible be authentic as the garments looked to be rotted and aged for several hundred years.

The figure paced in the darkness around the glowing book and he seemed to be shouting. Brisco stopped breathing for a moment to better hear what the being was saying as it was hard to hear over the heartbeat in Brisco’s ears. When Brisco could finally begin to make out the words, it was clear that the Kandarian was providing commands to his undead army outside. To Brisco’s surprise, the being picked up old mirrors from a nearby junk table. The figure than uttered a few sentences in an unknown language before the reflections faded and a grey cloud swirled in its place. In a few moments, the mirrors had changed to eerie windows into various parts of the battle. In a moment, the Kandarian had pulled up the faces of what Brisco assumed were his top generals as their individual commands led charges into various parts of the house. How could they defeat an evil that can see the entire battlefield from a safe distance away? One that can communicate to all parts of his army in an instant and observe their progress live while Brisco and his friends had to have faith that each accomplished their individual mission? Brisco steadied his breathing to better hear the Kandarian and his generals.

“Thank you all for joining the call this evening,” began the Kandarian. The various generals grunted their greetings.

Kandarian cleared his throat before continuing, “Army One, it looks like the smoke force has cleared a path for you. Have you been able to break-through-”

A tumultuous sound broke over the mirrors which drowned out the Kandarian’s conversation with the Army One General.

“Put yourself on mute unless I call on you!” commanded an irritated Kandarian.

A raspy voice responded, “It looks like they have placed salt around the kitchen staff but we have been able to get a spy into the center of their-“

Another crash of sound this time combined with screaming.

“I said put yourselves on mute unless I call on you!” raged the Kandarian. “If I find that you have disobeyed my mute order again, I will have your head and appoint someone else as a general in your stead!”

At that moment, the mirrors all went silent. Brisco peaked around the beam once more and found that all of the mirrors still had figures in various stages of decay standing in front of their individual battle scenes but everything had gone quiet.

“Army Two, have you found the rest of the household yet? Mrs. Winchester might be arthritic and old but she is much too powerful to allow her to live through the night,” continued the Kandarian.

The silence continued. Brisco squinted his eyes to look beyond the Kandarian and it looked like one of the corpse generals was talking but there wasn’t any sound being relayed into the basement.

“You’re on mute,” Kandarian observed through clenched teeth.

The silence remained.

“You’re still on mute…”

“Can you hear me now?” boomed a deep baritone voice.

“Yes, please relay your report.”

“Hello? I said, can you hear me?” continued the low resonating voice.

“We can all hear you!” said Kandarian. If he had eyelids, they would certainly be rolling.

However, the mirror froze and the earth began to shake like a minor earthquake was occurring. Brisco almost lost his footing but quickly rebalanced himself. Brisco leaned his back against the column as he realized that Ellie had completed her mission. Brisco took a deep breath, knowing that this was the moment that he had been waiting for, but before he jumped out of hiding a voice came out of the darkness.

“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you,” Mr. County?”

Brisco slowly peered around the column to see Kandarian with his back towards Brisco but staring into a mirror. It forced Brisco to look past Kandarian and into the mirrors behind the evil figure. At that moment, all of the mirrors had changed from the skeletal generals to the same picture in each mirror. To Brisco’s horror, every mirror was showing Brisco’s own self hiding behind a support beam. Kandarian was watching Brisco.

Brisco would not have the element of surprise on his side.

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

Socrates had been moving only a few steps at a time, slowly moving through the roots slithering across the once bare, concrete floor. Clive had said that the foundation was a form of concrete but the leaves and dirt brought in by the root system made the underground feel and look more like the underbrush of an ancient forest. Socrates had passed two bodies of men whose faces and hair had turned a disgusting shade of grey. They seemed to cackle into the darkness as though driven mad by the poison injected into their veins. To Socrates relief, they had not noticed him in the darkness but seemed lost in their own insanity.

Socrates was moving towards a lamp that Clive had pointed out, it was swinging several meters away. It seemed almost carefree and happy, despite the sea of dark eel-like vines and roots below it. To Socrates, it seemed to mock him because no matter how many tiny steps that he took, it still felt like the destination was hours away. Socrates attempted to hold onto Clive’s explanation that a direct approach would only bring about a sudden death to Socrates, so any hope at survival would have to be painstakingly slow movements. When Socrates passed another two bodies of men, these men also grey and cackling to themselves, Socrates began to lose hope that he would find Whip alive. These men looked more gruesome that the last pair with the added element of a black goo spilling out over them.

After what felt like an eternity, Socrates was finally close enough to see Whip’s face by the light of the swinging lamp. To his relief Whip still looked human, without any sign of black goo or strange skin. Unfortunately, he was bent like a marionette lying on the ground which meant his friend had at least a couple broken bones. Even at this distance and poor lighting, Whip looked as though he had lost any hope of surviving the evening.

As Socrates paused to weigh his options for a next footstep in the slithering mass of roots, he took the opportunity to study Whip’s location. Whip was pinned to the ground in front of a twisted and evil looking tree. There seemed to be hundreds of roots between the Socrates and Whip, not to mention no way to determine how broken Whip was or the best way to lift him out of danger. To make matters worse, he could not call for Whip’s attention without potentially placing both individuals in danger. Beads of sweat began to slide down Socrates’ nose and he removed his glasses while wiping his face with a handkerchief that had been forgotten in a pocket. Looking at the cloth in his hand, Socrates had an idea. He attempted to silently wave it in the dark, desperately praying that Whip would be able to see it.

Suddenly the ground began to shake and the roots shrieked as though something had frightened them; all vegetation began to hurriedly pull back towards the center as though they needed to protect the tree. In that moment, Socrates had a clearing before him, a direct path to Whip without any roots to deter him. Socrates took the opportunity to run a full speed, or as much speed as he could muster with his aching body, towards Whip in a desperate hope to make up time. Unfortunately, when he finally was within yards of Whip’s feet, everything stopped. There was a noticeable silence in the basement. Socrates halted, aware of the calculating stillness in the air. It felt as though the tree and roots, which had previously been unaware of his presence, had suddenly realized that another human was in the basement. More specifically, that their trap was just about to bring in their first prey. Socrates held his breath and shut his eyes, praying that he would be unseen and unheard by the evil tree before him.

In that moment, Whip could also feel that there had been a change in the atmosphere. He scrunched his abdominal muscles in an attempt to look beyond his toes and was shocked to see Socrates, face scrunched as his eyes were closed.

“Socrates! What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Whip in a hoarse voice.

Socrates waved his hands as if to motion a need for silence but it was too late. Roots had begun sliding back out and in Socrates’ direction. Knowing where Socrates stood, the evil tree seemed to find pleasure in torturing both men by slowly circling around Socrates’ location in an attempt to build terror for the trapped prey. The cackling laughs from the darkness began anew, but with a more targeted evil taunt directed at Socrates and Whip.

Socrates debated running but knew that this was Whip’s only chance and elected to hold his ground. Socrates swung the gun that Brisco had given him in the ballroom and aimed it towards the tree. He took careful aim, attempted to remember what Brisco had taught him, and fired.

To Whip and Socrates frustration, he missed the tree entirely.

In the darkness, two voices began to taunt, “We’re gonna get you! We’re gonna get you!”

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

Viva, Lenore, James, and their small group of staff survivors had moved through most of the ammunition resupply when kitchen began to shake. The group looked at each other nervously, unsure what new hell was about to unfold. Instead, the room went still. And then with a terrified and angry shriek, the darkness dissipated up and out of the house. Something, or someone, had finally broken the curse of the dark cloud that had murdered so many staff members before taunting Lenore’s group of survivors.

With the darkness out of the kitchen, the household continued to eye the dead and rotting bodies that had been surrounding the circle. To everyone’s amazement, the undead stood upright, turned on their heels and walked away. This time not as an army in unison but more as individuals moving at the various speeds they had in life. The only similarity is that they were all moving out of the house and away from the mansion. Viva stood at the door to provide cover as several staff members followed the undead. After a few minutes, Viva could only assume that they were heading back towards their final resting places.

“What is darkness afraid of?” asked a woman near James.

“Light,” responded Lenore. She looked around at the staff on the floor and knelt to begin caring for the uninfected injured.

James passed his mother moved towards Viva and was about to follow the undead across town and to their graves but Viva held him back. “Lenore, is it time?”

Lenore looked up and sadly nodded. If she could keep him from the horrors of the night, she would. But it was not her decision and James was not a child. He would need to face the morning with the rest of the survivors. Viva pressed two buttons and released James from the bracelet. As the memories began to flow back through James’ mind, Viva pressed the bracelet into the young man’s hand. “Be sure to keep that item safe,” Viva instructed.

James nodded and pocketed the bracelet. He stumbled to his mother and gave her a long hug. “Shit! Mama! We gotta get back to Mrs. Winchester and Rachel!”

“You go on, son, I’m gonna stay here and help these people get mended. Viva – go with James!” commanded Lenore.

James kissed her cheek before nodding his head in the direction that Viva would need to follow him towards. Just before James was out of the kitchen, he turned back and asked a question his father used to say in dangerous times, “Mama? Your back?”

She smiled as she held up the nearby shotgun, “Oh! I’ll watch it!”

She watched Viva and James leave before the young workman asked, “And what should we do in the meantime?”

“Stay together but follow the undead and ensure that they really leave the grounds,” she instructed. As she turned back towards the injured girl with a large laceration in her side, Lenore heard the sound of the bell. Only it was playing an odd rhythm, almost like it was morse code but more complex.

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

Pete had moved through a tangle of hallways and back entrances until finally arriving at a door which led to an easy access to the roof. With coaxing from the guide, Pete was finally at the edge of the red bricked sloped roof. He looked at the ghost incredulously before stating, “And why am I going to the top of this tower instead of ringing it from below?”

“That area is being heavily guarded and while I know that you would survive, we don’t have time for you to heal.”

“And if I miss and fall to the ground? Do you think that I’ll have enough time to heal from the broken bones?” demanded Pete.

The ghost shrugged before smiling and stating, “Then don’t miss.”

Pete rolled his eyes before studying the distance between the roof and the wooden structure of the belltower. He took a deep breath before jumping the small distance and grabbing onto one of the wooden planks of the tower. The rest of his body hit the lower wooden planks with a painful thud but Pete shook off the jolt before regaining his footing.

Pete glanced down and found that there was indeed an army of undead below which proved that the ghost had not been lying. However, at the sound of his jump onto the structure the rotting figures below looked up at Pete. As Pete began climbing up, he could see the guards below begin to climb the structure as well. As he continued to climb up wooden plank after plank, he felt and heard the sound of a large flapping wings filled the air. Pete had just enough time to turn and look for the source of the sound before a boney hand hit him square in the jaw. At the shock of the punch, Pete grabbed the plank to keep from falling. That action forced him to glance down at the ground and measure the long distance between himself and the guards below. While they were still quite aways down, any further attacks might enable them to catch up.

“Why am I always the guy in the belltower?” muttered Pete as he regained his footing and studied his attacker. It was the skeletal bugler on the winged boney beast from earlier in the evening. The duo had flown by Pete during the initial attack and looked to be making a large U-turn in an effort to make another pass at Pete.

Pete began to hurriedly move up the rest of the tower. As he climbed, he looked for his ghostly companion but she had disappeared. While irritated at being abandoned, Pete continued to scale the tower and finally made it to the top. He stood squarely in front of the bell and pulled out his piece and its newly acquired companion before taking aim and shooting both pistols towards the flying evil. The shots nicked the bones of both creatures but did not dissuade nor destroy either figure. Pete again looked around for his ghostly companion but she was still nowhere to be found. Pete studied the approaching scout and noticed that it lacked any weapons aside from his own bones and the winged creature. To that end, the skeleton was balanced on his creature with one arm holding a humorous bone as a club. Pete couldn’t see the rest of the skeleton’s arm bones as the duo continued to move towards him. Just as the figure was in reach, the skeleton swung the humorous bone but Pete managed to duck narrowly missing the bugler’s attack.

As the creature continued its path and made way for another turn, the female apparition returned but seemed to be smoking as if she was on fire with hands that looked somehow injured. He looked at her incredulously as she explained, “I tried to bring you a salt container but it wasn’t closed all the way and managed to burn me.”

The two allies helplessly watched the winged creature finish its U-turn and ready itself for another pass before looking down and seeing the undead creatures below move closer to him. Even with the specter’s assistance, Pete was unsure how best to defeat the attack from above and below. But to the ghost’s relief, the house began to move as though experiencing a small earthquake. Pete quickly moved to a bell support beam for safety as the bell absorbed the unwanted shaking and rang out its annoyance at the recent movement. From where Pete stood, he watched the winged creature and its pilot go from a flight of attack to falling helplessly to the ground like a bag of bones. He then looked down to see the decedents move slowly away as if no longer interested in Pete or the mansion itself.

“Ellie has completed the counter-spell,” explained the ghost as a confused Pete watched his attackers disappear.

“After all of this excess risk of injury, remind me again why a ghost can’t ring the bell?” asked a dubious Pete.

“Most of the tasks of the evening need humans to complete them but this one could probably be completed by a ghost. But I couldn’t take that risk and besides, I needed an opportunity to talk with you alone,” she explained.

Pete turned towards her, livid at the unnecessary risks he had just taken for this ghost. Seeing that Pete was about to unload his fury, she held up her hands and stated, “I said probably! We couldn’t risk not having this bell code task completed.

Unable to combat her logic yet still quite furious, he continued through gritted teeth, “This seems an inappropriate time to have an intimate conversation.”

“I’m saving those for another day,” she grinned at him before turning her attention back on the bell to study it.

Pete was immediately stunned, confused, and distracted from his anger. “Is it my imagination or is this ghost flirting with him?”

The moment passed as the ghost gave him the pattern for the bell. The rhythm for ringing the bell was easy to grasp but it took a few tries before Pete could complete it correctly. It was a series of a short rings followed by pauses, something that the ghost called “binary code.” When he entered the correct code, the purple haze began to melt away. There was a light shower in the mist which caused Pete to ask, “Is that purple rain?”

“Seems to be,” agreed the ghost before she turned back to Pete. “Has anyone ever called you a “prince among men?’”

Pete looked at her incredulously, unsure how to respond to the ghost before replying, “Only a prince of thieves. However, in my experience, that level of flattery is usually accompanied by a request.”

When the ghost did not respond or deny Pete’s comment, Pete pressed, “So, what would a ghost want with me?”

“I need you to kill Charles.”

Pete felt like every statement coming from the apparition only increased his fascination but also seemed to be more incredulous than the last. After several moments Pete couldn’t contain his curiosity and asked, “I thought that Livi was yours and his progeny? Why would you want me to kill Livi’s pater?”

Her face darkened. “There’s a lot that you will learn in the near future but suffice it to say, he was never a romantic partner of mine. He was the individual who turned me in; he might as well have signed my death warrant. To make matters worse, he stole my daughter.”

Her revelation was immediately followed by the sound of Lenore shouting. It was as if Pete’s ears had been opened to suddenly hear the commotion occurring around him. The noise startled Pete and he took a moment to glance down below at the courtyard. While he couldn’t clearly see Lenore, her shouts were not out of fear or horror, just stern commands. Feeling relieved that Lenore was safe, Pete looked back up and in the direction of the ghost but she had disappeared. Still angry about the recent attack, irritated by her disappearing act, and slightly overwhelmed by the bombshell confession, Pete hurried to get to the downstairs’ kitchen. He’d check on Lenore and James but if everything was safe, he would grab his bracelet and get the hell out of this mansion filled with odd specters.

Even the “friendly” ghosts seemed to have ulterior motives and Pete preferred to live outside of other people’s motives or plans.

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

Cat’s out of the bag. I guess we’re onto Plan B, thought Brisco.

He slowly came around his hiding place but stayed at a distance from Kandarian.

“I’d shake your hand but- uh…” Brisco lifted his machete duct taped to his injured hand. He continued to slowly step towards Kandarian while keeping an eye out for slithering roots.

“I appreciate the gesture. And you will pardon me for not immediately greeting you upon your entrance.”

“You wanted me to see your plans for the evening?” Brisco asked while taking his adversary in. How do I remove the head of this monster?

“To show you that resistance is futile. You and the rest of the humans are no match for my armies.” As Kandarian finished speaking, the mirrors changed back to their various parts of the house. Brisco had to admit that several battles did look hopeless. Pete was up in a bell tower with the female ghost fighting the winged creature and its skeletal pilot. Rachel was fighting ghosts in the ballroom with a frail Mrs. Winchester struggling to lift a stained glass up the ladder. Whip was in the basement covered in roots with Socrates nowhere in sight. But the last mirror gave Brisco some hope. The kitchen held Lenore giving instructions to various staff members but it was void of any conflict. In fact, it looked like the undead were moving, albeit slowly, away from the house. When Brisco looked back at Pete and the female ghost, they were no longer fighting creatures but seemed to be ringing the bell.

When the bell finished its odd melody, Brisco pointed with the machete and observed, “It looks like the undead are leaving, you seem to have already lost.”

“That is only part of my army and admittedly, the weakest part. But every army needs pawns, individuals that you can sacrifice to protect your greatest weapons.”

“Such as?” inquired Brisco. At that moment, a mirror changed from the slow pace of an undead individual’s vantage point to an ugly and twisted tree that held Whip captive. Brisco was running out of time to take out Kandarian and potentially open an opportunity for Whip’s rescue.

Instead of a witty comment, all Brisco could think to do was give a yell of anger, frustration, and war. As he yelled, he charged at the Kandarian and shooting his live rounds of ammunition.

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

Mrs. Winchester had finally made it to the top rung and was in the process of placing in the first stained glass. Rachel was not having the same luck. After winning the first round with the ghosts, Rachel had quickly scraped together any salt that she could find at the bottom of the weapons box and by opening up a couple salt shotgun rounds that she had found. In an effort to protect the widow, she spread what little salt she could gather in a small circle around Mrs. Winchester’s ladder. From that moment on, none of the ghosts could touch Mrs. Winchester. Unfortunately, there was only enough salt to protect Mrs. Winchester and the stained glass that Rachel had leaned against the ladder. There was not enough to protect Rachel and she wanted to be sure to protect Mrs. Winchester when the next batch of ghosts arrived.

Unfortunately, alone and out of salt with only the iron poker as protection meant that Rachel was starting to tire. The iron managed to make the ghosts temporarily disappear but only for a few minutes. To make matters worse, additional ghosts were also joining the fray. It felt like all of the ghosts in the house who still had anger and vengeful intent towards Mrs. Winchester had found their chance to attack. But in being kept from harming the widow due to a salt circle made them more irate and they took it out on the bodyguard, Rachel. Rachel’s wounded shoulder and her lacerated arm were causing such excruciating pain that swinging the iron over and over was increasingly becoming impossible. Her muscles were aching and suddenly she lost her grip of the iron and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The ghosts immediately pounced on her vulnerability. A ghost ripped Rachel’s head back by her hair, the force caused Rachel’s eyes to brim with tears in pain. However, it gave Rachel the opportunity to watch the widow place the first stained glass into the pane and begin to slowly move her arthritic body back down the ladder. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief that they had been able to accomplish half of their mission. She took one more breath and closed her eyes, expecting this breath to be her last.

A gunshot fired and she felt her hair released. Rachel opened her eyes and turned to see that James had used a salt round to shoot her captor. Within moments, Viva arrived in the room behind James and the two began to rapidly shoot at the ghosts, finally clearing out the room.

In the moment’s pause, Rachel caught her breath before warning the men, “They won’t be gone long.”

“Where’s Pete, Whip, and Socrates?” asked Viva.

“The good-lookin’ long-haired fellow disappeared,” gushed the widow, still on a high from her medication. “Euripides is off trying to rescue another of your party, the handsome man with the chin is fighting Kandarian, and the other woman has released the spell. After summarizing the various missions, she paused for another round of medication. As she slowly blew out the smoke, she held it up as if to ask James if he wanted some. James simply held up his hand as though to state, “Not at this moment.”

“Socrates working to rescue Whip from the basement?” asked Viva. “Those two don’t have a chance against the evil that I saw down there!” exclaimed Viva as he started for the door.

“Right behind you,” called James but Viva immediately halted upon hearing James.

“No, we have all worked hard to rescue and protect you. I am not about to risk you coming to the basement with me.”

“You need as many hands as possible,” argued James.

“We need another hand,” Rachel pleaded. James frowned as he studied her open wounds and realized that Rachel could no longer defend the widow or herself.

“She’s right,” called Mrs. Winchester. She took another inhale of her medication and blew out the smoke before continuing. “It seems that all of the unfriendly vibrations have elected to take advantage of the situation and are determined to not only undermine our mission with the stained-glass windows but to take my life.”

James looked torn between Mrs. Winchester and Viva. It was clear that he did not like the idea of being prevented from joining the more dangerous mission but at the same time, he did not want Mrs. Winchester to be harmed after all that she had done for him.

“But what about you?” pressed James.

“I’m going with him,” stated Pete as he came out from the shadows.

“Hutter, where the hell have you been?” demanded Viva.

“Would you like to discuss events of the evening and compare our various battle stories over a cup of tea or would you like to give Ellie, Socrates, and Whip a better chance of surviving the night?” asked Pete in sarcasm. When Viva reluctantly shrugged in response, Pete continued, “So, that part is settled. What’s next?”

Viva called up to the widow, “Any idea where Whip is located in the basement?”

“Find Clive,” instructed the widow. At that, she finished her medication which not only helped her inflamed joint pain but also managed to calm the extreme anxiety of the evening. She then continued her journey down the ladder.

Armed with the widow’s instructions, Viva handed the axe that he had taken back from the traumatized maid to Pete before the two hurriedly left the ballroom. With James and Rachel left to guard the widow, they kept one eye on Mrs. Winchester while James attempted to stop Rachel’s bleeding wounds.

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

Ellie woke up to a ringing in her ears. She sat up and noticed that Clive had managed to wheel her out of the cellar in his wheelbarrow. His icy hand held hers in an effort to lift her up and out of the cart. Rachel felt a small pain in her back and looked into the wheelbarrow to see that she had been lying on the dynamite from Miami. Ellie shakily turned around to watch the cellar doors. Socrates, Whip, and Brisco should be coming out any second. But as the minutes passed and as she continued to pace in front of the doors, she could not see anyone coming out. She was so engrossed in the search that she had hardly noticed the bells ringing, the dome disintegrating, or the sun slowly begin to rise. She was only acutely aware of the dead bodies walking haphazardly away from the mansion. But as they seemed more interested in leaving the mansion’s property than attacking anyone, she ignored the undead and refocused on the house.

“Ellie, that is still a truly ridiculous outfit,” came a familiar sing song taunt. She turned to face Pete before he continued, “You should really change before the sun comes up and the local socialites catch sight of you. We don’t need women wearing pajamas during the day.”

“You!” she exclaimed. “If you hadn’t wandered off, Poole would be safe with Mrs. Winchester instead of trying to rescue Whip!”

“Miss Ellie, I think that you have me confused. I am not the hero type and I have never claimed to be. Additionally, I am still irritated at Poole for taking my bracelet without permission.”

Ellie gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Well, can you at least look in the cellar to see what is taking them so long? Clive won’t let me in.”

“Only because I owe you so much,” replied Pete. After studying her hopeful face he continued, “If it’s a hopeless situation, you know that I am not the martyr type, right?” As the question was more rhetorical than sincere, he turned and called from the direction that he just came from. “C’mon you lagger! Quit dallying!”

Ellie watched as Viva came into view, clearly not pleased about Pete’s name calling nature. When she turned back towards Pete, he was in a low conversation with Clive and loading up on the last of the ammunition and dynamite.

“Well, howdy Clive!” called Viva. “I hear you can help me find Socrates and Whip.”

Clive nodded and motioned for Pete and Viva to follow him back towards the opening that Viva, Whip, and the rest of the crew all had entered through at the evening’s beginning. With Clive no longer keeping Ellie from entering the cellar, she tried to sneak in with them when a cold hand gripped her wrist tightly.

“Ow!” Ellie exclaimed as she looked at her arm but there was no one there. She attempted to free herself but the icy hand began to forcefully pull her away from the basement entrance and back towards the center of the house with Ellie fighting to free herself with every step.

Pete and Viva followed Clive under the house but both stopped short as Clive asked, “Do either of y’all have a lighter?”

“Why the hell would we need-“ began Viva.

“I have one,” interrupted Pete.

“Keep it close,” whispered Clive’s instructions.

Pete nodded acknowledgement before Clive led the two into the darkness. Viva and Pete found abandoned flashlights from the workmen and carefully lifted them to study the darkness. The floor was squiggling as though covered by snakes. To Pete’s surprise, the slithering creatures were actually roots and branches. They seemed to be stretching out looking for its next meal. At the heart of the house, they could make out a lantern swinging in the darkness. But it was still a long way to go.

“Don’t let the roots touch or capture you!” whispered Clive as Pete and Viva began to slowly walk through the basement.

“Because that was my first inclination,” Pete replied in sarcasm. “Jump head first into a sea of evil looking roots that are squiggling around like snakes.”

“Sshh!” commanded Viva as he paused to listen.

Pete held his breath and could hear two voices cackling in the darkness. The two men shined their flashlights in the direction of the voices and found two bodies that were gray with white hair. They each had black goo leaking out of their mouths and ears and roots crawling all over their bodies.

“Result of capture?” asked Pete to which Clive nodded an affirmative reply.

Viva visibly shook before muttering, “I’m all shook up.”

After several painstaking moments of tiptoeing through the maze of branches and roots, Pete and Viva were finally within sight of Socrates. The evil plant had not yet touched the attorney but it had certainly entrapped him in a large circle of roots and branches.

“Socrates!” whispered Viva in a hoarse voice as he tried to wave for the lawyer’s attention.

“Get the hell out of here!” whispered a hoarse and panicked Socrates as he waved his handkerchief towards the exit.

Unfortunately, the whispers were not quiet enough as the branches and roots seemed to realize the presence of the other two men and began to tighten the circle around Socrates to prevent the possibility of rescue for its captives. In response to the lawyer’s predicament, Pete and Viva began shooting root after root and branch after branch as they moved towards Socrates’ position. Viva looked up as a viney branch suddenly rose up and speared Socrates through his back and out his stomach.

“Nooo!” came Whip’s agonized scream. He watched as Socrates eyes bulged in pain as he stared down at the root sticking out of his stomach. It was as though he could not process the wound that he was experiencing.

Pete and Viva were finally able to move past the lantern and found themselves staring up at an ugly and twisted tree. Pete pulled out the axe and began chopping at the branches while Viva continued to fire buck shot rounds into the roots. They could almost see Whip but the roots and branches attempted to block the last few feet towards Whip by layering themselves on top of each other in an attempt to create a boundary. As Pete and Viva continued to slice and shoot at the tangled web before them, the root system screamed whiney inhuman screams as though each of the roots were somehow alive.

“I thought that breaking the spell would have killed these things?” asked Pete confused. “Did I miss something from the ghost’s directions?”

“How would I know?” asked Viva finally cutting through the last branch. He helped Whip sit up but noticed that his leg was broken.

“Kill me!” gasped Whip.

“Don’t be a martyr!” snorted Viva before picking up Whip by his arms and began dragging him backwards towards the entrance. Pete meanwhile continued to chop at roots to get towards Socrates. When Pete finally made it to Socrates, his mouth fell open as he took in the gruesome sight of the attorney. He studied the branch that had run through Socrates’ body, trying to figure out how to pull Socrates out and away from the mess. He was so engrossed that he did not notice Clive who had joined the two men and he jumped when Clive began to speak.

“You saw it didn’t you?” asked Clive.

“Yes,” Socrates replied between coughs of blood.

“Saw what?” demanded Pete.

“The root system. It’s culminating out of the first infected man’s body.” Pete turned around to look at the body Clive and Socrates were discussing. To Pete’s horror, there was an emaciated body that had been underneath Whip. It had so many roots coming out and through from every part of the body that it was almost impossible to tell that it had once been a man’s body.

“What do we do?” asked Socrates.

“Fire is our only hope,” replied Clive.

“I’ve got the dynamite,” offered Pete as he pulled out the sticks that he had packed for the night’s adventures. However, looking at the goal of throwing it at the source of evil and noticing the short fuse, he looked at Clive and asked, “But how do we get the attorney out?”

“I’ll give you a head start,” replied Socrates with a smile as blood dripped down his chin. At Pete’s shocked face, Socrates continued, “I’m not being a hero, I’m just a dead man already, Pete. Plus, someone has to ensure that this evil shrubbery is utterly destroyed.”

Pete handed the dynamite to Socrates in speechless shock. The plan made sense although he didn’t like owing Socrates anything. As Pete tried to find a way to express appreciation, Socrates nodded his head towards the exit and commanded, “Go! Now! I won’t be able to see you so I’ll give you three minutes before I light the dynamite.”

Pete began moving back towards the exit, this time moving faster than when they entered as the amputated roots seemed to be more engrossed in its pain than the intruders. Since Viva was still dragging Whip backwards, it didn’t take long to arrive just behind the two men. But to Pete’s horror, a grey hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed Viva by the ankle. It pulled Viva with such force, that the sheriff was down in a moment. Pete shined his flashlight on the perpetrator and found that the grey hand belonged to what used to be a human. It was one of the bodies that Pete and Viva had passed assuming it was dead as it had already turned grey with black oozing out of its mouth. Seconds later a second body that matched the first crawled out of the darkness and bit into Whip. Pete was horror stricken as the two zombie like creatures began to gnaw away at Viva and Whip. Pete began to move towards the two creatures but Clive appeared out of the darkness and stood in Pete’s way.

“They’re gone,” explained Clive. “If you are going to survive, you have got to leave now!”

Admitting that Clive was correct, Pete jumped over the two bodies and ran towards the exit while shouting over his shoulder, “Light the damn thing now!”

At Pete’s call, Socrates lit the fuse, took aim, and threw it at the corpse buried at the base of the evil tree. The first dynamite fell close to the tree but not the man. Unsure how long before the fuse would run out or how much time before the tree figured out the plan, Socrates quickly threw the next stick of dynamite. When the second one also missed the target, Socrates coughed and wiped the blood from his face. He let go of his frustration in an effort to take one last deep breath and this time the dynamite hit its target perfectly. The first dynamite went off which led to the other sticks also exploding.

The fire ripped through Reynold’s corpse and the tree before moving along the branches and roots. It enveloped the bodies of the zombies and our heroes. The force of the explosions forced Pete to fall to the ground, only a few yards from the exit.

Before everything went black, Pete wondered, “Will I die from the explosion fire or the house collapsing on top of me?”

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

Brisco’s flurry of bullets in Kandarian’s direction only managed to stun the evil opponent. After only a few moments, Kandarian lifted his hand and a root came springing from the ground and wrapped around Brisco’s ankles. Bored by the display, Kandarian turned his back to Brisco to study his mirrors as though he could no longer be bothered by a pestering fly.

Brisco used the machete to hack away at the roots, which screamed in protest. Unfortunately, he was only able to move a couple more steps before another set lassoed his legs which pulled him to the ground. Irritated by the newly formed pattern of capture, Brisco lifted the shotgun and rapidly refilled the barrel. Within a matter of moments, he took aim and fired. The bullet only grazed the Kandarian’s head but it did manage to take out one of the mirrors. Before his opponent could take reciprocate, Brisco fired again. This time, he blew out the second mirror. Kandarian gave out an eerie guttural scream, something truly unnatural and blood curdling.

“I’ve got news for you, Kandy- you ain’t leading anyone but Jack and Shit. And guess what? Jack just left town!”

“Alright, County! You have my attention! Let’s play!” At Kandarian’s words the roots sank away from Brisco’s feet enabling him to get his footing. Brisco aimed his gun at Kandarian’s head but the shotgun merely clicked.

“Out of bullets, County?” mocked Kandarian.

Brisco merely swung the gun to the ground before raising his machete bound hand and his free fist. The two circled each other, eyeing each other for vulnerabilities. As Brisco continued around the room, he felt the glass crunch beneath his boots.

“Aren’t you going to ask about my evil plan?” hissed Kandarian before he lunged towards Brisco.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” commented Brisco as he sliced off Kandarian’s hand. The adversary howled in irritation before picking it up from the ground and reattaching it. As Brisco watched in fascination, he continued, “In my experience, all evil plans end the same. Use evil means to conquer the world and then rule it for as long as possible. It gets to be routine after the first one or two.”

Kandarian did not reply but brandished a sword from his tattered clothes and gave Brisco a bone chilling sneer.

“Where were you hiding that thing?” asked Brisco.

“My pockets are bigger on the inside,” retorted Kandarian.

“Very fancy.”

At that moment, Kandarian stepped forward and swung his sword towards Brisco’s head. Brisco had just enough time to duck and attempt a lunge at Kandarian. Unfortunately, he missed and only managed to slice at his adversary’s cloak. Brisco continued to circle Kandarian before attempting to cut his opponent down, again he missed but not before Kandarian kicked Brisco’s injured hand.

The pain from the broken hand went shooting up Brisco’s arm. He grimaced in pain as he doubled over to shield his hand from pain. The machete briefly rested on the ground as Brisco moved his eyes between his opponent and the excruciating limb.

Kandarian laughed maniacally while musing, “It’s truly not a fair fight with your injury. It’s too easy, I could beat you with one hand behind my back.”

“Why don’t you?” came Brisco’s gruff retort.

“I never play fair,” commented Kandarian before he swung at Brisco, managing to wound him. Brisco winced in pain but found a glimmer of hope as it looked like Kandorian left himself open when he lunged. Brisco had to look for it the next time he struck.

“Sounds about right. You need an army to fight your battles while you stay hidden and safe down here in the basement,” goaded Brisco. The comment hit its mark as his foe’s face darkened and so Brisco continued, “In fact, you are so out of date that you wouldn’t last one minute without your various weapons of darkness and evil.”

The irate enemy swung again with everything that he had which gave Brisco the opportunity he needed. Brisco leaned backwards out of the way while grabbing Kandarian’s arm as it passed. Brisco quickly brought his knee up with such force that Kandarian was forced to drop the sword. Brisco then swung back around and chopped off Kandarian’s sword fighting arm before Brisco ran head-first toward the confused Kandarian’s mid-section which knocked the foe to the ground. Kandarian was laying on his back but before he could sit back up, Brisco stomped his right foot down on the heaving chest of the rotting evil man.

With Kandarian pinned beneath Brisco’s boot, Brisco held the sword inches away from Kandarian’s head before saying, “Yo- he bitch! Hail to the King!” And with those words chopped off the head, leaving the lifeless body limp on the ground.

Brisco took a deep breath but was granted little time to relish the victory. A child ghost materialized next to Brisco and grabbed his hand to lead him towards the nearest exit.

“The entire basement is about to catch fire,” the boy explained. Brisco ran with the apparition and came to an old back entrance. The wood had rotted shut and Brisco had to kick at it a few times before he could get the door to begrudgingly swing open. Brisco had barely stepped outside when an explosion knocked Brisco to the ground.

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

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when Rachel finished placing the second window pane. It had been tedious watching Mrs. Winchester climb back down each rung of the ladder but as soon as she was down and James confirmed that she was safe inside the salt circle, Rachel grabbed the second stained glass and ran up the ladder.

Rachel had just barely placed the window in its designated spot when she felt the ladder swing backwards. She screamed and looked down to see that an evil spirit had managed to shove the ladder in the opposite direction of the wall and she was about to fall backwards. She looked towards James but found that he was laying on the ground with a sword pointed at his neck by a nasty looking ghost. Rachel tightly shut her eyes and braced for the impact that would surely break bones. Only instead of a painful crash, she felt a tremor from below her feet. If she had to guess it might have been a distant explosion.

She kept her eyes shut and held her breath waiting to feel the wind swish by as the ladder fell, but it did not happen. She opened an eye and looked down but couldn’t see the ghost. She carefully opened both eyes to get a better view and noticed that the ghost had vanished and she was balancing straight up in the center of the room. She glanced at James and noticed that his ghost had also disappeared. With years of training from her mother, Rachel expertly leaned forward to swing the ladder back against the wall. The stained glass trembled slightly as it was not secure in its place but at least it was up.

Rachel looked through the glass and noticed that the sun was beginning to creep up from the horizon. She scrambled back down the ladder to join Mrs. Winchester and James as the watched the sun climb the sky and to shine through the words, “WIDE UNCLASP THE TABLES OF THEIR THOUGHTS” read the pane on the left while the one on the right read, “THESE SAME THOUGHTS PEOPLE THIS LITTLE WORLD.”

“What does it mean?” asked a worn out James.

Mrs. Winchester grinned mischievously before stating, “I have no idea but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was a portal to another universe?”

“Additionally, if it wards off darkness, why wasn’t it put up earlier?” asked a breathless Rachel.

“I was mistaken,” came the female voice. The group turned to see the female ghost in her familiar nightgown pulling an angry Ellie. “It is not to ward off evil but a spell to wake up the town.”

“Wake up the town?” inquired Rachel.

“Those outside of the dome have been in a deep sleep through this entire experience. The sun touching this stained glass will wake them up but also continue to filter their reality. They will never see or experience supernatural outside of this house. They will remain blissfully unaware and live their lives without complications of paranormal.”

“Will you finally let go of me?” demanded Ellie of the ghost. The apparition obeyed by releasing Ellie’s hand. As Ellie opened and closed her hand in an attempt to warm it and restore feeling to her fingers. After a few moments, Ellie was filled with curiosity and asked, “Why weren’t Pete, Brisco, or I in a ‘deep slumber?’ Why were we able to see what was happening at the mansion and to help our friends inside the dome?”

“Am I expected to know all of the answers?” asked the ghost indignantly.

“Yes!” exclaimed a frustrated Ellie.

“Maybe it was your outfit. Maybe it caused too much shock for the sandman to risk getting near you without having a heart attack,” she retorted and then disappeared.

“You young people,” laughed Mrs. Winchester. “I never understand your humor.” At that she turned towards Ellie before adding, “She is right, though. You do look pretty lax in your dress. I mean I dig it but the world may not be ready for it just yet.”

The small crowd of staff inside the kitchen salt circle held their breaths as the sounds of drums, bugles, and hundreds of feet were moving towards the house. Viva and Lenore exchanged silent glances, the battle was about to begin for the lives of everyone in their salted circle.

“Viva, cover this side,” ordered Lenore. She pointed towards the door that he had entered through to get to the kitchen. Viva nodded as she moved past him to arrange the rest of the staff with various knives and other crude weapons around the sides of their oblong space. She then placed herself opposite of Viva and watched the entrance that led towards more of the house. Lenore watched as the dark cloud began to settle backwards. To Lenore, it seemed as though the darkness was shifting backwards to make way for the expendable foot soldiers to strike first. If Lenore were to bet on the darkness’ motive, it might be to come in for the kill after the foot soldiers opened a way into the salted perimeter.

And then everything went quiet. No more bugles. No more drums. No more feet. The silence was more unbearable than the approaching army had been.

Lenore briefly looked at the civilian circle members and watched them nervously shift. A couple of men wiped beads of sweat off of their foreheads and noses. The small kitchen maid nearest Lenore had tears running down her face and a quivering bottom lip.

“Steady,” Lenore quietly commanded the group.

Viva heard a door open and watched a lone man slowly emerge from the darkness. Viva studied the man as he seemed to be almost limping towards Viva’s position. He was still too far out to get a look at the man’s face and Viva wanted to save bullets until he could see his enemies’ eyes, so he called out, “Are you lonesome tonight?” to gage how many people might be part of the advance party.

The man did not respond but kept limping towards Viva’s position. A few moments later, another two men began to emerge from the darkness.

“Shoot them!” came the urgent and hoarse whisper from Scott, the all too brave yet unintelligent man nearest Viva.

“Hold your position!” commanded Lenore from the other side of the grouping.

“Why should we take orders from you?” whimpered another man from the group.

“Settle down! Only fools rush in!” Viva said in a low voice to the men.

“Fuck this!” yelled Scott and he ran out of the safety of the circle, kicking salt out of its well-placed orbit on his way out. The man raised his knife and charged at the encroaching army scout. Scott reached the man and screamed momentarily upon seeing the face of his enemy. It was a face of rotting skin, clearly the visage of a man who had been dead for a long time. Scott swallowed hard and regained his senses. He held the knife high before he began to plunge the knife into the walking corpse’s chest. The flesh peeled away but there was not any blood and the decedent did not fall to the ground. Scott began to stab more frantically.

“Get out of the way, boy!” hollered Viva who couldn’t get a clear shot with Scott standing directly in front of the standing scout.

The other two corpses had finally moved up to Scott as he was frantically stabbing the corpse who remained immobile. To Viva’s horror, they grabbed Scott’s arms and began hungrily chomping down on his arms and neck, moving up towards Scott’s head.

“You bastards!” screamed a large cook and Viva had only moments to catch the man by his white uniform and drag him to the center of the circle. Viva looked up to see that the darkness had taken advantage of the distraction and had begun to seep through the gap in the small circle. Lenore quickly ran to the gap and pushed the salt back together to reconnect the circle. Unfortunately, it was too late for an upstairs maid. She had fallen to the ground, eyes rolled back in her head, unconscious. Whatever darkness had seeped into their small fortress of safety, was now fully occupying the poor maid.

“Everyone back to your positions!” ordered Lenore.

The heavyset cook that Viva was still holding down shouted, “We need to save Scott!”

“Scott is gone,” same the hollow voice of an on-call tree doctor who had been unlucky enough to not leave the grounds before nightfall and was now a trapped battle participant.

“Who put you in charge?” came the indignant accusation of a young man from the construction team. Viva noticed that the man looked to have barely reached the age of 20 and based on his messy hair and clothes, the boy had apparently run out of bed at the start of the household screams.

“Mrs. Winchester put her in charge,” explained the maid nearest Lenore.

“Why should we listen to a woman?” pressed the young man.

Viva looked around to the rest of the crew. Many of them were in various stages of shock and fear. If they were going to survive the night, they would need to be a unified force.

“Lenore is the strongest mayor I’ve ever worked for and I would follow her into hell and back!” exclaimed Viva.

“A woman mayor?” scoffed the young man.

Irritated by the boy’s attitude, Viva let go of the large cook and moved over to the young man and hit him as hard as he could. The boy stumbled backwards and almost fell out of the circle and into the waiting arms of the darkness but Viva grabbed his arm and pulled the man back before gravity and darkness claimed another victim.

“After we survive tonight, I can tell you of all of the scuffles that Lenore and I have lived through and of all of the impossible scenarios that we beat. Many situations worse than this-“ Viva paused for only a moment. Looking around at a group of untrained household staff and a couple workmen with only a small circle of salt to be protected from an evil darkness and an army of undead that weren’t able to be taken down by mere knives, Viva could not honestly think of a situation worse than this particular battle. But, it seemed that the speech was helping, so Viva continued. “We will survive the night if we do as Lenore orders. I just can’t help believing that if we each of us go our own ways, we will all die.”

The sound of Scott’s flesh being eaten away seemed to bring the weight of Viva’s words heavily down on the small group. To Viva’s relief, while Scott’s death had been brutal, it did seem as though it was mercifully quick. Although, only the tree doctor would know for sure and Viva was not about to ask him.

Lenore took a deep breath before continuing her instructions. “Everyone, I need you to watch the salt lines between you and the person on either side of you. Our survival depends on the circle remaining unbroken. The darkness will seep in if you don’t keep the salt line together.”

“What about Delores?” the fat cook asked about the unconscious girl on the floor. Her skin was starting to go a grey shade. “Should we toss her out of the circle?”

“We’ll leave her alone for now,” Lenore stated. “Let’s not toss her out until we know that she is truly beyond rescue.”

“How will we defeat an army of darkness and evil dead?” asked the young workman.

At that moment, a growl could be heard from behind the group. From the spot Lenore had left, the crying maid had been in too much shock to cry out that a walking dead man had come out of the shadows from the direction of the main house. He hadn’t broached the salt defense but he was big and looked uglier than the three cold bodies still feasting on Scott.

Lenore cooly raised her shotgun, aimed at the deadman’s face and fired. The force of the weapon pushed back into Lenore’s arm as she held her arms steadily in front of her. Lenore continued to look over the barrel of the gun, watching the buckshot take off the man’s head. The body took another step before falling backwards and onto the ground. Lenore slowly lowered the gun but remained ready to raise the shotgun back up if it moved again. When it continued to lay immobile on the ground, she turned and looked at the group before simply stating, “Aim for the head.”

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

Brisco, Socrates, and Ellie were following a ghost named Clyde as he pushed a wheelbarrow towards a double door in the center of the house. Unsure what would be needed, the dynamite had been loaded into the wheelbarrow while the three humans carried guns and ammunition. Clyde had briefly explained that there were two basements and that this entrance would be the easiest for Brisco and Ellie to complete their missions. Socrates would have to take the entrance that the workmen had used earlier in the evening.

Socrates had decided to walk with Brisco and Ellie to their entrance before continuing on towards his assigned basement. It would give the friends a bit more time together and it enabled Soc to fill in his portion of the mission while listening to Brisco’s adventure. Socrates had met with Mrs. Winchester and she had hired him on a trial basis and given him a guest room to stay in during his test period. Socrates had managed to secure a room with numerous books and he was in bed reviewing each carefully for any sign of malady when he heard the bell ring and had assumed it was merely for the séance. Originally, he was going to take it as a sign to go to sleep when the female ghost in the white nightgown appeared in his room. Socrates, ever the proponent of social propriety, admitted to having a temporary moment of lecturing the woman as both parties were indecent in their sleeping clothes while being members of the opposite gender.

She had interrupted to explain that she lacked a corporeal form and that etiquette was not paramount at the moment. She hoped that she was wrong but had a feeling that something evil had been unearthed. She instructed Socrates to get dressed, to gather any guns that he might have, and to stay alert. If there was a problem, he would know. She disappeared before Socrates could ask how long he should stay awake or alert. However, Socrates did not have to wait long after dressing as the screams began soon afterwards. Socrates only had Pete’s pistols so he grabbed them before awkwardly running in the direction of the bell tower to collect Mrs. Winchester. He only made it part of the way before she appeared out of a bookcase secret passageway. The widow was alone and explained that a ghost had sent Mrs. Winchester to the ballroom and had sent Mr. Adams to attempt to hide any staff and family from a coming evil. Mrs. Winchester then guided Socrates to the ballroom, stating that Mr. Adams would surely follow when the rest of the household was safe. However, due to her arthritic and post absinthe state where she felt the need to occasionally stop and watch the green fairies, it took a very long time to move through the house. The two had only arrived ten minutes before Brisco’s party, just enough time for her to have smoke and prepare for a more urgent séance. Socrates wasn’t sure how marijuana and absinthe combined would provide greater insight into the spirit world but as this was not his normal domain, he helped light the pipe while refraining from smoking himself.

Just as Socrates finished his tale, Clyde stopped in front of a set of double doors that looked more like it would lead to a root cellar rather than a cavernous basement. The menacing doors swung upon with a loud noise and of their own accord. Ellie could feel her heart leap into her throat as she momentarily closed her eyes and grabbed Brisco’s hand. Brisco squeezed her hand before whispering, “I hate cellars.”

Not hearing the exchange between Brisco and Ellie, Clyde began his instructions. “Mr. Poole, this is where we leave your friends. Remember that I will attempt to work with Mr. Poole and Mr. County. However, I can’t be with both of you all the time as you will be in separate basements, so it’s important to move only where and when I say,” Clyde instructed. The three nodded to acknowledge understanding, so Clyde pressed, “That means stay here outside of the basement until I return!”

After looking each individual in the eye for agreement, Clyde stepped away from the small group to give them their privacy in saying good-byes.

Brisco took Soc’s hand and shook it, “Bowler and I really were terrible influences on you.”

“The worst,” replied a nervous Socrates. At that, the two men laughed and shook hands, unsure what fate had in store for each man’s path. Socrates then gave Ellie a hug before whispering something in her ear. Ellie softly laughed and whispered something back. When Soc let go, he turned to Clyde and nodded that he was ready. Socrates and Clyde then left through another door and on towards the basement holding Whip captive, leaving Brisco and Ellie alone together. Brisco took one look at her before pulling her close. “If this was their last moments together,” thought Brisco, “they sure as hell would be pleasant ones.”

But the moment was not to be. There was a rushing wind and Brisco had just enough time to look over Ellie’s shoulder and see the hooded ghosts from the road into Serenity. They floated above the ground and somehow seemed larger at the Winchester Mansion than they were at the initial meeting. The voids where faces should be inside the cloaks still caused a tremor to go down his spine.

“Brisco,” the two figures hissed in perfect union.

In a quick movement, Brisco went from holding Ellie to pushing her behind him in an effort to provide a buffer between her and these spirits. However, the spirits ignored Ellie and honed in on Brisco. Within seconds the two figurines were towering over Brisco before the sound of a large wind began to fill his ears. It felt like a tornado was sucking his soul from inside and into their hollow and greedy hoods. Brisco felt his knees buckle beneath him as the weight of their attack was too much for him. The world was starting to go dark and he felt like there was little soul left for them to attack.

In Brisco’s cloudy vision he could not clearly see what happened next but he heard the hooded figures shriek and disappear, leaving Brisco gasping for air.

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

Pete was alone as he silently moved up the stairs. After listening to the group during the séance for only a few moments, Pete quickly lost interest and took inventory of people and weapons. “Brisco with one hand, an eccentric old woman with arthritis, a pencil pushing Hollywood agent/lawyer, and a science loving barmaid. Not an ideal group of allies yet all needed to survive the night. Meanwhile, Lenore, Whip, Rachel, and Viva, were either dead or fighting to stay alive. Maybe even James was here, fighting for his life. So, at least ten people fighting a dark and supernatural force with what, salt? A household staple? Clearly guns and salt would not be enough. And what was the purple bubble that was enclosed around the mansion?” After running the calculations repeatedly in his head, Pete decided that what the group needed was more powerful weapons, specifically the bracelet. The group seemed lost in their chants and this was an unused portion of the house, not to mention, the best armored with all of the weapons that Brisco had brought from S-Mart. Pete knew that the group had the same chance of survival with or without his presence and felt it would be better to slip away and search for the bracelet. To fight the future with the future as Brisco used to say.

Pete had reached the top of the stairs but was still having the same mental debate that began when he left the ballroom. Pete was so lost in his thoughts and wondering if he should turn back or continue that he jumped when he heard a female voice whisper in his ear, “And where are you going?”

Pete quickly turned around but there was no one on the stairs or near the stairs. From what he could tell, he was alone in the dark stairwell.

“I knew you wouldn’t last long with a séance. You were never the sitting still type,” the female voice continued, almost laughing as she said it.

“Show yourself!” he commanded to the dark and empty room, irritated as this was not the time for a spirited game.

“Mr. Hutter. Leave it,” the disembodied voice stated, this time so close that he could almost feel her hair on his shoulder.

“You don’t know anything about me or where I’m headed,” began Pete, he did another turn around in place looking to find the voice. “Apparitions do not intimidate me nor am I in the habit of associating to females lacking corporeal forms!”

“Who says that we met after I died?” came an almost sing-song response. Suddenly, a woman appeared before him, she was in her nightgown and barefoot. Pete studied the woman, not only due to her striking appearance but something about her face looked familiar.

“Shall I remind you, Mr. Hutter, that once you don the bracelet, you will either go comatose? Or possibly end up like James, suffering from memory loss? I’m sure that you would prefer to stay conscious this evening,” she had an amused smile as though they were old friends but almost mocking his lack of recognition of her face.

“And why should I be taking advise from a specter in her nightgown?” inquired Pete, doing his best to appear stoic and not appear stunned by her informality.

Her smile froze for a moment and she tilted her head as though to study him. “You truly don’t know me, do you Pete?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Time travel really is a bitch,” she stated, but more to herself than to Pete. She looked back at him as though weighing what to say or not to say. Finally, she continued, “You should take my advice as I am here to help you.”

“Trust is not a natural state of mind for me.”

“I swear on the life of my daughter, whom you’ve met, that I am here to aide you,” the woman insisted, grabbing his hand and holding it to her heart in an effort to plead her case.

He attempted to pull his hand back before commenting, “Believe me, woman, I haven’t met any female progeny recently, aside from Rachel. And you ain’t Crystal Hawks.”

“You met my girl while imprisoned in a time not your own.”

Pete’s face snapped to attention. “Livi’s mother?” When she nodded, Pete studied her face again and noticed that Livi was the child image of the ghost before him. The shock of the revelation and cold feeling running through his veins, left him stunned and he could only ask, “How?”

“When the scientists decided to leave me stranded, I asked to be left at this house. I always loved the grounds here as Mrs. Winchester has always kept this house beautiful. I wanted to pass on in a field of flowers that I could breathe in as I passed out of this world. Mrs. Winchester found me, curled up and hiding among the flowers and bushes. She had her staff carry me inside and held my hand as the pain and agony enveloped me. She stayed with me until my very last breath. When I died, I couldn’t leave earth right away. I needed to stay here. This widow showed me, a stranger dying on her grounds, a kindness that I could not repay while living. I needed to be with her, to protect her, and to persuade any ghosts to be kind to her. I became a guide, a conduit for her to speak to all of the household spirits. Over the years we have appeased the anger of several vengeful ghosts and calmed many broken-hearted spirits. Many have finally reached a point of peace and have crossed over the threshold to whatever that world looks like. Over time, many spirits trusted us enough to warn us about which specialized spiritual books should be locked away in the basement and which ones were safe to read as Mrs. Winchester constantly collects anything related to the supernatural.”

Pete processed her words slowly but watched her with an inexplicable appreciation. How had Charlie managed to ensnare this woman? She was far out of Charles Sheppard’s league.

“I am not convinced to surrender up my stratagem but if I did, what would be your proposed action?”

“I need you to turn off the enclosure.”

“The violet obscuration of the lower atmosphere? I doubt that there is a giant off switch hiding in the widow’s abode.”

“Things are never that easy, Pete,” she replied with a soft laugh. While still holding his hand, she led him in a direction away from the bracelet.

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

Viva reloaded his gun from the safety of the salt circle. It had been lucky that Lenore lacked the time to change her shotgun from regular rounds to salt rounds before the commotion began. Had she taken the headshot earlier with a salt round, the corpse might have crossed the salt threshold and the evening might have ended quickly with their deaths. After watching Lenore take out the original walking dead man, Viva had switched from salt rounds back to regular ammunition. The salt rounds were meant for the ghosts or darkness and the walking dead men needed to have their heads removed. Viva sighed wondering how many additional rules would need to be learned over the night as the evil force continued to release monsters and supernatural weapons not utilized by human criminals. As much hope as Viva had in Lenore, he was still slightly worried about how long it would take to learn all of the new rules for this war on terror.

The group in the kitchen had still only seen a few bodies emerge from the darkness. Each time, the group would wait until the body was just outside of the circle before either Lenore or Viva would take the decedent out with a headshot. But even with the accurate shooting when only necessary, ammunition was starting to run low. Viva momentarily turned back to look at Lenore. She had the gun resting on her hip as she studied the darkness, watching for any additional bodies to approach her staff.

Viva looked up at the ceiling above him before making a silent promise to Bowler in Heaven. “Bowler, Amigo, I swear that I will pick up Lenore myself and throw her into the nearest panty and cover it in salt if I think that we are about to lose this battle.”

Viva looked back at Lenore and noticed that she had stopped staring into the darkness but had turned to lock eyes with Viva. It was almost as if he had an immediate response from Bowler, saying “Have you seen my wife? There is no telling that woman to stand down from a fight!”

As if reading his thoughts, Lenore lifted her chin while raising an eyebrow at him. Almost as though she were daring Viva to just try and pick her up to lock her away. Viva smiled to himself as he thought, “No, there would be no keeping Lenore from any fight that she has committed to.”

As Viva turned back around he almost jumped out of his skin as he noticed the most recently arrived body, it was practically a skeleton wearing the uniform of a general. Behind him was an entire troop of undead soldiers, rather than just one or two stragglers at a time. Viva quickly looked from side to side and found that the darkness had shrunk back revealing that almost the entire circle had been surrounded by deceased men and women in various stages of decay. The time of the scouts had finished and the war was about to begin.

“Surrender!” hissed the dead general.

“You wish to surrender to me?” asked Viva. “Very well, I accept your surrender. Lay down any weapons and we’ll escort you back to your grave cells.”

“Surrender!” insisted the dead general.

“Go back to hell!” came Lenore’s calm voice from beside Viva. Viva hadn’t even noticed that Lenore had left her side of the circle to take command of the conversation with the general.

The skeleton general smiled cruelly and raised his arm to begin the attack just as Lenore took aim and blew off the general’s head. The skull snapped backwards and fell onto the floor. Just as it was about to expire it screamed out, “Attack! Leave no one alive!”

The kitchen then became a room of salt being kicked into the air, pieces of dead bodies being blown into different directions, shouts of orders from Viva and Lenore, and the sounds of the army’s drums and bugles.

The battle for the kitchen was underway.

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

James led Rachel to the ballroom to meet up with Mrs. Winchester. Upon arriving at the ballroom, Rachel and James were able to arm themselves with the last couple rifles, bandoliers, pistols, and gun belts that Brisco and Ellie had left inside the small séance room. As Rachel and James set up ladders below the windows that needed to be changed out, Mrs. Winchester explained where Brisco and his group had gone to and the mission that the female spirit had given regarding the ballroom. Since James knew where the storage room for the stained glass was located, it was decided that he would take Rachel to the room.

As Rachel and James were about to rush out of the room, James stopped and turned back to the widow. He came back to shake her hand before stating, “Mrs. Winchester, how could I ever thank-“

She patted his arm to stop him before smiling back, “You helped me to write my visions into words. We went on spirit quests together. And don’t forget, we’re bonded in more lives than just this one – so there is nothing owed.” She squeezed his hand before turning towards the ladder and slowly, albeit painfully, up the ladder. She could do this one thing, remove the old windows as the others worked on combating various dark forces.

James took Rachel by the arm and gently moved her in the direction of the stain glass room. They would need to hurry to have the stained-glass windows in place before the early sun’s rays brushed the mansion.